I couldn’t sleep last night, so I had a
rant post about my novella and the whole Sterling thing (in short: I’m stuck on the novella as a result of mixed feelings and I don’t really care about the Sterling thing so much as the “outrage” surrounding it).
But then, I had a breakthrough. How silence is both a Godsend and a curse.
I thought about the Sterling incident. I am the last generation who had somewhat of a childhood without computers. I watch my boyfriend’s three year old cousin play on iPhones and tablets like it’s nothing. He knows how to push play and make something fullscreen. He will never grow up not knowing about this wonderful technology.
And yet, part of me misses those days. There is way too much “connectedness” now. I don’t have anything damning out there on the internet (well, last time I checked I didn’t), and I see teenagers and even people my age being reckless. Not knowing (or not caring) that whatever they send out to the digital world can never really be erased.
And even now, we must be more mindful of what we send out. Private messages are no longer sacred. I just recently screen shotted a conversation of some guy essentially threatening me, because I didn’t agree with his stance on overweight women. One can’t backtrack and say they didn’t say that when there is evidence everywhere.
But maybe now we can’t even say what we want in the privacy of our own homes, without fear of being recorded. Money aside, etc., she knew what she was doing. She knew he was going to go on another racist rant (one doesn’t stay with a blatantly racist man for years and not know these things!), so she decided to record it. And hand it over to TMZ.
I’m not terribly concerned with people recording me because I don’t usually say things that will bite me in the ass later. But it’s still something to think about.