I am fairly resigned to the fact that data is collected about me every time I use the internet, make a purchase, or walk down the street.  Even if we are resigned, we should still talk about this topic and understand the choices we’re making as we trade off privacy for convenience.

I loved a repeat Note to Self episode this summer (that I missed the first time around) featuring the author of Data and Goliath, Bruce Schneier.  If you missed it, too, you should set aside 19 minutes today to listen.

Even though he claims that no one reads the Terms of Service (uh, I read the Terms of Service), I really liked some of Schneier’s ideas; namely, that we should all do fake searches from time to time which will become part of the data files information firms are keeping on individuals.  So these firms will know what you do like, but they also will be confused because in between real searches for real items or articles, there will be fake searches for items you don’t want or ideas you don’t support.

After the episode, I went and Googled shoes that I not only didn’t want but would never wear.  Sure enough, Facebook started showing me ads for those shoes as well as others like it.  I laughed and laughed, feeling like Vizzini in The Princess Bride, though if I take a step back and truly consider the situation, Facebook is probably more akin to the man in the mask, which means… checkmate.

But still, it is interesting to think that we can control how much the firm really knows.  That we have some power in this equation.  Yes, possibly more trouble than its worth, but I’ll still throw a fake search in from time to time.  Now excuse me, I need to go look up hair care products for blondes.

Does it bother you to think about how much information is collected about you on a yearly basis, or do you not really care if someone has assembled a list of facts about you?

The twins’ school sends out a daily grade report so you can always see their grade on each assignment as well as the overall grade in the class.  Once upon a time, I looked forward to report card days because I had no clue how they were doing in class.  But now report cards are somewhat meaningless because I’ve been getting daily spoilers through the whole marking period.

I guess it’s a good idea if your child is likely to not hand in homework.  But the numbers and letters feel a lot like site stats, another thing I don’t like to check more than four times per year.  I want a general sense of how things are going, but the focus on concrete numbers makes me feel anxious.

*******

When I was in middle school, my dad promised to buy me the entire Sweet Valley High series if I could get straight As.  If I couldn’t, I could get the books one at a time with my own babysitting money or wait for birthdays.  Oh, and by the way, I couldn’t.  So I never got the series delivered to me in a giant stack.

Poor me.

I was telling the twins this, wondering if my dad would still buy me the Sweet Valley High series if my kids’ got straight As.  Was the offer still valid if fulfilled by the next generation?

“What is Sweet Valley High?” the ChickieNob asked.

What is Sweet Valley High?  Are you kidding me?  It is THE guide to how to behave in high school.  What if you suddenly became as rich as Bruce Patman or Lila Fowler?  You would know that you’re supposed to sneer at nerds and drive a fast car.  What if someone offered you drugs?  DID YOU LEARN NOTHING FROM REGINA MORROW’S HEART ATTACK?  What if your best friend’s boyfriend just got his pilot license and says, “Hey, want to go on my first solo flight?”  The answer is no.

Everything I needed to know about high school I learned from that series.  Was it garbage?  Yes.  Yes, it was definitely garbage.  But it was my garbage, and I loved it so much.  I still buy copies if I see them at used bookstores.

Did anyone else read Sweet Valley High?

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

*******

I didn’t write about the 15th anniversary of September 11th yesterday because I didn’t have anything to say.  But I spent the day thinking about it.  Thinking about the actual day 15 years ago, and how it impacted everything that has come after.  I know that I come from a place of privilege; not everyone gets to decide how they approach the day.

It feels strange to not say something, or, more accurately, to say anything else.  Doesn’t it sometimes feel that way on social media?  That your choice is to speak about the event on hand — good or bad — or say nothing at all.  But anything in between feels like you’re stepping over an unspoken line.

Which is true and not true at the same time.  Maybe you thought it odd that I wrote about my guinea pig instead of the 15th anniversary, or maybe you didn’t think anything of it at all.

Do you ever feel odd not speaking about a moment or event that is clearly on everyone else’s mind?  Do you think we have an obligation to publicly speak, or is it enough to privately remember?

*******

Are you also doing #MicroblogMondays? Add your link below. The list will be open until Tuesday morning. Link to the post itself, not your blog URL. (Don’t know what that means? Please read the three rules on this post to understand the difference between a permalink to a post and a blog’s main URL.) Only personal blogs can be added to the list. I will remove any posts that are connected to businesses or are sponsored posts.

Truman is walking again.  He’s not only walking again; he’s getting up on his hind legs to beg for cookies, skipping around happily, and (of course) fighting his arch nemesis, rake*.

A few weeks ago, we looked over at Truman and Josh said, “Is he on his feet?”  Yes, he was standing on his feet, though he stumbled when he tried to take a step forward.  A few days after that, he started moving a few inches at a time.  Then he started walking slowly and wheeking again.  Then he started running and jumping.  And finally, he started getting up on his hind legs to beg for cookies.

Why did he suddenly start walking again?  We have zero clue.  We have no idea why he stopped walking, and we have no idea why he started walking.  Did the medications take weeks to work?  Was it the new vitamin C tablet he started taking each morning?  Was the whole thing a ruse to get more cuddles?

All I know is that I’m glad I have my pig back.

* Rake is a blue, plastic sand toy that he loves to pounce on and bite.  He’ll creep up on rake and then take a flying leap so he can knock it a few inches, but then run away terrified when rake moves.  Rake is his sworn enemy, second only to water bottle whom he hates with all his heart.

Forgive me if I have difficulty processing things this week, but I just read that Grease is essentially the Sixth Sense with poodle skirts.  Sandy is dead, people.  Dead.  She didn’t nearly drown.  She did drown and we just spent two hours in her musical coma.

Which explains why the car flies away at the end of the film.

Wait… is the stage show ALSO her dream?  Or just the movie?

It makes me wonder what other seemingly living characters are actually dreaming from hospital beds.

*******

Stop procrastinating.  Go make your backups.  Don’t have regrets.

Seriously.  Stop what you’re doing for a moment.  It will take you fifteen minutes, tops.  But you will have peace of mind for days and days.  It’s the gift to yourself that keeps on giving.

As always, add any new thoughts to the Friday Backup post and peruse new comments in order to find out about methods, plug-ins, and devices that help you quickly back up your data and accounts.

*******

And now the blogs…

But first, second helpings of the posts that appeared in the open comment thread last week.  In order to read the description before clicking over, please return to the open thread:

• None… sniff.

Okay, now my choices this week.

Okay, Loribeth technically submitted this for second helpings, but I already had it bookmarked for the Roundup, so I’m including it here.  My Path to Mommyhood has a fantastic post about the story you get to tell.  It actually reminded me a lot of Susan’s timeless post about fairness that I wrote about earlier this week, and I have a feeling this will be one I return to a lot.  She writes, “what you want and what you get are two different things, and that you can make the most of it but it’s okay to be upset and bewildered by the story you got, and share that so that you can find other people who understand what it’s like to live in that particular reality.”  Clearly the post resonated with a lot of us.

A Separate Life has a post about when our privacy ends, which is timely because I just got the ChickieNob Anne Frank’s diary to read.  She writes on the topic of private correspondence being held up as historical evidence after a death: “in the circumstances of a public or historic figure, is universally ignored and excused, as we – like vultures – pick over their most private thoughts shared with a trusted confidante. Does our privacy end with our death?”  Where do you stand on reading a person’s private thoughts after they’re gone?

Lastly, Different Shores has a post about the Scottish Prime Minister’s statement about her miscarriage.  On one hand, it is good to have loss discussed from a public platform.  On the other hand, is she being forced (or stepping forward willingly?) to explain why she doesn’t have children, even though her reason is personal and doesn’t impact her ability to do her job.  She asks: “Will there ever be a time when women without children are left in peace to just be, without feeling obliged at some time or other to explain why they didn’t reproduce?”  There is an interesting discussion in the comment section, too.

The roundup to the Roundup: Grease… mind blown. Your weekly backup nudge.  And lots of great posts to read.  So what did you find this week?  Please use a permalink to the blog post (written between September 2nd and 9th) and not the blog’s main url. Not understanding why I’m asking you what you found this week?  Read the original open thread post here.