The second, and most important of all, is privacy. I feel a lot of what I do online should be separate from what I do offline. I'm not exactly afraid of being tracked down (except by jerks who threaten my life on GTF), so much as I am afraid of the reverse; people I know offline finding out my online activities. While for the most part, no one cares, I want there to be as little of a link from who I am online to who I am offline so that I can maintain a respectable public image that would at least delay any investigators. Over the years, sadly, this has eroded as there have been purchases made that jeopardize this separation, and for legal reasons I may find the need to declare my identity in public. As long as I can, though, I want to prevent the average Joe or certain branches of the government from figuring out who I am.
The third reason, though, is because believe it or not, for all my righteous indignation at times, I do not want people to feel sorry for me for being me. There are people who put their lives up on the Internet, then begin to spin sob stories begging for sympathy or money. I don't feel I deserve any more sympathy than anyone else, nor any less. If I need money, I'll take on a job, or more often, I'll just go broke as I have. Besides, I would not get any money begging; people wouldn't give me anything, which is the way it should be. It's just that nobody should be getting anything else, either.
It is in part because of the above that I have delayed even mentioning this until now.
I should preface this by revealing that I live in a duplex, a house that is divided into two near-symmetrical smaller houses that exist as near mirror images of each other. We live on one side of the house. In the past, the family had often rented out the other side as a source of income, but due to several factors it's been empty for quite a few years now except for a few things we've stored over there.
It all began late Saturday evening August 12th/early Sunday morning August 13th. My dad had picked me up from work and I was going to bed...or rather, the couch that I sleep on downstairs since for various reasons I no longer sleep in a bed. I had opened the window because my dad's car has developed the annoying habit of releasing a gasoline-like exhaust smell after it has been turned off, and he won't park it outside. Yeah, he needs a new car, but right now, even that's up in the air in part because of what happened later.
Anyway, I went to sleep and around 2:30 a.m, the lights in the neighborhood went out. Keep in mind that in the past few days, despite having experienced a line of storms that ripped trees asunder, flooded streets, and knocked out in other neighborhoods, the worst my neighborhood experienced was a few broken branches. I was a bit worried, not because of the power outage itself, but because of some suspicious activity in the neighborhood I had observed. I closed the window, then watched nervously until the lights came back on about thirty minutes later. Thinking that no one would try anything given that the power was back on, I reopened the window, then went to sleep, prepared to awaken 6:30 a.m. to go to church.
Instead I woke up around 5:30 a.m. to a loud boom. After the initial panic response and asking my dad if he was okay (he was), I soon calmed down and rationalized that it was a transformer exploding. This had occurred a few years ago and also accompanied a power outage. But then as I looked at the VCR clock and the luminescence from the motion light, a confusing thought entered my mind.
If a transformer exploded, why is the power still on?
Quickly the police were notified, and with good reason as we soon found out. An explosion had knocked out two of the downstairs windows on the other side, throwing glass everywhere.
Needless to say, I did not go to church that morning.
I thought about putting the video of the damage on YouTube to show people, or perhaps showing the digital photos of the event, but then I thought I'd just be the emo attention whore that everyone claims I am. Besides, the bottom line is that everyone is fine, although the perpetrators remain "unknown." I was half-tempted not to even mention this online at all, since after all, I don't think anybody even cares how I'm doing in general. However, in the event I do decide to mention this incident in more detail in the future, or reference "the time a bomb was set off next door," I at least can point to some written record that it did happen, rather than being some "Internet bullshit."