In our recent move, my wife and mother were on a mission to get rid of as much junk as possible as I’ve been labeled by them as a pack rat. I saved this poem from destruction. I don’t remember anything about it, not even the circumstances in which I wrote it. But here it is for you.

Life It’s no longer yours. You can’t do what you want with it. That’s like coming back to live in/remodel a house you’ve sold. You see, the owner dictates what happens to his property, as demostrated in Merchant of Venice. But what do you do if you’re caught in the moment? Especially with the other being so tempting, so manipulative. To give in is a breach of contract. At the same time, you know the judge is forgiving. As far as you know, there is no limit to the forgiveness. Do you push it? Test the limit? Is one moment worth eternity? Especially one quickly forgotten. But…that IS the main question…. the one up for debate. We have access to law books, but they are written in confusing jargon. If only the judge would answer you directly. Yet, he is a witty man. His favorite means of communication is through metaphors and analogies. So I stumble through the books looking for the answer. How do you confront the other without risking it all? It almost seems like one or the other. There must be a compromise… somewhere… But right now… right now somewhere is as good as nowhere. Patience is not my strength. If it is wrong to do it directly, then can it be done indirectly? Is it now right? Half as wrong? Still fully wrong? I really need to know for I fear jail almost as much as the side effects/penalties. In such a “now” world, it’s hard to consider eternity. So now I continue to wonder… I hope that I will somehow find the answer in the books. Until that time I simply dreak making the decision. Which will it be - the moment or eternity?

I am not a data point. I am a human being. I am not the customer who buys anime, computer hardware, and books on Linux. I am not the customer who sends flowers to my mother-in-law in Brooklyn. I am a human being. I am a college student, a writer, a poet, a photographer, a journalist, a hacker, a fiancee, a revolutionary; but I am not simply a set of bits describing what I buy and how often I do it. Give me back my identity. Who said you had the right to keep track of where I go and what I buy and who I talk to? Who said you had the right to piggy back on my software and force me to agree to your terms? Who said you had the right to put cookies in my browser all day long to track what I do? Am I a terrorist? Am I a criminal? What have I done to warrant this level of surveillance? I am not something to be analyzed so that you can figure out how to squeeze every last dollar out of me. I am a human being - GIVE ME BACK MY IDENTITY!