Hacked

It’s taken close to 15 years, but after all this time and cruising the social media slipstream I’ve finally been hacked. Monumental day, folks.

I woke up this morning about 8 am(decided I needed an extra day of R&R so I called off work) to a text from my best friend saying “You deleted your Facebook?”. That seemed like a weird thing to wake up to, so I clicked on my FB app to see I’d been suspended due to activity on my Instagram. Whaaa?? I hopped over to Instagram and I was suspended on there as well. Something had been posted on my art account that was offensive? People, I was falling asleep on the couch at 9:30 last night. Plus, I hadn’t posted any art for quite a long time.

I went to my emails and saw there was an email from Instagram telling me there was a security alert at 12:30 am and that I needed to take action immediately. Then there was another “final warning” at 3:50 am. Sorry, I’m not on the socials in the middle of the night. I do actually sleep. So basically my Instagram was completely deleted, and as far as I know my Facebook will be as well. Now, I did open a Tik Tok account yesterday because my kids keep sending me videos that I sometimes can watch and sometimes cannot. So I thought what the hell, I’ll open one so I can see what all the fun is about. Well, after this fun little adventure to wake up to I deleted that bastard.

So besides a tainted X(Twitter) account, I’m pretty much non-existent in the social medias. At first I had a ping of panic in my chest and head, like what the hell? How in sweet baby Jesus did this happen? But then of course common sense sunk in and I realized this happens all the time. To millions of people. So how could it NOT happen to me? It wasn’t my bank account or credit card account. It was Instagram. And really, what is Instagram(and Facebook) but just a deposit for random moments and thoughts for whomever follows you. Photos of beer, records, things I made, or even random weird shit like an eggo I found on the side of the road several years ago on a walk. My life wasn’t deleted, it was just those pieces of photographic evidence I chose to share with some friends, some strangers, and some complete randos that started following me because they saw I liked electronic music.

Now, I did have some folks that followed because of this very site. And for those I’m kind of sad. But hey, you like the cut of my jib? Then get notification via email. It’s as easy as 1…2…3. Plus, you can always contact me via the site. We don’t need no stinkin’ socials.

I suppose I still have a little ping of melancholy. Knowing I can’t just go back into my history of photos on Instagram and wake up some of those sleeping pistons in my brain. When I want to see what Christmas of 2014 looked like; my kids nearly 10 years younger opening Lego sets and finding iTunes cards in their stockings. Or see pictures of puppy Otto – fuzzy and full of piss n vinegar – flinging his fabric raccoon in the living room. Concert events that their only source of proof were some fuzzy pics of my wife and I buzzed on pre-concert cocktails feeling pretty damn great being together in the Windy City.

That stings a little bit. But the feeling of freedom from doomscrolling seems to be overriding that at the moment. I’d been considering leaving all the social media purgatory behind for some time. I don’t walk away from scrolling feeling better. I end up walking away feeling “meh” at best, depleted and empty at worst. It seems to be just a compare and contrast in regards to your life up against others. Comparing your world to others isn’t really the healthiest thing to do, is it. The aspect of finding other music weirdos out there like you by posting the sleeve of Boards of Canada’s Geogaddi on a beer-buzzed Friday night was kind of cool. But in all honesty the only weirdos I need in my life are the ones that live with me in these four walls I call home. I appreciate the camaraderie between fellow music fans, but at almost 50 years old I think I’ve hit my limit on rando internet relationships. I wish them all the best, but I guess I’m done.

If I wasn’t going to pull the trigger, then some weirdo near Chicago, IL that signed into my acct and posted pictures of cock fights in Belgrade or clown porn on my IG art account did it for me.

So here I am, newborn from years in the social media womb. It’s a weird feeling being out in this real world with no handles to hide behind – or GIFs to express how I really feel – but I feel a hell of a lot lighter. Guess it’s time to fill free time with other things; more art, more music, more creating, more coffee. More interacting with the real world and real people. Sounds okay to me.

***It’s probably just a coincidence that I finished the series Mr. Robot just this weekend. Sure. Sure it is.***