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The above are advertising websites that are listed the right side of my Gmail inbox. There has been four different advertising websites about selling my writing for I don’t know how long–probably when I started writing about writing. If I look on bicycling websites or gardening websites, the right hand column was filled with cycling or gardening crap.
My biggest question today is Self-Publish? DO NOT Self Publish? Why are they telling me to do the opposite of each other?
I have the same problem when it comes to the messages from gardening sites: “use planters!”, “planters are for idiots!” “Planting and gardening for idiots!” I really must have presented myself as an utter moron when navigating those gardening web sites.
Cycling is a little more interesting and a bit less didactic. They must detect my deep devotion to bicycles because most of the ads are for bicycle vendors and suppliers I lurk around while leaving a very obvious trail of bread crumbs back to the right margin of my google inbox.
Seeing this in my personal space has inspired me to write a letter of apology to a dear old friend. I feel I’ve let him down.
Dear George Orwell,
You must be so disappointed.
You futuristic vision of 1984 where the government looks in on people in their homes via a large screen was eerily nightmarish to a society who believed that electronics had no place in looking into private homes.
Today I imagine your utter disgust as your ashes roil up in your mouldering grave because we have so quickly, readily and willingly doled out every last bit of personal and private information without the slightest reservation or tiniest hesitation in this amazing modern age. It is quite the opposite of your grimly dark futuristic prediction, isn’t it?
Who knew we are so easily lead by entertaining pictures, animations, enticing promises? Surely you never saw us merrily posting our deep dark secrets with this complete and total abandon, did you?
I know you hoped for so much more for us, perhaps thought you left us well with your dire warning/predictions in your novel. Yet here we are acting like a bunch of lemmings, a pack of easily lead nit-wits that click here, there and everywhere while dropping bits of information that profiles us more completely than a van equipped with video, microphones and men in black parked outside our homes.
I am certain you hoped “1984” would gird up our fiercely independent loins to keep our personal lives private. Yet our deepest, most personal thoughts are served daily and repeatedly on a silver platter! We can’t divulge enough!
Sorry George. I feel we’ve let you down.
Your devoted friend, Ms. Give-it-up