Dear Diary…

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[fade in to a young man in a La-Z-Boy with a laptop, in a messy house. It looks like a stereotypical computer hacker lives there–old food and cans, dozens of open books, computer and electronic parts strewn all around. The Future Sound of London album ISDN is playing in the background.]

Brian Enigma (voiceover): Why the hell am I doing this? Writing is okay, journals are kind of lame, and sharing writing and/or journals with the big faceless internet is just plain dumb.

[Camera pans around to see these words on the laptop screen]

(v.o. continues, matched with words on screen): I have always heard that good boys write journals. Bad boys never have the time. I don’t know what *I* am anymore.

[ Opening Sequence ]

Dozens of scenes taken from the first season, set to techno music, credits quickly slide in, flicker, and slide out. Enigma typing furiously at a computer. Enigma hanging out in the back of a shady L.A. restaurant with other hacker-types. Computer screen with password prompt and big red “Access Granted” text. Enigma having fun at a party with friends. Sneaking around at night, tapping into phone lines. Sitting on a computer during a party, hacking away at something, ignoring the surroundings. Sitting at a stuffy job, watching the clock. Sleeping in the corner during a party. Wiring some unexplained gizmo to the dashboard of a car. Up late at night in the easy chair, with laptop and chineese food. Sleeping in the easy chair. Fade to black.

Okay, so that seemed a little silly, but I’m still hanging onto the syndication and movie rights. I am not really sure why I am writing a journal entry. I guess you can consider this like a TV pilot. Maybe it will catch on, causing more installments. Maybe it will never be heard from again.

Yeah, there were lots of–maybe too many–hacker references above. I am not even sure I would consider myself a “hacker” anymore. I do not really fit into the hacker cliques around SoCal anymore (not that I ever did very much). Everyone I know OUTSIDE of those cliques labels me as a hacker. Sure, I know a lot about computers, how they work, security, and electronics. Sure, I have an (over)active curiosity. Does that make me a hacker? Some would say yes–I really cannot say that I feel it very strongly, though.

Hackers are supposed to never come out. They are supposed to spend all of their time on the computer. They are supposed to be loners. I am happy to say that I spend a good chunk of time outside. I am very happy to say that I spend a good deal of time, not on the computer, but with my girlfriend.

When it really comes down to it, I do not fit too terribly great into any label or category. I listen to industrial music most of the time, but I am not as hard-core into it as many other friends. Same with gothic music… and “alternative”… and punk… and 80’s… and jazz… and ambient… and… A lot of the time, I do not even feel too terribly comfortable at clubs that cater to any of the above musical styles unless I have several friends along. I simply feel out of place, no matter how I dress or act. Music aside, I do not even feel like I fit into my age group. I feel many years younger than 26. Most of the people I end up spending any amount of time with are either much older or much younger.

Most of the time, I just feel like a freak of nature, living in world where everyone is much different and I feel like I can relate to a very select few.

[ Theme music fades up, signaling end of episode. Credits roll. ]

Well, that concludes this installment. It’s 6am and I need to get to sleep. I did not intend to stay up this late. During the night, I was gripped by the need to finish writing some software to help break encryption (really, I am not a hacker) puzzles–you know, the ones you sometimes find in the newspaper or in puzzle magazines. Well, that, and whatever I ate yesterday that is making my stomach churn and twist. Anyway, I could not sleep for one reason or another and ended up writing code, then writing this cruft. Now, I hope, it is time to visit slumber land.

Posted in: Dear Diary

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