Privacy Policy Update: No Mining

I got a weird spam e-mail overnight asking if I wanted to embed someone’s cryptocurrency miner into my website. They purport to be opt-in only, but all the other examples I’ve read about online up to now have been surreptitious, hijacking the browser for its own ends without asking. The end user only notices when their computer fans switch on or their computer gets too hot.

Such mining scripts have been strongly contentious in other websites. They exert excessive and unilateral control over the browser’s system. I certainly had such things in mind when I promised never to embed ads and the like in my website, but I had never spelled out that I had no intention of hijacking the browser for my own ends (ad or not).

This morning, I added a new point to my privacy policy.

  • This website does not load software in the user agent (your browser) which serves any purpose beyond displaying the website and its assets—meaning it does not use your browser to mine cryptocurrency, for example.

Most of my privacy policy describes what the website does without mentioning the browser. This point adds a clear expectation for browsers which visit.

I generalized the point a bit to include things which aren’t just cryptocurrency miners. It might be tempting to grab a few of my users’ cycles for SETI@home or the like, for example, but if a user wants to contribute to a project like that, they can do so themselves. I’ll have to rely on persuasive words to bring people around to a cause like that.

The Apology Contract

A binding contract has three elements: offer, consideration, and acceptance—all of which must exist among mutually assenting parties. These elements, in some form or another, have existed since time immemorial. A contract of sale, for example, contains an offer (the good for sale at a price), the consideration (the money exchanged for the good), and the acceptance (the actual mutual agreement to exchange the good for the price).

Many of our social interactions implicitly follow a similar structure because they rely upon offering, considering, and accepting one another’s social cues in more-or-less formulaic ways. Some of these interactions are rigidly ritualistic—”thank you,” “you’re welcome”—and some are not (flirting, for example).

I have read several articles on the best way to apologize, with which I agree, and which address the person giving the apology with humility and sincere intent, acknowledging the harm done, and reducing further harm. (One such popular example was written by John Scalzi. Another good example aimed at children comes from a parenting blog.)

However, I have lately come to worry that the act of the apology often still imposes a contract-like, ritualistic exchange. On receiving an apology, I have in the past found myself at odds with every instinct in my body to assuage the apologizer who, having recognized their fault and promising in good faith to do better, awaits something like an absolution from me before moving on.

The formula for how we’re taught to apologize, as children, goes:

— I’m sorry.

— It’s okay.

I’ve tried withholding that second part of the exchange as I’ve gotten older. Sometimes I don’t feel okay. Sometimes it’s not okay. Maybe I need space or time to get there. Maybe I just want to move on without needing to perseverate on the feelings of the person who wronged me.

This is especially difficult for an in-person conversation. Without the expected words, “it’s okay,” or, “it’s fine,” in my mouth, what am I to say? I don’t necessarily want to prolong the moment, either. I often have an interest in moving past the moment, but I don’t have some alternative wording that isn’t focused on the feelings of the apologizer.

When I don’t automatically say, “it’s okay,” a loaded pause often seems to follow. The apologizer feels they have done everything right, and I haven’t followed through on my end of the apology. They wait for me to give them some way to get past the moment, and when I don’t offer that back, they also don’t know how to continue.

The ritual of the apology feels a lot like a social contract because we’re conditioned to treat it as such from a young age, to offer some comfort to someone who has apologized and meet them part way. However, this is no contract. The formula, like so many social rituals, instead imposes an expected response on the recipient. There’s not necessarily mutual assent.

What I have read about the best way to offer an apology sometimes, but doesn’t always, offers a final step I believe is extremely important—once given, expect nothing back. Any forgiveness, grace, or acceptance on the part of the recipient is a gift, not an exchange. Beyond that, though, you need not expect any response whatsoever, not even acknowledgement. The apology, for the one giving it, is both the understanding of harm and the promise to reject furthering it. It is not a request.

What’s more, I can’t recall seeing anyone write for the person receiving the apology. I address you now: You owe nothing. Take comfort, if you can, that someone has seen how they have harmed you. Find peace, if you can, in the closure they offer. Exchange what you like, and repair the relationship if you want it. But your duty to them ended when the apologizer wronged you in the first place.

Announcing My Content Licensing

A couple of recent popular posts I’ve made have motivated me to license my content here on my site. This doesn’t directly affect readers. It just means that I want to disclose what others are allowed to do with what I write without asking me first.

If anybody wants to re-license anything here (for some reason), I’m open to discussing it, but I may ask for compensation. The easiest way to contact me is just by sending email to to any address at my domain (which all lands in my inbox).

It’s Done

Finally got through the extended edition of Lord of the Rings. Made a GIF to celebrate. It pretty well encapsulates work this last few days.

its-done-640

Puzzling

Screen Shot 2013-12-31 at 13.39.54I’ve been playing a lot of the older Legend of Zelda games lately, since OpenEmu arrived on the scene and changed things. Link to the Past was my favorite.

The entire in-game world was just a single massive interconnected puzzle that took months of playtime to unravel as a kid. Every single thing you saw, got, heard, or did had some significance in understanding and unraveling the next piece in the puzzle. For a kid with wicked, above-average recall, it played to my strengths. That was probably the reason it appealed to me so much, and at the same time, fucked me up so much.

I went into life later already in the habit of working out and memorizing every single thing that passed in front of me as if it were some puzzle that held a part of the key of figuring out the entire world. That definitely didn’t serve me well.

My interest in the Legend of Zelda series waned around the time I hit puberty (and video games began figuring out 3D).

Hello!

Another year, another new blog. I seem to create a new one of these every holiday season. I get some time off and inevitably figure out what dissatisfies me about the previous personal site I had up—despite having gone through the same process last year, and the year before, and so on; despite leaving the site to languish for months on end; despite the urge to burn it down and start all over.

Let’s do it again. I hate WordPress, but it’s so awfully convenient. I’m probably the only person ever to migrate away from Pelican back to WordPress, so I’m going to have to do so largely by hand. I think I’ll go back and pick out the entries that make sense. That is, the ones which have little to do with the process of setting up and using Pelican, I suppose.

So this won’t be the first entry in the system, but it’ll be the first one made for this particular site. At least I won’t be starting over from scratch. Maybe I’ll leave this one up for a little while.