Privacy and Insanity

Mom sent my brother and me an article from the New York Times yesterday. It was yet another tome about the perils of our lives online. Apparently some motivated scholarly types mapped Facebook profiles and friendships, concluding that they could predict with high accuracy personal facts that weren't necessarily shared online. For example, they could say with 76% certainly that a man was gay simply based on the network of friends he maintained.
Shocking, right?
Not really. I could tell you a lot about 76% of the people who use Facebook without tapping MIT's statistical analysis computers. Most people put too much information online.
And here I am, blogging. The thing is, I want this stuff in the public domain. I am self-aggrandizing enough to think others (mom) might want to read about my misadventures. But keep in mind, there's a high degree of censorship going on. I haven't written all that much recently because life has been a slog, less than noteworthy.

I did find a job; that is going well. I am enrolled in some pretty awesome classes; I am phenomenally behind in my schoolwork. I am morose about my financial situation; one hit after another has rather drained my resources.

Did I tell you about my car situation?? I do want this to be online. I want this story to be searchable to the point that it becomes Google's top hit whenever someone is looking for Best Buy Motors in Adelaide South Australia. That's right, Best Buy Motors in South Australia, proprietor Michael Dundon, salesperson Andrew Lockhead. These gentlemen have personified for me the caricatured image of the smarmy, dishonest used car salesman. I was, no doubt about it, an absolute fool to buy a 1994 Volvo off the Best Buy Motors Lot, but I did ask the right questions. For example, "Can I take this car to an independent mechanic for examination?" No, came the answer... for insurance purposes.
"Can I see the service history?" Oh, it's all in order.
"Is this car going to break down on me in a week?" Nah, it's a good little car. Last owner was a doctor!

So yes, I am officially a sucker. The car broke down in exactly one week. The timing belt snapped while I was driving at 45 mph. For those of you who, like me, are not mechanically savvy, the snapping of a timing belt leads to the misalignment of all pistons in the valves of the car. Basically the engine requires major overhaul and repair. The cost to get this car back on the road is higher than the cost of purchase. Not running, this car is worth less than nothing to a salvage yard. Even scrap metal collectors want to charge me for the cost of towing the hunk of junk (my housemates call it "The Blue Runner") to a car graveyard.

In what I think was a valiant attempt at conciliatory bargaining, I went back to Mike Dundon, owner of Best Buy Motors. I explained the untenable financial situation his fraudulent salesmanship (and my bad character judgment) had put me in, and I told him that I was quite certain he deliberately screwed me over. I told him that I was positioned to take legal action against him for misleading me into a purchase. I offered to work out a trade, an exchange, or some variation on a refund. He laughed in my face and insulted me (details need not be recorded here). Incensed, I left the lot and have been plotting a lawsuit ever since. Alternatively, I'm thinking of throwing a raging car bashing party, wherein $10 will get participants a beer and 3 minutes with a sledge hammer. Everyone can relieve their angst, as well as support the charity case that is my current life. Two-hundred fifty angry car-bashing people, and I could completely recoup my losses. A brilliant plan, no?

Did I mention that I've got four assignments due in a week and a half? Two 15-page papers, one accounting problem set, and a collection of legal opinions. I am in the coolest masters degree program ever, but heavens it's a lot of work in a short period of time. On top of the car. On top of the "money earning" table-waiting work. And the shipping conundrum. And the... oh, right, privacy... there are some things that shouldn't be posted online for all eternity and all readers.

Oh, don't feel sorry for me. It's all a grand adventure. But what a mess.