Why don’t you speak up more?

Well because - that’s wrong. When I tell you - it’s your fault. When I give advice - it’s wrong, always. Maybe try - No, tried something similar.

Authoritarians truly survive on silence.

There’s a particular kind of sting that comes when you share something you’re genuinely excited about, and it’s met not with curiosity, not even indifference, but a mocking reaction.

You offer your spark, and instead of warmth, you get a cold laugh. It’s a small moment, but it lands heavy. Because excitement is vulnerable. It’s a piece of yourself held out, unguarded.

The truth is, mockery says far more about the other person than it does about you. It often reveals their discomfort with joy, their unease with enthusiasm, or their need to cut down what they cannot match.

Still, it hurts. And it can make you think twice before sharing again.

Made the first of my new batch of shellac for ink.

Right now just letting the shellac dissolve in a mix of Ethanol and Acetone.

The next steps will be making the slury of carbon black, dragons blood resin, and some Jojoba oil. Once that is mixed in I’ll effectively have an ink, however I’m going one step further and adding beeswax as a secondary carrier and Neem oil to prevent any funky fungus from fermenting.

The ending color should be a warm black with red tones. Next up will be a deep black and then I’ll start finding some colors in nature to extract.

Verse 1 - Early 1990s

Gulf War, Desert Storm, Hubble launch, Mandela freed
Berlin Wall, Balkans war, Rodney King, L.A. heat
Grunge wave, Cobain gone, NAFTA sign, Rwanda bleeds
World Trade bombing, Waco siege, Oklahoma tragedy

Yeltsin tanks, Russia shakes, Clinton sworn, NAFTA trade
Bosnia, Haiti peace, O.J. chase, verdict made
Sarajevo, peace accords, Unabomber in the shack
Princess Di, Hong Kong gone, Kyoto pact on track

(chorus) 

We live inside a dumpster fire,

Roll in a trash can pyer,

Chaos burns up ever higher,

Can’t put out the dumpster fire

Verse 2 - Late 1990s-2000s

Y2K, dot-com rise, Columbine, Napster’s here
Chads hang, Bush wins, 9/11, smoke and fear
Patriot Act, Afghan war, Baghdad falls, shock and awe
Columbia, SARS, Madrid train, Euro coin, Iraq law

Facebook, YouTube, Katrina floods, London bombs, quake in Pak
Pluto out, iPhone in, Beijing games, market crack
Obama win, Gaza war, Haiti quake, Iran green fight
Swine flu, BP spill, WikiLeaks in plain sight

Verse 3 - 2010s

Bin Laden down, Arab Spring, Japan quake, tidal wave
Fukushima, Occupy, Sandy’s wrath, Snowden flees
Boston bombs, Crimea seized, ISIS spreads, refugee tide
Brexit votes, Zika fears, Paris shaken, leaders hide

MeToo, Vegas shots, Hong Kong streets, Yemen starves
Notre Dame, Greta speaks, Amazon and coral scars
COVID looms, Australia burns, Beirut blast, Floyd’s last cry
Capitol storm, vaccines, billionaires in space fly

Verse 4 - 2020s

Ukraine fights, sanctions bite, Roe reversed, heat domes swell
Maui burns, AI art, ChatGPT, climate hell
Turkey quake, Gaza war, moon landers, spy balloons
Evergrande, crypto crash, Mars still a distant tune

James Webb sees the past, Artemis is set to go
Monkeypox, TikTok bans, Hollywood on strike show
Heat records, ice collapse, droughts spread, rivers dry
El Niño, fusion spark, still no end, we wonder why

I’ve never had guardian cats, they’ve all been aloof and generally, well, catty. That was until the two that occupy my life now.

Both “lead the way” when walking somewhere, and one guards the door when I use the bathroom. Not interfering or under my legs, genuinely like “Hey, this room, it’s occupied, pound that pavement” and he won’t leave until I’m done. This is the same one that I’ll wake up and he’s curled on my chest.

The other one is always within ear shot and rapidly comes if called by whistle and will play fetch with balls. He proceeds in legacy to a street cat that adopted me. This one is always keeping track of what’s going on and will position himself in a location that gives him the best vantage point near me.

I’ve been introspective lately, and I’ve decided to forgive those who have slighted me. Not for their sake, but for mine. I’ve been carrying a heavy burden: shame born of cruelty, anger at those who mocked my efforts to improve an entire industry, fear from stalkers, disappointment with fair-weather friends who vanished when I needed them. Frustration with frenemies I tolerated simply because they were information security famous or cyber security experts I once admired for knowing that 1=1 in the right places.

This doesn’t mean I’m going around shaking hands and hugging people. No. COVID. Ew. I’ll never forget the emotions or the projections of bitterness and insecurity aimed at me by bullies and antagonists. But I won’t let them hurt me anymore. I’ve survived things others couldn’t even imagine, rebuilt myself before, and I’ll do it again. I’m proud of that. Instead of chasing friendships with people who live for attention, I’ll start building my own path. Growing, creating, and focusing on myself.

For too long, I poured my energy into mentoring, teaching, volunteering, supporting others, just trying to help people be better. I gave everything and left none of my strength for myself. That’s going to change. I need me. There are people who genuinely need me and want me, not as a crutch for their incompetence, but as a source of real support.

I know these are just words on a screen for now, but they’ll come to life as I do.

I’ve been a lifeline for so many, but it’s time to be one for myself.

If today were my last day, I wouldn’t waste a second on things that don’t matter.

I wouldn’t scroll through endless feeds, or bite my tongue out of fear, or keep putting off the dreams I’ve been “saving for later.” There is no later there is only now.

I would wake up and notice the morning light, really notice it. I’d feel the weight of my body in the bed, breathe in deeply, and be grateful for another moment to open my eyes. I’d make my coffee slowly, savoring the warmth in my hands, the smell rising from the cup. I’d call someone I love, just to tell them I love them. No small talk, no delay.

I’d forgive the people who hurt me, not because they deserve it, but because I deserve the freedom. I’ve carried some grudges too long, like stones in my pocket, weighing me down. Today, I’d set them down and walk lighter. I’d stop worrying about how I’m perceived and start living in the skin I’m in, without apology.

I’d do the thing I’ve been avoiding. The one that makes my heart race in equal parts fear and excitement. Maybe it’s starting that project, sending that message, or buying the ticket to somewhere I’ve only ever imagined. Failure wouldn’t scare me anymore; missing my chance would.

I’d pay close attention to every sound, every scent, every face. I’d see the way the sunlight hits the street, the way someone’s laughter fills the air, the way a stranger’s kindness lingers long after the moment passes.

I’d be generous. Not just with money, but with my time, my attention, my words. I’d tell people the good things I usually think but never say. “You inspire me.” “You make my life better.” “I’m proud of you.” The world doesn’t have enough of those words. I wouldn’t leave them unsaid.

If today were my last, I’d spend less time talking about what’s wrong and more time making something right, even in the smallest way. I’d plant seeds, literal or metaphorical, even if I never get to see them grow. Because what I do today still matters tomorrow, even if I’m not here.

I would laugh. Loudly. The kind of laughter that makes your ribs ache. I’d dance, even if it’s in my kitchen with the music up and no one watching. I’d eat my favorite meal. I’d watch the sunset and let the colors sink in like they were painted just for me.

If today were my last, I’d live it so fully that, when the night came, I’d have nothing left to give, because I’d have given it all. And maybe that’s the point.

Every day could be my last. So every day, I will wake up, breathe deeply, and choose to live. Not someday. Not when it’s convenient. Now.

You are the resistance. You are what you’ve been waiting for. Nobody else is coming. Be what you need.

Wake up. Face their lies. Face their greed. Face their violence.

They sell despair — don’t buy it. They sell submission — don’t wear it. They sell helplessness — never take it.

Every act matters. Every choice counts. Every dollar denied cuts them deeper. Every wall you tear down brings us closer.

You are the spark. You are the match.

Light it. Burn it. Break it.

And when it’s in flames? Don’t stop. Don’t wait. Don’t ask.

Push harder. Stand taller. Hit back.

Build the world that comes after — with your hands, your voice, your will. Because you are the resistance. Every. Fucking. Day.

So I’ve decided to make Ink, I’m kinda proud about my previous chemistry efforts with Shellac. Now to take the next steps, push that up a notch with some work on a Shellac + Iron Gall + Carbon Black. I’m focusing on the archival aspects, while Iron Gall is nice, it tends to eat away at paper over time becoming more acidic. The hope is that the Shellac will stop that process before it starts.

**India Style Shellac Ink **

3g - Tannic Acid 2g - Iron(II) Sulfate 3g - Carbon Black PBk7 5g - Shellac
30 mL Ethanol
60 mL Distilled Water
3 drops of Tea Tree Oil

If that doesn’t work, I’ll go with a different approach and use the Shellac as an overcoat with some calcium carbonate (chalk) in the solution.

**Shellac Overcoat **

5 g shellac flakes
30 mL 95% ethanol
~0.2-0.3 g ultrafine calcium carbonate
1-2 drops melted beeswax

You are standing alone in a dimly lit chamber. The air tastes of dust and solder. No herald or mentor awaits you here, only the echo of your own heartbeat.

Obvious exits: NORTH to the workbench, EAST to the scrap pile.

NORTH

A battered workbench stretches before you. Scattered across its surface lie torn denim, safety pins, and a coil of copper wire. A half‑dead LED strip flickers weakly under the bench lamp.

You sense that no cavalry will arrive. Your only tools are what you salvage.

• PATCH the denim with safety pins.
• SNIP copper wire from the coil.
• SOLDER an LED into the hem of your jacket, breathing light into the gloom.

Obvious exits: SOUTH (back to the chamber), EAST (to the forge).

EAST

A small forge stands cold and silent, its bellows long since emptied. Beside it lies a heap of “NO” and “NOT YET,” shards of rejected ideas.

FORGE KEY

You hammer the shards together until they fit a hidden lock in your mind. The key turns with a click only you can hear.

Obvious exits: WEST (back to workbench), UP (to the console).

UP

A dusty terminal console flickers:

> _  

No system will save you; you must rebuild line by line.

TYPE your own code…

And so you become your own hero.

Choose resistance. Choose waking up every day like it’s your last. Choose kicking fascists in the teeth. Choose refusing their despair, their lies, their poison. Choose not buying their products, not supporting their world. Choose fighting with your wallet, and watching them burn. Choose rejecting the apathy they push, the helplessness they sell. Choose punk, not submission. Choose rebellion, not conformity. Choose solidarity over silence. Choose tearing their world down with every action, every dollar you don’t spend. Choose no future for them. Choose resistance, every fucking day.