On my pilgrimage to the Temple of Consumer Electronics, where I regularly pay my tithes to the Gods of Geek, I was sent to pick up a network interface card to share between my used laptops. I found that, and then I figured that while I was about it, I might as well go gawk at the selection of digital cameras.

And. Heh.

When there's a cute little 3 megapixel camera with those little necessities like a preview window and a flash, and it's on sale, and it's the last day of the sale, and you do have that amount to spare...

... what's a geek girl supposed to do, eh?

Onboard storage is 16mb; not much, and I'm not sure if the memory card I have about for a palmtop is compatible or not. The camera takes Secure Digital memory cards. I feel immensely smug. The old Intel camera is good for standard use, but for good resolution, dark, or such things, I'll want this one. The Intel is still easier for me to use, and it's got the burst mode that I've found invaluable for when I know my hands are jittery and I don't want to spoil a good composition by being a butterfingers, and it's also a video camera and a webcam -- but this new one, it is very good.

I also took the opportunity to pick up some TMBG stuff that I'd been missing out on. Hello, The Spine. Hello, Mink Car. (Man, it's so loud in here.) I borrowed an electronic library copy of that song from an LJ-pal who's been lost to time, the one other person interested in a particular beer according to the interests list, until I wasn't interested in it anymore. I fell in love with the song right then and there. All that unplugged energy has to go somewhere, and it goes into my brain...

One of the things I really want to do is take good photos of the places I go, the buildings I deal with, the plant life, the landscape, the sky. I want to remember how these things look for after I leave. There are so many photos of the people, and I write so much about the events -- what I want my eyes to remember is the lay of the land, the way that building sat right in front of those trees, the way the little mountain was, the rocks, the crack in the sidewalk...

What I'd really love to do, if I were feeling particularly irresponsible and cheery, is take photos of the beats I walk, then put them on Petridish with Google map link complete with satellite photos and exact coordinates. You could find the places I stood, years later, with a GPS and my photos for a guidebook.

... That's what I'd like. A mobile device that knows where it is at all times, GPS and compass in one, complete with camera and upload system. Take photos, tag them with location, date, time, direction, people, keywords, commentary.

In the discussion about memory technology in the Harry Potter universe, there was a comparison between Obliviation (and similar things) and rape -- and the follow-up that rape is more vandalism, desecration, and invasion than it is theft, really. A physical assault is an attack that "takes" feelings of security and safety, yes, but it accomplishes this by creating traumatic memories that override previous experience, rather than actually removing events that had led to the feelings of safety. An Obliviation takes away memories, rather than creating new memories that change emotion.

Tangent much? Yes. Sort of. I've been puzzled by the intense feelings of traumatic violation I get when someone or something has messed with my data. I pride myself on my memory, but I know my good memory is an illusion, carefully crafted by the fact that I keep very detailed records of what I'm doing, where I've been, who I know, and who I am. I keep my memories on my computer. An invasion of my computer is not only an invasion onto a personal body part, but risks damaging my memories. Keep your memories in your shoes.

I read Cyteen too young, I think, because once I'd read it, I started hoarding information about myself -- not quite the way an obsessive and mentally ill person might save old pizza boxes and assorted garbage, but with a disturbing dedication and fervor. I want immortality, but I don't think I'm going to get it in this body. I want to be remembered -- more than that, I want to remember me. I want some girl in the future to be able to look through my memories, look through my eyes, and use where I left off as a point where she can leap into places where I won't be able to reach quite yet, but I can almost see if I stretch hard enough...