Monthly Archives: July 2011

Digital Life… After Death

I have a Last Will & Testament. A Living Will. Several different forms of Power of Attorney. All of which are designed to take care of my physical life and belongings when I’m either incapacitated or die.

But what happens to my digital life and data?

I’m not really sure why I was thinking about this. What happens if I get killed by a flaming toilet seat from space? If there’s one thing that was drilled into my head in Boy Scouts, it was:

Be Prepared!

Oddly enough, as I typed that, I wonder if that’s what made me so pessimistic and negative about so many things? I’ll have to ponder that for a bit….

Anyway, back to what I was originally pondering.

I feel that I’m not prepared. At least for the digital afterlife.

I do all the paperwork in our household: our personal finances, both of our personal business finances, and the finances for our two businesses. All of which means I have a plethora of online accounts: banking, bills, vendors, etc., all of which have usernames and passwords to access.

I also manage several domains, and have several different email accounts. Then there’s all the social media sites I am a part of: this blog, Twitter, Facebook, tumblr, Google+, flickr, YouTube, Gowalla, foursquare, and only the FSM knows what other sites. What will happen with those accounts? And who will let my online friends know of my demise in a proper and respectful manner, even if I do break my neck slipping on a puddle of lube the Husbear failed to clean up?

And it’s not like the Husbear (or probably anyone else) could guess my passwords. I’m not one of those people who use the same simple password for every site I visit. I like my passwords complex, just like my men. 😉 I essentially had god privileges with my former corporate IT job, so having complex passwords was always drilled into our heads.

Mostly because I tend to not remember *all* of them myself, I do keep an encrypted database with my current account information in it: usernames, passwords and all those damned annoying challenge questions and answers. But how would anyone know how and where to get into that? Should I keep the access information in a sealed envelope in a safe deposit box just in case?

What about all the computer gear I have around. The Husbear has finally just learned where the power switch is for the DSL modem. How is he going to know how things are connected and interconnected? After all, he’s the first to call me when “the Internet is down!” Should I draw a diagram out? I know the way I do things and the way other tech heads do things are never ever the same. Would someone have to dismantle my network just to make sense of it? Or could they?

And what about all the digital media I have: all the digital photos I have taken over the years; all the photos, videos, movies and television episodes I’ve “collected” (some of which may or may not be porn). Who will know where that is all stored, and who it should go to, and what should be scrubbed?

These are the kinds of thoughts I have at night when I should be sleeping.

Not to sound like the invitational at the end of a church sermon, but I’m curious: Have you given any thought to this for yourself? Is there someone who will take care of your digital life and data for you when you finally shuffle off this mortal coil? Will they even know where to start?

Until next time...

Fishhooked and Rooted

In case you missed it: last Thursday on the way to the B-52’s concert, I broke yet another tooth. This time a molar. On a fried cheese stick.

As a result, I had my first official root canal on Monday. And I have to say it was two hours of suck.

Suckage #1: I didn’t get to see my regular hot-dentist-man as he was already booked that day, so I had to see one of his associates. Who wasn’t pretty on the eyes to me: he was a tall, lanky, ginger man. But he was pleasant enough and managed to work me into his schedule.

Suckage #2: After X-rays were taken, it was decided that the tooth itself couldn’t be repaired directly. Which left my options at either have the tooth pulled, or have a root canal and shape and fill the tooth in preparation for an *upcoming* procedure. Because this is the same side I had the previous tooth pulled on, and I’m already missing the back molar, hot-dentist-man’s plan was to use this now-broken molar as an anchor for a partial. So I really needed to keep what I could of it. Damn. There goes $1300 I didn’t have to play with.

Suckage #3 and #4: I’ve mentioned it before, but I’m not a fan of needles. (I wonder if anyone really is?) So when Ginger Dentista started jabbing needles into my gums and injecting whatever he injected to deaden the area, I was slightly unnerved. The nitrous really wasn’t doing anything for me other than making me feel tired, but it was making me feel anxious. Actually, I think I was more unnerved because Ginger Dentista had his finger in between by teeth and my lips and was doing this weird shaking thing to it while he was doing the injections. Which made me think I was being fishhooked.

After which I was left sit for about 5 minutes for the numb to kick in. This was the view I had while I waited:

Suckage #I-Lost-Count: Then Tooth Assistant Lady put this rubber door opener thingy into my mouth to wedge it open. Not happy about that I was. And then she started attaching this rubber sheet dam thing around my tooth and attached some scaffolding to it on the outside of my face. From my viewpoint, I thought I looked like a Predator. Not Chris Hansen Predator, but the Predator from those Ah-nold movies. I wanted to snap a picture, but I couldn’t.

So now I’m laying there with my mouth wedged open, half my face numb, and a nasty-tasting rubber sheet touching my tongue. Saliva city! Of which I had a difficult time swallowing thanks to the numb. I thought for sure I was going to choke a few times.

And they haven’t even started the procedure yet!

But when they do start the procedure, whatever Dremel attachment Ginger Dentista was using made the loudest noise in my head I have ever heard. And not a good noise either. I can’t even begin to describe it. But I shall attempt to. Imagine golf cleats grinding down a chalkboard, amplified 1000 times. While river dancing. Yep. That’s pretty close to what it sounded like. With a little reverberation to boot. Kind of like listening to Yoko Ono having an orgasm. Underwater. While being humped by a whale. Or listening to Ke$ha.

That lasted a good hour. Or it felt like an hour. I think I was internally deaf by the time they were finished.

Ginger Dentista got the tooth root out, and made whatever changes he had to make to the tooth to pack it with some substance that will stay put until I go back for an “upgrade” at some point down the road.

Then sent me home with instructions to take ibuprofen every 6 hours until my face stops hurting.

Which it hasn’t. Yet. For the most part.

Until next time...