I just deleted 10 VMs from my hard drive. After a hectic CS major, I still didn’t have a reasonable backup plan. I often wonder if my extensive usage of VMs was already awkward. I don’t have a portable and powerful enough laptop; I still have my Latitude 7280 with a 2.4 GHz CPU and 8 GB of RAM. I have all my homework and code snippets scattered across the hard drive, and I didn’t even want to give them a final check. What I’ve lost is probably not just code, but some remnants of memories from those years. I knew little then, and I still know little now, yet time has moved on.
I have only one VM with a Windows system, and it never had any other data except for a chat program. I was so desperate to keep that VM, with its shutdown points and the same internet environment. It had to start with the chat program open. Until I received the final death message, "Verify your identity," I was always scared.
I can't pass any identity verification linked to my past. The obstacles are both psychological and real. When you wrestle with a giant black-box sensor machine, a sense of powerlessness and disorientation sets in. I majored in CS, so I was supposed to have figured it out, yet I never worked anything out.
My past, my dreams, my hope, my fear and desperation, they all had a data extension. They were the people I wanted to be.
tbc 17.10.2024 23:11
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