Tuesday, September 29, 2015

On Garbage

Some freak hacked into my Spotify account last night. As to why, I'm sure I don't know. I don't see how hacking into someone's premium account on a service like that is easier or more convenient than just pirating all the free music you like, but whatever. All's well, as I managed to regain control of my account and lock it down again so that they can't just get back in there. It's amazing how violated I still feel at the moment though.

I mean... I've been on the Internet a long time, so I've certainly had accounts hacked before, but there's just something about someone having hacked into my music account. He actually went to the trouble of deleting all of my custom playlists, as well as all of my follows as far as Spotify-made playlists. He replaced them with follows and playlists of his own. Whoever this person was, their taste in music is very different from mine. It's everything I don't really like or listen to myself -- gangsta rap, house music, Latin-based salsa stuff. Somehow that seems worse than if my account were hacked by someone with the same tastes.

Like most people, the music I listen to is meaningful to me. I have memories attached to it -- of places I've lived, experiences I've had, and different versions of myself that I've been. The music I listened to at ages 10... 17... 25... 30 is all so strongly tied to who I was at those points in my life. I literally feel like this dickhead nosed through all of those memories and little pieces of my identity, judged them, and threw them away like the trash he obviously thought they were. He literally hacked into my account and then treated my things like irritating garbage that was in his way.

Like I can actually picture it happening. The special "Burgers and Beer" playlist I saved for Seth to listen to while he's grilling one of these days -- garbage. My little list of special songs I like for rainy days -- garbage. My 90's grunge playlist that reminds me of all my friends from high school -- garbage. That just makes me really angry. My music is not garbage and neither are my memories. This person. This person is garbage. Human garbage. I hope that whoever that little piece of shit was gets hit by a bus on his way home later.