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easilyabandonedgirl · 5 years

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You weren't ready to talk about it, but this is all you'll ever get.

Here's my truth.

I would say in fairly confident I got pregnant on the birthday. It could have been the next 2 days after, but I'm sure it was the night of my birthday.

Yes, I was on birth control pills. I took them every day, on time, like clock work. No, I did not miss a pill or take one late. But there is apparently something about you and I that makes the universe not care if I'm on birth control. Even though we did go almost a whole year without getting pregnant between Persephone and Lillith. April 2018 to March 2019.

Lillith was the reason I had an IUD put in. After receiving a less than enthusiastic reaction from you at the very thought of a baby, I told myself that if this pregnancy didn't last, I would go to a more permanent form of birth control. You made it very clear that giving me a baby was no longer something you were willing to do and I understood that the best I could. My Dr still didnt want to tie or seal my tubes, and I'm kind of thankful for that. So we agreed on a very long term IUD. So now I have a paraguard IUD in and I've had it since April 23, 2019. I can have it removed at any time if babies are in the plans, but I have to have it removed no later than April 20, 2029.

Anyway, when I started dropping hints that I was dreaming about babies and other people were dreaming about me having babies (which is 100% true), I didnt know I was pregnant. So the first couple of days when I said that I wasnt pregnant, I didnt know I was then. I found out a couple days later. I know I pushed a little too hard on the subject and thats what drove you away. But I wanted to know that you would be there for me, at least emotionally. And when you stopped replying to texts or answering calls or calling me back, I panicked. Wholeheartedly freaked me out. When I said that you mean more to me than anyone, even a baby, I meant that.

A couple weeks went by and things were pretty much back to normal with us. I was still holding on to this tremendous secret and I honestly, didnt know what I was going to do. I knew I had time to think about it still, but I didnt want you to freak out and reject me and our baby if I told you the truth. Not that I thought that was what you would do, but I was scared to even risk it. I wasnt willing to take the chance of finding out how you would react at the time. I was terrified of everything.

So I woke up the morning of a March 27th and told myself that I was going to tell you, to your face and accept whatever happened after that. You had already told me the night before you were going to come see me that day after work. I was so ready to butter you up with kisses and blowjobs and pizza and backrubs and shower time and just being the most overly affectionate human being ever. Do you remember what happened the day of the 27th?

You called me when you got out of work to tell me your were leaving. You cancelled coming over to see me, you hung up the phone on me and refused to do anything but text me. I didnt know what to do. I finally built the nerve to sit you down, face to face, and tell you the truth, accepting whatever reaction you were going to have as my fate. Then you cancelled our night together and I took it as a sign from the universe to keep my mouth shut. So I did. I kept silent.

A few days go by and I'm about a month pregnant when I start getting so fucking nauseous that I cant do anything without throwing up. I tried to hide the pain in my body with other things, I blamed being sick on anxiety (though my anxiety was outrageous, it was only 10% of why I was throwing up all day.) I couldnt eat, couldnt sleep, couldnt shower without puking my brains out. It was horrible and I'm certain my anxiety made it worse. I tried hard not to think about you leaving or about keeping this secret from you.

There were moments, so many moments, I caught my subconscious mind sending you signals. We would be laid down and my hand would put your hand on my belly without me even thinking about it. I was asking for belly rubs and back rubs and asking you to rub my feet because everything hurt so bad. There were a few moments I thought you knew or that you were wondering. One of them was the first time we had sex after I hit 4 weeks and my body starting becoming overly sensitive. I didnt notice it the first time, but as I had 8, 9, 10, 11 screaming orgasms, I thought to "Holy shit. He's going to know if I keep this up. Hes going to ask."

The next 5 or 6 times we had sex, I tried so hard to keep quiet. To keep my screaming to every 3rd orgasm. We have great sex and it's not unusual for you to make me cum 2 or 3 times. So I told myself if I only scream every 3rd or 4th time, you wouldnt become suspicious. So that's what I did.

The last week we were together, before you left, we had two rounds back to back where it was just unreal. In total I remember something like 18 or 19 orgasms. I laid beside you and you looked at me and I remember it just being such a different look on your face. I was like, "fucking fuck I'm fucking busted as fuck. Hes fucking going to fucking ask. Fuck it. If he asks, tell him the truth." But you never asked. You just closed your eyes and even when I asked, "are you thinking about something?" You said, "just about how tired I am." And I subconsciously placed your hand on my belly and we took a nap.

Now you're probably going to hate me in a thousand different ways for this, but it's the truth. When you didnt come over the Tuesday before you were leaving, I told myself I needed to make a choice. Your stuff was packed. You were leaving and there was nothing I could say or do to stop you. I wanted our baby but I wanted you more and I thought if I kept her, you would exile me. So I called and set an appointment to have an abortion. It was one of the most horrific feelings I've ever had during a phone call. My appointment was set for April 23rd at 8am. At the time, I thought it was the right thing to do. So I started drinking, heavy and fast. I wanted to numb myself. The one thing I said I was never going to do again in my whole life, I now had to do. It was emotionally tormenting to say the least. I had convinced myself that no matter what I did, you were going to hate me regardless.

So I drank. And for 3 days it was all I did. It makes me a horrible person and makes me sick to stomach just thinking about it. I hate every inch of who I am because of it. I deserve to burn in hell fire for all eternity for what I did. Theres no excuse for it and you're welcome to judge and hate me, but you should know it will never surmount how much I judge and hate myself for what I did. The drinking started causing complications. That's why I was suddenly in enormous amounts of excruciating pain. My uterus started contracting and I knew I was going to miscarry. I could feel it happening all over again. The same exact lain I have become so accustom to.

I begged to Gods to keep me together until you left. Just two more days. They were kind enough to give me that. I didnt want there to be any conflict between us with you so close to leaving to the other side of the country. So close to your birthday. So I kept my mouth shut and tried to keep things as normal between us as I could. I wasnt going to be the reason to made any big life decisions. I wasnt important enough for that, nothing about me was that important.

The morning of you leaving came. When I first got our of my car at Mugu Rock, I saw your face and I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you everything. All of it. Beg you on my knees and plead with the Gods to make you stay. Right there in the gravel, in front of anyone and everyone. I didnt care about anything but not losing you. We sat on the rocks at the beach and stared off into the deep waters, across the horizon. While you were taking mental pictures of everything around you but me, I couldn't focus on anything but you. Memorizing the way your hands felt against mine. I fought hard to memorize every inch of your handsome face, every inch of your body, to count the gold flakes in your eyes and the green speckles. One by one.

You squeezed my hand and it made me want to tell you everything. I was just going to blurt it out and let it be what it was, whatever that was suppose to be. But I turned my head and saw a tear fall down your face. I heard you sniffle and I could feel all your pain and the heartbreak you had. There was no way in hell I was going to add to that. I knew in that moment that I had to keep my secret. I couldnt bare to watch the strongest man I know break down and dare to be the little cunt who adds salt to your already open wounds. I couldnt do it, there was no sound coming from my mouth when I opened it. I wiped the tears from your face and suddenly had no urge to say a word.

I lost Lillith on April 18. I never made it to the clinic. I already hate myself and know it was my fault. 100% my fault. I was drinking for a few days. I wasnt eating, wasnt sleeping, no water. Nothing. I laid in bed after you left and pretty much wished to die every single day for weeks. I laid in bed, that was it. I distinctly recall there being two days I didnt even get up to pee. I let my body suffer because I genuinely wanted to rot into a corpse. I had pain in every inch of everything. When I lost her, I didnt go to the ER, I didnt see my Dr. I just laid there hoping it would kill me. I saw my Dr on April 23rd. He confirmed my miscarriage and told me I looked like shit. He was right.

He did blood work, ran tests. The typical stuff. That's when we found our my kindneys were so dehydrated that they were failing. That's why my apartment fell into such disarray. I was really hoping the whole thing would just kill me. And I kept up my facade with you every day. Keeping to conversation turned on you, and how you were doing so I could avoid talking about me.

I didnt want to tell you I lost her. I told myself there was no point because what was done, was done. There was nothing I could say to you or do to bring her back. So there was no reason in my mind, at the time, to tell you.

And that's the whole truth. Start to finish.

I'm positive you're going to hate me, think I'm vile and foul. You're right. 100% accurate. And I know my sorry wont count at all after everything I did. But I am wholeheartedly sorry. I know I handled everything wrong. All of it. I know in my heart you would have never hated me or left me for dead back then. But I was so scared. I let my anxiety and fear run the show and it cost me everything.

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teiraymondmccoy78 · 6 years

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The Prophets of Cryptocurrency Survey the Boom and Bust

Not long ago, I was in Montreal for a cryptocurrency conference. My hotel, on the top floor of a big building downtown, had a roof garden with a koi pond. One morning, as I had coffee and a bagel in this garden, I watched a pair of ducks feeding on a mound of pellets that someone had left for them at the pond’s edge. Every few seconds, they dipped their beaks to drink, and, in the process, spilled undigested pellets into the water. A few koi idled there, poking at the surface for the scraps. The longer I watched, the more I wondered if the ducks were deliberately feeding the fish. Was such a thing possible? I asked the breakfast attendant, a ruddy Quebecer. He smiled and said, “No, but it is what I tell the children.”

My mind had been marinating overnight—and for more than a year, really—in the abstrusities of cryptocurrencies and the blockchain technology on which they are built. Bitcoin and, subsequently, a proliferation of other cryptocurrencies had become an object of global fascination, amid prophecies of societal upheaval and reform, but mainly on the promise of instant wealth. A peer-to-peer money system that cut out banks and governments had made it possible, and fashionable, to get rich by sticking it to the Man.

Some of this stuff I understood; much of it I still did not. If you’re not, say, a computer scientist or a mathematician, the deeper you get into the esoterica of distributed ledgers, consensus algorithms, hash functions, zero-knowledge proofs, byzantine-fault-tolerance theory, and so on—the farther you travel from the familiar terrain of “the legacy world,” where, one blockchain futurist told me, pityingly, I live—the better the chance you have of bumping up against the limits of your intelligence. You grasp, instead, for metaphors.

Blockchain talk makes a whiteboard of the brain. You’re always erasing, starting over, as analogies present themselves. So, Montreal bagel in hand, I considered the ducks and the carp. Let the pellets be a cryptocurrency—koicoin, say. Would the ducks then be currency miners? Every altcoin—the catchall for cryptocurrencies other than bitcoin, the majority of which are eventually classified as shitcoin—has its own community of enthusiasts and kvetchers, so perhaps the koi were this one’s. The koicommunity. The breakfast attendant who had put out the pellets: he’d be our koicoin Satoshi—as in Satoshi Nakamoto, the pseudonymous and still unidentified creator of Bitcoin. Yes, the koicoin protocol was strong, and the incentives appeared to be well aligned, but the project didn’t really pass muster in terms of immutability, decentralization, and privacy. Koicoin was shitcoin.

A few hours later, I was at lunch in a conference room in another hotel, with a table of crypto wizards, a few of them among the most respected devs in the space. (Devs are developers, and even legacy worlders must surrender after a while and ditch the scare quotes around “the space,” when referring to the cryptosphere.) Four of these devs were researchers associated with Ethereum, the open-source blockchain platform. Ethereum is not itself a cryptocurrency; to operate on Ethereum, you have to use the cryptocurrency ether, which, like bitcoin, you can buy or sell. (Among cryptocurrencies, ether’s market capitalization is second only to bitcoin’s.) The devs were specimens of an itinerant coder élite, engaged, wherever they turn up and to the exclusion of pretty much everything else, in the ongoing construction of an alternate global financial and computational infrastructure: a new way of handling money or identity, a system they describe as a better, decentralized version of the World Wide Web—a Web 3.0—more in keeping with the Internet’s early utopian promise than with the invidious, monopolistic hellscape it has become. They want to seize back the tubes, and the data—our lives—from Facebook, Google, and the new oligarchs of Silicon Valley.

One of them, Vlad Zamfir, a twenty-eight-year-old Romanian-born mathematician who grew up in Ottawa and dropped out of the University of Guelph, was scribbling equations on an electronic tablet called a reMarkable pad. He narrated as he scrawled. The others at the table leaned in toward him, in a way that recalled Rembrandt’s “The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp.” To the two or three people at the table who were clearly incapable of following along, he said, earnestly, “Sorry to alienate you with my math.” Zamfir is the lead developer of one strand of Casper, an ongoing software upgrade designed to make Ethereum scale better and work more securely—an undertaking thought to be vital to its viability and survival. “It’s shitty technology,” Zamfir, whose Twitter bio reads “absurdist, troll,” told a journalist two years ago.

Zamfir was showing the others some rough equations he’d worked out to address one of the thousands of riddles that need to be solved. This particular effort was an attempt (jargon alert) to optimize the incentive structure for proof-of-stake validation—that is, how best to get enough people and machines to participate in a computing operation essential to the functioning of the entire system. “We’re trying to do game theory here,” Zamfir said. The others pointed out what they thought might be flaws. “It doesn’t seem reasonable,” Zamfir said. “But the math works out.” This summarized much of what I’d encountered in crypto.

To his right sat Vitalik Buterin, Ethereum’s founder and semi-reluctant philosopher king. Buterin, who is twenty-four, occasionally glanced at Zamfir’s formulas but mostly looked into the middle distance with a melancholic empty stare, sometimes typing out messages and tweets on his phone with one finger. He was a quick study, and also he pretty much already knew what Zamfir had come up with, and to his thinking the work wasn’t quite there. “When the models are getting overcomplicated, it’s probably good to have more time to try to simplify them,” he told me later, with what I took to be generous understatement.

Buterin had been working, simultaneously, on another version of Casper. So he and Zamfir were both collaborating and competing with each other. There seemed to be no ego or bitterness—in their appraisal of each other’s work, in person, or on social media, where so much of the conversation takes place, in full view. Their assessments were Spockian, and cutting only to the Kirks among us.

They had first met before a conference in Toronto in 2014. Zamfir was amazed by Buterin, whom he called a “walking computer,” and he joined Ethereum as a researcher soon after. Now good friends who meet up mostly at conferences and workshops, they had greeted each other the day before in the hotel lobby with a fervent embrace, like summer campers back for another year, before quick-walking to a quiet corner to start in on the incentive-structure-for-proof-of-stake-validation talk. Whenever and wherever Buterin and Zamfir convene, people gather around—eavesdropping, hoping for scraps of insight. The two are used to this and pay little heed. There were no secrets, only problems and solutions, and the satisfaction that comes from proceeding from one toward the other.

The first time I heard the word “Ethereum” was in April, 2017. A hedge-fund manager, at a benefit in Manhattan, was telling me that he’d made more money buying and selling ether and other cryptocurrencies in the past year than he’d ever made at his old hedge fund. This was a significant claim, since the fund had made him a billionaire. He was using words I’d never heard before. He mentioned bitcoin, too, which I’d certainly heard a lot about but, like most people my age, didn’t really understand. I’d idly hoped I might be just old enough to make it to my deathbed without having to get up to speed.

As the year wore on, that dream faded. The surge in the price of bitcoin, and of other cryptocurrencies, which proliferated amid a craze for initial coin offerings (I.C.O.s), prompted a commensurate explosion in the number of stories and conversations about this new kind of money and, sometimes more to the point, about the blockchain technology behind it—this either revolutionary or needlessly laborious way of keeping track of transactions and data. It seemed as if language had been randomized. I started hearing those words—the ones I’d never heard before—an awful lot: “trustless,” “sharding,” “flippening.” Explaining blockchain became a genre unto itself.

The dizzying run-up in crypto prices in 2017 was followed, this year, by a long, lurching retreat that, as the summer gave way to fall, began to seem perilous. As with notorious stock-market and real-estate bubbles, innocents had been taken in and cleaned out. But both boom and bust reflected an ongoing argument over what cryptocurrencies and their technological underpinnings might be worth—which is to say, whether they are, as some like to ask, real. Is crypto the future or a fad? Golden ticket or Ponzi scheme? Amazon 2.0 or tulip mania? And what is it good for, anyway? It sure is neat, but for now it lacks its killer app, a use that might lead to mass adoption, as e-mail did for the Internet. “We need the hundred-dollar laptop, the iPod,” a blockchain apostle told me.

Now and then, legacy titans voiced their scorn. Jamie Dimon, the chief executive of J. P. Morgan, labelled crypto “a fraud”; Warren Buffett used the phrase “rat poison squared.” Legions of skeptics and technophobes, out of envy, ignorance, or wisdom, savored such pronouncements, while the true believers and the vertiginously invested mostly brushed it aside. They had faith that a new order was nigh. They pumped but did not dump.

Among a certain subset, it was both fashionable and integral to ignore the fluctuations in price. The idea was to build and shore up a new system—for everything from payments and banking to health care and identity—that was either a replacement for the old one, or at least an alternative to it, one that was borderless, independent of state control and of exploitation by Big Tech. “It’s definitely nice to try to eke out some completely parallel kind of world that’s totally separate from the existing one,” Buterin said. “It does interact with the rest of society, and the goal is definitely to help improve the mainstream world, but we’re on a different track.” Such an undertaking would, at best, take many years and likely span several economic and investment cycles. While the old armature rots, a new one rises alongside it, much as the new Tappan Zee Bridge, over the Hudson, gradually took shape next to the rusty old one it would one day replace. To Buterin, however, the benefits were already clear. “The cryptocurrency space has succeeded at making certain aspects of the international economy more open, when politics is moving in the exact opposite direction,” he said. “I do think that’s a meaningful contribution to the world.”

Buterin is a striking figure, tall and very lean, with long, fidgety fingers, sharp elfin features, and vivid blue eyes, which, on the rare occasions when he allows them to meet yours, convey a depth and warmth that you don’t expect, in light of the flat, robotic cadence and tone of his speech. People often joke about him being an alien, but they usually apologize for doing so, because there’s a gentleness about him, an air of tolerance and moderation, that works as a built-in rebuke to such unkind remarks. As we spoke, on the first afternoon of the Montreal conference (the crypto life is a never-ending enchainment of conferences, and is pretty much wall-to-wall dudes), he aligned some items in front of him: pens, Post-its, phone. He forgoes most social niceties and overt expressions of emotion but, when he finds questions or assertions agreeable, is generous with notes of encouragement: “Yep, yep, yep”; “Right, totally”; “Yes, yes, exactly.” Arguable remarks elicit a mechanical “Hmm.” He seems to anticipate your question before you even know quite what it is, but he forces himself to allow you to finish. He has a dry sense of humor.

He said, “I definitely don’t have the kind of single-minded C.E.O. personality that a lot of Silicon Valley V.C.s lionize—that thing of being ambitious and wanting to win at all costs, like, basically, Mark Zuckerberg.” He was dressed that day, as on the day before and the day after, in a gray turtleneck, black track pants, and laceless Adidas sneakers over turquoise socks. He often wears T-shirts with unicorns and rainbows. He likes to cite Lambos—as in Lamborghini, the cryptobro trophy ride of choice—as shorthand for the excessive trappings of wealth, which do not interest him. He’s about as indifferently rich as a man can be. Although he sold a quarter of his bitcoin and ether well before the prices began to soar last year, he is said to be worth somewhere in the vicinity of a hundred million dollars. (He recently gave away a couple of million dollars to a life-extension research project.) He has no assistants or entourage. He owns little and travels light. “Recently, I reduced my bag size from sixty litres to forty,” he said. “Forty is very tolerable. You can go on fifteen-kilometre walks with it.” The Adidas, he said, were his only pair of shoes. “Actually, I have another pair that’s in one of the many places I call home.” These are friends’ apartments, where he sometimes sleeps for a few nights at a stretch—in Toronto, San Francisco, Singapore, Shanghai, Taipei. He especially likes East Asia. He speaks fluent Mandarin.

After Montreal, he was headed to Berlin and then Switzerland. His home, really, is the Internet. At one point, I referred to an Ethereum outpost in San Francisco, which I’d read about, as a “base of operations,” and he rejected the term: “Home. Base of operations. The more you invent your own life style, the more you realize that the categories that have been invented are ultimately, at best, imperfect devices for understanding the world, and, at worst, fake.”

I’d been trying for months to talk to Buterin. In January, I reached out to his father, Dmitry, who reported back that Vitalik was not interested in an interview. “He is trying to focus his time on research,” Dmitry said. “He’s not too excited that the community assigns so much importance to him. He wants the community to be more resilient.” Dmitry Buterin, forty-six, is from Grozny, in Chechnya. He studied computer science in Moscow and then started a financial-software business, before emigrating to Canada, when Vitalik was six. Dmitry settled in Toronto, with Vitalik; Vitalik’s mother, a financial analyst, chose Edmonton. Vitalik, when he was three, got an old PC and began fiddling around with Excel. By ten or eleven, he was developing video games. “Vitalik was a very smart boy,” his father said. “It was not easy. His mind was always racing. It was hard for him to communicate. He hardly spoke until he was nine or ten. I was concerned, but at some point I realized it is what it is. I just gave him my love.”

He also gave Vitalik his first glimpse of Bitcoin. It was 2011, somewhat early, but Dmitry was an avowed anarcho-capitalist, a cynical child of Soviet and post-Soviet Russia. For many others like him, especially in those early days, the first encounter with Bitcoin was like a religious epiphany—powerful, life-altering, a glimpse of an entirely different and perhaps more agreeable way of ordering human affairs. “Bitcoin looks like money’s dream of itself,” the technology journalist Brian Patrick Eha wrote, in “How Money Got Free.”

“Before Bitcoin came along, I was happily playing World of Warcraft,” Vitalik told me. He had already been nursing some inchoate ideas about the risks and intrinsic unfairness of centralized systems and authority. He once told a journalist, “I saw everything to do with either government regulation or corporate control as just being plain evil. And I assumed that people in those institutions were kind of like Mr. Burns, sitting behind their desks saying, ‘Excellent. How can I screw a thousand people over this time?’ ” Bitcoin scratched this itch. But in many ways what drew him in was the elegance of the system, invented, it seemed, by a rogue outsider out of thin air. It suited a world view, a dream of a fluid, borderless, decentralized financial system beyond the reach of governments and banks, inclined as they inevitably are toward corruption and self-dealing, or at least toward distortions of incentive. Buterin said, “If you look at the people that were involved in the early stages of the Bitcoin space, their earlier pedigrees, if they had any pedigrees at all, were in open source—Linux, Mozilla, and cypherpunk mailing lists.” These were subversives and libertarians, ranging in political affinity from far left to weird right, as often as not without institutional or academic stature or access. “I found it immensely empowering that just a few thousand people like myself could re-create this fundamental social institution from nothing.”

In the eighties, cryptographers and computer scientists began trying to devise a foolproof form of digital money, and a way to execute transactions and contracts without the involvement (or rent-seeking) of third parties. It was the man, woman, or group of humans known as Satoshi Nakamoto who, with Bitcoin in 2008, solved the crux—the so-called double-spend problem. If you have ten dollars, you shouldn’t be able to pay ten dollars for one thing, then spend the same ten for another. This requires some mechanism for keeping track of what you have, whom you gave it to, and how much they now have. And that was the blockchain.

Definitions of blockchain are as various as the metaphors—bingo, Google Docs, a giant room of transparent safes—that people use to try to illustrate them. Broadly speaking, a blockchain is an evolving record of all transactions that is maintained, simultaneously and in common, by every computer in the network of that blockchain, be it Ethereum, Bitcoin, or Monero. Think, as some have suggested, of a dusty leather-bound ledger in a Dickensian counting house, a record of every transaction relevant to that practice. Except that every accountant in London, and in Calcutta, has the same ledger, and when one adds a line to his own the addition appears in all of them. Once a transaction is affirmed, it will—theoretically, anyway—be in the ledger forever, unalterable and unerasable.

Historically, records have been stored in one place—a temple, a courthouse, a server—and kept by whoever presided. If you distrust central authority, or are queasy about Google, this won’t do at all. With blockchains, the records, under a kind of cryptographic seal, are distributed to all and belong to no one. You can’t revise them, because everyone is watching, and because the software will reject it if you try. There is no Undo button. Each block is essentially a bundle of transactions, with a tracking notation, represented in a bit of cryptographic code known as a “hash,” of all the transactions in the past. Each new block in the chain contains all the information (or, really, via the hash, a secure reference to all the information) contained in the previous one, all the way back to the first one, the so-called genesis block.

There are other words that are sometimes included in the definition of blockchain, but they are slippery, and grounds for endless parsing, asterisking, and debate. One is “decentralized.” (Some blockchains are more decentralized than others.) Another is “immutable”—the idea that, in theory, the past record can’t be altered. (This is different from having your crypto stolen or hacked, when it’s stored in an online “wallet.” That happens all the time!) Then there’s “privacy.” The aspiration is for a digital coin to have the untraceability of cash. Because bitcoin was, at the outset, the dark Web’s go-to tender for the purchase of drugs, sex, weaponry, and such, many assumed that it was private. But it isn’t. Every transaction is there in the ledger for all to see. It is, fundamentally, anonymous (or pseudonymous, anyway), but there are many ways for that anonymity to be compromised.

The odds are high that someone, somewhere, has attempted to make an explanation like this one to you. The chain-splainer is a notorious date spoiler and cocktail-party pariah. Here he comes—you’re trapped. You should have known better than to ask about mining.

Mining is a reward system—compensation for helping to maintain and build a blockchain. The work of establishing and recording what’s legit takes machinery, memory, power, and time. Cryptocurrency blockchains require that a bunch of computers run software to affirm (or reject) transactions—it’s a kind of automated convocation. During this ritual, the computers in the network are competing, via brute guesswork, to be the first to get the answer to a really difficult math problem. The more computational power you have, the more guesses you can make, and the more likely you are to get the answer. The winner creates a new block and gets a reward, in, say, bitcoin—new bitcoin, which has not previously been in circulation. (Satoshi ordained that there be a finite number of bitcoin ever created—twenty-one million—so that no one could inflate away the value of existing bitcoin, as, say, the Federal Reserve does with dollars. Other cryptocurrencies, including ether, don’t necessarily have finite supplies.)

This system is known as Proof of Work. The problem-solving exercise is proof that the computers are doing the work. This approach has serious and, some would say, fatal, flaws. First, it requires a tremendous amount of electricity. This year, it is said, the Bitcoin network will use as much energy as the nation of Austria, and produce as much carbon dioxide as a million transatlantic flights. Mining rigs—computers designed specifically to do this work—are thirsty machines. Mining farms tend to sprout up where juice is cheap (typically, in proximity to hydropower projects with excess capacity to unload) and where temperatures are low (so you don’t have to burn even more electricity to keep the rigs cool). There are open-air warehouses in remote corners of sub-Arctic Canada, Russia, and China, with machines whirring away on the tundra, creating magic money, while the permafrost melts. Second, a small number of mining conglomerates, or pools—many of them Chinese—have wielded outsized influence over the network and the decisions that get made. Last month, one of the biggest of these, Bitmain, confirmed plans to go public.

The alternative, which Zamfir and Buterin were working on in Montreal, is called Proof of Stake. In this scenario, the holders of the currency in question become the validators, who typically take a small cut of every approved transaction. Theoretically, the more crypto you have, the more influence you have, so PoW partisans consider PoS to be plutocratic as well—a new gloss on the old problem of too much in the hands of too few.

In 2013, Buterin travelled to San Jose for a Bitcoin meet-up, and felt that he’d encountered like-minded people for the first time in his life—a movement worth devoting himself to. “The people that I had been searching for the whole time were actually all there,” Buterin told me. Zooko Wilcox, a cryptographer, recalled Buterin telling him, “This is the first technology I’ve ever loved that loves me back.” Buterin had been writing blog posts about it for five bitcoins per post. Together, he and Mihai Alisie, a Romanian blockchain entrepreneur who’d read his posts, founded Bitcoin Magazine. Buterin had a knack for explaining things—at least to an audience already primed to understand. But, as he travelled around the world to Bitcoin meet-ups, he began to think that the technology was limited, that attempts to jury-rig non-money uses for this digital-money platform was the computational equivalent of a Swiss Army knife. You basically had to devise hacks. He envisaged a one-blade-fits-all version, a blockchain platform that was broader and more adaptable to a wider array of uses and applications. The concept behind Bitcoin—a network of machines all over the world—seemed to be a building block upon which to construct a global computer capable of all kinds of activities.

In..

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adrianjenkins952wblr · 6 years

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The Prophets of Cryptocurrency Survey the Boom and Bust

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#IFTTT #Cryptocurrency and Bitcoin

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courtneyvbrooks87 · 6 years

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The Prophets of Cryptocurrency Survey the Boom and Bust

In..

http://bit.ly/2QBhnFA

#IFTTT #Cryptocurrency and Bitcoin

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vanessawestwcrtr5 · 6 years

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The Prophets of Cryptocurrency Survey the Boom and Bust

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jyotikathapa · 7 years

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After an Anonymous plan to travel together with my girlfriends we chose Bali. It wasn’t my first choice but the flights are cheap from Aus and food and hotels too; for sure then why not!!! And literally, it was ok! didn’t cost me much. So we planning started 3 months before. Just a plan! PLAN!!! (which doesn’t work really work out most of the time)

Anyways in April, we should be three of us in the tour but one of my girlfriends couldn’t make it due to passport delay in the embassy. However, two of us were on a gooooo…. Well, I booked my ticket with the transit in Singapore for 12hrs which let me go in free Singapore tour by the Chiang Mai airport (This is another story will share it soon)

Arrival in the Ngurah Rai International Airport, Denpasar, aka BALI! Reached there around 8 pm and lucky Nepalese travellers!!! you don’t need a visa. YeaH!!! (Nepalese don’t need visa if u stay less than 30days ). Fuzz start when u are a tourist and need a ride to Hotel after touchdown to the island. So, people you better take a blue taxi if u want to save your budget and run taxi in meters :D. Reached hotel meet my friend after a year. Had local dinner nearby the restaurant and off to bed.

Day 1 Haha! Woke up late. Then we hired a scooter from the hotel then off to ride (renting a bike is quite cheap there IDR 50000- 70000 per 24 hrs/day). Then we got ourselves sim cards and off to the road… Thank God there is GPS. We passed through Kuta street and man! It was vibrant in all possible terms. Uluwatu Temple was the first destination cause it was on the edge of the map lol! Well, it looked far away in a drive and city is crowded as every other city. We came to see a beautiful couple taking their photo nearby the cliff and it was spectacular.

lady by the cliff

Uluwatu Temple

couple tring to capture panoramic view of uluwatu temple

relax, see, enjoy, rest

Couples near the cliff for wedding photo

lovely couples, capturing their wedding

Tip: Beware of the monkeys they will snatch everything possible. Carry a candy bar in your pockets to batter your belongings. Well, there are locals who will save you for sure.

Next destination after there was the Garuda Wisnu Kencana (GWK), a cultural park. Have you experienced a disastrous moment well it was the first one when we were there? Scooter stopped and didn’t start at all. NOT my Fault (fault in our star damn!) but the generous staff in the GWK helped us start the bike. And we were there first thing first we enjoyed the ice cream mad on the cold slab.

Next destination after there was the Garuda Wisnu Kencana (GWK), a cultural park. Have you experienced a disastrous moment well it was the first one when we were there? Scooter stopped and didn’t start at all. NOT my Fault (fault in our star damn!) but the generous staff in the GWK helped us start the bike.And we were there first thing first we enjoyed the ice cream mad on the cold slab.

It was great then the view of GWK well it was architectural delineation for sure. The Indra log was amazing well it was a place for famous events in Bali for music concerts and parties.

GWK

dancing away

artist from the theater dacing

Wishnu God

villan

garauda story

forever young heart

orchestra

Well, you can spend whole day over there watching various theatre shows done for the visitors and we were able to witness few of them as the Vishnu (Vishnu dance/ art); taaktaktaktak dance and the beautiful music until the end.

On our way back to the hotel we went to the beach nearby called double six beaches no wonder why! Grab the beer and enjoy the view! Not really it was dark ! man! Lol though the music was good and the atmosphere was chilled. Bintang the Indonesian beer…

Day 2 So no hangover, but still not an early bird, so on the second day we changed the scooter and we head to Ubud the monkey forest. This day was amazing first we encounter the notorious and mischievous monkeys. Rule 1. Do not try to be friendly with them. Rule 2 don’t look in the eye or you will fall in love not but trouble (guides said it meant war if you stare at them lol).

After all that we escape the monkeys and headed to the famous tergalalang rice field. The view was great as it is seen in Instagram and Bali lookout but a bit crowded. Lots of people and lots of ways to be there. However, we were there and no need for tickets but there were kids that were trying to sell souvenir and stuff and local who maintained the field were collecting generosity ($) for themselves. Recommended visiting this area. Enjoy the view with coconut water for sure and that the exact place where we planned our next stop.

Tegallalang Rice Terraces in Bali

On the way to tegenungan waterfall sukawati, we stopped by the Luwak coffee farm to taste the local famous coffee which is literally a shit of an animal named PLAM Civet (Luwak). The coffee was great and as a bonus, we were given around 12 kinds of tea for testing which were amazing. About tea testing, you will be seeing a video soon.

Coffee testing

Luwak with its kids

Luwak poop ! the coffee beans

Special Luwak coffee

Must say it was a lovely day, now that we were close to the waterfall, we didn’t have spare clothes to change but then you only get one chance in a lifetime, therefore, take a dip and live. So I bought lungi like pyjama there for IDR 100,000 which is a nice gift too for later. Well, you need to buy a ticket for the entry though. So we were there and lots of other people too.

the red flag in left bottom side. do not go i repeat do not go

Tegenungan Waterfall

I would say this is the part where I came back from death, thanks to lifeguards there. There are unusual timing in life when you wanna be a rebel but there is devil waiting for you to end. So, what happened was I went to the water to take a photo but somehow I wanted to feel that one of life time moment and swim in the waterfall. So, as you can guess the whirlpool pulled me and my friend was taking a video thinking I was swimming like a pro but not. However, those lifeguards on standby saved me with the rubber tube well I lost my words and sense for some time but must say was one of the LIFETIME MOMENT!!!! Hence, guess be safe. Under the waterfall, there is a sign which is marked with a flag for danger so avoid those areas. Sad thing photo didn’t come out well…

Well that was the day end of story for so far for which I get teased by my friends DIVE = DIE Day 3 This day weather was gloomy when we started to head out. So this day we went to Tanah Lot temple, the temple on the sea; next to the sea! Well, that place was amazing but I wonder what it would look like during sunset cause it popular for that.

temple

vendor with paper bird

flying paper ship

Well, there were parts of temple one being across the sea or shall say it was 100meter away from the mainland! You need to cross the gap between the lands via walk. And holy God, there were water snakes! Or some kind of snakes which is suppose to be gods relative or god themselves. One thing I am most afraid of is a snake and holy cra* Lord there they were but no harm. So I took blessing from the priest there and rushed back.

oh, weather!!! It started to rain a lot but still, then we ended up going out and soaking in the rain. As per my friend’s request, we went to blue lagoon which is supposed to be the best beach in Bali for snorkelling and beach time. Damn! It was a beach day for us like a b*tc$ day. It never stopped. We stopped by several stops to escape the rain but rain was all over us (rain on me!!!!! ) Somehow we reached there at the end. While we were there it stopped for a while and when we went to the hotel it was raining again.

blue lagoon was really blue

Weather forecast for the next day seemed tragic so we rented the van and driver for next day.

while we wait for the rain to stop

Day 4 So on this day, we were supposed to go to 3 places as per our booking cause they were long distanced and off hills. First of all, we went to view Mt. Kintamani Volcano which took us more than 2 hours reach that viewpoint next we went to Pura Besakih temple which is known to be the biggest Hindu temple in Bali. It was a festival season so it was crowded by the devotees and tourist. We had an epic story here with the guide in the temple too. Bust the place was mesmerising.

Mount Kintamani viewpoint

Volcanic mountain Kintamani

Pura Besakih temple

Day 5 Coming to end of our tour, last day for us in Bali(supposed to be) hence I want to go all around Bali before I go back to place where I come from. cause we had been too limited areas only. There for DAY 5 was 270+ km tour for us in the bike.

First Stop: Pura Ulun Danu Bratan

Share an adventure/ epic long story short After an Anonymous plan to travel together with my girlfriends we chose Bali. It wasn’t my first choice but the flights are cheap from Aus and food and hotels too; for sure then why not!!!

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