Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Noise

Imagine this. Every word you say tattoos itself onto your skin. No amount of scrubbing can take it off. You can keep your tattoos hidden under big jumpers and gloves, but your words will be screaming back at you every shower you take, and when you tuck yourself in bed, you'll read your body like a bed-time story. You'll stare at all the conversations you've ever had and wonder when and how did all the years amount to such junk.

Remember computer-science classes at school? Back in the days before the internet stopped being a phenomena and before two-year-olds and eighty-year-olds had discovered it. Define data, the exams went, and define information. "Information is data with meaning," we were told to write. How much of all the words, accumulated throughout your life and now decorating your body, is meaningless data?

I thought about this and did a tiny experiment. Collected all that I said over the month of May through facebook and whatsapp messages. Let's assume the two mediums I chose are a representative sample of all I have said over the month. (Any minion out there willing to take down every actual word I speak to solidify this experiment?) I tried to sift through the mount of words and filter out the noise (with the help of Tagul's word cloud generator).

The result?



Which is why, my dear readers, we are lucky not to live in a world where words tattoo themselves on our body.