When Thoughts Are No Longer Your Own: The Shadowy World of Surveillance
Today, as I sit down to write, I feel the weight of my thoughts expanding, heavy and intricate like an overgrown web I can’t escape. This diary is my tether to sanity, my secret refuge, and my unapologetic truth. I haven’t updated it in days, and yet so much has transpired in this short time. For now, let’s call this my personal audit—a mirror to hold up to myself and everything around me.
This morning began with an all-too-familiar trip to my probation officer. Yes, probation—a word that seems to carry a stigma, but in my case, it’s a complicated story. A few years ago, I hit a man with my truck. Sounds dramatic, right? It was. But it wasn’t murder; it was an accident. That man? He had been brutally abusing a dog, and my instinct to save the animal led to chaos. If you think that paints me as reckless, well, maybe I am. But I’ll tell you what—if I had to choose again between a life and saving a defenseless creature, I’d make the same decision. Karma did its thing with that man, though. He passed away last year under mysterious circumstances, as if the universe itself had decided it had seen enough of him.
Fifteen months stand between me and the end of probation. Today’s visit was routine enough, but the guy in line ahead of me was another story. He tried sneaking in cold, fake urine for his drug test. Yes, fake piss. Watching that unravel was like witnessing a tragic comedy play out in real time. My probation officer had her hands full with his antics, so I met with someone else. Moments like these make me grateful for my own straightforward life. I don’t use drugs; I don’t skirt the edges of legality. I’m not perfect, but I’ve learned to stay in my lane—most of the time.
Speaking of stability, Anthony, my husband, continues to be the anchor in my whirlwind of a life. He’s starting medical school in just ten days, and I couldn’t be prouder. He’s already eyeing firefighter training this fall, juggling both callings like the overachiever he is. By May, he’ll be out in the field, saving lives in more ways than one. Marrying him was the best decision I’ve ever made. Our chaotic household of eight dogs doesn’t make life any easier, though. Seven females, one neutered male, and all their synchronized cycles? It’s like living in a hormonal war zone. Picture this: blood specks on our bamboo floors, the bed looking like a crime scene, and dogs… humping each other for dominance. It’s both absurd and comical. This is our life, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
On another note, bureaucracy has me tied up yet again. I’ve been dreaming of building a garage, but the city wants its pound of flesh in permits and approvals first. Meanwhile, our neighbor is building a back porch, fueling my envy. It’s a small thing, but it reminds me of the constant push and pull between autonomy and regulation. Owning your home doesn’t mean owning your freedom.
But let me pivot to something more alarming. My podcast—you know, the one I host on Spotify and sync to my YouTube channel? Gone. Just like that. Seventy-three episodes wiped clean. No explanation, no warning. It’s like they wanted to erase my voice. The eerie part? I’ve always thought of censorship as something distant, happening to other people, but now it’s on my doorstep. I’m re-uploading the episodes, all seventy-six of them now, but YouTube has these maddening upload limits. I’m wondering, though—will they strike me down again? If you’re curious, go check my YouTube channel. The music is still there, but the podcasts? Vanished into the ether.
This brings me to a darker topic—surveillance. You already know that everything you do is monitored. Your calls, your texts, your internet history—it’s all logged somewhere. But what if I told you it goes even deeper? What if your thoughts weren’t safe? What if your very intentions were being intercepted and analyzed? The idea sounds like science fiction, but the more I dig, the more plausible it becomes.
Let’s start with the past. Programs like the CIA’s Project MKUltra laid the groundwork for mind control experiments, using psychoactive substances and non-consensual human trials to push the boundaries of psychological manipulation. That was decades ago. Now, we’re in the age of DARPA, where neural interfaces are no longer hypothetical. These devices can read and write information to your brain—yes, write. What started as a way to enhance human capabilities has evolved into something far more invasive. Remote Neural Monitoring (RNM) is whispered about in the corners of the internet, described as a technology that can track and influence brain activity from a distance. Concrete evidence is scarce, but the implications are chilling. Imagine a world where your private thoughts are no longer private—a world where your mind itself is a battlefield.
The concept of cognitive liberty—the right to think freely without interference—is under threat. Legal protections haven’t caught up with the technology, leaving loopholes wide enough for abuse. Former intelligence personnel have hinted at the capabilities of the NSA and other shadowy organizations. Vast data collection programs exist not just to monitor actions but potentially to predict and influence them. If this doesn’t send chills down your spine, it should.
And yet, this isn’t just about technology. It’s about control. It’s about shaping narratives, influencing decisions, and silencing dissent before it even forms. The trajectory is clear: the more connected we become, the less autonomy we retain. The question is, how much are we willing to surrender in the name of convenience or security?
If you’ve stuck with me this far, thank you for being part of this journey. Writing this isn’t just about unloading my thoughts; it’s about sparking something in you—a curiosity, a vigilance, a refusal to accept the world at face value. My work, my podcast, my books, my art—they’re all pieces of this larger puzzle. If you want to keep questioning and uncovering truths with me, subscribe to my updates. Visit my website at derricksolano.com to explore everything I have to offer. Together, let’s stay informed, stay defiant, and most importantly, stay unbreakable.