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Google is the Internet, Too Big to Fail

Today, I woke up late, turned on my cellphone’s screen, and saw six new emails. I touched my fingerprint to the display, unlocked the phone, and briefly checked the messages. The contents and senders weren’t all that important though. What was striking, in this brief moment, was what I realized: Google is the Internet.

We’ve been living with the Internet as we know it for a couple decades now. Technology companies have come and gone, but the behemoths have grown to epic proportions. Amazon, Apple, Google, Facebook, and Microsoft have all become some of the largest companies in the world. But there’s a distinct difference between those other names and Google (or, Alphabet, as it’s now called).

The company launched on August 18, 2004 on the Nasdaq Stock Exchange as GOOG. The four-letter ticker symbol was met with great fanfare and excitement. People wanted in on this inventive company that was revolutionizing search, ads, and online video.

Founders, Larry Page and Sergey Brin, penned an IPO letter before the launch of the stock. They detailed how Google would be different from all the rest. Shareholders wouldn’t be given special privileges and likely wouldn’t benefit from dividends (any time soon). Their votes wouldn’t matter, as control of the company would steadfastly be kept with those in leadership. And the stock could trade wildly, as profits weren’t of utmost importance. Page and Brin wanted to, first and foremost, build great technologies.

This focus on innovation over quarterly profit gains was a winning combination. Alphabet now sits as the second largest market capitalization — to Apple — in America. From a scrappy startup to tens of thousands of employees and billions in profits, this has been a meteoric rise. But it hasn’t always been an easy ride.

Every step they took, they were met with scrutiny. Countless antitrust lawsuits suggest Google is being monopolistic or manipulating search results in their own favor. There are accusations that the company doesn’t respect user’s privacy, and can be easily compelled to hand over what they know to information-hungry government surveillance organizations. They’ve been sued for driving around neighborhoods scanning people’s wi-fi networks and locations, too.

Despite these challenges, their efforts don’t seem to be slowing. The company is creating new hubs around the country. Heck, just north of where I used to live in Colorado they’re building an extensive mini-campus for Googlers! Lest you think construction and new-hires are their only areas of growth, think again. Alphabet is branching into artificial intelligence in mind-bending ways, too. The team, aptly named Google Brain, is leading the charge to develop machines that think for themselves, learn, and become smarter. Right now, they’re capable of beating chess and go champions, moving objects more efficiently, and finding answers more rapidly. In time, it’s easy to see these technologies testing humans’ capabilities.

Amidst this rapid ascendency into artificial intelligence and machine learning is also a company with more earthly ambitions: storing the world’s data. When I get on my smartphone or computer, check my emails in Inbox by Gmail, type out a note about research in Google Drive, write new appointments in Google Calendar, conduct a Google Search to find the 2004 Founders’ IPO Letter for this article, check a stock price on Google Finance (GOOG is at $782 right now), and then wrap this all up by looking at photos from last week on Google Photos, Google is at the heart of it.

Importantly, amidst this growth is an important consideration: most everything is free. For the frugal people that follow my blog, I wouldn’t be surprised if you embraced this cost-effective solution as I do. If you use other technologies, you’ll be spending a small fortune in comparison to Google’s products. Want to get an Apple iPhone? It’ll cost you $600-800 off contract. Google’s smartphones cost about $300-400 less. Want to use a word processor? Microsoft’s will cost you about $10 per month for access. Google’s is free. Interested in getting a new laptop? A good Mac or PC could run you $800-1000. Google’s Chromebooks are about $200-500.

Yes, people will argue that you’re sacrificing your privacy. Some say, “If you use Google, you’re the product because they sell your data to advertisers!” While factually blurry, the gist is true. We’re exchanging this right to services (like the Google Doc I’m typing this into) for our data and privacy. Contrary to popular belief, no individual advertiser has my data; instead, Google aggregates the world’s data for its advertisers.

The cost savings that Google has handed to us has led to an information revolution. Schools can afford to reduce technology costs, while increasing students’ access to the Internet and productivity tools. If we want an answer to Pythagorean theorem, we just Google it. Want to take a free, online course? Google it and start watching the YouTube videos. The answers are there for the taking. Information has been democratized and it’s not because of a government agency or hardware manufacturer. It’s this one software and search company.

So here we are, with Google as the Internet. It’s everything we interact with and rely on to get things done; at least, for much of us. You might be thinking I love this progression, advancement, and technological prowess. But to be honest, I’m concerned.

Here we are in the 21st century, and one company seems to be leading everything. If there’s real competition, they either build their own competitor or swallow it up through acquisitions. People are getting rich — wealth is spilling into their coffers. Meanwhile, we place our trust, data, and reliance on this one company to handle it all.

We don’t get to vote on Google’s proceedings. They aren’t a government agency. What they choose to do with our data is their decision. And even if we used tools like Google Takeout to take everything off their servers, we’d probably end up using Google Search, YouTube, and other Google services to get through our day. We’re stuck with this Internet leader — for better and for possibly worse.

As much as I love the company and everything they’ve done to make the Internet more affordable to everyone, I wonder what it might look like if something failed, new leadership took over that wasn’t friendly to users, or if governments around the world started demanding even more from Google’s servers. Right now, Google is too big to fail. And just like banks, that’s a frightening proposition — no matter the cost savings.

What Happens To Data After Death?

By Frugaling 2 Comments

I miss my grandmother. She brings tears to my eyes when I think back on our time together. She would’ve turned 98 last weekend. And while she lived a good, long life, she’s been dead for about eight years.

Sometimes I wonder what she’d say to me — what she’d think of my academic endeavors, writing, friends, and loves.

Would she be proud of her grandson? Would I be living up to her expectations? Would she understand how much I miss her?

There are times when I stare at an old photo of the two of us. There she is, in her pearl earrings — a gem from another generation. She was a product of a time when women demanded civil liberties and spoke out bravely. Individually, she was highly educated, musically gifted, crafted an alarmingly kind, talented group of friends. She attracted her equals. I admired her.

But now, as I reflect on these eight years, I long for a video, text, or email between us. Something I can click play on.

There is nothing. I can’t find any artifact nor proof of our love and affection — our bond. We only have a handful of progressively fading photographs. Burned, stained from the sun, time is making us increasingly more sepia and prone to rosy retrospection.

Towards the latter years of her life, I grabbed whatever technology I had — at the time, a Motorola Razr — and pointed the “camera” her way. She didn’t mind my intrusion. She didn’t “get” that there was a video camera on the phone. I held it up as she talked to one of her dear friends.

She was talking about me and said into the phone, “Yes, Sam’s going to Colorado University.” I chimed in, like I always had to as her memory waned, “No Francie, Colorado State University.” She quickly relayed that correction.

A few more seconds passed and I turned off the camera. Somehow I knew this would be one of the most important, last moments with her. Her hospice treatments had accelerated. She was becoming weaker, but her hands gripped firm with mine until the end. She’d pass away shortly after this call.

To have that file meant the video was mine. I’d have it as long as I’d like it. A rare glimpse, however distorted and pixelated that would take me back.

Her voice. Her demeanor. Her playfulness. For a few seconds.

It’d have to do. There wasn’t much else to cling and hold.

Maybe it was her birthday, or maybe it was my addiction to nostalgia; whatever it was, I looked for the clip the other day. I desperately wanted to relive it. To touch through time. To bridge the gap between life and death. To see the pixels dance before my eyes and make me feel… there.

Amidst gigabytes of photos and videos on my computer, the little clip was gone. I rummaged through flash drives, hard drives, cloud storage — nothing. There was no file to be found.

It was a foreign feeling — loss — amidst this digital era. We live in a time of Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, iMessage, WhatsApp, Facebook Messenger, Gmail, Google Drive, iCloud, and Dropbox. Data costs little to nothing. And the world seems settled on one major goal: saving and storing your life for eternity.

Today, it’s not uncommon for me to send hundreds of texts, emails, and tweets in a day between friends and family — many of which include photos and videos.

I’m curious what Francie would think of these advancements. As I get older, the data seems to have a redundancy and staying power — beyond anything we could’ve imagined 10 years ago. She died before we started speaking to our phones, searching for rashes on WebMD, and sharing our meals over Facebook.

A file created today may well live beyond my lifetime, and maybe even my children’s (if I’m lucky enough to have them some day). What of these things would be passed onto future generations?

There’s that photo of me crossing the marathon finish line in Houston. There’s that kiss with my love in Colombia. There’s that random photo of my cousin and I when we were four years old — grinning from ear to ear. There’s that video tour of my old, Siberian-prison inspired apartment.

They’ll outlive me.

Storage is becoming cheaper every day. Companies are propositioning themselves to be the keeper of all your photos and videos, forever — just look at Google Photos. They’re saying they have the ultimate solution. Unlike my missing video of Francie, photos and videos are now saved and backed up; then, replicated across data centers across the globe. No flood, tornado, earthquake, hurricane, or mudslide can touch these memories. No user or device error can stop us now.

Maybe she belongs in the past, but she’d be here so much more amidst this technology. I could share a video of Francie to my partner. And I could connect with the memories that my mind slowly lets drift. Nothing would pass the intense scrutiny and analysis of today’s servers. The computers might serve the memories to me when I needed them most.

But what happens now? What will happen to our memories as they pass from generation to generation in this increasingly connected and backed up society? What will companies keep of us? What will our loved ones hold on to? What will they look to for connection with their pasts?

What will happen to our data after death?

I Deleted All The Ads. Now I Regret It.

By Frugaling 41 Comments

The last two months have been tough. While crafting my dissertation proposal and beginning to finish my Ph.D., I’ve tried to maintain Frugaling and prepare for career plans. Balancing everything has been difficult; thankfully, writing on this site has been a wonderful respite from my normal obligations.

Frugaling has always been for fun. See, I established this site as a creative outlet, break from academic writing, and source of additional revenue. It was never a charitable writing endeavor; albeit, I wanted it to be for good. In the process of writing about my journey to zero debt, I did pretty well for myself. I hustled and was rewarded for it. I paid off five figures of debt in no time.

Eventually, as the site aged and my debt waned, I started to question my values and decision to advertise. With the release of my new book in August, I thought it might be an opportunity to censor the ads. I took a gamble and deleted them.

In the place of ad revenue, I decided to rely on donations and book sales. It never made up for lost ad revenue, but it made a difference. Without those pesky intrusions, I felt free to talk without shame, fear, or question. Heck, I even wrote some scathing critiques of advertising since then!

Cleaning up my site from advertising made me feel good. I felt like I was honoring a value to reduce the urge for consumption. Unfortunately, revenue soon petered out. Despite growing traffic to the site, the revenue continued to plummet. What used to be a stable side hustle, which helped me save and earn despite a tiny graduate student income, was now non-existent.

Over October and November, I paid careful attention to the earnings, and now felt pigeonholed. I had railed against ads, and yet the business might be unstable and unsustainable without some extra revenue from visitors. Perhaps I had gone from one extreme to the other too rapidly?

This week, I reached out to other bloggers and friends to talk about this revenue problem. Most all of them recognized the need and importance to earn something for all the writing and extra work. Simultaneously, they seem to empathize with the wonderful ideal of going ad free. I admire people like Joshua Becker, who go without ads and potential revenue. But I entered an unstable level of revenue for Frugaling. Deleting these felt freeing and exhilarating in a new way, but the revenue loss didn’t allow me to save and earn.

Recently, I talked with a blogging friend of mine about this conundrum. I finally expressed the crux of the matter: I have two values, which are precariously unbalanced right now. One states that I should go ad free and resist anything that potentially encourages consumption. The other focuses on the very real need to earn some revenue from what I do here. Despite trying, donation buttons and book sales haven’t filled the gap.

One value is fulfilled while the other wanes. What’s the solution for this imbalance? This puzzle has led to a surprising number of doubts, questions, and nerves. I’ve felt guilty thinking about backtracking and placing the ads back on the site. I’ve felt nasty about engaging in affiliate marketing. And I don’t have time to create a class, campaign, or course that could potentially bring in additional revenue. School must take priority, but Frugaling shall be an integral, secondary part of my life.

For now, I’ve decided to bring back the ads. They’ll be basic Google ads, which won’t distort my voice or manipulate what I decide to promote. These ads aren’t my favorite, but in an effort to strike a balance between making money and reducing consumption, I’m taking the middle path.

Because of this backtrack, I’ve refunded and repaid everyone’s donations, too. Although their support was deeply appreciated over the last two months, I would feel slimy keeping them. As readers of Frugaling, I’d love to know what you think about this decision. Your support and readership is what keeps my site going. Thanks for listening.

Your friend,
Sam

It’s Time! Frugaling Goes Ad Free!

By Frugaling 29 Comments

I woke up early this morning from a dream. In it, my brother and I were playing basketball. For some reason, he was dressed head to toe in a cheap Power Rangers outfit. As he helplessly tried to shoot the ball in the basket, his superhero mask would flop and fall in his face. It completely distracted him. At one point he tripped over himself when trying to make a shot. Frustrated, he continued to do the same thing without taking off the mask.

Then, my eyes opened. It was 5 AM and I couldn’t get back to bed. Something was restless inside me. With this newfound time, I decided to check the comments on Frugaling.

I saw a new one and eagerly read through it. The commenter said she had just read my book. She called it “interesting” and “inspirational.” I was flattered and humbled that she took the time to read my book, visit the site, and write a comment. But as I continued reading, I realized she was also writing a critique.

She was disappointed to see advertising on this site.

At first, like so many times in my life, I got defensive. Here’s what it sounded like in my head: “Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t put on my site? What would you do if you had five figures in debt and never wanted to live that way again? Google ads don’t even pay that well! It’s not liking I’m rolling in money because those little things.”

After my head exploded, I calmed down and read the comment again. She had a point. On one hand I was advocating for anti-consumption, critical personal finance, minimalism, and frugality. On the other, I was hawking advertisements (and have been since the beginning).

Was I being a hypocrite?
Was I not being true to my own values?
Was I living a lie?
Was I contributing to other people’s consumption by hosting ads?

The answers weren’t pretty: yes, yes, yes, and yes.

Sometimes commenters are dead wrong, confused, and/or seemingly typing while tripping on LSD. Those are easy to ignore. But challenging messages are usually my favorite. They force me to think and react – to qualify and justify my reasoning in life.

While not always right, I aim to do better. I look for these moments and embrace them.

This commenter had struck a chord with me. She highlighted something I’ve long wanted but waited to do: remove the advertisements. I’ve hesitated because income on Google ads has been enough to pay web hosting and domain name fees – basics for any website. Additionally, they’ve helped me pay for ancillary costs associated with running a business (i.e., extra tax help, software, etc.).

Those fees and costs remain. Until another company releases a completely free (of hidden costs and ads) domain names and hosting, it’s going to cost hundreds of dollars each year to run. But the advertisements cannot remain.

Today, I’m taking a risk and officially announcing that Frugaling is now free from ads! That means no pesky advertising trackers or Google boxes anywhere. Nothing will be adapting and changing to your buying/surfing habits. That’s the way it should be – void of third-party distractions that encourage people to spend more.

The Internet is chock full of advertisements predicting your next move, purchase, and trip. Rather than add to the noise, I want Frugaling to be an oasis. And my writings and website should host congruent values.

There are more ways to make an income than ads, and I’m hoping you agree. I no longer want to contribute to that system. I’m hoping you’ll help me in this ad-free endeavor. There are various ways to support me: share and spread your favorite articles, buy the new book, or make a donation.

It’s time to take off the distractions.

How do you feel when websites have ads?
What do you think of authors who accept money to write stories?
How should writers make money?

I Deleted All The Ads. Now I Regret It.

It’s Time! Frugaling Goes Ad Free!

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