I’ve been taking things apart since I was a kid. Computers, networks, systems — anything I could get my hands on. Not to break them. To understand them. I was the kid who asked why — why does it work that way, why do I have to do it that way, why can’t I change it? Not to be difficult. Because I genuinely wanted to know.
That curiosity turned into something else when I got my first Android phone on Gingerbread, a HTC Hero. Then once I got Ice Cream Sandwich, I rooted the same week I got it, running custom ROMs because the stock software wasn’t good enough. I wanted to make it mine — change the look, change the feel, strip out the things I didn’t want. That led to Linux, and Linux changed everything. For the first time, I had an operating system that didn’t fight me. It didn’t hide things. It didn’t tell me what I was allowed to do with my own hardware. It was freedom in a way I didn’t know software could be.
Even before that, I was angry about what I was seeing. I was a kid watching operating systems phone home, watching software I didn’t ask for install itself, watching companies treat my computer like it was theirs. I didn’t have the vocabulary for it yet, but I knew something was wrong. When I found open source, it clicked. Software that respects the person using it. Software you can read, modify, and share. Software that exists because someone thought it should, not because a board of directors needed a revenue stream.
I work in cybersecurity now. I understand the tech well enough to see the problems — the surveillance baked into the devices people trust, the data pipelines they never consented to, the systems designed to extract value from the people using them. Most of what I see doesn’t make the news. And when it does, it’s buried under jargon and legalese so dense that the average person closes the tab before finishing the first paragraph.
That’s why this site exists.
I am Seglamater. Seglamater Services is me — the company exists to back the everyday person with real services and real support. I hold myself professional, but I don’t sugarcoat things. I speak the truth, plainly, and I stand behind every word. The company is the vehicle. This site is the voice.
This is where I write what I think, share what I know, and say what needs to be said — on my own terms. No algorithm decides what gets published. No platform decides what you’re allowed to see. When a company asks for your face so you can post memes, I want to be able to say that’s wrong — clearly, directly, with sources — and I don’t need anyone’s permission to say it.
I don’t post on social media personally. Not because I think it’s all worthless — but because most of it is performance. Curated lives, manufactured outrage, algorithms that reward the loudest voice instead of the most honest one. The platforms don’t exist to connect people. They exist to hold attention long enough to sell it. I wrote an entire post about what that costs. I’m not going to perform for the systems I’m asking people to question.
So I built my own stage. If you’re reading this, you found it because someone shared it or because you went looking. That’s how it should work. One person, his own platform, screaming to the world. If you hear me, this place is here for you. Spread the word.
I’m here because I’ve watched too many people get hurt by things they don’t understand — and I’ve watched the people who do understand shrug it off.
I’ve sat across from family members who got scammed because a fake popup told them their computer was infected. I’ve watched friends laugh off a data breach like it was a joke — “Oh well, they already have everything anyway.” I’ve worked in environments where billion-dollar companies ship software riddled with bugs and security holes, and the people building it just accept that as normal. “It’s always been like this.” No. It hasn’t always been like this. And even if it had, that’s not a reason to keep accepting it.
I’ve watched companies design products to fail — batteries that can’t be replaced, software updates that brick perfectly good hardware, subscription models slapped onto things that used to just work. Planned obsolescence isn’t a conspiracy theory. It’s a business model. And the people paying for it are the ones who can least afford to keep paying.
What frustrates me most is the education gap. Schools assign 1984 but never teach kids to recognize the telescreen in their living room. Students graduate without knowing how to change a password properly, let alone understanding why a company wants their location data at 3 AM. I had to teach myself everything I know — Linux, networking, security, all of it. Not because the information was hidden. Because nobody thought to teach it. And the thing is, it’s not that hard. People just don’t know where to start. Nobody’s showing them the door, let alone holding it open.
Rise Against said it in “Prayer of the Refugee”: “We are the ones who kept quiet and always did what we were told.” I was one of those people. I saw the problems, understood them, and told myself someone else would handle it. Someone with a bigger platform. Someone with more reach. Someone whose job it was. But “keep quiet no longer — we’ll sing through the day” is the promise I made to myself. At some point you either speak up or you’re part of the silence. I’m done being part of the silence.
Linkin Park said “When the rich wage war, it’s the poor who die.” That line hit different in 2007. It hits harder now. The war being waged today isn’t fought with weapons — it’s fought with data, with terms of service, with interfaces designed to exhaust you into compliance. And the people paying the price are the ones who never had a say in it.
I’m a tiny guy with a huge passion in his heart. I’d rather be here, saying something, than comfortable and silent.
Privacy is a right, not a feature. You shouldn’t have to opt out of surveillance. You shouldn’t need a computer science degree to protect yourself. The default should be respect, not extraction.
If you can’t audit it, you can’t trust it. Open source isn’t just a development model. It’s a trust model. When someone says “trust us,” the answer is “show me the code.”
Information should be free. Not “free” as in free trial. Free as in yours. The guides, the bookmarks, the writeups, the library — all of it, no paywall, no subscription, no strings. Joe Strummer said it: “The future is unwritten.” I’d like to help people write their own.
Ownership matters. I run my own servers because nobody else should control my data. I collect vinyl because it’s mine — no streaming service can remove it from my library, no licensing deal can make it disappear, no algorithm can decide I don’t get to hear it anymore. In a world where everything is rented, leased, and licensed, owning something real is an act of resistance.
Education is empowerment. People aren’t stupid. They’re underserved. The difference between someone who’s helpless with technology and someone who’s confident with it is usually one patient conversation. I believe in meeting people where they are and giving them the knowledge to stand on their own.
There is no company like this.
Seglamater Services isn’t tech support. It’s not someone remoting into your machine and fixing things while you watch. It’s education. One-on-one lessons, classes, whatever format works for the person sitting across from me. The goal isn’t to fix your problem — it’s to make sure you understand it well enough that you don’t need me next time.
I’ve seen the way most of the industry treats people who aren’t technical. It’s condescending at best and predatory at worst. Big box stores selling unnecessary services. Scammers posing as support. Companies that want you dependent on their ecosystem so you keep paying. None of that is help. It’s extraction wearing a friendly face.
What I’m building is different. A resource for the everyday person, backed by a human, not an AI. Plain language, honest answers, no upsells. If you’re tired of feeling like technology is something that happens to you instead of something you use, this is for you. If you’ve ever wanted to learn but didn’t know where to start, this is the open door.
The vision is bigger than one person. I want to build a team — people who care the way I do, who can sit down with someone and walk them through it without judgment. A hotline you can call when something doesn’t make sense. A community where asking a basic question doesn’t get you mocked. Think of it like a humanitarian movement, except for technology — not a charity, but a mission. People helping people, at scale, because everyone deserves to understand the tools they use every day.
You can learn a lot about a person from what they listen to. I grew up on punk, hardcore, and alternative — bands that said what they meant and didn’t wait for permission. Rise Against, Rage Against the Machine, Linkin Park, The Clash, Beastie Boys, Anti-Flag, Bad Religion, System of a Down, Pennywise, and many more. Music that asks questions, challenges power, and refuses to look away. These aren’t just songs. They’re the soundtrack to a worldview.
When Rise Against sings “How we survive is what makes us who we are,” that’s not a lyric — that’s a principle. When they say “We don’t disappear just because your eyes are shut,” that’s a reminder that the problems don’t go away because people choose not to look.
Rage Against the Machine said “They don’t gotta burn the books, they just remove ’em.” That was 1996. Books are still being removed — thousands every year — and most people still haven’t made the connection. The Dead Kennedys titled an album Give Me Convenience or Give Me Death. That was satire in 1987. In 2026 it’s the unspoken motto of every tech company asking you to trade your privacy for a slightly faster checkout.
The Beastie Boys evolved from party rap to activism. MCA stood up and said plainly: “I want to say a little something that’s long overdue.” He owned the past and moved forward. That takes more courage than most people realize. Joe Strummer said “All the power’s in the hands of people rich enough to buy it.” Data brokers now sell your life for twelve cents a record. He wasn’t wrong. He was early.
And Linkin Park came back in 2024 with a line that landed like a gut punch: “Gave up who I am for who you wanted me to be — falling for the promise of the emptiness machine.” That’s not just about a relationship. That’s about every platform, every service, every system that asks you to give up a little more of yourself in exchange for something that was never real.
I play these records on a turntable. Physical vinyl, in my hands. Nobody can revoke my license to listen. Nobody can pull it from a catalog. Nobody can alter the tracklist after the fact. In a world where everything digital can be changed, removed, or taken away without your consent, there’s something powerful about a piece of plastic with grooves cut into it that sounds exactly the same every time you put the needle down.
Seglamater.app is a knowledge base. A workshop. A growing collection of everything I learn and everything I think is worth sharing.
The site is self-hosted on infrastructure I control — no third-party analytics, no tracking pixels, no JavaScript phoning home to a CDN owned by an advertising company. This site practices what it preaches.
The goal is to build this into something bigger — a real community where people can participate, discuss, and learn together. Right now it’s one voice. It won’t always be. But however it grows, the foundation stays the same: honest information, free access, no corporate strings.
If any of this resonates — share it. Send a link to someone who needs to hear it. And if you want to reach out, ask a question, or just tell me what you think, the contact page is always open.
“We’ve been pulling out the nails that hold up everything you’ve known.”
— Rise Against, “Prayer of the Refugee”