Establishing a plan to protect your Network

Establishing the perfect network security plan for any organization requires a number of tools and solutions (just visit and learn all about it). In this post, I want to discuss one of those tools distributed trust. Distributed trust is a system for securing the Internet of Things, where we can use open source tools to make it happen.

Cyber Security – Not Just IT - Brown Rudnick

Before we can get into how distributed trust works, we need to understand what exactly a trust graph is. In order to understand distributed trust, we need to think of trust in the context of a graph. A graph is a tree structure with nodes and edges. An important aspect of a trust graph is that trust is represented in a form of a graph and not in the binary sense. For example, in the following trust graph, we see that the group of nodes has a higher degree than the edges of the graph.

To make distributed trust work, you need to create trust relationships between nodes. A graph can’t just represent trust relationships without also representing the information they contain. In a distributed trust network, we need to have nodes with permission to pass information between each other. In the next part, I will discuss some common models for distributed trust that you can use.

On the topic of permissions, the notion of privilege-based cryptography is a great example of a model for distributed trust. The logic of how to make it work is similar to how a distributed graph works. When two users in a centralized network have the same set of permissions, the network is vulnerable to a Denial of Service (DoS) attack. When two users in a distributed network have a higher degree of permissions on each other, they can coexist more efficiently in the network. The mechanism for this is called BGP.

One model of how to design distributed trust using BGP is called the Cloud VPN. It doesn’t rely on any of the above mechanisms, but instead utilizes the capability of the L2TP (Left-to-Right Tunneling Protocol) Layer 2 protocol to enable flexible configurations for users and gateways. Cloud VPNs are a great tool for implementing distributed trust, but you don’t have to build your own VPN for a distributed trust solution to work. Most companies that create distributed trust tools are using Cisco IOS, so IOS makes for a great BGP solution as well. If you need a business phone and internet connection that’s reliable and secure, visit sites like and check their packages.

In the case of BGP, you make one endpoint (the “gateway”) to serve the global Internet, then you set up routing rules in a routing protocol like GRE. In a BGP network, the client sends its routing information to the gateway and then the gateway determines how to route the information to its destination. In the case of BGP, we cannot see any other information about the individual users or gateways in the network. Because BGP is a protocol that directly communicates directly with other networks, you can fully trust that the individual processes that create routing information in the network (e.g., routers) don’t try to send the information in the wrong way, especially if they only have data to transmit. If you do, you might lose data. Be sure to backup before doing the process. Visit sites like to know how you can protect your data.


we generate our own electricity.

there are few things more fun in life than talking about the universe with the pretty brunnette on the exercise bike beside you. i usually have my mp3 player with me, but i forgot to charge it last night. the battery died about 20 minutes in. i see her most mornings, but never on the bike — always on the treadmill or elliptical. we’ve never really spoken aside from the customary greetings. probably the magical hand of fate at play here.

i like it when a culmination of coincidences make some it seem like this is the way things are supposed to be. there’s nothing wrong smoke and mirrors occasionally.

she wants to take me ‘for tea’. i told her that sounds a little sophisticated for me. she said there’ll be lots of honey — not that i needed any more convincing.

Mirrored from fully automatic.


the best morning of my life.

unless you’re warning me about the zombie apocolypse, never ever bang on my door to wake me up. use the buzzer. call me. fire off a text. never put fist to door — EVER. i’ll be pissed. and when i open the door, don’t stand there and give me the “what?” look. speak your business. i care nothing for neighbourly pleasantries. it’s quarter to 7 in the fucking morning asshole, and i barely had 4 hours of sleep. thanks.

let’s compound this with the fact that once i cross that 90 minute sleep threshhold, once i am woken, there is no way i am going back to bed, so here i am sitting at quarter to 7 in the morning, trying to think of an eloquent way to express my rage. but instead, i’ve decided that complaining is the best route to take. so here goes.

at work, there’s a girl who’s under the delusion that she’s in love with me. she had been a constant source of consternation for my last girlfriend (who ended up being the possessive and surprisingly dangerous jealous type). sometimes shows up at work cradling tupperware containers, filled with really delicious home-cooked food — one of the more tragic rarities in my life.

she is very, very, very sweet. and very pretty. and she’d be a great mother to children. she was raised on a farm with 3 older brothers who all play hockey. but.

she is very, very, very boring. since hiring her just before christmas, i don’t think i have ever had a conversation with her that lasted for more than 10 minutes. so i have no idea why she would even like me. but my friends say i’m crazy, and i need to give her a chance.

so i did.

we went to a book fair and wine festival last week. still boring.

i have a friend who is interested in a girl who can be most accurately described as somewhat sketchy and rather flimsy. why guys get interested in these types of women, i’ll never understand. ok that’s a lie: i’ve been enamored with the type before. when i was younger. and my standards were non-existent. but these unions almost always end in bloodshed. or at the very least, tears and terrible poetry.

first of all, you shouldn’t have to out of your way to convince a girl to like you, especially if she’s the type that has no issues fucking with your head by pitting you up against some competiton. we aren’t in camelot anymore. also, if she always talks to you about how ‘she needs to breakup with her boyfriend’, that means it would be nice but it’ll probably end up taking a while before she’ll ever muster enough backbone to go through it.

do you really want to expend all that energy on a girl who, at the end of the day, is going to be sleeping in the same bed with a guy she just spent the last 6 hours bitching about?

you deserve better.

Mirrored from fully automatic.


as if by magic

this is a two-parter. first disc is electronic beats for bad but enthuastic dancers. second disc is cheesy lovesongs for listening to when a little tired and your guard’s been let down.

as if by magic

part 1: packratterdom

1. Depth Affect — Hero Crisis (4:01)
2. Dirty Elegance — Aural Mist (3:59)
3. Boy is Fiction — As Far From Here as Possible (6:18)
4. Fat Jon — Her (3:38)
5. Josh Martinez — Time Alone (4:38)
6. Get Busy Committee — My Little Razorblade (3:32)
7. Metaform — Crush (2:51)
8. Urbs & Cutex — The Thing (3:50)
9. Four Tet — She Just Likes to Fight (4:35)
10. Ognihs — The Distance (Between) (4:16)
11. Abstrackt Keal Agram — Pièce (4:27)
12. Doctor Flake — Le Vaste Espace (4:04)
13. Guts — And The Living Is Easy (5:14)

running time: 55 minutes

part 2: transatlanticism

1. Camaromance — 28 Balloons (4:26)
2. Flunk — Sit Down (6:25)
3. Emancipator — When I Go (5:34)
4. IAMX — Spit It Out (3:34)
5. Ingrid Michaelson — Soldier (3:37)
6. CHEW LiPS — Slick (4:41)
7. The Brunettes — In Colours (2:41)
8. Lucky Soul — Ain’t Never Been Cool (2:44)
9. The Asteroids Galaxy Tour — The Sun Ain’t Shining No More (3:37)
10. Vampire Weekend — Oxford Comma (3:15)
11. Polly Scattergood — Please Don’t Touch (3:49)
12. Blue Sky Black Death — Secrets (4:35)
13. Polly Paulusma — This One I Made For You (4:22)

running time: 53 minutes

click here to download: [2010] as if by magic.rar [148mb]

Mirrored from fully automatic.


because she seemed so disappointed that i could not remember my dreams.

a very long time ago, when the value of our conversation could not be weighed in gold, a balanced mix of flippant exchanges and a lengthy passage of time must have planted a seed from where a romance began to grow. it took a few years’ separation for it to finally take root. the moment we met again — after a desirable combination of boredom and circumstance paved the way for a reunion of sorts — there was no mistaking how much firmer the ground felt underneath my feet as she stood before me, shivering in canadian winter cold.

i remember telling her how i felt: like it was the third day after i finally quit smoking. she said with a grin that she was disappointed that i used to smoke, purposely missing the point of my intended meaning, reminding me how she always did enjoy a good fight. i played some songs for her. she sat there, staring intently into her hands, and politely lied about loving every single one of them. we used to never need to talk. just being within reach was okay. funny how the scare of taking flight made being in arms reach feel important.

i sank deeper into my chair, tilting it back all the way, and stared at the ceiling. my foot rested on a quiet subwoofer that only moments ago was reverberating almost out of control from the warm fuzzy bass that emanated from my favourite playlist. she stood by the window. her breathing, measured and steady, left the evidence of her presence with a light fog on the large pane of glass that dwarfed her thin figure. when she spoke, told me of her favourite flowers — the ones came after a grey winter, giving life back to the world with a brightly coloured announcement of spring. gorse, she called it. i listened, as i always did, to the pitch and intonations of her voice.

then came the silence. her mouth betrayed nothing. the small tilt in her neck was an ambiguous hint at best. it was in her eyes: they narrowed slightly at the corners. underneath an irrationally cheery exterior, she was a cynic at heart, albeit a gracefully self-deprecating and disarmingly funny one. and not to mention always scheming, this one. a master strategist. hostage taker. soft and dangerous. offering and giving nothing away. i could smell the question off of her like familiar perfume.

like every moment that should have ended with a long kiss goodnight, i sat there as she stood, and we shared a stare. in the empty space between us, i could almost see it all pass by, without a hint of ever returning. some endless pit collecting the moments that could have been, of questions never offered, of answers never received. both of us preferred waiting, like drought in the soaring heat of summer.

should she have asked, i would have answered: completely. forever. for as long as possible. whichever comes first.

Mirrored from fully automatic.


volunteering sucks.

i have a friend. she has a heart of gold. girl guides leader. pathfinder extraordinaire. can crochet with the best of them. makes the best macrame bracelets in the entire universe. sells them occasionally at the open air market downtown for $10 dollars a pop on the occasional weekend.

she calls me at 9am. knowing i had only gone to bed only hours earlier, she uses my groggy haze to her advantage, and tells me a sob story that a couple of her friends had “gotten sick” (aka, drank too much the night before), and she’s shorthanded in her latest pet project to save the world: her troupe and some other kids from the local boys and girls club are lending a hand in a community garden at the south end of the city. against better judgement, i agree to help her out after she says there will be free food and drinks and the work will be “easy” because the “kids” will be doing most of it and i’ll just be there to supervise.

long story short, all women are liars.

i end up spending the better part of 3 hours with a shovel in one hand trying to loosen soil that’s been compacted over the winter. all the while, 6 and 7 year old girls are taking turns jumping on my back, trying to choke me to death, with 10 year old boys running around with supersoakers, shooting me in the ass.

the “free food” ends up being orange-coloured water that barely passes for juice, really dry tuna sandwiches that did not have enough mayo in them, and vegatable platters with not enough dip.

Mirrored from fully automatic.



we have these tiny, indescernible moments. pretty in their insignificance. an ambiguous hmm, a mysterious oh, a passing glance in the hallway, an ambivalent exchange under an open door way. just enough to pique my interest, just enough to keep me on my toes. with the passage of time, the slow boil bubbles over, clearing the edges, where shape and form reveal themselves, and i think to myself i’m beginning to suss her out.

in the rare moments where we are alone, the entire world fuzzes into a tinny-sounding background of little notice, and a squirming discomfort takes its hold over me. my approach becomes awkward. my speech, clumsy. i can feel myself trying too hard, hanging tight against me like clothes a size too small. a stupid joke comes out, she laughs politely. i think to myself how well-raised this girl is. a doctor for a father raised a girl with good manners. and she sees me as another vapid boy while she smiles. one of many stupid boys, all of whom she tolerates gracefully in her daily routine.

in the wake of repeated embarassing, awkward, or just plain dull exchanges, it almost feels appropriate to leave her a message and explain myself: ‘hey, just so you know, i am a lot funnier and more charming when you are not around to see it. ask anyone who does not hate me.

but she is a smart girl. more than likely, she is aware that i possess at least one or two redeeming qualities. but her stinginess on the hints, and my own personal hubris will not allow me to write the note that will really solve all my problems:

do you like me? [__] yes [__] no

Mirrored from fully automatic.



one of my favourite sounds in the world can only be heard when you stay up really late, well past when the most well-adjusted people have gone to bed, and the whole world seems to be asleep. everything is quiet, but every so often, through the crack of an open window, you can hear a car whiz by down below.

my sister got engaged. summer wedding planned. my little, naive, all-too-trusting sister. married. reading the email, i can almost hear my mom bawling her eyes out while writing out sentences stuttered with ellipses, barely coherent in her mirth and excitement. of my many personal failures, never being able to make my mom this happy runs in the back of my mind the most.

in other news, she and i have called it quits. not a particularly big deal since things were never all that serious. i’m just not any good at this.

Mirrored from fully automatic.