Last updated: When I remembered to update it (probably yesterday)
This policy explains how I handle your data, which is basically like handling a soap bubble - very carefully and with the assumption it might disappear at any moment.
Welcome to my corner of the internet! This privacy policy is probably more entertaining than most Netflix shows, and definitely more honest than most privacy policies you've encountered. I promise to explain everything in plain English, with a healthy dose of humor, because life's too short for boring legal documents.
By using this website, you agree that I'm probably not as organized as Google, but I'm trying my best to keep your information safe while you browse my digital portfolio.
When you fill out my contact form, your message gets sent directly to my email. That's it. I don't store it in some fancy database because, frankly, databases cost money and I'm a broke developer trying to make it in this world.
So technically, your contact form data lives in my Gmail inbox Alongside promotional emails from various coding bootcamps and reminders that my domain registration is expiring soon.
My website uses Google Analytics because it's free and I like free things. Google's robot collects information like:
But here's the thing - I don't store any of this data myself. It all goes to Google's servers, where it mingles with the browsing habits of billions of other people. Your data is like a drop in the ocean, except the ocean is made of search queries and cat videos.
If you contact me through the website, I'll use your email to respond to you. Revolutionary concept, I know. I might also use it to follow up if you're interested in working together, but I won't spam you with daily updates about what I had for breakfast (unless you specifically ask, in which case, it was probably cereal).
I use analytics data to make my website better. If I notice everyone leaves immediately after visiting a certain page, I'll assume it's either broken or my jokes aren't as funny as I thought. Both scenarios require immediate attention.
Sometimes I check the analytics just to see if anyone actually visits my website, or if it's just my mom clicking around to make me feel better. (Thanks, Mom!)
Here's the beautiful simplicity of being a broke developer with no database: I literally cannot share your data because I don't store it anywhere. It's like asking me to share my private jet - I would if I could, but I can't because I don't have one.
Google already knows everything about you anyway. They know you searched for "how to fold a fitted sheet" at 2 AM last Tuesday. My little website analytics are the least of your privacy concerns.
If you contact me, your message ends up in my Gmail account. Google gets to read it, analyze it, and probably use it to show me ads for whatever service you're asking about. But hey, at least Gmail is free!
If law enforcement wants your data from me, I'll have to disappoint them by explaining that I don't have a database, just a Gmail account and some Google Analytics I barely understand. They'd probably have better luck asking Google directly.
The best security strategy is having nothing to secure. It's like protecting your valuables by being too poor to own any. Here's my foolproof security approach:
You have several rights regarding your personal information. I'm not a lawyer, but I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express once, so here's my understanding:
You can ask me what information I have about you. It's probably just your name, email, and that one message you sent asking if I'm available for freelance work.
If I have incorrect information about you, you can ask me to fix it. Though if I've somehow gotten your name wrong, that's probably more embarrassing for me than for you.
You can ask me to delete your information. I'll comply, though I might be a little sad to see you go. It's like unfriending someone on Facebook, but with more legal implications.
You can ask for a copy of your data in a format you can use elsewhere. Though honestly, it's probably just going to be a text file with your email address in it.
My website uses cookies, but not the chocolate chip kind (unfortunately). These are small text files that help the website remember things about your visit. Think of them as digital Post-it notes, but less colorful and more privacy-concerning.
Most of the cookies come from Google Analytics, and they're used to track website usage. You can disable cookies in your browser settings, though some parts of the website might not work as well. It's like trying to bake actual cookies without flour - technically possible, but the results might be disappointing.
I might update this privacy policy from time to time, usually when I learn something new about privacy laws or when my lawyer friend tells me I should probably add something. When I make changes, I'll update the date at the top of this page and maybe send a carrier pigeon to let you know.
Just kidding about the carrier pigeon. I'll probably just update the website and hope you notice. If you keep using the website after I make changes, I'll assume you're okay with them. It's like the digital equivalent of nodding along when someone explains something complicated.
If you have questions about this privacy policy, or if you want to exercise any of your rights, you can contact me through the contact form on this website. I promise to respond in a timely manner, assuming I haven't gotten distracted by a particularly interesting coding problem or a really good sandwich.
You can also email me directly, though I can't guarantee I'll be as witty in my response as I was in this privacy policy. I tend to save all my good material for public-facing documents.
This privacy policy was written by a human (me) with the help of too much caffeine and a genuine desire to be transparent about data practices. No AI was harmed in the making of this document, though several cups of coffee gave their lives for the cause.