Repairing Time

It’s a new and silly world, here, isn’t it.

What happened to the telegraph, anyway? And how can I miss it if I’ve never seen one? There was something romantic about a quill and parchment, wasn’t there?

Computers, the internet, the ocean of thoughts and softly-lit laptop screens; I’m pretty sure I’m still adjusting to that.

There was once, I think, a satisfactory quality in making it a night out to see classical music play on the weekend, right (they probably just called it music)? …instead of driving out to Wal-Mart in my pajamas for the Redbox machine?

I say that with the birth of advanced technology, and with the introduction of speed, something very human was buried in a pile of undesirable words like uninteresting and slow and unrelateable.

Fine, that’s fine, but time still flows at the same speed as before; one minute is still sixty seconds, and one second is the same second it’s been since the beginning of time (or since we started measuring it, if that’s better to say).

Are we destroying our own potential? I say that what we’re doing is creating a version of time that suits our economic and personal needs. But what’s convenient isn’t always what works (I almost wrote “what’s convenient isn’t always what’s human”–but that would be wrong, wouldn’t it?)

We’re the ones who made and use this stuff. Humans. We’re the ones who chose it, and it’s adaptation time, baby.

Well, maybe for you. I’m going for a walk in the park, and I’m not bringing my smart phone.

Take care

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