Sunday, October 30, 2011

Always Steel and Glass is Future . . .

I, for one, have my doubts about the future. Oh, it'll arrive; we can't stop its arrival. I just have to wonder: Why does the future always involve so much stale, sterile, glass and steel?

Irony: I've tried to watch this Chef of the Future video, but it keeps skipping, getting stuck, playing the music without the video and otherwise being stubborn to play.

I see the future still looks pretty much like today: Zoned-out zombies staring into computer screens or walking around not interacting with anyone around them but using their smart-whatevers to grok all the announcements and things around them. All the while talking about some expensive green wall thing meant to improve hospitals and office buildings without realizing that, hey, we've had this green wall technology since caveman days -- it's call the outdoors. Or houseplants. Really, the future is just as wasteful with its resources as is the world today? Yeah, yeah, I know: Urban. Everything is urban in the future as well. Well, the future can stuff it.

Technology is great, that I will admit. Just today, in fact, while I was in church, I tapped out a few paragraphs for the novel I'm writing. And emailed them to my desktop where i can do some real wordsmithing. But I could just as easily have written those paragraphs out longhand on a bit of paper and then moved them to computer via the magic of the keyboard -- or just write those novels longhand, in notebooks. Would technology have made the plays of Shakespeare better? (Not that I'm a Shakespeare.) I don't know. But the future is just that: The future. The passage of time. What we do with that time, whether it's spent with smart-thingies surrounded by greenwalls in a bleak steel and glass urban landscape, or sitting in the half-basement of an old-fashioned dumpy old house in the sticks, is what matters.

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