I have noticed an odd and somewhat disturbing tendency in myself. I find myself getting impatient with people when talking in realtime, and I catch myself wondering why haven't they read my blog. I get impatient because I feel like I'm either repeating myself or I said it much better in my blog, and I have to remind myself that not everyone is so interested in my opinion as to spend time reading my blog. Even the usual suspects don't read my blog, so they only see the surface me. Only the organic icon that goes traipsing about this world.

That is a disturbing thought in itself in that it creates an entire idea-set that the Real World is in fact just another level of Netspace. People are just icons for self-aware archive folders containing all their lives and thoughts in the object environment of the world. Our memories are virtual realities contained in those archive folders that we are. It saddens me that so few people interact, so few people ever click on the folders these days and explore what's inside. We don't just open each other up and see what interesting things we find. We don't have the time, and it's too much trouble to wade through it all. This is the modus operandi of the modern world. We don't talk. And when we do communicate, all we want is the barest minimum to get the job done because anything else wastes time.

People just want the fact of something, the existence of something, not to actually explore the object itself. We don't want the substance, just the function.

This is the all-efficient world we live in now. But it's still sad.