To be honest, I am so distracted that I simply don’t get the time to do trivial things. Watching out of the balcony for more than a few minutes seems daunting, if not impossible. Going to the toilet without a book or a phone seems like a waste of my precious time. This attitude has sifted through the filter of these mundane activities, into almost my entire life.
I’m constantly trying to reason with myself whether doing something is worth it, whether it’s the most efficient use of my time, or I simply feel remorse if I can’t do anything and god forbid have to wait 5 minutes without a smart device by my side.
There’s a constant fear of Artificial Intelligence taking over, at least among the super paranoids and the super geniuses, but why can’t we see that the machines have already taken over. Take a look at your left, now take a look at your right; more than 90% of those things have been touched by machines. Do we really need those things for our survival? Have we confused survival with luxury?
Writing is something which feels like an innate faculty blessed upon us by Mother Nature herself. It’s the only thing which, among the countless distractions of the modern life, feels truly natural. It enables me to be me, by forcing me to explore my thoughts and moulding them into something concrete.
Maybe all is not lost yet. Maybe we still are humans and maybe we can learn to live with the machines and the earth in a sustained way. Maybe we can take some time for ourselves. Maybe we can get bored once in a while. Maybe it’s okay to not make a billion dollars, and maybe it’s alright if you can’t become a celebrity. Maybe life has something more to it, and maybe we just need to do nothing but observe, closely.