I look around and see many busy people. Each one has a job to do. Nobody has any spare time for lounging. Therefore I assume that everyone is very important.
I reflect on the fact that multiple generations have passed; and the people of those previous generations might have seemed important, just like today’s generation. Yet everyone from those previous generations eventually died, and the world did not come to a halt; so, maybe people are not as important as they seem.
Some of my favorite writers are alive, some of my favorite writers are dead. Most of the dead writers that I love were not famous when they were alive; in fact, many of them remained entirely unknown.
Even though I myself love to write, I never think of myself as a writer—I think of myself as someone who was supposed to have remained illiterate but who infiltrated the mansion of the erudite in order to upset its furniture.
I wonder if, in the overall scheme of reality, any of our efforts are actually worthwhile. And I wonder how one might measure this type of worth.
People think that I am stuffy & prim & conformist & hidebound & old-fashioned, because the ease of interaction offered by modern technology does not seduce me into making spontaneous outbursts.
I love spontaneous outbursts, but the fact that today’s technology so obviously invites spontaneity causes me to want to rebel and revise. What I am trying to say is that, although it is surely true that I am stuffy, it is far more accurate to say that I am stubborn. I believe in rebellion for the sake of variety; so, as long as everyone holds the opposite, I value editing over ease.
The biggest events: those that we assume matter greatly—I wonder what our world look like if they had not happened. Any country that celebrates its independence assumes that such an achievement was for the best. I live in the United States of America. If this country had not elbowed its way into existence, I wonder if my life would be any different.
I’ve heard people use this phrase: “the abolition of slavery.” And recently I’ve heard people refer to “conditions of slavery” existing in the present world. So it seems that slavery has yet to be abolished. I would like to live in a world where history teachers must labor to explain the concept of slavery, because students find it impossible to fathom such an alien concept.
I imagine that living in a small town would have advantages and disadvantages. One advantage would be that everyone would pretty well know you, so you would not need to submit an introductory letter or résumé to prove your worth to employers. And one disadvantage of small-town life would be that the familiarity of your everyday personality would decrease the likelihood of your being accepted as a prophet.
Suppose that beings in the future are able to read this diary entry. They might find it amusing to hear me refer to my time’s technology as modern. When I think of future beings, I tend to picture them as invisible. This prompts me to wonder if there are invisible mind-readers monitoring us at present. I cannot decide if it would be frightening or comforting to learn that a creature is reading my mind while I write this entry.
The body is important, and so is the imagination. I think that the current generation overvalues physicality. I wonder what type of culture would result, if a generation were to overvalue fancy.
And if you encounter a person who is homeless, you should simply be able to guide them to an establishment where official helpers will immediately acquire for them all of their basic needs: skillfully prepared cuisine, the finest beverages; a spacious, private residence; the best medical care, etc. These basic needs are guaranteed, free: provided by the country itself, because the country is strong.