End-times for humanity
The ultimate tragedy of mankind is that we only want to change when the end is in sight--or hindsight. Even now, I have some money budgeted for disaster gear but part of me is like, "Nah, it's OK. I can figure that stuff out later," when the entire point of my disaster fund is so that I can buy (and have) things that will prepare me for a disaster. But it's so easy--everything is so normal. My job is right here. Yet, this hyperreality makes us feel more exposed, more utilitarian, more paralyzed, and it's comforting to fall back into routine, convenience, luxury (because if you're reading this newsletter, you have
luxury), all the while there's this impending sense of vulnerability, of dread. The more information I pour onto the internet the more I realize what I would lose by pulling the plug. I have, as of this moment, exactly 1,956 notes in Evernote, years of life experiences in Facebook, photos and videos (both personal and whimsical) scattered across devices, and only a few important documents in one single, flimsy, plastic file container. I own no physical photo albums.
Meanwhile, this article talks about that sense of fragility, its paradoxical force as we affirm our invulnerability, and the idea's role in history.