the speed of sound is fast. the speed of technology is faster. an e-mail sent from the puget sound can arrive in tampa bay in less than a second.
stop. i have to wait a different amount of time sitting in the high stadium seats as those more intense in row one to hear the trombones, which is why the marching band, as great as they might look, will just never sound in sync. but my, can we get some fantastic video footage. stop.
i wonder how fast my brain’s rapid thought-making center formulates, which are passed through the filter of the english language, changed into a my personal style of writing, and sent through my fingers typing on keys into a textbox. how much thinking do you think we have the capability of, but never really get to use? think of every essay you’ve written.
how often have you thought of better arguments after the due date, and how often have you been frustrated that the words you were writing were not the only ones you had the potential of producing? like an engine, we can only operate at a certain efficiency; impossible is a flawless machine with no exhaust, no waste. stop.
are we just machines? stop. have we ceased to exist, believing only in production? are we only a business of human minds striving for chart-topping and personal records?