Sometimes when I sit alone too long in my room I start to wonder things that might be a little too existential for some people, but I still wonder.
For instance, this morning I was reading about The Essays of Ralph Waldo Emerson and I wondered in a hundred years will there be a book that’s called The Blog Posts of Stacy Verdick Case? I mean isn’t that what I’m doing here? Creating short essays for you to mull over. While it would be so cool that people might be thinking of me posthumously is this a good representation of me or my writing. Um, probably not.
What are the literary foibles of our generation that will make it into the next century? Blog posts? Facebook status updates? Tweets? Google plus updates?
There are books of Tweets now like The Twits: Real Celebrities. Real Tweets. Real Funny. (really?). Will our culture be judged by 120 character observations? Will be judged by Kim Kardashians Selfie book? And if we are, will it be noted as the beginning of the decline of our civilization? Like we judge the fall of Rome at the point when they valued beauty before all things?
Maybe I shouldn’t be left alone for extended periods of time. I’m not sure it’s healthy for me to ponder these things. Now at least I’m not alone. I bet you’re thinking about it too now.