The more time I spend staring at screens, the more I begin to view the world around me as one more screen. Even up at my cottage “retreat”, a world in the summer of lush greenery and shimmering water, the view from my window reminds me of a screen.Look at how good the resolution is! This is even better than a retina display.

As the virtual world becomes more compelling and rich, as our screens grow ever larger and higher res, as the virtual world merges with the real world, so too does the real world seem to merge with the virtual.

What I see outside my window, how is that being rendered? How much information is out there, on display? How many pine needles are visible to me on the tree just outside my window. Isn’t it interesting how my bug screen divides my view into tens of thousands of pixels?

What is the end game here? What are the impacts on us of re-interpreting the real world based on our experience with the virtual?

As the complexity of our work lives increases, the marginal return on hours worked grows ever more exponential (and ever more flat at first).

I’m pretty sure I’ve reached my lifetime limit of unwanted notifications, reminders, and pop-ups telling me I need to change my settings.

Here’s my question. From time to time I go to this one cafe. It’s a bit far from my office, but the atmosphere and the coffee are excellent. Thing is, their barista is slow and spacey and gets my order wrong: I ask for almond milk, she ignores the message on my cup and begins to steam regular milk unless I stop her. My normal habit, when I pick up a drink, is to smile, say thank you, make eye contact. At this place, I’m having a hard time expressing anything but mild irritation. This makes me feel like a petty asshole, but if I try to fake a pleasant smile I feel like bland phoney, and I’m sure it shows.

One more piece of the puzzle: the drinks at this place are expensive. And while paying $5.50 for a latte isn’t a major investment, I feel like at that price I shouldn’t have to babysit the barista. So how should I approach this? Suck it up and ignore the batista’s behavior? Send a tweet to the cafe with my complaint? Stop thinking about it at all?

Has your brain ever interrupted you to complain that you’re cheating on the future by paying attention to the present moment? Not very helpful.

Random thought of the day (on a subject I know nothing about): If our bodies change bone density in response to changes in gravity, as happens when we are living in space, does this mean that there’s an evolutionary advantage to this ability? Otherwise, why not “hard code” this amount of density into our DNA? Does this mean that the gravitational force on earth has varied significantly during the time that mammals evolved?

Saw the movie Tiny Furniture a couple days ago. Am I the only one to notice that it’s a nearly perfect remake of Sylvia Plath’s “The Bell Jar”? Set in modern, not mid-century, New York, the aimless, entitled protagonist is slightly more aggressive than passive, but barely so, and every bit as indifferent to the other women who inhabit her world. I wonder if Lena Dunham intended to make such a strongly overlapped work of fiction.