This morning I was thinking: if someone were reading me a thousand years from now, would they know what I'm writing about? If I write about nations, they might have disappeared or have been reconfigured. Modes of transportation and communication come and go. Sitting down on the computer might seem to them like sitting down to engrave clay tablets. I think most stuff will be understandable, things tend not to disappear but to take different forms, and given enough knowledge it's easy to map a day from the year 1,000 unto a modern day (a donkey becomes a bicycle, an open air market becomes a supermarket, a lady who washes your clothes becomes a washing machine). Reading into the future, however, would be much more difficult. "I rode my bicycle to the supermarket because I needed to buy detergent for the washing machine" would be inescrutable to a reader from the past, while "I rode my donkey to the market to buy soap for the lady who washes my clothes" is perfectly understandable to us.
What about the changes in language? In Old English the translation would be:
Ic rād mīnne assan tō þǣre cēapstōwe tō bycgenne sāpe for þǣre wæscestre þe mīn hrægl wæscð.
But Middle English it's pretty understandable to modern eyes:
“I rood myne asse to the market to byen sope for the womman that wassheth my clothes.”
Of course, if language barriers are already broken, in a thousand years it will be transparent. My point is: it's possible to translate Shakespeare for a contemporary English reader, but it would be much more difficult to translate Orwell for a Shakespeare era reader.
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My beautiful Brazilian couchsurfing guest has confirmed her stay. I was reflecting the reason I gave to myself to host her was that I am nervous around beautiful women and I wanted to be exposed to that. Now I remembered meeting Sandia and how I was surprisingly relaxed and engaged while I was with her. I want more evidence I'm over going quiet when I'm with someone I find attractive. What I'm seeking here is to narrow the gap when I meet someone I actually like, to know I won't mumble and flop if I speak to her.
I justify myself too much in order not to appear to be a creep, even though the only person who thinks I could be a creep is myself.
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I come back home to smoke weed again. It's 20:08, and I want to start and finish something, and that will be to improve on the experiment of showing my hands and speaking about their movement. What I consider points of improvement, that would be the state of my home. If I am going to do this knowing I will have guests, I must pick up first. I strongly suspect this could become one of those sabotaging side quests: I could finish the clean, show a picture as proof-of-work, and go to sleep. It's tempting, even. Let us cut a deal: I will clean and pick up 44 minutes. Let's go.
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6:30am of the next day: I failed at the task. I fell asleep. As I was drifting off I thought: "Publish live, and that way you won't have the guts to delete" [self promises as the previous paragraph]. However, today I'm so well rested I'm keen on forgiving myself. It's time to leave for yoga.