Today’s virtual reality is simultaneously utterly mind-boggling and wholly unpersuasive; you can crank up the “virtual” all you like and you’ll still fall short of “reality.” For now, anyway. And maybe, just maybe, for the rest of our days:
I get that the move is to make everything virtual, so we can all go live in our Tiny Houses and be happy with having no actual stuff, because then we can … have ‘experiences’? Which seems to be the big thing the tiny house people talk about. Well, I’m nearly 50. I’m learning I’m kind of physically fragile in some ways — I can’t canoe any more, I don’t like to camp, my balance is too poor for long-distance bicycle riding. I’m not a big fan of traveling to strange places (the logistics, when you are a single woman, can be complicated, unless you do tours). I don’t have a lot of friends to play music with or “game” with or go out dancing with … my comfort in life, honestly, is coming home at the end of the day to a nice, properly climate controlled house and sit in a comfortable chair and either read a book or knit or sew. Or play my piano, which is a by-God, acoustic, made-nearly-100-years-ago wood and wire piano that still requires tuning and can be temperamental when it’s humid. (Just like I can be, in fact)
I suspect that this No Actual Stuff stance is at least slightly informed by the notion that we don’t actually make Stuff where we can see it being made anymore; it’s all fabricated in some Stuff-Generating Facility in a featureless building ten thousand miles away. And so we compensate — inadequately.