Over the past weeks I have immersed myself in writing.
I got this wild hair idea to expand The Audiophile's Guide to an entire series of 10 books covering everything from subwoofers, to rooms, to analog and digital. It's quite an undertaking and I've been having a blast writing it.
I just finished up The Subwoofer.
At one point I was focused on warning folks that the building of a Helmholtz Resonator was not for the faint of heart. To aid in understanding, I wanted to reference one of my early YouTube videos on the subject. Because I have more than 2,600 videos on the channel, how was I going to send someone to that one particular video without requiring them to copy some cumbersome link from the printed page?
Easy. I just wrote "Google, Ask Paul, Helmholtz Resonator".
Bingo. Here's the link.
Now, this got me thinking. In order for Mrs. Google or Mr. Bing to figure out the link to that 11 year old video, the search engines would have had to scour every inch of the internet, memorize it, catalog it, and then present it to me.
And then I thought, "well duh, I already knew that."
True, but it suddenly struck me as to what that actually meant. From every silly Facebook post, important and unimportant scientific paper, Wikipedia page, cat video, forum post, to news events, ad nauseam—relating to that amount of data is about as easy as envisioning the number of water drops in the ocean.
My little brain cannot come close to comprehending the enormity of it.
No wonder we insulate ourselves in our little cocoons of personal space and knowledge.
It's a big world out there.
