I know the Middle Ages weren't so hot. People lived in squalor and died of germs and ate gruel amongst the pigs. But then again, if the Middle Ages were so bad, where did all that beautiful art come from? I wish that today, people dreamed big enough outside of their windowless cubicles and postage-stamp-sized front lawns to tell modern-day Arthurian legends. I wish that they performed acoustic music that was never, ever recorded or even written down--just music out of someone's memory and remembered by everyone as a moment never to be repeated. I wish we used beautiful words like thee and thou and hight. I wish we only did one or two things every day, that we hung out with our friends more, that we walked more than drove, that silence was a fact of life. That minutes meant something. That we were proud of the work of our hands. That we were buried in real graveyards with beautiful hand-carved stones. That we didn't miss all the fun because we were too busy taking pictures.
And if you are tempted to comment with some nasty statistics about how most people in the Middle Ages were actually poor downtrodden miserable souls, I beg you to refrain. I really find it hard to believe that they were any more miserable than us, flooded in fluorescent lighting and eating artificial colors and flavors.