Do you know that you don't know?

This morning I had one of those dreams where you are doing what you are actually supposed to be awake and doing. i.e. I was supposed to be up getting dressed, eating breakfast and walking to work. I was in fact still snuggled up in my doona snoozing and dreaming away about performing the aforementioned tasks. Oops. Luckily I am a low maintenance thing in the mornings and 10 minutes proved to be sufficient to get me out of the house in good order making me wonder why I bother waking up a minute before 7:22am every day.

It stumps me to explain why I needed so much sleep after spending a great deal of yesterday either unconscious or lying down, as if unconscious, reading. After such an amount of rest, why would one need to sleep in an extra 22 minutes thus forcing her to turn breakfast, hair taming and dressing into a multitasking frenzy. Perhaps sleep is addictive, the more you get, the more you want until eventually you are just comatose permanently. Perhaps that is why we have to work at least 8 hours a day; to prevent us all falling in to comas? There must be SOME explanation for why I need to be at work 9 hours a day when I am only actually working a maximum of 3 of those hours. It doesn’t seem a very economical use of time to me. Why spend any longer at work than you need to? If you can do the job in 3 hours, go home after 3 hours. THAT seems like a greater incentive to efficient use of time to me. Of course here I am not all that fussed about it since even whenI am not at work I am doing sweet bugger all. But upon my return home I expect I will be a great deal busier with many more fun things I would rather be doing than twiddling my thumbs at work because whoever decided that it takes 9 hours a day to do my job was grossly underestimating my abilities.

Yesterday I was reading a book where every 20th word or so was CAPITALISED. It was fun because in my head I was YELLING random words at myself. It was, in a word, a very DISMAL book. As a result of reading it I felt like a very insignificant blip in the universe and couldn't help but wonder what is the POINT of all this? It's not a new thought of course, either to me or anyone else, but still retains its strength in depressing the hell out of me. I mean, we all just keep DYING. It doesn't matter what I do with my life, in the end I will just be dead and that's the end of the story. Keeping that in mind, I wonder how anyone can care about anything, let alone the shit that is cared on a regular basis in a modern capitalist society. But then when I think we will all be dead one day anyway, does it really matter if Miss Must-have-a-Louis-Vuitton-Bag seems to be missing the bigger picture of the world? What is the point of us running around collecting all this information about the world? What is the point of us being wiser, smarter, faster, bigger, better, longer lasting, prettier when in the end it just amounts to dust? Maybe it is better to be distracted from it all by a cute bag? Maybe I would be better off if I never considered my own purpose in this world, or pondered my own mortality and didn't know that none of us REALLY know what is going on here.