Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Disillusionment with the state of Western civilization; also, snack food.

I am not exactly a morning person, but I can usually muster enthusiasm to get out of bed with relative timeliness, locate and put on clothes, and even eat breakfast in the morning. I tend to wake up in my usual mood of apprehensive, cautious optimism, seasoned with amusing irony. But today I had one of those mornings when I would have given anything, almost, with the exception of my classic GameBoy and my firstborn, to just stay in bed. This led me to a depressive line of reasoning where I thought about what a great improvement it would be if our society had a little more tolerance for this kind of sloth. I am not talking about lazy, ne'er-do-wells here; I am talking about well-intentioned, contributing members of society who sometimes deserve to take a day off for no reason, Ferris-style. Can you imagine? Jocelyn's not coming to class today; she felt incredibly tired and depressed this morning for no reason. Achmed, can you take notes for her and then email them to her after class? Great. You know? Wouldn't that be something? I may sound like I'm being glib, but this is a serious question. If Western civilization is so great, then why do so many of its members spend pretty much every day doing things they don't really enjoy for no reason? Hmm?

It's definitely a "scooters" kind of day. I had cookies for breakfast because I could not summon the werewithal to thaw, toast, or cook anything. Then at 10 I had to go buy Coke, just to avoid falling asleep in my class. I don't know if caffeine really helps that much, but at least it makes me feel like I am being pro-active.

On this note I present to you: Why Work? This is a serious site whose ambition is to examine the titular question. (Ahem. Lifetime to do list item: Use the phrase "titular question" in a sentence. Check.)

A slightly less significant, but still puzzling, question is this: why do we (and by "we" I refer to myself and not, as in the previous paragraphs, to the West) have three partially eaten packages of pita bread in the freezer, plus one in the fridge? There is a cluster of neurons on my brain-- the "buy pita bread" neurons-- who persistently misfire every time I am in the grocery store. "Jocelyn!" these neurons tell me. "Buy pita bread! And maybe some hummous! Oooh, chocolate bars! I don't feel like getting out of bed tomorrow, do you?"

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