Giant Space Ships

People don't take life seriously enough. They also take life way too seriously. Of course, half the time they don't even realise they're doing either, and most of the time they know it full well but pretend they don't. The rest of the time they imagine what it would be like if they took the proper dosage of serious and stopped pretending not to know what they know about what they don't know in regards to seriousness.

Of course, a schedule like this leaves no free time, and so it is obvious that any self-proclaimed writer is immune to any such thoughts, but somehow victim to a thousand-thousand worse and more complicated ones.

But I digress(if you don't believe me check your local newspaper's mediocre section. They always have the latest news on the world's most boring habits. Digression is the newest addition; I'm currently ranked number one! If you're having trouble finding the mediocre section of your newspaper, go buy the most powerful microscope you can find and look under the period at the end of the last article in the newspaper; you'll find everything there). See?

My original point was that humans spend a lot of time wasting time by doing things that don't matter and having literally endless arguments about things that do matter, but most of the time end up not doing or learning anything about any of it.

If things were vice versa, there is a good chance that humanity would be getting a lot more done not only in respects to this lovely little planet which has so graciously donated its tender and beautiful surface for our destructive pleasures, but also in respects of space, time, and the universe. If humanity spent less time inventing potato chips and more time inventing giant space ships, we might know much more than what we like to think we know about much more than anything we can even begin to comprehend, never mind know.

I once imagined what it would be like if humanity built a ship the size of earth. I imagined humanity leaving earth upon completion of the project due to earth's general disappearance after having every last life-supporting-morsel sucked from its' veins. I then imagined humanity exploring the entirety of the galaxy, killing countless planets with pollution and resource abuse. Over time our pitiful species forgot all about the beautiful planet from which we originated, and quickly went extinct right after the death of the last known galaxy in the Universe--and no one was there to congradulate us for surviving the longest.

Needless to say I wasn't surprised.

One could argue that one can never be surprised by one's own imagination, and I'm sure one could have some very interesting points; possibly even winning the argument. Typical.