Boredom.
Right now I'm talking to a few people on AIM and when asked how I am, I have replied with "extremely bored," or something to that effect. Earlier today I talked with Hannah about how bored I was. I even wrote back and forth on facebook walls about how utterly BORING things are here. But you know what? I started thinking about it, and I'm kinda thankful I'm bored. Not because I necessairily LIKE it, but because a lot of bad things could be happening right now that, rather than filling my life with boredom, would fill it with stress.
I guess what I'm saying is that I realize how good things are, despite some downsides to life right now.
Today my mom got two Christmas cards.. one from a friend of hers in Austrailia and another from a family she lived with when she was in Ireland. Christmas cards are supposed to be happy, right? Both cards contained news that the woman she lived with in Ireland and the man she knew from Austrailia had both died. I feel really bad, because I know that stinks for her to hear that... and I guess I can't help but realize that I'd rather be bored than receive saddening Christmas cards.
On another note about boredom, it seems to have rejuvenated my desire to write. Here's poem # 2 after a long leave of absence.
you can make her out from across the room.
hair fixed, makeup done, heels on.
that's what she wants you to see.
her arms are open, welcoming.
yet, her gaze seems to wish she was somewhere else.
not alone, just not cornered.
her smile is real.
joyfully real.
she wishes she could roll out of bed and pull this off.
hair fixed, makeup done, heels on.
without it, something doesn't seem right.
laughter fills the room and it is real.
joyfully real.
there is one desire wrapped up in this:
to be noticed.
where can she go?
I guess what I'm saying is that I realize how good things are, despite some downsides to life right now.
Today my mom got two Christmas cards.. one from a friend of hers in Austrailia and another from a family she lived with when she was in Ireland. Christmas cards are supposed to be happy, right? Both cards contained news that the woman she lived with in Ireland and the man she knew from Austrailia had both died. I feel really bad, because I know that stinks for her to hear that... and I guess I can't help but realize that I'd rather be bored than receive saddening Christmas cards.
On another note about boredom, it seems to have rejuvenated my desire to write. Here's poem # 2 after a long leave of absence.
you can make her out from across the room.
hair fixed, makeup done, heels on.
that's what she wants you to see.
her arms are open, welcoming.
yet, her gaze seems to wish she was somewhere else.
not alone, just not cornered.
her smile is real.
joyfully real.
she wishes she could roll out of bed and pull this off.
hair fixed, makeup done, heels on.
without it, something doesn't seem right.
laughter fills the room and it is real.
joyfully real.
there is one desire wrapped up in this:
to be noticed.
where can she go?