Mister Boredom
What do you do... when you wake up to find... that nothing gives you satisfaction anymore?
A drink will make you less thirsty.
Food will make you less hungry... and momentarily take away that weak and shaky feeling.
Sleep, for however long, will allow you to move for another amount of time before the inevitable crash.
But... what if your ENJOYMENT of things... all things... becomes dim?
You see a movie... that you really don't want to watch. What if that movie is your life?
Sure, there are scenes that make you perk up for a bit. The dialogue or "action" might seem promising for a moment or two... but it soon devolves into just another humdrum scene like so many before. You can't walk out or change the channel because THIS IS YOU.
I woke up at 6 am this morning to find the bedside lamp on. The laptop was still humming away beside me on the bed. I was bored while sleeping. I was bored when I woke up. I thought about what to do today, what I would do. Boring. Boring plans for a boring person. I am Boredom. I slipped on some swim trunks and went downstairs. I wandered through my boring apartment to my boring kitchen. I perused my boring selection of boring food. There was nothing to slake my hunger. I took a drink of water. It just made me thirsty. I looked out the little windows on my front door. The sun was not quite up yet. The pale blue sky looked like something from a Simpsons episode, the coming sun painting the clouds a light pink. Nothing was moving. Sunday morning. Only the insane are awake. And the terminally bored.
There is a line of thought that supposes boredom can be spent away. Buy new things. Purchase a novelty. Spend, spend, spend your way to a happier existence. It never ends until your money runs out. Then what? You are still you. You just happen to be sitting in a room filled with books and movies and gadgets that no longer interest you. I suppose this is where Tyler Durden would say something clever. Your gadgets own you. You are not your fucking gadgets. Fuck Tyler Durden. At least he knew how to make soap. I don't know shit.
Nothing sounds good.
The possibilities are endless. I just have to be at work on Monday night. So... endless is not the right word. I am bound by my obligation to the system. I am constrained by time. Thirty-two hours from now, I must be on the clock. I am always on the clock. In 32 hours, I will be on someone ELSE'S clock. Tick tock, tick tock. So... the possibilities are not quite endless. Let's get the basics out of the way. I need to eat and drink and sleep within that time period. Preferably. Not absolute, but pretty likely. We're back to nothing sounds good already. I think I may have a fever.
Maybe I shouldn't lie here with the overheated laptop resting on my crotch.
Yes, it's going to be a wonderful day. I can feel it. Or I can't feel much at all.
A drink will make you less thirsty.
Food will make you less hungry... and momentarily take away that weak and shaky feeling.
Sleep, for however long, will allow you to move for another amount of time before the inevitable crash.
But... what if your ENJOYMENT of things... all things... becomes dim?
You see a movie... that you really don't want to watch. What if that movie is your life?
Sure, there are scenes that make you perk up for a bit. The dialogue or "action" might seem promising for a moment or two... but it soon devolves into just another humdrum scene like so many before. You can't walk out or change the channel because THIS IS YOU.
I woke up at 6 am this morning to find the bedside lamp on. The laptop was still humming away beside me on the bed. I was bored while sleeping. I was bored when I woke up. I thought about what to do today, what I would do. Boring. Boring plans for a boring person. I am Boredom. I slipped on some swim trunks and went downstairs. I wandered through my boring apartment to my boring kitchen. I perused my boring selection of boring food. There was nothing to slake my hunger. I took a drink of water. It just made me thirsty. I looked out the little windows on my front door. The sun was not quite up yet. The pale blue sky looked like something from a Simpsons episode, the coming sun painting the clouds a light pink. Nothing was moving. Sunday morning. Only the insane are awake. And the terminally bored.
There is a line of thought that supposes boredom can be spent away. Buy new things. Purchase a novelty. Spend, spend, spend your way to a happier existence. It never ends until your money runs out. Then what? You are still you. You just happen to be sitting in a room filled with books and movies and gadgets that no longer interest you. I suppose this is where Tyler Durden would say something clever. Your gadgets own you. You are not your fucking gadgets. Fuck Tyler Durden. At least he knew how to make soap. I don't know shit.
Nothing sounds good.
The possibilities are endless. I just have to be at work on Monday night. So... endless is not the right word. I am bound by my obligation to the system. I am constrained by time. Thirty-two hours from now, I must be on the clock. I am always on the clock. In 32 hours, I will be on someone ELSE'S clock. Tick tock, tick tock. So... the possibilities are not quite endless. Let's get the basics out of the way. I need to eat and drink and sleep within that time period. Preferably. Not absolute, but pretty likely. We're back to nothing sounds good already. I think I may have a fever.
Maybe I shouldn't lie here with the overheated laptop resting on my crotch.
Yes, it's going to be a wonderful day. I can feel it. Or I can't feel much at all.