Bored or Boring?

Vortex of time

Funny, how sometimes I can feel like the only person in the world, something I have a hard time wondering if I actually love or hate.

Thanksgiving here, the day is still.  Every day is though, these days.  But a normal one, well at least for me, no history of the celebration coming from the UK as I do, and no family to serve up a platter of histrionics anyway, going through the motions of it simply because we're in another country, pretending, as immigrants, that the tradition actually means something to us.  Yes, I always eat alone, pretty much always have done, and happy to have done so. But now the rain is beating down and despite its enthusiasm, still gives the impression of a drip in a torture chamber.  I like the rain but there’s something about it on a national holiday that is excruciatingly boring, gives that feel of quiet that New Years day can bring; all life obliterated.

The dog feels it too despite being out for two long walks already and only 1pm, but he sits and stares at me in a way he doesn’t normally anyway.  Bored, as I am, something not quite right, he knows.  But it’s disconcerting.  He’s right though; I should get up and get on with something, but what?

I wonder how I can get up to mischief; make controversial comments on a forum somewhere, perhaps; incite unrest in cyber world maybe?  But what’s the point of that; self-satisfaction in such things long since tedious and with no real merit.  Talk about bored, when did I become that person?  When did I last go to a party?  I was invited to one last night, but did I go, did I fuck. 

And yet there is so much I could do, have any amount of projects to be getting on with, indeed any amount of dreams that if I only made a bigger effort in realising might just have a chance.  I feel like writing, being creative, wrote a piece for a competition entry actually.  But it was far too easy, occupying me only for a few minutes, don't even care if I win.  No, I don’t feel like writing now, at least not fiction, is there any point to that anyway, even?  Nobody sees it but me for the most part, a bit like this blog.  Now there’s something I thought I would never say.  That tells me how I’m feeling, where I’m headed if I'm not careful; I know a writer needs to put all such thoughts of not being good enough aside.  But its indicative of everything these days, I feel - or at least today I do.  What’s the point of anything?

I could get in the car and go shopping, have a leisurely drive, pretend to be a part of society; have a chance encounter, meet someone exciting, spark me into that kind of combustion that used to roar spontaneously from me.  But serendipity only happens in movies, I know.  There’s more chance of winning the lottery.   So I contemplate the life of others on Facebook instead; it seems that they might be as bored as I am; stretching for stuff to put on there, as many do, but still, they do anyway.  Could it be that they are actually content? I too have any amount of things I could share, but don’t wanna, don’t see the point.  But then, that, if I’m truthful, is at the heart of my problems as I log out and wonder what to surf next.  How can the world be at your fingertips but yet be so very boring?  Or is it simply the rain?

I’ve always been a firm believer in anyone saying that they’re bored, simply being boring people themselves.  So when did I become boring?  Wasn’t I always known for getting up to something unusual?  Being controversial, a bit outrageous?  Or have I exhausted that energy; succumbed to tiredness, seen it all, done it all, got the t-shirt?  Disappearing on a well-worn path, obscured by weeds?

I love change, but I haven’t had any for years.  I think that’s the problem.  But without the bravado, or even opportunity of youthful youth, I don’t really know how to anymore.  I’m not a person, normally, to sit and wait for opportunity to come a-knockin’, I know you have to make your own luck in this life.   Then why don’t I?  Tenacity is supposed to bear fruit, they say, or words to that effect.  Or is it because I can no longer live like a student?  But if tenacity is the answer, why then haven’t I moved on any in all these years?  I’ve been patient, hard working and optimistic.  But the, perhaps constant, change, was my tenacious occupation.  At least I was never bored.  So, despite all I've ever said about preferring my own company, it seems I might have bored myself to death. 

Wee MacGregor, a drowned rat, but at least happy to have chased his ball 
- maybe he'll stop staring at me now

Yes, the hands on the clock tick so fast, but time stands still anyway.  Maybe I should go out in the rain after all; hope for it to ripple the pond that is my life and escape this vortex?  At least the dog will be happy.

***

And he was, but the most exciting thing happening to me; a comment about how cute he looked in his coat.
Now what?