I remember, as a child, long empty afternoons and the feeling of having nothing to do. That sense of boredom settling down around me. More often than not, it would be relieved by the frequent application of books.
Even as an adult, it returns, but it’s not brought on by having nothing to do. I think these days, it’s more about not feeling like doing what it is we have to do. There is so much routine to adulthood, so many “have-tos,” in the regular rhythm of life. The tasks themselves aren’t enough to engage attention, let alone hold it. We want to rush through to be done with it, but when we are, there is the monotony of another task.
It would be nice to always be present and engaged, but I know my brain, at least, doesn’t work that way. Nope. It always has ideas of greener pastures, just there, over the next item on the to-do list, when I’ll luxuriate in the time made by the doing.
And when I get there, what do I see? Hmm. More to-dos, hazy on the horizon, but there, nonetheless. Of course avoiding them leads to a boredom of its own, a procrastination-type of boredom that is garnished with a hint of panic when you realize what you haven’t yet done.
I’d like to say that the cure for boredom is doing, but it is possible for the boredom to ride shotgun as you take on the list, reminding you of the tedium as you wade straight through it. Like most things, though, it passes, and then you hardly can remember the feeling at all.
Check out my full-length novels, Her Cousin Much Removed, The Great Paradox and the Innies and Outies of Time Management and Aunty Ida’s Full-Service Mental Institution (by Invitation Only), and the sequel, Aunty Ida’s Holey Amazing Sleeping Preparation (Not Doctor Recommended) which is now available!