I think I might be sick. I mean seriously, mind-and-body sick. You see, I’ve always been a promoter of boredom. Boredom is my friend. Boredom means I have time–time to catch up on emails, time to read silly books, time to go on much needed, shrink-the-tummy-goiter walks, time to wander over to France for a pastry and a healthy dose of French obnoxiousness… I love boredom. At least I used to. But I’ve been feeling restless for the last couple of days, and I’ve scared myself by channeling Ahram’s general state of mind during Week One of her break: [insert choleric Korean voice] I’M BOOOOORED!!!
Now, granted, there’s been some activity. The two days in Paris with Mari Ellen (see previous post), Ahram bouncing up outside my living room windows and pounding on the glass (she took a couple years off my lifespan–don’t ever scare an old woman, boys and girls! She gets cranky and nasty as h-e-double-hockey-sticks!), having entertaining IM conversations with Lauren and Jeremy (he managed to give me a backhanded compliment today, which almost gave him enough brownie points to climb back up to 0 on my approval scale), talking on the phone with former students (Magster and Chance, to name two), dinner and “The Last Crusade” last night with the Grubbs (Harrison Ford at his mono-expressive best), dinner tonight with other staff members, another dinner tomorrow evening with my 9th grade teacher who I haven’t seen since 1982, a movie and Starbucks this coming Monday with Ahram… There’s been stuff going on, I tell you, and yet (brace yourselves) I’m BORED. I seem to be bored even WHILE I’m doing things. I know. Time to take my Valium…
Self-exploration moment coming up (it’s an ugly business but someone’s got to do it): Am I really bored? Or am I just restless? Yup, I think that’s it! I feel like I’m living in anticipation of ….. but of what? There’s nothing new on my terminally bland horizon. Yet, I lie in bed every night virtually twitching with pointless expectation. I can’t sleep because–because I’ve officially lost my mind and succumbed to mid-life something-or-other! Maybe I need to take a pill. I hear garlic heals pretty much everything, right? So maybe if I take a handful of the pills, I’ll end up with horrendous breath but a less twitchy, more despondent state of mind that would be ever so much more “en vogue” than the current boredom-slash-expectation I’m suffering. I should write to Oprah Winfrey, guru of self-help, but I hear she’s busy reframing the world’s most popular religious tenets into one TV-ready life philosophy. Don’t want to interrupt her subtle erosion of North America’s faith.
I should probably sign off before I embarrass myself further. I promise I haven’t been drinking. Or snorting. Or inhaling. Really. Open to any and all therapy methods. Seriously! (Lauren, something tells me you might have some insight…!)