I am bored. I wasn’t sure until today. Then, as I walked the dog around the same ⅔ mile loop in the same park for what must be close to the thousandth time today, it hit me. My world has gotten too small.
This seems somewhat ironic given that two weeks ago I was sitting in Madrid. Yet, I feel this overwhelming sense of the world closing in, growing smaller and not in a “it’s a small world after all” kind of way.
Even Tisen seems bored. He walks listlessly, aimlessly. Like he has no interest in walking the same old loop yet again, either. I wonder if part of his allergy issue is pure boredom. After all, I start to feel like pulling out my own hair with boredom, I just have better impulse control.
Tisen is not so lucky. He chews and licks and gives himself sores. Is self-inflicted pain more interesting than his life?
I try to think of the last time we went some place new (not work related). I am coming up blank. I try to think of the last time we revisited some of the places we love. It’s been months. I count back to the last time I went for a bike ride, a row, or a hike. I stop counting when I get to October.
I get out my camera and decide my bored dog is my most appropriate subject for my mood. Is boredom contagious? Did I catch it from him or did he catch it from me?
I have been reading a novel called “Gone Girl.” I spent a lot of time resting the past week, nursing a sinus infection. So, I’ve made enough progress to be pulled into the story and to want to know how it turns out. It’s not boring. Yet, when I stop reading, I feel only more distracted by my own sense of dullness. I guess real life is not as exciting as a novel.
But it’s a thriller of sorts. Not really the kind of book that makes you think “wow, I wish my life were like that.” In fact, quite the opposite.
Yet, I find myself longing for something to happen. Something new and exciting and energizing that makes we want to get up in the morning and jump out of bed, excited to take on a new day. At the same time, I try to think of something exciting to do and I come up blank. Even making simple decisions seems too challenging. I had to make myself dinner tonight. I couldn’t take an interest in it. I made myself a protein shake.
It seems I am the cause of my own boredom. Although, I have to cut myself a little slack–I was feeling awful the past week and not at all up to doing much of anything. But I’m growing impatient. How long until I get off my rear and make something happen?