Boredom

Tedium, A Primer

/ Pam Goode / Leave a comment

Tangles and knots and confusion, scraping dried spaghetti from between the tines of my grandmother’s sterling, reading directions, coaxing nits from a toddler’s locks, de-weaving your dreads for tomorrow’s interview at Bank of America, proofreading the company’s “Five Hundred Uses of the Industrial Bolt” newsletter, scrubbing the toilet, bad sex. We’ve all been there; NO ONE needs an example of “tedium” — otherwise known as “bored and weary of it all.”

And why? Plenty of us have pretty much anything we need, and plenty more have even more. We were born in a golden age and many are still doing well. Seriously, can’t we all just be grateful and sharing? How hard is that?

And yet we hate It. We Hate It Intentionally. We Hate It until someone else does it for us. We Hate It almost enough to toss the silver. We chop the hair; we stray; we seek excitement and a Higher Level of Existence — that one just around the corner that allows us to afford maids and gardeners and cooks and a steady revue of hilarious houseguests, studly romancers, and adoring bimbettes. That one where we can . . . lie in a Barcalounger and . . . doze while the television blares. Ah yes, we’ve arrived — bored and weary of it all.

Welcome.

Running Behind vs The Odd Moment

/ Pam Goode / 1 Comment

I’m always running behind. Walking into work with a Carmen Miranda melange of must-be-done today tasks arranged willy-nilly and aslant, balanced precariously on my buzzing brain. And after a day’s work, I walk back into our house sporting a very similar headpiece — the fruits may have changed, but the basket is still overfull and topheavy, threatening to spill and be lost at any moment.

What are You Waiting For?Most of the time I’m okay with this. I love my life, and I snarl at sleep as a major annoyance. But I don’t have much down time.

So it was a bit of a surprise when I realized the gallery was covered Friday morning, and I had a few hours off before a long weekend workshop. Supplies were in and set-up couldn’t happen before 4:00. I cleaned my workspace (some would call it a kitchen), washed the sink, and sat.

And for someone who is never, ever, ever bored, I was oddly close. Quite, and oddly, at loose ends.

Given enough time, of course, I could have been productive. Or even mindfully unproductive, which can be just as good (and sometimes better). But caught unaware and given a gift — the one gift we ALL covet — I was totally unprepared.

Boredom always seems so expansive, no matter how momentary. It’s as if the mind, the heart, and the soul are all busy elsewhere, and all that makes you you is off on holiday. How is it that we can so easily forget who we are, what we love, our passions and pleasures? How is it that I can sit for a moment with time at my feet, and not be able to remember what I love? And yet I can always remember the chores left undone.

I’ve always laughed at myself, or maybe scoffed is the better word, when I’m trying to think of something to make for dinner and can’t remember a single favorite. For years I’ve been meaning to make a list: “food I like to eat.” And now it appears that I need to make another: “things I like to do.” I don’t want to be caught staring into space the next time a few odd  moments fall into my lap. Hmmm, sounds like the topic for my next post 🙂