Image source: https://www.theodysseyonline.com
Boredom. It really hurts. It hurts in quite amusing ways that it makes the Italian cappuccino or the Russian vodka that usually washes down such ideas down the drain as for naught. Who has the allowances to travel to Italy or Russia anyway?
It also could be the origin of the couch-potato spawns or the idiot-box fanatics, the calorie-magnetos and to push a little further, boredom fuels the acts most of which are not deemed attention-worthy. We usually “ouch” it off.
Anyhow, being lonely must not be mixed up with boredom. Everyone must have at least once felt very forsaken by the world to the butt-extent that they are made as spectators rather than on-the-grass participants. These are the people who yearn for addition, a jump back into human touch but definitely not bored. Any man who is lonely is ought to be sad so unless he doesn’t have something to worry the water out of him, he is safe from boredom.
Boredom, instead, is spun out of the black depth of emptiness. It can’t be attributed to the presence or the absence of things, the common jargon of life, or the inability of getting our-unworthy-selves paid. It can be plainly put as the inability to polish our sanity (now, whatever that means) and the absence of the will that usually puckers the awful-free satisfactory obligations behind our mind’s face.
People who kill themselves are only deeply frustrated about life. The depth is what that tips the balance off to the unruly jump and not boredom. In fact, to say that someone has decided to spray the life out of oneself, to mournful uselessness, just because they became “bored” of being useful is a step too big.
But one can appreciate the irony when what some of the suicide notes consist are that the writer was “bored and sick” of the troublesome burdens of the world. Of course, they only mean it as a metaphor, we are no fools. Still, the fact about someone having to mention “boredom” amidst the very group of words that would be the last ones to loom the world on their behalf is appreciable. I mean, while one talks about boredom and not the suicide-subject.
But other than that, boredom is a good tool (where am I getting at?). It pushes many off the edge, only to make them fall in an ocean of creative genius. Only when boredom strikes does anyone think about the things they are capable of, the creativity that is long ago enhanced and nurtured but only used in measures of trifles, the — the whole lot.
Boredom is quite unbearable but it most certainly gives one the luxury of time to cordon off separately his sleeping creative instincts. In fact, boredom is a message-bearer from the deepest entity of our soul. Whenever our soul tries to find a path to tread its infatuations about creativity, it renders us “bored” so that the resulting percussion will be one that of from our creative “cymbal”.
Not that the only percussion thereupon will be sounded must have to do something about creativity but it could be anything — any “soul” work. It could be answering some longing, some obligation or even could be the pretext of jewelry to adorn your soul with. But whatever it could be, it definitely would be something that won’t be attended to on normal days due to the lack of time. That’s what boredom is special for — it gives you the time.
Thus, being bored is not a bad thing. Whenever you are bored, strap yourself down to the emptiness and follow the black path to understand what you would really want to have done if not for the mundane life-style you presently follow. Read, write, make movies, arts — anything at all that would fit in the artistic circle.
It also doesn’t mean that every time you get bored, an influential cameo descends upon you and makes you follow the soul-path. You gotta wait. Wait for that one day. One boring day that would stand out amidst a group of regular, routine, mundane days. And if you can figure out what that day is, hug on to boredom, like it is the angelic light of your dimmed out life.
P.S. This piece of work — the article — is the result of prolonged boredom. Not that it is creative or genius but definitely something that wouldn’t have come around to, if not for boredom. Boredom gave me two things. (1) The time to pick out the littered words in my brain. (2) The confidence. On any other day, I wouldn’t have made myself to sit and write about boredom — a boring topic, as it is — but boredom made me say: If I am bored and a small flicker of a thought about boredom is lurking in my mind, shit, why not?
P.P.S (…?) You can’t just “hasta la vista” or “yippee kay yay” your way out of boredom. Creativity is the key.