“I’m bored with it all. ”
~ Last words of Winston Churchill
It is scary to me how easily bored I get of people, things and activities. It is really worrying me nowadays.
I sign up to do something, and for the first few days I am happy learning something new. Soon, my over-thinking, pessimistic, critical brain just mucks stuff for me. I start seeing the work as easy, silly, and meaningless. After that, it is a struggle for me to stick with it. I complain. I seek validation for these thoughts in jokes, or people who think alike and then I completely hate it.
Even though I hate it, I can diligently see it through. But then, it makes me miserable while at it.
Right now, there are many things I have taken up voluntarily and I am really thankful for it. It gives me a source of income, or it fills my time. But I feel an inexplicable restlessness to escape. I feel that this is not what I wanted. I just get disillusioned so quickly. I feel I need to escape. Escape this apathy. Escape this indecisiveness. I can’t stretch myself to stick to a routine. Day in and day out, I feel this resistance to routine, and everyday I realize that routine is not just important but necessary. Routine keeps us sane and purposeful. But I don’t think I know what I want to feel purposeful, so it just seems oppressive. It seems like a false emergency to me.
There are so many things that I take up and lose interest which makes me panic about my future. What will become of me? It is seeping into the things that I used to do.
I read but nowadays I can’t read. I have become such a slow, distracted reader. Even a really nice book takes me months to complete. I read two-three books together so that I can switch if I get bored.
I like to write. But I write in bursts. I find it difficult to write as an occupation, because the available work is boring. Writing for other people or for brands (even worse) sucks! I get bored out of my mind. It doesn’t let me experiment with anything. I learn nothing meaningful. But I can’t even focus to make independent, creative writing my living. Nowadays, I don’t write down ideas. I can’t even maintain a daily blog. I come up with exercises to get over the creative block, but I abandon them in a week.
So, to counter this period of un-creativity, I took a poetry course in Coursera. (I have realized I am addicted to the fake goals it creates for me, and I also like that there is no one monitoring me all the time.) Again, yes, the poetry course is great. It is a really in-depth study of American poetry. But four weeks in, I am completely bored of how verbose the course is. I am irritated that even when the poem is obviously sexual, the course is describing it in a roundabout way. I find it hard to be completely off-the-charts subjective too! At forums and peer reviews, I get annoyed at some asinine comment being indulged. I am frustrated with it but I know I am going to see through this course till the end with all its assignments and complete it. What I don’t like is that I have already written them off. Why do I that? It only spoils my experience!
Do I get any form of perverse pleasure by being half-interested? No! Then, why does this behaviour persist, growing stronger with each day? It’s sheer torture. I don’t know how to “cheer up”.
I think that sometimes I reject things because I believe that there is no long term benefit attached to the activity. I chafe against things that don’t seem to have a direction, a utility in the long run. But the contradiction here is that I hate committing to a long-term plan because I know that as a person I am fickle. I passionately like something now, and then I don’t. Recently, it seems to me that my insides have flipped. I am not the same person I was three years back. I find existing with the current me such a bummer. This is not me. But then what is me? I am disconnected to everything. I am so lost. I try to keep finding solutions.
I have stopped having little notes of zillion ideas. I resign to doing ‘duties’ mindlessly or sign up for the conventional ‘safe routes’. However, it does not work out. I expected to have a serendipitous realization of what I wanted to do. Of course, that has not happened!
I am scared that I am sinking into depths of avoidable misery. It is scary how easily I get bored. How do I make meaning of my work? Why do I tend to be gloomy in the first place?
Everybody hates people who are bored. Bored people are privileged idiots. Maybe they are themselves too boring. Nobody ever romanticizes boredom. It is the quality of the lazy. It is inexcusable. But I think boredom is really misunderstood. There is a deeper problem to this empty, uninspired way of being. Many people won’t find this relatable.
I am personally tired of succumbing to boredom. Please help me think properly about this stupid condition I am in. I could really use some help!
A grumpy kid,
Boredom: the desire for desires.
~ Leo Tolstoy