Bored… Or Worse: Boring

Sometimes I wonder why I do this to myself. Why do I try to write novels, sew period costumes, learn the sword, and all that other crazy stuff that I do? Why do I work myself into a frenzy trying to get all these things done? Why don’t I just go to work, do my job, then go home and watch the news like everyone else?

I spent a good part of the day today feeling a little panicked. There were things I wanted to do, not least of which was gluing some fabric over the surface of a plastic chestplate that I have in my armor kit. I also needed to write a blog post (this one right here). And maybe exercise. Go hit some yard sales. And then do the little snippets of paid work that I need to do before I get to the office tomorrow – since the first thing I’ll have to do is run off and teach for an hour.

The day didn’t work out as I had planned, though I did manage to put the fabric on the armor, and I am, obviously, writing. There are a couple of art projects lingering in my mind. Maybe I’ll do those tomorrow. Or maybe later tonight with some music. Yeah, I should download some new music.

Why does it matter so much? I could sit on my duff on the weekends and things would be fine. It’s not like all this extra stuff helps me keep my job.

I have this fear. I don’t like to be bored. I don’t like to sit and watch TV. It makes me anxious. Maybe this goes back to graduate student guilt. I should be doing, not sitting.

But there’s more. It’s not just the fear of being bored. It’s a fear of being boring.

You know boring people. You’ve met them. You’re not one, because you’ve read this far. You have interests that extend beyond the scope of your neighborhood and job.

But boring people. Ugh!

When all they ever talk about is what they saw on TV. When every conversation is just a long string of small-talk. (How’s the weather? How about them Bills?) When it doesn’t matter what time of year it is, or how many months it’s been since you’ve seen them, the conversation is exactly the same. The people who never go more than 50 miles from home, not because they can’t, but because they don’t want to.

I don’t want to be boring. I don’t want to be that guy. I know I’m not boring.

…I hope I’m not boring.