I am never bored anywhere; being bored is an insult to oneself – Pierre-Jules Renard.
Somehow my being bored all the time now makes sense. When I think about it I’m not bored that often and I think what I have to thank for that is my never shutting up mind. Often I’d take boredom over some of the stupid things my mind would have me think about, not to distract me from boredom, but rather just to fuck with me. I remember when I was a kid and was trying to get to sleep I’d often think about death or spiders or that blue clown doll that belonged to my dead grandma that my mom had hanging up in my room. I didn’t think about those things because they helped soothe me to sleep, but instead because I hated those things and they scared me and my mind knew I hated to think about those things, so around the age of eight I figured out that if I didn’t want to think about something it meant my mind was going to fuck with me and make sure there was no way that I could not think about those things. By the way I hated that blue clown hung up in my room but I couldn’t take it down because it was my dead grandma’s and for some reason that gave it some worth, not monetarily of course because nothing my family has is worth any money, but rather it had emotional value, which I’ve come to find is pretty worthless, kidding of course.
The point of the previous paragraph was not only to inform you that I’m afraid of blue clown dolls once belonging to my grandma, but also to point out that my mind keeps me free from boredom, not in the greatest of fashions, but it’s not all bad. I used to play with rocks, and I had a good time doing it. On rainy days I would be disappointed because I couldn’t go outside and play with my rocks. Mr. Pebblestone and Ms. Igneous had to have their wedding postponed for a week because of a snow storm. It turned out to be a good thing because Mr. Pebblestone found out Ms. Igneous was sleeping with Granite, the body building rock from down the street. And in turn Ms. Igneous caught Mr. Pebblestone sleeping with Sedimentary, the local harlot. Rocks tend to have strong sexual urges, and my childhood mind was very perverted (so nothing’s changed) I’d argue I’m more perverted now, but only for the sake of humor!
If a person is bored shouldn’t that person be held accountable for being bored? (there was absolutely no segue from the last paragraph to this one) I don’t believe in segues, I also don’t believe in people who blame their boredom on anyone other than themselves. If you’re bored than do something about it. Read a book. Get out some crayons and draw a pretty picture of a unicorn fucking Rush Limbaugh with its horn. Masturbate for Christ’s sake. I don’t care if you’re at your family union. If anything the oddity of masturbating at the reunion will take away any iota of boredom remaining, and will make it the most memorable reunion ever. Use your mind to think about something that interests you. Not only will it distract you from boredom but it will help you organize your thoughts on the subject and in turn make you more well equipped when discussing that subject with friends. Talk to yourself out load if you have to, I know I do and it’s absolutely fascinating (no it’s not) it’s worrisome at times because I get a little carried away and begin to seriously think something must be wrong with me, but those worrisome thoughts bother me no more, because I now know there is something extremely wrong with me.