I wish I had time to be bored

When I was a kid my father had a stock answer for when my brother and would complain to him that we were bored.  He would half grimace / half smile and with a twinkle in his eye say, “I wish I had time to be bored.”

I’ve been soooo bored for almost a decade.  Seriously, you guys, I’ve been in the most ginormous rut. (side note: did you know ginormous is actually a real word?  I had no idea until spell check didn’t flag it when I just wrote it.  I’m unaccountably excited)  I’ve really just spent the last ten years licking my wounds and watching tv.

And now that I’m coming out of it I can’t imagine being in it.  It’s always like that, isn’t it?  When you’re down you can’t imagine being up and vice versa.  But I’d hate to give the impression that this transformation happened on accident, because it didn’t.  I did it, I made it happen.  And it was so simple that I’m shocked over it.

It started here, with me writing every day, no matter what, whether I want to or not.  Surrendering to this small simple commitment really had the effect I was looking for.  I’ve been doing it since October, and I’m so glad to report that Rob Hand is correct, and the best remedial measure for a weak Mars (lack of commitment or drive to a larger purpose) is to use Saturn and be disciplined in a daily fashion.

Turns out that for me, at least, it doesn’t actually matter why I’m doing something, just so long as I’m doing it.

…and despite the title of this post, I don’t wish I had time to be bored.  I’d like never to be bored again, thank you very much.  You can keep your tiny glowy screens, I’ve got stuff to do.