Bored to Tears

Wednesday, February 2, 2005

It’s been a difficult day again. If you lived in Seattle, you wouldn’t know that the Groundhog saw his shadow. The temperature reached into the upper sixties under a cloudless sky. As often happens with changes in the weather (or air pressure or clocks or anything, really), I felt awful. I can’t blame it only on the weather. I woke up with a slight headache, which blossomed into a full run-for-the-covers-the-pantry-is-empty during a two-hour lunch meeting. Do you know that feeling where you’re sitting somewhere and feel like you’d give anything to crawl out of your own skin? When people say they are “bored to tears,” they usually don’t think about what they’re saying. I don’t use that cliché lightly. I have cried many times because of boredom, and today was no exception. As I leaned forward in my folding chair trying to drown out the monotonous drone of the voices, I was struck by terror. There are things I dislike, and there are things I hate. Listening to something that is not interesting, not educational, not challenging and not in any way useful for a long time is one of the things I hate.

But enough dwelling—well, actually that’s not enough dwelling. I wish I could continue dwelling because I don’t have anything much else to say. I didn’t do much creative thinking or planning for this entry. The last few days have been productive. Yesterday, for the first time in a while, I finished my entry before dinner and found myself wandering the castle, not quite sure what to do with myself.

I’ve spent the larger part of this evening watching the last hours of the making of The Return of the King’s. I enjoy bonus parts of the DVD to an extent that I’m embarrassed to admit. I don’t know what it is about watching creative people suffer and achieve, but I any DVD I own, I have at least watched the bonus parts, and probably listened to the commentary tracks. I think I feel that by watching, I will find inspiration or hints into my own creative activities. It hasn’t happened that way yet, but I’m always hopeful.

I’m afraid that’s all I have for today. Continuing to further my Lucille story by five words every day, here are today’s:

Cini had lips that disappeared when she smiled.