“I’m bored.” It was my childhood mantra, typically reserved for weekends with my father.
Even as he watched the race cars go around and around, he could also recite a long list of recommendations for what I could do. I would pout, face smushed in my hands, elbows on the arm of his recliner, and deny every idea he had. “I’m boooooorrrrrrred,” I whined, probably more times than a Nascar race has laps.
One day he gave up on giving me ideas and he said, “well then, you must be a boring person.” In retrospect, I can say I agree.
I have to admit, some days I miss being bored… the vast emptyness of having nothing to do. Unless I live forever I’ll probably never experience it again, but at least I’m not a boring person anymore.
What are these numbered posts all about? Read the introduction to my Photo & 100 Words project and find out!
Nice reflection on the childhood most of us forget about – boredom and learning about who we are in a direct and startling way. By the way I have not forgotten about the print hope it is not too late. We are in pack mode and are shedding lost of excess.
Of course it’s not too late, Adam, take your time. I’m so glad to hear you’re moving!! You’ll have to update me soon.