Of Ennui

"Gads this is so boring." That was the message flashing across my screen, as a certain pal of mine expressed their feeling about whatever activity they were doing at the time. This led me to thinking about how much of our lives is boring. How many times a day do you say "God, I am bored?" or "this is so dull." Maybe if you are fucking supermodels on a pile of money the thought never enters your head (either one). Or maybe you do not stop to think about it because your day is so full of excitement that you never get bored. I suspect that for large amount of people boredom does creep into this petty pace from day to day. Then what happens? Do you rush out and play in traffic for the adrenaline rush?, or do you just struggle to stay awake for the rest of the work day until you can go home and snore away the afternoon good and proper? Then ponder how much time you actually waste on any given day. The argument can be made that right now as I am typing this I am wasting time. If not mine then someone else's. Maybe someone will waste their time reading it as well. A school of thought exists that says that only immature minds get bored. I am certainly guilty of having an immature almost childish mind. So perhaps that is my problem. In theory I should be able to engage my mind in some activity (perhaps even do some actual work) that would fight off the boredom monster. All this time wasting can not be good for you. We only have a certain amount of time on this mortal coil, and wasting it seems to rise to a criminal level. I have been reminded of this in the last day by the death of a colleague of mine. Fuck that he was more than a colleague he was a friend. He was bulletproof, or so I thought, and when he got sick (leukemia) most of us thought he would pull through. Sadly, he did not, and he was only about 11 years older than I am. I am fairly certain that if you totaled it all up I may have wasted, or been bitching about being bored for 11 years of my life. That is also sad. I wish I could say that I have been inspired by his passing into a Carpe Diem! attitude. However, that is probably not so either. I am so hungover from toasting his life for about eight hours last night that I feel like death eating a cracker. I did not know him well enough to know how much of his life he may have felt he wasted, or if he ever got bored, but as the group of his friends of which I am proud to be a member struggle with our grief, and mourn him, I would think that he got the most out of his time on the planet. Being bored, or pissing away my time now seems just a bit more senseless. Days go by, and life (for some of us) drags on, but time seems just a bit more important. Of course he would not be impressed by this maudlin moment I am having, and would tell me to get my head out of my ass, and do some work for a fucking change, and he would be right. One of his closest friends put it best in stating that "he would have said something like this." "I got leukemia, it is a deadly fucking disease, and I died." "What is so hard to understand about that?" Certainly not hard to understand, but one motherfucker of a concept to deal with. I suppose in some respects I should thank him because he has solved one problem for me at least for now. Grief is anything but fucking boring.