May 18, 2007
I don’t understand boredom, per se. I understand being uncomfortable at a given moment in my own skin. I understand the restlessness that accompanies the unwillingness to look deeper within, and despair’s obsession to escape the present moment where ‘lack of self-appreciation’ is poignant and present and unbearable. Of course this understanding only visited me when I became willing to sit still with what is and not give in to the compulsion to run. To not label escape boredom; find something to do, eat, sex, watch, read or other withdrawals from self. Boredom? Perhaps that’s just another name for escape.