I am bored.
I am so bored, and its my own damn fault. Exams are coming up and I should be studying, but why would I want to do that now when I can save up for some last minute stress treats?
The carpet in my apartment (which makes me sneeze) is worn down along my most-often-tread path. The trail begins at my bed and goes directly to the computer, to my music collection and back to my bed in a triangle. It goes to the bathroom and loops back into the kitchen, breaks off at the linolium, goes across the rug in the living room and out to the patio. My favorite thing to do is to walk around the apartment, singing fast songs slow, and look around to see what has changed. "Hmm...is there anything interesting in here?" Of course, since I am the only one who ever changes anything, there is very little excitment in this. "...hmmm, still looks like a circus clown vomited all over the living room." (I hate the "decor" of my apartment, over which I have no control).
I used to smoke whenever I got bored, but now I have given up my only distraction. I haven't smoked a cigarette in two weeks. I am trying to pretend that cigarettes don't exist, or at least trying to forget the relief they can bring.
Yesterday I was so incredibly bored and restless (not to mention incredible bummed out from some shitty marks I recieved), so I drank beer in the afternoon on an empty stomach, shut my blinds, called my boyfriend, smoked a bottomless bowl and sat propped up on my bed thinking 'bout stuff.
Luckily, I had tickets to see/hear David Suzuki talk at the conservatory last night (which was simultaneously hope-bringing and disturbing). The conservatory is a beautiful, curving, lacy, mahogany converted cathedral and seeing inside of it made my day. After the talk my roomates Chris and Meg, my roomate's boyfriend Chris, myself and some guy (?) walked around town drinking "road-hops" (beer to go) and finally stopped in the park by Crystal Pool to smoke a bowl, or two, or three...I felt like a rebellious teenager again, but without the paranoia; the way it should have been. So, I forgot about being bored for a while. One day down.
This morning I tutored two of my grade ones, made coffee, pasta sauce and carrot ginger soup, downloaded some Johnny Cash and Stan Rogers (mostly songs about being on the road and sick for home) and went to art history class (realized that I am likely going to plummet to the bottom of the class if I don't start giving a damn and get frantic over the exam). Walking home from the bus stop I passed by an Irish man on a pink bicycle, who was asking for directions. I don't think he was actually Irish. I couldnt get close enough to hear an accent. I just hope he was.
I have seven hours left of this day. Normally, this would excite me. The more hours the better, so much to do so little yea yea. However, with no social life and very little money I find myself in a foreign place. A place I haven't visited since grade 9: Boredomland. This year I am actually grateful for winter because it gets dark hours earlier, which makes things more interesting, (although less interesting now that I can't smoke cigarettes under the stars). I don't know how to be bored anymore! It isn't the same as procrastinating, it lacks urgency. I float around my apartment, check to see if the Simpsons is on, peer over people's shoulders at whatever they're doing, read blog archives, take pictures of things so that I can look at them later and not be bored, write unecessarily long blog entries... I pretend I'm doing something important, but really i'm just alphabetizing my tea; ginseng, green, earl grey, tension tamer....
Now, I think I'll go try some of the carrot ginger soup, decipher some more of "Nightwood," and beat my head against the sliding glass doors in the living room to try and drive away the circus.
