I'm having exams today, which means another fight against boredom. And then again, this might be me finally getting what I was craving for: a few weeks ago, I told Fred that I honestly can't remember how it feels to be bored. As always, this ignited a lively discussion (this time, on the very nature of boredom - nomen est omen) and after a while we even started longing for that obnoxious feeling we remembered from our childhood, sharing a yearning to taste the boredom we so often did as a kid. I must have driven my parents crazy, whenever I started nagging because I didn't know what to do. Yes, I had plenty of crayons, enough lego to build a colourful container in which I could easily store the rest of my toys (taking certain codes into account, mind you!), a library card and access to what would later become the Cartoon Network. And yet, I sometimes felt bored. Little did I know that time would become such a precious thing to have in abundance.
This is obviously the reason why the persistent desire to feel bored is haunting me: at this very point in my life, I cannot even find the time to make the list of things I would like to do, let alone the time to actually do them. Even if you would have taken the time and somehow mustered the energy to explain this to me when I was seven years old; a most stupefied look would have been my only, but utterly sincere answer. Now, 25 years later, I finally came to understand that having the opportunity to feel bored is actually a sign of luxury. So here I am, overlooking 30 students dueling with the hideous creature called 'algebra', enjoying my short moment of boredom, indulging myself with a few moments of doing nothing (but typing down these words), trying to ignore the fact that I have things to do.
Just in case you somehow started feeling bored, please repeat after me: it is a sign of luxury...
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