"Boredom Kills"
That's what I used to write on my notebooks in junior high, along with peace signs and deepandmeaningful quotes.

Apparently this is part of an ongoing series about my awkward(est) years.

I saw "Boredom Kills" written on someone else's notebook and adopted it. I loved it and felt like I was giving a big middle finger to all my boring teachers every time I wrote it. This may have been the closest I came to actual rebellion during this time period.

I remembered today that I used to whine to my mother, "I'm boooooooored!" She would usually reply, "Clean your room" or "Go outside and play." Childhood life seems to have operated on two levels: Fun and Boring. If I wasn't actively stimulated, things were just dull.

How annoying for my mother, I thought. Then I realized that I haven't used the word "boring" in a long time.

My job isn't boring. Meetings are, sometimes, but I don't feel bored: I feel restless, or irritated. Same goes for traffic jams or lines at the supermarket. When I come home and don't have any plans, I am fairly content to just sit, either in front of the computer or on the couch.

I kind of miss boredom. It meant that I was yearning for something, all the time. Maybe its absence points to my peace of mind or maturity, but I wonder if it means I've grown complacent, and, well, kind of dull.  ¶ 6:50 PM