UPDATE AND BOREDOM

 "Writing is not my strongest suit," said no writer ever—until yours truly. I am not a conventional writer. I would go to the extent of arguing that I am not a writer at all. The profession is too noble to be tainted by someone who needs auto-correct in every sentence. My inadequacy in the balanced use of punctuation, grammar, and structure is quite obvious. Now that I have laundered any traces of expectation that your mental fabric may possess, we can begin this blog.

The struggle of writing 

As we have established, my writing capabilities are fairly mediocre and devoid of any originality. I find it quite difficult to churn out ideas. Reading a moving piece of literature somehow tickles the writer bone in my body. It's like the writing gods can only be satiated through an ancient ritualistic book sacrifice (the imagery is quite hilarious). But as luck would have it, all that I have read in the past couple of months is the opposite of inspiring. Most of my writing is cathartic. To write decently, I am often at the mercy of my emotions. It’s been four months since I last published something, and all new ideas have been like that stubborn sneeze stuck on the tip of your nose. It’s right there, tingling, about to push itself out, and as you squint your eyelids, taking a large whiff with a tissue paper in hand, bracing for the impact—lo and behold, it disappears. You straighten your face, and the crumpled tissue is discarded in a dumpster until the tingling reappears.

Life so far

In a nutshell, none of them could manifest into credible pieces of work. But the two people (including me and one anonymous person who comments) who read this blog or accidentally stumble upon it (still including me) deserve an apology. So, the last piece I published happened in the month of October, and then came the magnificent festival of sparkle and light. Post-Deepawali laziness rushed in right the next day, and I was busy tying loose strings so that I could move out next month. I explored everything that I had been delaying ever since I stepped into the city—monuments, bookstores, cheap local markets, etc. In the early weeks of December, I moved back home, took a short trip to Agra, and spent January settling in (you get it, I was busy).

Settling in with Boredom

Now that I have found the perfect way to sit cross-legged on my chair, I can declare that I have settled well. Ever since the rush has subsided, boredom has comfortably seeped in. It is a beautiful thing. If I was capable enough, I would have written poetry about it. It is a sincere companion—no trace of unnecessary drama, gives me a lot of space with my thoughts, and is quite peaceful most of the time. If I had one more delusional bone in me, I would call it "the perfect partner" (did I take the joke too far, so that it’s not funny anymore? Sorry imagine sad face emoji). Boredom makes you do funny things, like cooking a meal, looking up places on the map, finding the origin of the religion of the flying spaghetti monster, or writing a blog.

But on a serious note, boredom is a multi-edged ninja star. There is researched correlation between boredom and negative affective behaviors. On the other hand, boredom is also a precursor to a lot of epiphanies of human life. The point I am trying to make is better worded in The Significance of Boredom: A Literature Review. This research paper is insightful, and you might want to check it out.

Embracing Boredom

Speaking from personal experience, boredom initially feels overwhelming. The whole withdrawal from being hyper-attentive all the time does get to you. But once the comfort sets in, it becomes your safe space. Would I recommend it as something that you could dedicate your heart and soul to? Absolutely not. But I would definitely ask you to indulge in this exercise once in a while, because as Friedrich Nietzsche said, “[f]or the thinker and for all inventive spirits, boredom is that disagreeable 'lull' of the soul that precedes a happy voyage and cheerful winds; he has to endure it, must await its effect on him.”