Being Bored is an Insult to Oneself

Huzzahs are in order for Jules Renard...i love that anecdote

i've been living a pleasant, idyllic life ever since i emerged from the epic f-week and the subsequent equally stressful week of essay and assignment battle shaken, stirred, exploded, imploded, ingested, digested, turned inside out, upside down righside left...the point being, after a year of hard work i feel obliged to be lazy, useless and want to be waited on from top to toe by beautiful men with sexy smiles, broad backs, toned legs and dark skins (guys, if you fit this description, feel free to drop me an email with high resolution pictures. oh and you must be at least 30. boys dont do it for me). mind you though, hard work and the quantity of time invested in a project doesnt guarantee an outcome of a satisfactory quality but thats a whole different rant altogether.

anyway, the great battle of arch school ended in an anticlimax. I handed in my last assignment at midnight, got home knackered to the bones and went to bed in a state of surreality, hibernation sublime. So much for our plans of a shenanigan fuelled picnic at the botanical gardens. but im not complaining. ever since then ive been catching up with friends and met new people, ate at new cafes and restaurants so it hasnt been half bad.

im having a quiet day today and have been doing nothing creative, beneficial or even remotely interesting and was starting to feel a bit bored, lonely and sorry for myself until i received a phone call. details pertaining to this particular conversation shall remain private, but it was a sharp kick up the arse to do something (with myself? for myself? *lecherous grin*) that would eradicate boredom and consequently prevent me from insulting myself.

Its raining outside, which is absolutely brilliant. if im being honest with myself its an excuse not to go running, an excuse not to go to the charity store and hand over my clothes once ive sorted out my closet, an excuse not to renew club sponsorships, and an excuse to cut up mangoes and peaches and eat them in bed while i watch more family guy.

i just got off an msn conversation with a friend and we had a stimulating discourse about boyfriends, guys, older men, sensuality, sex and porn... you know, the typical chain of topics when one begins conversation about birthday plans *another lecherous grin*.. so now im back with nothing to do, nothing interesting enough that would make me do something about it. there are several intellectual and creative matters that would be mildly amusing for me to do, but i just cant be arsed at the moment. for example, i could read the books i got out of the library, read the books given to me ages ago, read architecture books i got for myself, draw imges that pop in my head, illustrate stories and fantasies, design a space station, run the marathon, cure cancer, cook, clean my room, eat something, shower, pee, poo, breathe...

meh. too lazy.please call again (and give me another kick). thanks for wasting 3 minutes of your life to read this inherently pointless drivel of a bored mind.

ps: interestingly enough, i find that when im bored, my senses, memory and intellect are dimmed somewhat. i tried to do a simple mental calculation and that took longer than it normally would, i tried to recall the most interesting thing that happened to me in the past week but all i could come up with were the image of my bright green vintage heels (which by the way is HOT)...i tried to get excited about my new job and future travels but my brain refused to kick into gear and spewed out this message: "yeah...whatever."
i conclude that being bored is not only an insult; it is a menace, a hazard and a treachery to oneself.