Not Bored

One would have to be an unrepentant liar to declare that life is boring.  Too much has occurred too recently to even contemplate that not enough is going on to stay entertained.  Even if that begins to grow tiresome, the internet has everything from history.

Maybe that's too harsh.  Perhaps you could just be lazy or self-absorbed.  Maybe that's what it takes to be genuinely bored, anyway.  

Okay, that's a bit rough on bored folks, as well.  It might simply say more about why you're feeling bored than it does about the world around us.  If you're accustomed to a certain type of entertainment, you might have become less capable of seeing the action in something else.

Likely, what you enjoy has become a little too easy to obtain.  Standards for entertainment change.  Some sort of entertainment tolerance has been built up, and more of the same is required to equal the equal level of boredom repellant.

Fighting boredom propagates our species; humans still exist because we're curious.  "I wonder if I can make fire?"  As long as we exist, we can be sure we can find something to protect us from boredom.

In Awe, Still

Just watched another rocket launch... I think I might've averaged a launch every day this week.  Probably been said many times on this blog, but it's still amazing to see a rocket land... especially on a little barge bobbing up and down in the middle of the ocean.  

You can watch it on a hand-held screen, way back in the woods.  I know.  I did it.

There's really no excuse to not have access to information about the world.  You have to either be so disconnected from reality to not care the rest of the world exists, or just care enough to find out about what directly affects your life to not see the amazing things going on in the world.  It's awe-inspiring.

A Whole Lotta Yeah, Uh-huh

And now, these messages...

That meant the show was over.  Each commercial break before began with, "We'll return after these messages..."  When you heard the, "And now" part, you knew it was almost over; nothing left but the credits.

But you stayed for that, too... that and the closing credit theme.  Usually, some sort of remix of the opening credit theme.  Sometimes, like WKPR, it was a completely different song.  Or something.

Friday Resets

Everybody likes a Friday.  Even when you know you have work to do on a Saturday, Friday still feels good.  It's rare to not find yourself in a good mood, at some point, on a Friday.

I worked a job, for a few years, where I worked 7 days a week.  Even then, Friday felt good.  The weekend hours were different, but not so much that you'd look forward to it.  Friday still felt better than the rest of the week.

It just seems like the air is different on Friday.  People are in a better mood.  The old guy who growls at you at the store says, "Thanks" when you hold the door for him on a Friday.

If it weren't for Fridays, we'd probably lose our minds.  Gotta have that regular reset.

A Night Not Spent

Listening to an airplane pass overhead.  It could be a propeller plane.  Doesn't matter, either way, anymore.  A vehicle passing on a nearby street drowns out everything with unintelligible bass-heavy audio.

Whether we want to admit it or not, there's a limited time for everything.  However they pass, or whatever we did with that time, they pass.  Ends come without a start, many times.  Reasons don't matter.  

Except what you've chosen to do, none of the rest will ever be more than a footnote, at best.  All the pages written about whatever else won't chronicle what's never done.  Remember what you didn't do?  Even if you can, it won't be for more than a few seconds.

Moving Over

Flipping up the lid on the old laptop while sitting in a different spot feels like being somewhere else without leaving.  Another perspective from a different angle gives a rusty feeling of seeing something new.  Fine hairs sense changes in the air; it flows in unfamiliar patterns.  

Sounds reverberate their sonic dissimilarities.

Walls throw light to other spots.  Unsettling familiarity sets in.  Deja vu pushes its way through the door.

The time change makes the Sun sit weird for the time of day.  It'll seem normal in a few weeks.  Until then, sleep fights.  Dreams seem to know it, as well. 

Those long gone come back and sit for a spell.  It's as if nothing changed.  Then, back to the normal spot, memory removes the occasion.

Worms in the Microphone

Every time I see this Nirvana video posted with the yellow, foam, mic pop filter and that cheap, right-handed guitar... playing a 'show' in a Radio Shack, I'm transported back to the late 1980s, playing my cheap, Harmony guitar from Sears or JCPenny with whoever, wherever they wanted to play.  Dale Crover on drums, sounding like an unholy Melvin's-Alice in Chains with Kurt and Krist... sounds so much like every version of every band I remember back then playing in the showroom, or workroom, of some local business.  In the 'fellowship hall' of a church, school cafeteria, restaurant basement... literally whenever, wherever.