Help, I’m bored!

“God, I’m BORED,” I said to myself yesterday as I hung out by our kitchen island. The house was empty, except for me and my thoughts of boredom. My eyes scanned the kitchen and living room, searching for what to do next. My therapist said I should get a new journal. When I unloaded the boredom I was feeling, my therapist said that I should get an even bigger journal. I guess paper will have to be my consolation. What’s that phrase? Consult it with your pillow? Well, I guess I’m going to consult it with my blog.

You see, I’m in a place where I feel like nothing is magical. I dread the weekend because it feels like we’re just trying to kill time; we don’t know what to do around town anymore. The city we live in has no life and, in the words of someone I met last week, “Santa Clara has no personality.” You can say that again.

I’ve found purpose in reading, oddly enough. I was never a reader growing up. It was my younger brother who always out-read me. I just liked carrying a book around to feel like I was going to read. “Why do you carry a book around with you when you never read, Cecy?” He scolded me as I loaded my book into the car. “Because!” I replied, “…Just in case.” He was right. Back then, I really only rarely read, and I wanted to be like him, a voracious reader.

This reminds me of another time he cut me with the truth. I was in high school, a Junior, and we had just transferred schools. “Why do you go to Model UN even though you hate it?” He caught me off guard, “What?” He continued, “If you don’t like Model UN, then don’t go.” He was right. I hated Model UN, but I still went. Why did I do that? Because I thought it was commendable? I didn’t know. 

My brother has always been a speaker of truth, which makes sense why he became a lawyer. I guess we both are seekers of justice in our own way: he tells you things as they are, even if you don’t want to hear them, and I tell you my feelings as they are, even if you don’t want to hear them. I guess justice for us means that you get to stand in front of someone and tell them what you really think and feel. It means you have the right to your allotted time to talk, and everyone damn well better listen because their turn is next.

We’re fiery and passionate for what we believe in. We also make good salespeople. No wonder we’ve been told that we’re cut from the same cloth; now, I can see what they mean.