Dad, I’m bored.

This post will be very short compared to some recent writings of mine.  I just had a thought about my past.  Around the latter part of elementary school, I remember telling my dad that I was bored… it was probably summer.  It’s an odd thing to remember. 

The only other aspect I remember is that in telling my dad this I was seeking some kind advice.  As silly as it seems, I was asking my dad about a fundamental issue of life.  The issue of boredom is directly related to the issue of meaning.  I didn’t have the philosophical context to understand it at the time, but basically I was inquiring about what I was to do with my life.  I was a kid who had all the basic necessities of life taken care of and I lived in a town that had plenty of opportunities.  And yet I felt bored.  I mean, could just occupying myself with activities be all there is to life?  That’s a pretty deep question.  Most people just spend their lives distracting themselves until they die, but it seems that even at that young of an age I wanted more out of my life.

I usually think that I don’t get bored anymore.  But maybe like most people I’ve just become better at distracting myself.  Ya know, maybe being bored isn’t such a bad thing.  Boredom reminds us of a deeper longing.  Even distractions can become boring after awhile because they don’t satisfy that basic desire for something more, something meaningful.

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