Rainbows & Boredom

There is an odd bit of beauty in the state of being bored; with the lackluster emotions of disinterest and apathy come those that are underrated – that feeling of something pushing or pulling, a tension that fills you and eventually, hopefully, overflows screaming, “I can’t take this anymore!” I think boredom is a force of friction, on the rope of one’s soul, sundering one strand at a time until the tether gives way and lets loose the anchor.

In pondering the intricacies of this universal experience, I found that my encounters with abject boredom are actually anything but boring. (Easy to say in hindsight, isn’t it?) As I reminisced about some events in my life where I was maximally bored, I began to view the idea of boredom as a rainbow, rather than a solid state of gray misery. I propose a different view: red, orange, and yellow are low frequency, stereotypical nothing-to-do boredom, green is a neutral level of bored, blue and violet are high level boredom. The spectrum of visible light is particularly useful to our human eyes, as boredom is particularly useful to our human souls.

[Why go to the trouble of making a rainbow of all of this? Why can’t it just be gray? Gray is the perfect color for boredom. No. Gray is the color of depression and sadness. Boredom gets to be a rainbow. Now put your shoes on and let’s go! Rainbow train’s leaving!]

…

Red Orange & Yellow Boredom

as the summer-spent leaves fall to the ground

wistful and resigned

…

After the golden thrill of landing my first job dulled, approximately 15 minutes into my first shift, all that remained was a rebounding torpor between customer interactions. I was 16 years old and was faced with a Sales Associate job, at Sears. I quickly learned that there’s nothing so boring as an eight hour shift in a department store on a Tuesday evening in mid-October. It’s an existence that grinds at your soul in an insidious way, the utmost example of a lack thereof, the epitome of nihilism.

One can only straighten and fold, organize and clean, and greet infrequent patrons so much. Eventually there is no work left no matter what the management would have you believe! Even worse, you are placed in a small space by yourself and told not to lean on the counter tops so as not to appear lazy. To whom, I ask? The deep red boredom of those mid-week shifts brought out a desperate version of creativity in me. I decorated box flaps with push-pin designs, I bent exhausted gift cards until they broke in half, I organized the hangers by style and color, I counted the tiles on the floors and ceilings, I doodled on scrap paper, I called my coworkers who were suffering a fate similar to mine, one department over, to make sure they had not offed themselves yet.

I think I quit that job to work in an office for the summer. It was certainly better than Sears, but still, this was also a mind numbing bore the vast majority of the time. I remember doing data entry for warranty products, entering name, address, phone number, email, etc., over and over, and over, and thinking, “Dear God, I am wasting my life away. I can’t do this anymore!”

…

Green Boredom

sun and water infuse the springtime grass with determination

to fulfill its destiny

…

After I graduated with a Bachelor’s degree in studio art, I shackled myself to society’s version of reality before I could wander too far into the abyss. [I was rarely bored in art school, only a few times in some “general education” classes which I needed in order to fulfill graduation requirements. I truly can’t recall a memory from art school in which I was horribly bored.] I enrolled in a program for Medical Assisting. I believe it was supposed to be a two-year, Associates degree program. Zero of my art classes counted toward credit, and I was starting afresh. Aiming for a “Good Job” that “Pays Well”. I locked the shackle with a smile and good intentions.

I found myself simmering in boredom throughout class. It was interesting enough to keep me from dozing off and I was expected to take notes, which invariably lead to sprawling zen tangles and doodles in the margins, yet I was still filling to the brim with boredom, barely containing it. During one class, the second week of the semester, we spent over an hour learning how to read the measurements on a syringe. We had worksheets and activities to supplement. I went to the counselor after that class and asked if I could expect these classes to become more challenging in the coming weeks. She responded by asking, “Are they not challenging?” I recounted a brief synopsis of the Syringe Lesson, trying not to sound pompous. She looked at me blankly for a moment, probably deciding if I was being genuine or a just smug asshole. She said, “Well if this MA program is too easy perhaps you might look into the Nursing program?” So I did. I couldn’t bear to be bored any longer. I became a Registered Nurse. Surely, that would kill the boredom.

…

Blue & Violet Boredom

as the winter sun departs

hatchlings and fawns scurry toward shelter

while nocturnal pupils widen to seize wandering wavelengths

…

High frequency boredom. This befalls a person at moments of intense functioning. I will describe the scenario which comes to mind which illustrates this Indigo boredom:

It’s seven o’clock in the morning, I have received report from the night shift nurse on all five of my patients. One is in isolation for a contagious virus, two are diabetic and need multiple people to assist in and out of bed or bath, three need a heart monitor, and all five have family who need updates. There are tests to be done, medications to be administered, IV’s to place or replace, wounds to dress, and without a doubt, fires to put out. It will be a busy day, and there will be absolutely no down time. If I can take a couple of bathroom breaks and manage to eat some food I will have accomplished quite a feat. Can’t be bored if you don’t even have time to think about it!

In the first hour of the day, as occupied as a mind can be with work and problem-solving, some powerful voice within cuts through the layers and screams, “I’M SO DAMN BORED! I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!”

I can barely describe the misery I felt when I realized I was bored whilst absolutely inundated with challenging, meaningful, and lucrative work. Heaven help me, I’m doomed.

Whenever anyone asked me how I liked my job at the hospital, I would reply in my best sitcom voice, “It’s never boring.” That day, I realized this evasive and toxic answer didn’t mean what I thought it meant. Sure, the job was fraught with excitement, but not in a good way. Yes, the job kept me busy, but, I was going through the mechanical motions similar to those of data entry, albeit a higher level of pressure and stress. I simply didn’t want to tell the truth, “I actually do not like my job at all.” The day I realized I was bored amidst chaos was one of the small moments that lead up to a realization: I don’t want to be a nurse. I do not want to be bored.

“Undoubtedly, we become what we envisage.“

-Claude M Bristol