I hate being bored. HATE IT. Since I feel so strongly I have a tendency to not allow myself to reach the state, and I have learned to find joy or some level of entertainment in whatever it is I am doing (even if it be in vehemently snarking on how much I dislike what I am engaged in which is in itself almost as fun as actually having a good time). I was going to take a pass on this task entirely because of this, but after the events of this last weekend I felt that I deserved penance of self-flagellation in the form of a good long stint of boredom. The events leading up to this task will be posted on Confession.

Sunday was supposed to be a very good day. I had been looking forward to Sunday all week. I was going to sleep in, go to a quiet brunch alone, meet up with several SF0 zero friends for a blitzkrieg tasking session and then surprise my GF at the airport by obtaining a security pass to meet her at the gate. (I discovered recently that if you ask the people at the ticket counter they will give you a pass that allows you to go through security without being a ticketed passenger so you can meet your loved ones at the gate just like old times.) Lee has told me several times that she has always wanted someone to do this, but now it will never happen because of "damned homeland security fucking with our lives".

It was going to be a good day.

Then the incident….

I picked Lugosi up after surgery at around 3:30 pm. I hadn’t eaten all day and I had just piled almost $1000 on my shiny new credit card. I have reached the wizened age of 29 without ever having a card in my name. I didn't want one. I knew my tendencies toward spending but after realizing that my financial state had reached the point where If I was surprised by another flat tire on my motorcycle in the morning I would not be able to fix it and probably end up losing my job. I had promised myself that the plastic would be only for things that I could pay off with my next paycheck or dire emergencies. This defiantly fell into the latter, but after only having the card for less than a week before being pounded with debt, it still stung. I drove with the dog trembling and woozy in my lap to Burger King, developed a case of the "Fuck its", and slapped $10 worth of fast food on the Visa.

I got home at 4 and slumped on the couch. I was supposed to be tasking. Today was going to be a good day. I looked at the clock and realized I had 6 hours until I had to leave to pick up Lee. I looked at the dog on my lap and realized that I was not going to be able to do anything productive with this poor creature in my care. I was going to be so bored. I felt like shit and I deserved to be bored.

So organically happened the task. I would not fight the boredom but wallow in it.

I turned on the TV to Sci-Fi. It provided perfectly. I tuned in about an hour into a marathon of the mini series Dinotopia. Oh what a blathering, soft focus, piece of crap that was! Since I missed the first hour or so I had no idea what was going on. The plot made no sense and I didn't care enough about any of the characters to even try and piece together the relationship between them. The story was barely engaging enough keep me from falling asleep. It was miserable, but I deserved miserable, so I ate my burger king and sat comforting the sedated animal on my lap.

I didn't change the channel, I didn't pull out my computer to attempt productivity. I punished myself with Dinotopia. The hours dragged. I kept looking up at the time. It passed in five minute increments which dripped from the clock hands like sewage.

There were things I could have been doing. There were things I would rather be doing. At least I’m still getting one task done. This was supposed to be a good day.

Dinotopia ended and Painkiller Jane took its place. I'm not sure if it was the fact that watching flies fuck would have seemed entertaining after what I had just gone through, or if the show was actually good, but I almost enjoyed myself. I might even watch it again under different circumstances.

Lugosi had started to come out of his daze and I encouraged him to stumble around while I kept his cone collar from knocking him over when he passed a door jam or table. He seemed to perk up and that made me smile. I was still an hour and a half until I had to go to the airport. I started pacing, picking things up, and putting them someplace else without much reason. I made sure that nothing I did was worth anything. I continued match gaze with the clock about every few minuets.

I got dressed to go to the airport. I wanted to look nice. When I had discovered the existence of the "security passes" I had my father with me in a wheel chair and we were meeting my mother who also requires a wheel chair if she needs to go long distances. I wasn’t sure that some punk kid with blue hair requesting a pass to meet his girl friend would go over as well, so I put on a suit and made myself as presentable as possible. The six hours ended just as I bundled Lugosi up in his towel and left the house.

It turns out that Lee's plane landed a half hour early just as I was pulling into the parking lot at the airport. this didn’t give me enough time to procure the pass and make it to the gate before she got off the plane. The plan was ruined. who has ever heard of a plane coming in a half hour early?

I know I was bored because I was miserable.
I was miserable because:

There were so many other things that I wanted to be doing but couldn’t.
I purposefully subjected myself to the most mindless pap I could come across.
I ate ten dollars worth of Burger King.
I had some place to be and I all I could do was wait to leave.
I had been looking forward to this day and was horribly disappointed
I was ravaged with guilt.