Pushing Punch Cards Into Slots

Thursday, January 10, 2008

People often confuse boredom with depression.

We are overstimulated to excess; by that, I do not mean merely that we are too stimulated, but that we are too overstimulated. There are televisions and computers and radios in the morning, often accompanied by traffic and children and alarm clocks, microwaves that beep, drive-thru coffee shops and gas stations. We meet an onslaught of people and things in the world that demand our attention often before the sun has even risen.

This bores us. Our minds need to wander a little. They need to remember our pasts, imagine things, look ahead, concentrate on problems, but they are squeezed down the narrow funnel of schedules and maintenance. There is so much to do simply to maintain the pattern of our lives that most of our energy becomes devoted to that pattern. We are bored, because we spend so much of our time performing the equivalent of pushing punch cards into slots.

I am often guilty of mistaking the structure for my life. I can trip along in this blindness for days, weeks, and months until I stub my toe on something that moves me, like Utah Phillips telling stories or the right string of poetic phrases, and then it is as though I remember myself. The structure - meetings, my morning muffin, the city bus trips, grocery shopping, feeding the cats - becomes just that: a construct. Then, I feel flailing and hurt, because if I am not these things, what am I? I am a vulnerable thing. I am a small thing. I am a turtle without a shell.

In those soft moments between the hard particulars, I want to run like hell, light out of whatever place I am in as though my hair is on fire. I imagine that I will be a land-loving hippie with sticks in my hair. Or I will be an outsider artist on a llama farm. Or I will become an ascetic poet who still drinks whiskey. I will take up guitar. I will make art films. I will publish books. I will take thousands of photographs. I will build furniture. I will collect clockwork toys and open a museum.

But then it is time to catch the bus again, and I head home to make supper, watch television, bring the clothes up from the dryer, and ready the alarm clock for another day.

(Also posted at RealMental.org.)

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Labels: realmental.org, the here and now

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10 comments:  Lori This is wonderful; I know exactly what you mean, especially re: the hair on fire part.    Marie Yes! I think of this as a kind of existential tension between the mundane everyday and deeper, truer contemplations. I've been working hard to enjoy the everyday life because I can't really "drop out" of society the way I am sometimes tempted to. Run away to a llama farm, yeah. Darn economy; gotta eat and all that. But it drives me crazy how easily I (we all) are so easily distracted by so-called entertainment and junk-life. Must. resist!    daisybones This is a powerful post for me. It speaks to the constant tension I have between wanting Something Bigger and the desperation to be a simple being immersed in authentic things like tending my woodstove, making pots, and learning to sew. I think the majority of our existence is hamster wheel stuff. It is, yes, very easily mistaken for depression. Amen.    trinity67 I live the exact same kind of life and then have the exact same moments, kind of like when David Byrne sings/exclaims, "How did I get here?!". I can't offer any advice but I can offer gratitude at there being someone out there who feels the same way I do and can put their thoughts onto paper, so eloquently. Thanks. P.S. I also like to take pikchures, have two cats and a lovely man in my life.    tNb Wow, your post describes so eloquently what I've been feeling lately. It's beautifully written!    kristabella I totally agree. Sometimes I'll start thinking "hmm, I'm depressed. I'm so blah. Maybe I should go back on meds." And then I realize I'm just bored. I have been the happiest lately spending a lot of my down time on the couch reading books. Just me and a good book. It really makes you appreciate those understimulated timed and realize how unnecessary all that stuff is sometimes.    firewings This is somehow morbidly beautiful. I have those times too where I hate to think that I'm not my routine...because then I actually have to draw conclusions to who I am and that can be scary.    jchevais my goodness, how this rang true. how quickly a year can go by doing the hamster wheel stuff. Bless you, schmutzie.    Sparkling Red People think they need more and more to have a better life, but I think we all really need less of everything.    jenB Well said my friend. I always tell Mark about the hamster in the wheel in my head going overtime and I need a quiet little time out. Usually under the bed clothes.   blog comment guidelines post a comment ~ Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom] ~ main page