One summer when I was in elementary school, I was bored over summer break. Our back yard had not yet been landscaped, and there were some concrete blocks among the small wilderness of weeds and low elm tree branches. They looked like ancient ruins from a strange civilization to me, in small. I made up stories about that Amazon-like people, but I was still bored.
I was always dreaming up stories. I still do. Back then, I didn't realize that I could write those stories down. "Audience" is a scary concept. When I was very little, five or so, I liked to dance and sing, so my father built a little stage into a space by the carport where we kids used to play. That was the end of my dancing; I never could go up on that stage. Maybe some of my fear of heights comes from there, too.
During that summer of boredom, I had an epiphany that I now think of as, "only boring people get bored." I was a lazy child who loved leisure. Boredom was no good, I realized. It wasn't a fun kind of nothing-to-do; it was a waste of my time. I decided then that I would always have something to do during the summer break. Consequently, every year after that, during the summer school break, I either took summer school classes or took up an activity. I was lucky to have the parents that I had, who enabled me to go swimming, practice yoga, travel to Hawai'i, and learn basic programming. All those summer school classes left me with a weird high school schedule, full of art classes, literature, and drama. (I regret giving up on the hard honors chemistry class and not taking physics.) I can honestly say that summers were never boring again. They had the right amount of new stimulus activity and leisure vacation time.
Ah, nostalgia.
In adulthood, I struggle with time management and the energy to accomplish all I want to do. Seeing what falls by the wayside only really happens if I keep a to-do list. If I don't keep a to-do list, I turn around and suddenly realized that some things are no longer in the wagon. If I'm lucky, I can remember what. If not -- and this is, sadly, more common -- I find what's missing when I need something that isn't there.
The to-do list is an amazing tool. First thing on the to-do list does seem to be "make a to-do list," however. Last thing should probably be, "make the next list." A friend suggested keeping a mix of difficult and easy things on the same list, so that there is always something that can be accomplished, even with limited time.
Post winter holidays, work has been challengingly busy for me. I have certainly been using a hand written to-do list on a daily basis. A handwritten list allows the deeper satisfaction of the sound of crossing items off, that wonderful sibilance of pencil against scratch paper. The daily duties combined with randomly added (metaphorical) fires to put out are just too many tasks to keep in my head, and the list makes it possible for me to be efficient and effective. Because work has concrete tasks, often with set deadlines, the to-do list is a powerful tool.
Outside of work... well, this update has been on my list for about three weeks. Some things stick around until they approach crisis (laundry!), then have to go to the "top" of the list. Making a list generates more items for the list, sort of like when too many things are jammed into a small container, and after the top items crammed in are pulled out, a spill of hidden items happens.
It's hard to be unhappy that my personal to-do list hasn't had much crossed off, because a top item has been Writing. That one word encompasses a lot of dedicated time. I don't cross it off because, right now, my writing energy is at a significant high point. I'm sending myself a lot of notes when I'm not at my keyboard, and when I'm home, I've been at keyboard in a series of bursts. There is a gentle undercurrent of guilt for one or two things that I would like to do but not enough to prioritize over writing. Even reading has felt like a secondary activity; I'd much rather be looking through the windows of my own worlds, even during my bus commute.
I count myself very lucky in being able to put writing at the top of the list. Sure, attending to the basics has to happen, but I have enough time to call my own to be able to choose what I do with it. I once promised myself never to grow up, but I do enjoy the empowerment of being an adult, combined with being abundantly blessed with opportunity. Boredom only manifests as an uncertainty of what I want to do next. As the saying goes, "If you want something done, give it to a busy person." Not only am I keeping busy getting things done, but it seems to me to be the right kind of busy.
