Half Empty, Half Full

            Monotony can be paralyzing. Suddenly you realize that you are bored of being bored, but have no idea how to break the cycle. Monday and Tuesdays melt into each other like popsicles on a hot summer day. And instead of waking up feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, you feel bland, heavy, and well, stuck. You realize that you’ve reached the point where neither a pep talk nor bottle of wine can eliminate your boredom and aloofness. Sure you laugh – and it's a genuine laugh – when a friend tells you a story, but that moment is fleeting. Once it passes, you continue going through the motions and melt into the next day. You fade into the background of your own life. But it’s not a depression or a prolonged sadness; it’s just a few "off” weeks.

            This week started out flat. I was tired and everything around me appeared colorless. I even looked at a picture of my Mom and really felt that she was, well, dead. More than that, she seemed to have never existed. Relax. It’s not as dramatic as it sounds. We all have these weeks. The sun can be shining, but you cannot see it. The music can be playing, but you cannot hear it. The food can be eaten, but you cannot taste it. Rather than fixing the week, we let it run its course. We are convinced that all things must pass.

            Lately, the idea of a rut or of a lull has scared me. I feel like I’ve reached my quota for the last six months. So after two weeks of being slightly miserable, I forced myself to break the monotony. I booked my week solid with work and play. During the work I’ve done other work and during the play I thought more about well, more work. I decided to volunteer for a film festival and squeezed in two workouts some days just to alter the usual. I’ve become hyper busy, but yet, the boredom still reappears certain hours of the day.

            And so now I’m wondering if my boredom isn’t really boredom at all. Perhaps it’s just emptiness. But right now emptiness seems unexplainable and inexcusable as I have everything that I could want – a new, exciting job, a comfortable apartment, and new friends. The emptiness, I guess, is just undefined space.

            We each cope with emptiness differently. But for the first time in a while I feel like I’ve exhausted all coping mechanisms. I could read more, write me, or work more, but none of those seem like they would solve anything. And although I am anxious to fill the emptiness, I’m also not in a rush to find what fits and “cures” that space.

            I think you can be genuinely happy and somewhat empty at the same time. Maybe it comes with being hyper busy and therefore burnt out. Or maybe a few hits of Prozac and a long run will make the emptiness evaporate. Who knows?

            I’m slightly ambivalent to the emptiness. I know it’s there and although I can’t control it, it doesn’t make me angry or sad. Maybe it’s just being lost somewhere in your twenties. Or maybe it’s just the greedy need to always want more even though the reality is everything is here. Maybe it's just time to get lost in it.