When I’m bored, I want to go see an independent film, because they’re so weird or ingenious (sometimes) that they will take me from my frustrated, lazy stupor and make me excited and inspired and energetic–ready to do stuff.
I hate being inactive, because I become listless, repetitive, and frustrated. I want to read a new thing, eat a new food, do a physical activity.
Now that my mother has stopped her regular professor-ing and decided on a 9-5 5-day-per-week job, I’m trapped at home, because in my state I can’t get my learner’s permit for driving until I’m sixteen–even though all my life I believed it to universally be fifteen is learner’s permit, sixteen is driver’s license. I don’t have an au pair, nor do I have any bored friends who happen to live next door, because I’m in a rural area and it would take time to get between the houses. Where I live, it’s safer just to drive to your friends’ homes, because even though there isn’t much traffic, there are a lot of curves and hills on the road, and sometimes out-of-the-area idiots like to speed along our lovely idyllic roads, potentially killing drivers, joggers, cyclists, and innocent animals whose daily routine is to casually walk across that particular road fifteen times.
So I am trapped in my house with a younger sister who sleeps until eleven and a dog who is willing to sleep throughout the day until there’s someone outside or he just feels like barking at nothing whatsoever.
I am equipped with a computer, upon which I watch youtube videos as opposed to writing and Rosetta Stone, which is what I am supposed to be doing. Maybe I should do my summer work? *nah*
I also happen to have an elliptical and I could secretly use my father’s exercise bike, but while I would love to do those things, the events of yesterday have caused some mild injuries, prompting me to take a break day.
I’ve been really drowsy the past three days, so I feel really crummy, and wish I could go swimming or take a walk or do ANYTHING, but even though I have stuff to do, feeling the way I do is not really a good motivator for action on my responsibilities. Oh my goodness, how can anybody LIVE like this? All I feel I can do is wallow in self-pity, eat (because I’m bloody hungry but I hate having the same four or five meals over and over again throughout the day–nectarine, Fage, homemade bread with peanut butter and strawberry preserves, salad but now we’re out of CHEESE), and nap. I’m too hot, I’m groggy, I have responsibilities to myself, and I am bored. I can’t think of anything to draw and I don’t have anything to say.
I hate summer with working parents. I’m trapped under house arrest. Galileo, how could you manage EIGHT YEARS like this?!