Diary of a Bored Man

6/10/2019

Today, like most other days, nothing happened.  I don’t mean to say nothing with any absoluteness.  Nothing of importance has happened. I woke up, drank my coffee, used the bathroom, was supposed to go for a walk but decided against it.  I hate walking and you would not know it from the way I stagger out of bed and ritually prepare for my morning walk everyday. I am at an age when the doctors decided that I must exercise to retain somewhat of a healthy heart.  For what purpose, I don’t know. It will give out sooner or later. No matter how much walking I do, one day my heart will be in the ground with me wrapped around it. But the doctors said exercise and I followed their command. It would have been exhausting to argue with them regarding the merits of their recommendation and it just seemed easier to do what they say rather than having to listen to all the lectures regarding the benefits of even a mild form of activity.  But today I skipped the walk in favor of a third cup of coffee. By the time I finished the third cup nearly half a pack of cigarettes that I enjoy smoking every morning had disappeared. The mornings where special. Morning is the calm before the storm. The calm of absolute silence where no sound can be heard and during the hours of this heavenly state you find yourself. You realize the incredible beauty and serenity that can exist in the world only if the morning would last forever.  But the reality sets in, and the calm is disturbed. When I open my eyes I remember the coming daily storm of constantly interacting with people most of likable enough but were mostly uninteresting in their concerns, at least the ones they shared. But I must work and I do my best to fake my excitement to see everyone everyday and feign interest in hearing all about what happened the previous day. I never have anything to say because nothing ever happens with me the previous day.

So I finish my third cup and do my morning routine.  I finally get dressed, the usual, nothing fancy just jeans and a shirt with tennis shoes on my feet.  I drive to work and decide to take the long route. The third cup that took the place of walking was most enjoyable and I wanted to savor the quiet and solitude that it gave me.  So the long way it is. Music gently plays on the radio while I was smoking more of my treasured cigarettes. I enjoy the long routes, I get to watch people in their cars finishing up what they could not finish at home.  Ladies finalizing their makeup so they can be told they look amazing. Businessmen on the cell phones making calls and arranging for meetings so that they may advance their position in the world. College students reading the last chapter before they arrive in school to take an exam.  Invariably, one of them will lose control of their vehicle and cause a wreck, And everyone behind them will curse them till eternity for causing the few minutes delay in the important schedules of their lives.

I was somewhat disappointed that today there were no accidents, at least not ahead of me on the long route.  Of course, the disappointment is not due to the lack of accidents, I’m not morbid enough for that. I was disappointed because I made it to work too early.  Work is not a place I want to be early for. The only consolation is that I will be able to leave early. I had to prepare myself for the upcoming six hours of interacting with the diversity of people with different traits none of which appealed to me.  So I take one last deep breath and close my eyes for a few seconds to regain command of my mental state. A picture flashed before me. A picture of me remaining seated behind my desk and being preoccupied with important matters from which I cannot be separated.  That is what has to happen. If I can convince everyone of the heavy workload which awaited me, then maybe I will be left alone and when everyone maintained a safe distance I would return to my primary interest and preoccupation of reflecting on the beauty of being alone with my thoughts and the ability to fully admire my peaceful solitude.

The plan seems to be working.  Here I am, in the middle of a work day writing my diary.  I wonder what made me think of starting the diary today. I have always wanted to maintain a diary but felt that my life is inadequate to document.  Nothing ever seems to happen. At least not enough to merit the filling of pages that no one will read, or that is not worth reading. How do you get anyone interested in learning about nothing that happened.  How can the existence of someone with no family, no friends, no significant relations of any kind be of any interest to anyone. How can a bored man become interesting enough to write a diary that any sensible person would care to read.  How would I ever be able to write anything on 6/11 that is any different from what I am writing today. Maybe there will not be an entry for tomorrow or any other day after today. This is going to be the summary of my life, the ramblings of a bored man on a single day.  Oh God, work is so boring. I wish I was at the coffee shop. I will stop writing for now and see if there is any work to be done,which there always is. When I finish I will leave. I need to eat first. Yes, I will eat my lunch and then finish my work. Later, after I rest a bit at home I will go to the coffee shop.  

Finally I’m at the coffee shop.  I enjoy these greasy spoons where I can watch life crawl by.  No one ever seems to be in a hurry in the coffee shop. It feels as if time itself has slowed down and you can see the minutes ticking away one after the next and between ticks, nothing happens.  A few utterances of the people scattered around me. Meaningless chit chat among people who are ending their hectic day. Parents catching up with the kids, others simply friends talking, and they all seem tired but interested in what the people around them are saying.  A few smiles spring upon some face while others wear a veil of seriousness. Some are seated next to each other while others are conversing across from each other. The one girl seems to be there because she lost a bet. Her companion, who is a very handsome fellow, seems to be dominating the conversation and his handsomeness, which was the likely cause of her being here with him, seems to be wearing out and now she appears to be ready to leave but he is completely oblivious to what she is saying with her eyes and form. The things she is not given a chance to say with words.  As he talks, she is looking around at all the other people who appear to be having a much happier evening than she is. Her eyes seem to be searching for something around the room. Maybe an escape from the bore who was nice to look at but apparently thought that she needed to hear every thought that wandered into his pretty head. Her eyes met mine diagonally across the well-lit dining room. The reflection of light from her eyes caught me by surprise and I turned away to look outside the window at the night lights. The streets outside the diner were dry after the afternoon rain.  The well lit avenue is bustling with cars occupied by people hurrying to get somewhere. Their routines must be maintained and the rain had increased congestion on the roads so everyone was driving as if late to some important function. Mostly though, I knew they were just going home, tired from the trials of the day and ready to rest so that the day may repeat itself tomorrow. The people inside the coffee shop are completely oblivious to the outside world. The world which will consume them once they step outside the doors of this little heaven.

My afternoon was uneventful but I had enough things to do to stave off boredom for a few hours.  I took care of paperwork that needed to be completed and I signed whatever documents needed my signature.  Somehow, my signature made things more official. I’m not really sure why. All the documents that required signature contained information that everyone knew to be true or agreements that the parties have already recognized.  whether or not I signed these pieces of paper was not going to change the truth of the information they contained. But the paperwork must be completed and I’m rewarded relatively handsomely for my signature.  So everyday, I sign whatever documents present themselves on my desk and the business keeps operating as usual but everyone maintains a sense that somehow things have changed for the better due to my signature.  At three p.m. I needed a break so I decided to read the news. I do a quick search and there are no surprises. There are times when I feel that reading the news is a complete waste of my time, but then I remember that I have not much else to do with my time.  If I don't read the news then I will be staring at the walls, possibly marveling at a fly’s ability to zig-zag its flight around my head without being caught by my big hand swiping at it and wondering what is so special about my head that makes it so attractive to that particular fly.  Nothing in the news was going to radically alter the monotony that was my life. Of course, that was the case yesterday and the day before and everyday. The monotony was real, the routine was established and boredom has become the norm.

Thirty minutes later I decided to go ahead and leave.  After all, I had arrived here somewhat earlier than my usual time.  So I got up and went home. At home, I changed into my pajamas and sat in my chair sipping a cup of hot tea and smoked a couple of cigarettes.  I was about to watch some television but then decided not to. So I Slipped into my thoughts for a couple of hours. I wondered if I was lonely and concluded that I am not.  I am alone because I choose to be alone. I despised the meaningless conversations that people seem to enjoy so much. sometime in the past I had forgotten what interested me.  Now I don’t seem to find an interest in anything. The mundanely repetitive nature of the world is just boring me.

At eight p.m. I decided to head for the coffee shop and people watch.  My boredom lessens when I see people congregating to slow down the pace of their day.  When the collective will of all the diners seems to slow down time itself. Nothing important is going on tonight, nothing important goes on any night at the coffee shop.