Boredom

As my life goes on and I get older, I continue to be amazed at people who complain of boredom. Unlike the stable, plodding life of centuries past, we live in a modern world filled with changing data, with surprises so commonplace as to be humdrum, when you never know what’s coming next. How can anyone be bored?

Boredom, I’m starting to conclude, is a symptom of a kind of mental illness that hides evidence of change. Only by blockading all indications of today’s world of constant variation or by refusing to recognize change when it occurs is it possible to find things so invariable as to be boring. For me to be bored, I’d have to banish all periodicals, radio and television broadcasts, and conversations with friends. That would probably mean that I’d spend all my leisure time playing or listening to music I already know. But since the music I enjoy the most, by Bach and Mozart, is always revealing new aspects I hadn’t suspected before, even that would assure enough newness that I wouldn’t be bored.

So I would say to those who complain of boredom, “change your outlook.”

Or maybe just “get a life.”

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