Skip to main content

Death by Boredom


It was my third nap of the day. As I wearily got out of bed, it came to me like a euphemism, that maybe, I just had to accept it like it was. That there was nothing much really going on and it was best to not force myself into any kind of productiveness.

Once I used to fiddle with the idea of monasticism. Then, there was nothing more alluring than leaving all the hubris of the world to retire into a world of self-examination. In the exploration of this idea, I had thrown myself into a 10 day meditation retreat and came out wondering how was it that these monks could pass whole days and lifetimes doing literally nothing.

The alternative was to be busy, to immerse oneself in the myriad of everyday distractions, until one approaches death, and then look back and wonder what had happened. Unfortunately, the little island where I came from, this was often taken to the extreme. One was always busy, for one’s friends and one’s family, and I realised I had to get out before it was too late.

Thousands of miles away, it is a different story. As I pushed myself to jog with my creaking knee, the Germans frolicked in the sun, eating, reading, chatting and sunbathing. They appeared to have no particular goal, other than to sit there and enjoy the warm touch of the sun. They shared more or less the same level of material comfort and economic prosperity as us Singaporeans, though, they did not seem the least concerned about the rest of the world who threatened to work harder and steal their jobs and their comforts. Or that is what our dear government in Singapore told us to keep us toiling every day.

I had left my country, but the mindset had remained. With days stretching out till 8 at night and work and studies failing to excite me, I started to sink into an existential crisis. Shouldn't I be doing something productive? What was I doing all this for? What should I do next? What is the meaning of life? If I am going to die one day, does anything really matter?

I suppose I am just going through a too smooth patch. Studies and work will pick up at some point. Until then I have to distract myself. Or just get used to the boredom.

Before it kills me.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

An Ode to Marriage

I remember pondering about the need for marriage during a certain period of my life. Partially inspired by stoicism, I saw a man as an island in a big ocean, continuously being battered by the waves and storms, but holding fort and growing strong with each test. It was also when the idea of monasticism greatly appealed to me, to leave behind, for the lack of a better work, the bullshit of society and trying to attain enlightenment.  Somehow that idea fell apart after a brief meditation stint in a monastery, but the idea of marriage I resisted. The freedom that came from being single seemed too precious to let go. Furthermore life was complicated as it is. Why complicate it further by introducing another person to that life, someone who would bring her own mannerisms, rules, habits, many that might end up conflicting with your own. However, a lot of these ideas and beliefs start to die when friends of yours each start getting into their own relationships and have no more time for yo...

Sparing the Rod

 She gave me a look of deep displeasure, not very atypical of the look most members of the opposite gender gave me. “You know you can’t do that in Germany?”, she asserted with the same authority my mother used to tell me about not messing around in her kitchen.  “Yes I am aware”, I meekly responded, knowing well that any kind of argument about this would not end well, so it was better to close off the topic quietly and unlike the kitchen, I could not afford to get kicked out of Germany. She was not the first to respond with such hostility to what seemed like the most natural of things in my experience. The last one who told me the same was a teacher I had met at a party. When she sounded shocked that I was ok with it and said it was not right, I (with some alcoholic courage) had retorted, “How would you discipline them then if they do something wrong?” “I would tell them I am very disappointed with them”. I almost laughed. However, that was very much the theory of my new frien...

Passage to Vietnam : Part 2 - The Food

Imagine your friend passes you a fully boiled egg, garnished in onion and sauce. You use your chopsticks, lift it up to your mouth and bite of half the egg. It does not tear away as easily as you thought it would. And it tastes queer. Then while chewing away at that half, you look down at the other half on your plate and you see tiny grey feathers and a tiny leg bone staring back at you. My exact feeling at that moment was like I was making love to a woman and she suddenly reveals in the middle that she used to be a man. In short, I wanted to puke. I am not a big fan of Vietnamese cuisine. During my 18 days stay there, my Viet friends were kind enough to bring me around and let me taste about every kind of street food and drink, from snails to sticky rice to Viet baguettes to local alcohol. Other than certain items here and there, I generally thought the food lacked any kind of strong flavour to it. Plus, for some reason, I could not understand why the Viets went to the extent of ea...