I came across this Veritasium video recently (again), and it covers something I was trying to articulate to my brother once. So many times when I was younger and I exhibited some tidbit of creativity my more cynical peers would snidely remark “Wow, you must have been really bored.” (Side note: Always distance yourself from such people until they can sort out their own issues with envy and the need to denigrate others to make themselves feel better.)
But you know what? Technically they were right. I was bored. And that’s exactly why I thought of something interesting to do.
I was fortunate enough to grow up in the early 90’s with my childhood filled with protracted periods of having played every one of the half dozen or so console games I had available, watched every VHS tape with anything remotely interesting, and the only thing on television being news and daytime soaps–if I had a TV available at all.
Some of my fondest memories from my childhood included days where I was living with my father for the summer and I would wake up in a small trailer in the middle of the desert. No TV reception of any kind. An old NES with a handful of games we had all played before, and no real connection to the outside world at all. My brothers and I would explore the desert. We’d hike up a nearby hill in the day. Come back when it became too hot and spend time drawing. At night we would play hide ‘n go seek in the dark. And all throughout there were plenty of times where the question was “What next?”
Moments of boredom spent alone or with my siblings. Role playing. Negotiating the rules for entire worlds. I just shot you, why aren’t you dead? Well, if you have shields, maybe I do too. Flying? How are you able to fly? Unstructured play. Free time.
When I was alone for one reason or another, I remember more times than I can count pacing in the backyard, letting my mind wander as I imagined adventures and disjointed scenes of breathtaking action. When I was five years old (at most) I recall being embarrassed by this when my mother came across me. “What are you doing out here?” “Nothing…” I replied.
And that wasn’t far off from the truth. If someone were to observe me from the outside, it wouldn’t appear like much. A small boy pacing back and forth, occasionally muttering to himself. Maybe throwing out random little fighting gestures.
What came so often and too readily in the past is now something that takes effort to recapture. When I decide to write, the majority of time spent isn’t on literal typing. (It probably helps that I type over 70 WPM on that front.) Instead, much of the time is spent doing that same “nothing” I’ve done since about as long as I can remember. Pacing on my back patio. Muttering to myself.
The only difference is now it is occasionally interrupted (usually with some measure of excitement) by me rushing back to my laptop and typing something out.
It’s not just creative writing either. If I’m working on something for my day job that’s really interesting (i.e. actually writing code for a new project, rather than attending yet another conference call or engaging in some administrative task), I will find myself occasionally pacing. Muttering. Doing… “nothing.”
I have to make time to be “bored” these days.
When I reflect on it, it gives me pause for concern when it comes to my kids. Having a world of endless entertainment and “engagement” at one’s fingertips is alluring to adults. How much more so for children?
I was so grateful that my parents for one reason or another had plenty of times to just let me be bored. Nowadays it seems like perhaps we parents need to make a more conscious effort to ensure it actually happens. Unstructured time with no connection to the outside world. If I have to discipline myself to ensure it happens for me, how much more so for them?
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