joie de l'écriture

Boredom has always been my pet peeve. It has amply proved itself to be a motivating and stimulating feeling that has often pushed me far enough, out of my cocoon of laziness to grab the keyboard and fervently punch the keys to liberate thoughts in my head. I am afraid this is one of those liberating moments.

My vacuous mind keeps discovering syndromes that speak highly of me as someone suffering from an OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder). These symptoms pop up as casually as spotting pasta in a bowl of minestrone soup. I have immense regard for people who, by their very nature, cannot step out of the house without having a bath but can stay indoors for days on end without meandering anywhere close to a bathroom. I strongly believe each one of us has our own way of conserving water. Shopaholics are in my opinion the happiest souls alive and are pivotal in imparting a thrust to the crumbling economy. They are the alpha and the omega of the word ‘Demand’.

While Shakespeare earned enough fame for himself by scripting “What’s in a name…”, he has been unsuccessful in convincing his audience the importance of the same. Trying to recollect the name of someone about whom you know everything but the name, is as bad as engaging in recollecting the name of a movie that some jingle or song belongs to and as irritating as a shred of broccoli sticking in your teeth.

The power of the sub-consciousness is phenomenal. Imagine you step out of the house and there is this lingering feeling that you just don’t seem to get rid of. It’s like this little voice ringing in your head and telling you “You’ve left something behind!” You do the usual checks – wallet, cellphone, keys. Yet, the feeling stays.

Every night before you retire to bed you perform your regular rituals and just as you take the last sip of a glass of water, your face ghastly illuminated by the radiance of the refrigerator bulb in the kitchen, your eyes involuntarily travel to the knobs of the cooking range and do a quick check if the knobs are turned off. You shut the door, and almost as if you trust your sense of touch more than your trust your sense of sight, your feel the plastic knob with your fingers in the dark and return to your bed to count the sheep.

Boredom has always been my pet peeve. It has amply proved itself to be a motivating and stimulating feeling that has often pushed me far enough, out of my cocoon of laziness to grab the keyboard and fervently punch the keys to liberate thoughts in my head. I am afraid the liberating moment just ended.