Hitchhiking along the Highway of Boredom

The pull was too strong. I could not resist the chance to write another piece of just something to keep myself busy. Yes, unlike my more illustrious friends in the blogging circle, I have not had much to do these vacations, and am consequently left with little matter to write. Only it doesn’t matter any more. I don’t report backyard news via the internet. It’s got me into enough trouble for one thing, and you just can’t be natural once you know that what you are writing is going to be viewed by others who know you and can make out what you write. So let us just put this little escapade with the keyboard to an unexplained electromagnetic attraction between the pressure switches under the keypad and my fingertips. The peeled off skin helps.

I’ve been reading. No, it isn’t anything I read. I am just listing what I’ve been doing these past fifteen days. I just read any old thing that I got. Never even thought about if it was worthwhile. I read many books twice, and read many more that I had read twice before. The idiot box has been mercifully demoted in the hierarchy of entertainment. I generally prefer to surf the net and come across interesting stuff to read.

Fact: I got sentimental. I wasn’t drunk. I don’t drink. I me teatoddler (didn’t expect anyone to get that). But then it happened. I was feeling real bad about not talking to an old friend for a long time. I suppose I was intoxicated on shame.

I have also shunned movies to some extent. Having failed to make my friends sit through Life is Beautiful and Schindler’s List hurts. Yea, reading The Odessa File didn’t assuage that wound any.

I’ve been passing some time going through a vocabulary quiz through a certain comment I saw in the Geek in a Box’s last post (possibly the last too). Not bad, but the caption saying I donated 2000 grains of rice to some poor malnourished kid in East Asia or Africa really gets me down. Kids are dying of hunger in my country too. Will even twenty million grains of rice help them all? Where does it all go?

I have also been trying to convince myself that I have the Marvin syndrome- I suffer from neurotic depression due to an exceptionally brilliant mind. It sort of makes me feel happier about it. Any takers for the theory?