Bored

I’m bored, and that’s a problem. Something’s been nagging at me for a few weeks, and I now know what it is – I’m bored. There’s little adventure in my world right now, very little discovery, and when boredom sets in, I get panicky and a bit rash. Too often, I overcompensate.

This morning, I spent way too much time on the Molokai to Oahu web page. It’s a 32 mile stand up paddleboard race from the Hawaiian island of Molokai to the island of Oahu, and it takes most paddleboard participants about seven hours to complete. The participants in the videos were all much, much younger than me and loaded with muscles. I saw no participants that were middle aged plus men with beer bellies. Some participants spoke of the unbelievable color of the water in the center of the Ka’iwi channel, which is crossed between Molokai and Oahu. I’m guessing that’s because the water in the channel is 2300 feet deep.

I think I want to do it. It’s a sure way to cure my boredom. The problem is that I don’t own a standup paddleboard and the few times I tried one I spent more time climbing back on than I did stand up paddling. I also have thalassophobia which is a deep fear of deep bodies of water. Whenever I’m in the ocean where I can’t see the bottom, I envision a giant toothy creature surging from the depths with its mouth open, headed my way. Man loses his edge when swimming in the ocean. It becomes an equal playing field between man and beast. However, training to paddle from one Hawaiian island to another would certainly resolve my boredom, however crazy it sounds.

A more realistic and, frankly, a sad alternative to my boredom is yardwork. I hate it that I even mention that. What else says overweight, middle-aged, thinning, brown-haired, white guy than deciding working in the yard is a cure for boredom. My wife, my son and I planted forty autumn ferns a few weekends ago in areas where no grass has grown for the past fifteen years. I didn’t much like planting them. My mood is generally sour when working in the yard, but I’ve slowly walked by and admired our planted ferns a dozen times or more sense then. I don’t like doing yard work. I like having done yard work. Another forty ferns would solve my boredom problem, but that’s so dang sad.

So, I’m bored, and the ideas I’ve come up with for solving my boredom problem are either fanciful or pitiful. When I told my wife that I had figured out the cause of my melancholy and that it was boredom, she gave me an uneasy look. I’ve been here before, and I usually do something stupid in times like this, and she’s right, and I’m sure I will.

Will it be to paddleboard across the ocean or gobs of ferns? Good lord! What’s wrong with me?

I’m Cam Marston, and I’m just trying to Keep it Real.