So, here's one for you: what's your inner monologue like? I'd just like a little insight on the inner workings of someone else's head for a change.
I'd ask that you not strain yourself trying to be brief or proper in your post. This is your stream of consciousness I'm asking about, so if you need to be disorganized, if you need to cut off a paragraph half-way through or change topics drastically or type out an entire novella's worth or just wallow in self-pity for a bit, feel free (though do be considerate enough to use spoiler tags if necessary).
I'd ask that you not strain yourself trying to be brief or proper in your post. This is your stream of consciousness I'm asking about, so if you need to be disorganized, if you need to cut off a paragraph half-way through or change topics drastically or type out an entire novella's worth or just wallow in self-pity for a bit, feel free (though do be considerate enough to use spoiler tags if necessary).
When bored I'll often enter a state of confused existentialism, particularly if tedious labour is involved. In a dreamlike kind of way it doesn't seem to start or end anywhere, I just go on a journey for a while and attempt to assemble all the little bits of "knowledge" I've accrued into my lifetime into some kind of workable philosophy.
Perhaps it's a reflection of my artist/writer's block, or maybe the source of it, but I seem to circle back around to the same point quite often, that point being "I have no idea where I'm going with all this and the foundation for it seemed kind of shaky to begin with so let's start all over."
When it goes on for long enough without interruption I tend to enter into the territory of high-concept thinking and/or defamiliarisation [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Defamiliarisation] that sometimes gives the concept of meaning a decidedly meaningless feel.
Yes, the more I attempt to make sense of my situation the less sense it all seems to make and the more clueless I feel, and the ways in which one is expected to learn more don't always seem as reliable as they're made out to be. Everything you're told - hell, everything your own senses tell you - is bullshit to some degree.
Or so I'm told.
Oh, and tangents, lots and lots of tangents. I could be on a tangent in there for ten minutes before I realize I've been sidetracked, and by then it's sometimes hard to remember where I even began. Often times these tangents lead off into one of the other activities that occupy my bored mind, those being a) daydreaming about potential creative projects, b) replaying games/shows/books/whatever and c) growing increasingly suspicious and hateful of myself (and occasionally others, though I do my level best to keep that in check. At least I'm making an effort my life somewhere?)
Perhaps it's a reflection of my artist/writer's block, or maybe the source of it, but I seem to circle back around to the same point quite often, that point being "I have no idea where I'm going with all this and the foundation for it seemed kind of shaky to begin with so let's start all over."
When it goes on for long enough without interruption I tend to enter into the territory of high-concept thinking and/or defamiliarisation [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Defamiliarisation] that sometimes gives the concept of meaning a decidedly meaningless feel.
Yes, the more I attempt to make sense of my situation the less sense it all seems to make and the more clueless I feel, and the ways in which one is expected to learn more don't always seem as reliable as they're made out to be. Everything you're told - hell, everything your own senses tell you - is bullshit to some degree.
Or so I'm told.
Oh, and tangents, lots and lots of tangents. I could be on a tangent in there for ten minutes before I realize I've been sidetracked, and by then it's sometimes hard to remember where I even began. Often times these tangents lead off into one of the other activities that occupy my bored mind, those being a) daydreaming about potential creative projects, b) replaying games/shows/books/whatever and c) growing increasingly suspicious and hateful of myself (and occasionally others, though I do my level best to keep that in check. At least I'm making an effort my life somewhere?)