Generally speaking, I am not a risk taker. Except in the area of food. I don’t look at labels. I love aspartame and hydrogenated oils. I know, it’s disgusting. I don’t care. I don’t care if it kills me. I have to die of something. But that’s just one area of my life. In general, I don’t enjoy danger. I like to be safe. I like to feel safe. Safety is one of the best feelings I know. Unfortunately, it is remarkably similar to boredom. Fortunately, I’m kind of a boring person, so I don’t mind boredom as much as some other people might. Unfortunately, even I can get too bored.

I might be entering that phase of life where I am getting too bored. I know what this calls for. It calls for action. Unfortunately, I’m not a woman of action. I’m a woman of lethargy. That presents a challenge in those situations where action is required. My usual response is to get out of those situations as quickly as possible. Even if it means taking some kind of action. I’m willing to take some action if it means getting to a place where less action will be required. I’m the type that’s always looking for her next nap. Unfortunately, you can’t spend your whole life asleep. If you did, well, that would be kind of like you were dead. Technically, I guess, you’d be in a coma. I’ve often thought I might enjoy a coma, but the trouble is you can’t get into a coma by pursuing one; it’s the sort of thing you just fall into, and if you get into one and don’t like it, it’s not like you can just come back out. Can you? I don’t know, I’m not a neurologist. To become a neurologist I would probably have to take some action. Probably a lot of action. I’m not really up for that right now.

I don’t want you to think that this is just new year resolution-esque angst. I’ve been angstifying over this a lot lately: what is my next stage of life? The kids are all in school full-time. I clog for 1-2 hours on Monday mornings, and the rest of the time is mine. Usually I try to get a shower and lunch in there. But time passes quickly when you’re doing nothing. That’s what I’ve noticed. You know when time passes slowly? When you’re cleaning out your closet. That’s what my husband wishes I would do with all my extra time these days. But I’m not going to, because I hate cleaning out closets. Cleaning out closets forces me to confront all the stuff I put in the closet just so I wouldn’t have to confront it. What’s a closet for except to put stuff you don’t want to confront? If I’m going to take action, it will be to further avoid stuff, not face it head-on. Please. But where was I? Oh, yes. Time passes quickly when you’re doing nothing, and before you know it, it’s time to pick the kids up from school and another day has gone by and you’ve done absolutely nothing. Except maybe take a shower and eat lunch and possibly there were some dishes or laundry in there.

Contrary to what some people might suspect, I do not spend all my new free time on Facebook. Or any other internet place. I spend a lot of my new free time staring at a blank sheet of paper and wondering why I can’t think of anything to put on it, or why everything I do manage to put on it sucks so much. What happened to me? Did anything happen, or am I just finally facing the reality of my life, which is that I don’t write anymore? I don’t write anymore. Except for this blog. Sometimes I write on this blog about how I don’t write anymore. Or how many trashy novels I’ve read this quarter. It seems like I could make myself more useful. Well, obviously I could. We all could. But I think I should. But I don’t know what I want to do yet. Unless it’s slip into a coma and dream without guilt.