Busy Brain, Lazy Everything Else

(I have no idea why there's not a fourth panel here. Maybe it was a 3-panel strip, and someone laid it out in this square. But it makes it look like there should be a fourth panel. Feel free to draw your own. But if you do it on your monitor, I suggest you use a dry-erase marker. Especially if you're at work.)

The Setting: My family's trailer, in rural northern West Virginia
The Time: Any weekend, or any day in the summer, any time in the 1970s
The Participants: Me, and my mom

I am either draped theatrically on the couch, or face-down and limp on my bed.

Me: I'm bored.
Mom: Well, find something to do, or I'll find something for you.
Me: No, that's not what I mean.
Mom: "Bored" means you need something to do.
Me: It does not. (While thinking, "Geez, mothers are so clueless. Somebody'd better hurry up and invent the Internet, since my mean parents won't go into debt and buy me a set of encyclopedias.")

Boredom and laziness have been recurring topics here. It occurred to me that I need to clarify exactly what these terms mean. You know, in my head.

I am physically very, very lazy. I'm not particularly proud of that, but I'm self-aware enough to have recognized and accepted that over the past 4+ decades. I'm also not ashamed of it, though. It's just a fact, a characteristic, like my brown eyes or that I don't like spicy food.

My brain, however, is the opposite of lazy. It is very busy. Hyperactive. In overdrive all the time. If I'm awake, I need a steady stream of input into the old noggin. TV, books, music, multiple internet windows... Stuff has to be going on all the time.

When Mom said she'd find something for me to do, it would likely be things like trimming the bushes in front of the trailer, cleaning out under the kitchen cabinets, or weeding the flower beds. None of which would solve my problem, which is that my head was not receiving sufficient stimulation. I didn't want to "do" something. I needed to "think" something.

The things she was prepared to suggest would not only fail to solve my problem, they would make it infinitely worse. Housework and yard work are the most mind-numbingly boring things in the world. Simply having my body be physically busy, when it would much prefer to flop on my bed, surrounded by dozens of posters torn from Tiger Beat or Hit Parader magazines, was not acceptable.

This problem continues to this day, because I'm married to someone who "does things." When he's bored, he does something in the yard, goes on some errand or other, or decides to pull everything out of a closet. These things don't help me at all.

When I'm bored, I need a great new idea for something to write, an interesting online conversation, or a fantastic book to read. "Doing" something isn't the solution. My brain is still riding around in my skull, going, "Hey, nothing to do up here. Mayday! Mayday! I'm just going to spin in useless circles till you find something else fascinating for me to think about."

To be honest, this probably has a lot to do with why I am predisposed to overindulge in alcohol. If the brain isn't busy and it's going to be all demanding and annoying, I will shut it down, chemically if necessary.

I'm just glad I'm not married to a "talker." That is the third category of boredom avoidance. You probably know people like this. They might also be thing-doers, but they are seldom busy-brains. They are incapable of sitting quietly. I will be contentedly lounging on the Sofur, working out plot points, reading, and/or watching TV, quite happy inside my own head, and they feel compelled to talk. Constantly. About nothing. Just to be talking. I understand that this is how they stay engaged in the world and avoid that feeling of "nothing is happening." But I can't stand it.

Be quiet! I'm trying to think!

This is why Alzheimer's Disease scares the living Flying Spaghetti Monster out of me. Old age - assuming I ever reach it, which I doubt - can involve a wheelchair if it wants. Deafness might almost be a blessing, except for the loss of being able to listen to Cross Canadian Ragweed (because they'll totally still be recording and performing when I'm old). But anything that messes with the inner workings of my head is unacceptable. Sure, if I'm in late-stage Alzheimer's I won't know or care that my brain no longer works properly. But there's a long time before that, when you're losing cognitive ability but are sharp often enough to know it. At which point, I'm planning to check out permanently. If my intellect is shot, I'm done.

Okay, that got depressing. So I think I'll go sit on the Sofur and think about Seth and Abby a while, and continue figuring out what will be the "conflict keeping us apart" for Mitch and Evan in the new book. Plus, I'm watching Jeopardy and listening for incoming email or instant messages. And I just started reading a new book. My brain will be really busy. But my body, which is basically only good for carrying my brain from place to place, plans to go on an extended break.

At the moment, I'm not bored.

Bonus Conversation:

Setting: My living room
Time: Fifteen minutes ago
Participants: Me and Tom

My Phone: "Hey, baby, I'm nothin' without you. Hey, baby, you're nothin' without me... We've got it constantly." (This is Constantly, the ringtone when Tom calls.)
Me: Hello?
Tom: Chicklet
Me: Hi, honey-bunny
Tom: You always sound out of breath when you answer the phone.
Me: Well, I did have to roll over on the couch to reach it. It was kind of draining.
Tom: Sad.