Bland #

12 April 1999

“Either our lives become stories, or there’s just no way to get through them.” — Generation X, first chapter.

Right now my life feels so far from being a worthwhile story that I’m beginning to wonder where exactly it’s headed. Fortunately I’ve got a week away from it all coming up, a few days of fun and relaxation to unwind from the seemingly incessant nature of the day to day rat race.

It’s so hard to instil a bit of variety into life, though - some spontaneity rather than the premeditated schedules and agendas I find myself living by. And yet conversely, we spend our lives carefully honing the detailed routines that seem to work, the ones which get us through the day with minimal hassle. I’m the sole victim of my own laziness and deep-rooted fear of change.

This life works, it passes painlessly enough, but at times it feels too bland. Other people seem to do fine and cope with it this way - there are plenty of people I consider to be more boring than myself without being prone to mild “what am I doing with my life?” crises every couple of months. I need to harness my discontentment, to turn the energy and thought processes I’m wasting into something more worthwhile…

“I began to wonder if sex was really just an excuse to look deeply into another human being’s eyes.”