On boredom and fears

Yesterday, I didn't know what to do with myself. So I went for a walk somewhere I'd never been and I played with the settings on my camera. I took this photo - it's not perfect, but I feel proud when I look at it.

I pinpointed it. What I've been running from, that is - what I'm afraid of.

I'd suspected it was something stereotypical: fear of being a failure or something. No, it isn't, and I felt a strange thrill at not being quite as predictable as I thought I was.

My biggest fear in life is being bored.

My definition of a boring life is one that's dangerously close to the one I'm living. It's probably the reason for a lot of things I've done over the last couple of years - trying to find a way to escape the boring life I was leading. And I suspect it's why I'm happier now: because I've scraped my way out of that life. Just.

I've never been good with reality. Although I'm not a head-in-the-clouds sort, I do love to escape in my own way, and doing the same things day in, day out drives me crazy. I love being organised, but living to a set routine makes me want to run away.

To me, boredom and reality live hand-in-hand. But here's the thing: my life is not dramatically different to how it's ever been. I haven't made any huge, amazing transformations - or at least, none that millions of people don't already do every day. The difference is in my mind.

When I can view life as something other than mundane, I can live it. So my secret, I've decided, is to keep my life as one that I want to live, rather than escape. Do the boring things minimally so that I have time for that life. Find ways to make it work. And most importantly, think of my life as one I'm excited about.

Really, there's no reason to ever be bored. Look at life in a certain light and you realise there is always something worthwhile to do, to learn or to take in. Always.

And she lived happily ever after, and was never bored again. That's how this story goes.