I like it when nothing is happening. I like it when I’m bored. I can’t dissect the word boredom like other words. I have to think of boredom as Boredom, a spiritual being like Mother Nature or Father Time. It’s only obvious that she’d have to be the Aunt. She visits you sporadically and without notice. She squeezes your cheeks playfully but you think it hurts. She gives you random gifts, often times odd ones.

People give Boredom a bad rap. They say she’s too drawn out or soul-sucking. They say she kills a lot of things—mood, productivity, excitement, happiness. But what people don’t notice is what hides behind her. If you approach Boredom without prejudice, you’ll meet her son Creativity. He always accompanies her, lingering behind her back like a shy child. Creativity won’t let us see him if we disrespect his mother, but there are people who have managed to spot him and still loathe Boredom. They simply don’t understand the relationship.
I was no exception. Back in elementary school, I had a lot more free time. Usually it was spent roaming around the house, searching for endless possibilities to turn nothing into something. But I never succeeded when I tried so hard to spot Creativity. When I tried to write a short story, quickly throwing together a plot never worked. I had to let the story form out of the thoughts of the dullest hours. When I tried to paint with watercolor, I never thought of what to illustrate after the utensils were brought out. The idea always had to come beforehand, every time out of the blessing of doing nothing. Even when I tried to find something to photograph, I would just walk around with my camera but not take a single picture. The idea had to appear slowly, as I observed my surroundings and played with my thoughts.

Boredom did all of it. She helped me write the cheesy mystery that I showed to all my friends. She helped me paint a flower with a heart-shaped head that gave to my grandmother. She helped me take the photograph of a ladybug which later appeared in a national magazine. And after all that, I still loathed her. I couldn’t recognize when she fulfilled my ideas, but still used them for personal gain.

It was a change of environment that made me aware of Boredom. In elementary school, I actually wandered the house only if I had exhausted my time allotment for playing video games. Sometimes when I was bored, I played them to drain away the hours. Then in seventh grade, I got my first smartphone, and my social networking addiction developed. At the end of middle school, I was obsessed with social media and video games. I rarely ever experienced those times of Boredom ushering in new ideas. Boredom gave me Pleasure, and Creativity took the backseat for him.

But the high school gang jumped me. They threw punches one by one—the AP classes, the extra-curriculars, the lack of sleep. I knew I had to make some room to survive, so I bid a sad farewell to video games and social media. Although it was hard for me, I knew the sacrifice would keep me from reaching the level of an insomniac. Boredom was now spent with nothing. No phone. No game. No computer.

By ridding my schedule of those incessant distractions, I had stopped the constant visits of Pleasure. Now, during class, church, and car rides, ideas began to pop into my head. And unlike the elementary days, I finally realized that Boredom was actually helping me. I started doing nothing on purpose, just to fill my head with random ideas that, if written down, could inspire me later. My life started to reassemble into those times of Boredom without Pleasure, a time only with pure thoughts. I soon came up with an idea for new music beats. I drew a sketch of visual emotions which originated from a random session of daydreaming. And in a dreary homily I realized that I needed to fix the dying relationship with my grandmother.

Seeing Boredom from a different perspective, I notice how little thanks I have given to such a formative presence in my life. She has taken her own time to visit me. She has given many gifts through Creativity. She talks to me when I am lonely. I have always skipped her greetings. I have always misunderstood her as a burden. I have always seen my reward but never the cause. Next time she visits, I'll make sure to give her a hug. Thanks to Boredom, doing nothing has only kept me busy, and I like it that way.