I
am bored.
Oh
yes, me is. If you ask me over and over like a detective investigating the
fugitive, my answer would always be firm, consistent and full of confident:
Yes. I. Am. Bored.
The
syndrome of the boredom is somewhat clear. I count every single minute in the
office, waiting to go home. Keep doing it until I reach Friday night. Sunday
evening has become an injury time because I know tomorrow I need to get back to
work.
Having
felt climax boredom for the past weeks, I lately let it happens. I embrace the
boredom, hug and give it the most romantic French Kiss I could give and so I
could know it better. The boredom itself, then somehow tried to tell me
something today.
I
blog-rolled to some blogs about home interior. What are the odds I ended up
reading the famous Steve Job’s speech at Stanford, which I ashamed, cause I
have just read it today. I don’t even know some quotes I have known was
actually his’.
Funny,
someone I thought was very edgy, turned out to be someone who is a believer.
Someone who heard what his heart told him and have faith of what he believed
in. Or at least, on things what he liked to do.
Oh
me … slap!
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