It’s January. And I’m bored. I mean, bored as in, I need to DO something. And no, by ‘do something,’ I don’t mean a) go to the mall or b) rent a movie or even c) go on a road trip.
I mean I need to really DO something. Something meaningful and useful. And it wouldn’t hurt if it were also interesting, fulfilling, fun, and affordable. Any ideas?
Like start an orphanage.
Or dig latrines in Haiti.
Or teach people to read.
Or even hitchhike across Europe.
I’m sure my family would frown on most of these ideas, mostly because of the fact that, in order to actually do them, I would have to be elsewhere—like Haiti or Prague or somewhere deep in the jungles of South America.
I’ve always had this restlessness that sits on my shoulder, the little devil that keeps whispering in my ear to go, explore, discover. (It could be an undiagnosed case of ADHD, I suppose, or maybe even Restless Leg Syndrome, but either way, I need different, new, unusual.) Anyway, if forced to sit still in one place for too long, then I start to wiggle and play with my hair and doodle…you know, sort of like having to sit through a church service when you’re 4 years old.
So if anyone could tell me where the nearest neighborhood in need of a good latrine might be, that would be very helpful. Until then, maybe I’ll learn to weld or grow fruit trees or do calligraphy. Whatever it is, this is the year of different. Of exciting. Of, oh-my-god-I’m-alive-so-let’s-get-up-and-DO-something.