boredom (sep 07)

I’m bored. I feel seven years old again and Mom says to stand on my head or clean my room if I’m so bored. And here, this lack of stimulation, I would become a gymnast if the clothes would allow the flips and jumps. And I just cleaned my room. So.

The work pace is creeping. Meetings are set two days from now and all the hours between now and then are just an empty expanse. I would twiddle my fingers if I knew what that was.

Even when we’re working its slow. If I’m digging holes for sweet potatoes in the field all I hear is, “slow down, Fatimata,” or “take a break, Fatimata.” I grit my teeth and laugh instead of scream in frustration.

There is nothing to do here! Straight from college and there are no clubs, speakers, classes, plays to be in, sports to play, movies to watch, restaurants to visit or wine to drink. No meetings, programs, trips, television, libraries, internet…

I’m digging up dirt, a little slower to please, and try to breathe deep. Try to believe that this is enough. I don’t need all that stimulation; all that stuff. I’ve got this hoe and this earth and it is enough. But don’t make me sit down and drink water. I need an avenue for all this extracurricular energy and it’s going in your soil and coming out in my popped blisters and sweat.