if you're bored then you're boring

It's the curse of adulthood - boredom. Complacency, sometimes to the point of numbness. The death of one's soul is a slow process, unnoticable on an incremental basis but devastating in its finality. One day you realize you've been staring at the same spot on the wall for 30 minutes, and you're like... fuck. Because your ability to think critically has been reduced to one-word, pseudo-emotional reactions that simultaneously communicate dissatisfaction and passive acceptance.

Considering my recent propensity to park in front of the tv for three-hour Law & Order marathons and my something-approaching-genuine interest in the outcomes of paternity tests on the Maury Show, I fear I'm reaching this state, so I am going to vow to try something new every day. And to force myself to blog about it. Which sadly means I'll be spending less time looking at the following:

• fucking Facebook
• People of Wal-Mart
• Passive-Aggressive Notes
• Go Fug Yourself
• Cake Wrecks
• Huffington Post
• Look at this Fucking Hipster

...and much more time slyly (or perhaps not-so-slyly) giving the finger to the gray matter that composes so much of adult life.