My Zone A (flood zone) apartment in Brooklyn has a nice view of the East River, and there’s a part of me that wishes I could have stayed to watch as Hurricane Irene sent surges up and down the streets that meet the river’s shore. But this thrill-seeking urge was put into perspective when my downstairs neighbor’s ceiling collapsed and the antique store next door flooded; when I heard and read the reports of hard-hit areas upstate and in other states.
Still, the day after the storm people in my neighborhood were complaining about how “boring” the storm was. “I was expecting so much more” said the mother of two children who I was talking to at a local playground. This got me thinking about what “boredom” means. Is the muddle of daily life really so boring that we crave catastrophe and destruction even though we know how they tear other people’s lives apart?
For my newsletter (my apologies if you’ve received this more than once!) I decided to reflect on a few insights from writers who have thought about boredom. (Click here and scroll down to read the article and check out the newsletter
.)I hope you find the piece interesting and if you do, would be happy to hear from you. If you have any links or ideas, please send them along to email@example.com