Me vs Boredom 3

I've been thinking about the kind of things I want to write about for this blog. I believe I have some good pieces coming up in the future for you guys to read with interest.

I swear boredom is not going to conquer me in this series. I'm already 2 games down. I will not yield. I will not falter. I will come back and take the lead.

I just thought of something. You know what would be funny? What if I win this game, let Boredom win Game 4, and then win the next 3 consecutive games to take the series... It'll just be like what happened with the 2016 NBA Finals where the then-defending champion Golden State Warriors, accompanied by the 2-time NBA Most Valuable Player award winner Stephen Curry and the best regular season record in history (73-9), blew a 3-1 series lead to the Cleveland Cavaliers, thereby losing the championship in an epic fashion. That would be interesting.



Pedro wins Game 3 (Boredom leads series 2-1)

Me vs Boredom 2

*written at approximately noon on July 30th, 2017


I was just outside a couple of minutes ago and let me tell you: it is FUCKING hot. The scorching heat the sun exhibits is terrifyingly painful for me to bear. I was sweating buckets a minute into my venture onto the outside world. As much as I love the summer break from school, I fucking loathe the summer weather.

The heat waves that hit me non-stop are so annoying. It makes me sweat like a fucking pig and I hate that. Sweating makes me dirty and I don't like to get dirty. Whenever I go outside to do an errand, I try my best to finish it as fast as I possibly can so that I can then go back inside and delve into the ice-cold world known as "The Air Conditioner". I love going to that world. It exhumes relief from the harsh hell that is summer (Again I repeat I'm talking about the weather, not the break).

Please come posthaste, winter, Game of Thrones-style.



Boredom wins Game 2 (Boredom leads series 2-0)

Me vs Boredom

*written at approximately 8:30 P.M. on July 29th, 2017



I'm in a church.

I'm sitting down on a bench. I'm bored. I don't even know what time it is. It's probably around 8:30 in the night. A nice young lady is talking in front of me whilst standing behind a podium. It seems to me that she's preaching to the congregation about King Nebuchadnezzar and his adventures when he ruled Babylon some thousands of years ago. I've heard of this name before.

He's that guy with the long name who famously ruled over a vast empire in the Middle East--wait a minute. My sister, who's sitting next to me, is beginning to fuck around by sending me an empty envelope. Is she giving me trash? Well then, I'll show her the true meaning of fucking around (don't think wrong, reader). I'll send her a drawing of a man with a large head and a small body.

She replied with her writing "boi" underneath my drawing. That's it? You know what, I'll give her something better than just another ordinary drawing. Boom! Here's a Caveman SpongeBob, bitch! Holla at cha boi!

No reply, huh? That's what I thought. Point goes to me........................................................bitch.

I'm hungry right now. I'm craving a hamburger. I haven't eaten a thing since the morning. Damn my eating habits. This is what I get for regularly pulling all-nighters throughout the summer. I don't regret it though. Relaxation is bliss. Anyone who has the time to relax should use it. The human body eventually tires itself out if it works too hard for an extended period of time.

Man, my mind thinks of so many things when I get bored. Is that a good thing? I think it is. I mean, I've spent all this time contemplating with my thoughts about drawings and food while this lady is talking about something I've paid no honest attention to. What was she talking about, again?

My brain is being active, which is a good thing, right? That is a good thing, right? Right!? RIGHT!!??



Boredom wins Game 1 (Boredom leads series 1-0)

Time

Time

/tīm/

noun

definition: the indefinite continued progress of existence and events in the past, present, and future regarded as a whole (as given by Merriam-Webster)

It never stops.

It is constant.

It can be used as a unit of measurement.

It is cruel.

Time is a word inundated with definitions. It is a word everyone is familiar with. Of course, I’m no exception. It is ever-present in all the things we do in our lives. Even as I’m writing this sentence right now with my HP-branded gray laptop I’m taking a decent amount of time to finish it. Writing something about time takes time. Ugh, I think I’m wasting time doing this.

Time never stops. It doesn’t stop when you lay on your bed at night and take a nap; it doesn’t stop when you sit down near a table and eat your meal; and it certainly doesn’t stop when you’re doing nothing. It's not giving favors for anyone. It never has and it never will. Ask someone who has lived in the 19^th century to find out if it has. They’ll be sure to give you an answer. It’ll just take a little bit of time for me to actually reach them and ask them your question.

Time is constant. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Seconds have passed just now. Now minutes. Now hours. Now days. Now weeks. Now months. And now even years. How can this be possible? The answer is simple. It has just been ticking and tocking, slowly but surely. It will remain the same. It is the same as it has been 2,017 years ago. The people from that age have felt it and we are feeling it, too.

Time can be used as a unit of measurement. Creating things of any kind, big or small, take time to complete. It serves as a key factor in proposing, preparing, planning, and executing largely strenuous operations. This is true for other subjects as well, such as educational fields of study, ideologies, religious beliefs, and etc. In addition to that, take a good look around yourself, reader. Buildings, roads, computers, smartphones, televisions, vehicles, etc. Everything, even yourself, was created after a specific period of time. It took time for you to get bigger and bigger inside of your mother’s womb immediately after you were conceived. For every second that passes in this world, you get older, all thanks to the subtle work of time.

Time is cruel.

Father Time is an unforgiving beast. He is undefeated against everyone. Nobody has managed to defeat him. That is because everyone will inevitably reach their death when the time comes, myself included. Sooner or later I will go. Now I’m not going to lie when I say I’m scared of that. I genuinely am. I don’t want to go. I want to stay here on Earth and live for as long as I want to live but alas, that can’t happen. It’s a shame but that’s life. I’ve come to accept it because of that.

Death is not the only thing people are thinking of when it comes to time. Milestones, past events, future events, mistakes, accomplishments, emotions, memories…… I can go on and on and on. Nevertheless, time is tied to all of these things. The worst part about all of this is that you can never redo your entire life. You only have one go at this and when your life is done, that’s it. There is only one instance of you ever, and that’s you yourself. One person whose personality traits and appearance match exactly yours, to the tooth and nail, thereby enacting a distinct and unique identity. That, my fellow reader, is you.

Time is cruel, but it’s not defined as just cruel. Time can be wonderful also. Time can be wonderful as long as you choose to make the most out of it.

Inevitably, you too will succumb to the depths of time, just like any other living thing in this world. However, if you don’t let that fact get to you and afterwards make the most out of what limited time you have, you will then—and only then—be able to fulfill what things you have originally transpired to fulfill. You want to run a marathon? Do it. You want to get the job of your dreams? Work hard and you’ll get it in no time.

Basically, have fun and enjoy your life. Oh, and one more thing: don’t waste your time.

Allow Me to Introduce Myself

A microphone is standing stationary on a stage. It is enveloped with darkness. Not a thing can be seen or heard through the pitch-black color. You would think that something, or anything for that matter, might scare you in any second, even if that thing is remotely small and harmless. There is nothing. There are not even any seats in front of the stage. Along with the emptiness that’s prevalent on the stage, there is nothing on the other side of it also. There is just a working microphone on a stage and the color of black surrounding it along with the faint quietness that has accompanied it.

That is until a spotlight breaks out of nowhere and beams downward onto the microphone. Its sudden arrival interrupted the calm and stillness the darkness has exhibited throughout the entirety of the stage.  It’s as though the light has invaded its enemy's territory and the latter is not happy with the former’s unexpected arrival. After the spotlight’s outburst, someone somewhere is walking up to the microphone. It would appear that he is walking with the intention of saying something into the microphone, even though it’s apparent no one will be able to hear his words. Despite that, he continues to walk. He just has something he wants to say.

After a good seven to ten steps, he arrives and stops right in front of the microphone. He touches it three times to make sure he can hear the echo and prove it is working.

*poof*

*poof*

*poof*

He stands with a last-minute fit of hesitation about whether or not he should go through with this. Even though no one’s standing in front of the stage listening to him he still has that fear of what will happen if he goes through with his actions.

“Will it be bad if I say them?”

“Am I going to get hurt?”

“What if I say it in a way that people will misunderstand its true meaning and react the wrong way?”

“Is this going to matter?”

These questions and then some are bombarding his consciousness with excruciating doubt. Surely, he’s not the only one who experienced these emotions when doing these kinds of things, speaking their mind and all. This is to be expected, he thought. Upon thinking this, he is reminded by himself of his resolve about doing this and presses forward.

A minute or so has passed since he last checked the microphone so he touches it one more time just to make sure it’s still working.

*poof*

The result of the last examination was the same as this one so he took a deep breath right before he began his speech.

At long last, under his own power, he can now talk…

----------------------

Is this thing on?

If it is, well then, allow me to introduce myself.

My name is Pedro Romero. I am a male who was born in the country of the United States of America and 20 years old of age. I was born in 1996. I am an average person who has been having an average life in an average household with an average family. I am a fan of sports, music, and technology.

Some pretty average preferences, right? I know, it’s not very appealing and eye-opening to the mass world that is the internet if you want to attract attention towards yourself. Everyone else likes the things I like, so considering the uniqueness I have to the rest of the population, it’s not that great. Everything has been average for me, or well, that’s how I think it has been. However, a lot of thinking and reflection within myself after going through various experiences has lead me to believe that despite all of us liking nearly the same kind of things in this world, I believe that every single one of us each has a different upbringing that has shaped our personality and behavior that is unique to ourselves.

“Everyone has their own story” is what I like to say to myself after meeting a friendly stranger in a random place.

Everyone present has their beginning, their middle, and, eventually, their end. Everyone, even the dead, has had their own stories. I believe they also had a story they could call their own when they were alive. They definitely showed whatever emotion they could think of when they roaming this world. They must have also reflected upon their experiences, like what I’m doing right now. Additionally, they must have combated deep-rooted problems which affected their personal surroundings well-being. Some might have triumphed over these said problems, and some have perished to them. Whatever the case, it is unique and not average.

With that being said, I don’t think I’ve had an average life. Some things have happened in my life where I’m not able to say that I’m average anymore. For example, I’m an introvert. I’m shy. I’ve never been someone who is able to commence a conversation with people I really want to talk to. In other words, I’m not good at making friends. And you know what? That’s a good thing. No, I’m not saying it’s a good thing for me to be shy. That’s not my point. I’m saying that my reflection and thinking has brought me to the point where I have to face this issue and acknowledge it. Acknowledgment towards a problem can eventually lead to resolution and growth.

Anyway, my issue proves that I’m not living an average life. If my life was average and non-eventful, I’d be tortured with the feeling and dread of being ordinary. Ordinary is boring. Fortunately, I’m not ordinary. Neither is everyone else. I have my life in which I’m proud of, be it good or bad when compared to the rest. I’m able to say whatever is on my mind about whatever topic that is appealing to me and only me. I’m happy about that. I’m sure someone else on the other side of the world as of the moment I’m typing this is feeling the same way.

What I’m doing is something that is not concrete. I don’t even know if I’m going to continue this in, like, a month from now. This is simply an experiment. I simply want to make a blog by me, for me, and, perhaps, in the future, for you too, reader. The topics vary, to no surprise. I’m sure all of the popular bloggers on the internet are doing the same way I’m doing right now but that doesn’t matter. I don’t care about sizing up to those people who are higher in fame and credibility than me. I really don’t. I just want to talk about any subject in a genuine fashion. I want a platform where I can do just that and not be afraid of any repercussions. This blog can be just that. I’m in control of what I type/say.

I’m making my own stage.

So, from this point forward, on the twenty-sixth day of July in the year of 2017, I’m starting this blog.

Consider this to be the first blog entry from an introvert such as myself. Until my next entry, I'll see you later.