Being Boring

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I can't remember the last time I was bored.

That's not a flex. That's an admission of failure, actually, because what I mean is "I can't remember the last time I allowed myself to exist in a state where my brain wasn't being actively colonized by algorithmic content delivery systems." Even writing this, I've already picked up my phone multiple times to check… what? Nothing. There was nothing to check. But the motion happened anyway, like reaching for a cigarette in your coat pocket years after you quit smoking.

When I was a kid (and I hate that I'm doing the "when I was a kid" thing but bare with me), boredom was just a part of life. You'd finish your homework, or you wouldn't, and then you'd sit there. Maybe you'd stare at the ceiling, count the dots in the popcorn texture (that was for some reason ubiquitous in the 90s). Maybe you'd just think. About stuff. Your brain would wander around like an off-leash dog, sniffing random thoughts, occasionally digging up something interesting.

Those long summer afternoons where time seemed to stretch infinitely, where you could feel each minute passing - that's gone, right? Maybe it's just me, but I suspect it's not. Because now, the moment even a hint of unstimulated consciousness threatens to emerge, we've already reached for the directed energy weapon that exists in our pockets at all times to neutralize it. Waiting in line? Phone. Traffic light? Phone. Taking a shit? Phone, and don't pretend you're reading this anywhere else.

The Great Replacement (Not That One)

We're not bored anymore. We've successfully engineered boredom out of existence. However, we didn't replace it with engagement, or fulfillment, or happiness, or any other tech-billionaire utopian horseshit they promised us; we got ~ n u m b ~ instead.

Being Numb ™ is not the same thing as being bored. When you're bored, your mind is restless, seeking, reaching out for something. It's your brain saying "hey, need something to do here boss". Being Numb ™ is different. Numbness is your brain clapping like a seal at an endless parade of stimuli while retaining exactly zero of it. It's eating a bag of chips and being hungrier than before you started.

Boredom is defined as "a state of being weary and restless through lack of interest." In 2025, we've completely fucked up our ability to recognize that state. We interpret the sensation of not having our attention actively hijacked as some sort of existential crisis. We've mistaken the exhaustion that comes from constant input as the boredom that comes from having none.

When was the last time you just sat? No phone, no music, no cool podcast, no background noise, no "second screen". Just you and your thoughts, marinating. Waiting. No, not at Yoga. I mean now, in your home.

We're trapped in this bizarre state of permanent distraction. We're always occupied with something, but we're never present. Time passes - a lot of it - and we can't account for where it went. You ever look up from your phone and realize you've been laying in bed scrolling for an hour, but you can't remember a single thing you just looked at? That's not boredom. That's not even entertainment. That's just lost fucking time, man. It vanished! It's gone forever! And for what? Did that even feel good? You're going to die, by the way.

I can't be the only one that is unnerved by that. A minute sitting still feels like an eternity, but a minute on your phone feels like two seconds. That means we're spending the majority of our conscious experience on earth in a state where time is moving faster, where we're less aware of being alive, where we're just.. Not really here? We're speedrunning our own existence, and it's not even intentional - we just never slow down. We didn't even ask for this, it happened to us.

I am absolutely, categorically, deeply fucked by all of this. This isn't wisdom from on high; this is field reporting from the fucking gulag.

Smarter People Than Me Did What Before YouTube Video Essays, Exactly?

I learned semi-recently what Einstein did when he was stuck on a problem. He'd take a long walk. He'd sit in his study and stare out the window. He'd let his mind wander unchaperoned - not like a leashed toddler at Disney World - until it found something neat. He wasn't an ascetic monk who'd transcended earthly desire; that's just kinda what you did back then. If you're around my age or older, you did that too. Maybe you're better than me and you still do, but if you're here reading this post you probably ran out of other distractions so we're more likely than not in the same boat. You used to subject yourself to boredom until your brain got creative out of sheer desperation.

The same funny little guy who unlocked the secrets of space-time or whatever spent HUGE chunks of his day doing absolutely fuck all. Just existing. Vibing with his thoughts. No ironic podcast to listen to. No 6 hour retrospective video on obscure JRPGs. No Discord server with an onslaught of incoherent banter and memes. Just his brain, working out shit the hard way.

I'm not romanticizing a "Golden Age" before phones here - I'm sure Einstein would have been cripplingly addicted to yaoi or whatever if he had the option, but the point is: He didn't have the option. He was forced to be bored, like we used to be, and in that he found the space to think thoughts that ended up fundamentally changing how we understand reality. Meanwhile, we've got all of humanity's compounded knowledge in our pockets and we watch "People Farting Prank Compilation Vol. 64".

Okay what's your point dude lol

Maybe this will resonate with you, or maybe you're already better at this than me, but here's what I've found: My ideas do not come when I am consuming content. They come in the shower. They come when I'm walking my dog. They come when I'm staring at the ceiling at 3am, unable to sleep, phone deliberately out of reach because I know if I look at it, it'll suddenly be 7am and time to go to work.

Creativity requires space. Room for thoughts to waddle around, bump into each other. They should be combining into strange shapes, forming tangents that don't make sense until 8 tangents later, when suddenly something clicks. We have filled in that space. We have turned those rooms into freeways. We've got content crammed into every possible fold in our brains.

No shit, brother. We know this. We all know this. Ask anyone if they think they spend too much time on their phones and emphatically we all respond yes. Knowing and Doing Something About It, however, are separated by a chasm so vast that knowing might as well be useless. I know I should exercise more. Doesn't make it easy.

I'm not going to pretend I've got this figured out. I don't. I'm writing this post as a desperate "any one else feeling this way or..?", and I've checked my phone a hundred times since I started. The pull is real, it's physical, it's designed to be irresistible. There are people with PhDs whose entire job is making sure you can't put this shit down - and they're really fucking good at their jobs. But I also know that my most genuine moments, my actual memories (as opposed to the documentation of experiences I was too busy recording to actually have) came from times where I was disconnected. Not because I'm a special boy or even particularly disciplined, but just because I didn't have access to the thing that would've prevented me from being present.

The solution isn't going to be some app that limits your other apps. It's not going to be "digital minimalism" or "practicing mindfulness" or going off the grid, or some sigma grindset productivity framework that boils down to "spend less time looking at rectangle." The solution, if there is one, is probably just brute force strength of will and the acknowledgement that we've all become addicted to something that's fundamentally changing the way our brains work and we experience consciousness, and hey, that's maybe not so great.

So yeah. If there is a point, I guess it's try Being Bored. Sit with it. It sucks. Let it suck for a while. See what your brain does when you lock it in a room without its toys; no jingly keys to dangle in front of it. Maybe nothing happens and you wasted an hour that felt like 3, and now you hate me and are typing up some particularly savage hate mail. Or maybe - and this is the more likely outcome - maybe you remember what it feels like to have thoughts that originated within yourself, rather than in response to someone else's content.

Only pussies won't try this!

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osmo@cosmicosmo.co