Bored

There was a recent study about boredom, and I couldn’t help but notice that once again the basic attitude seemed to be that this is a bad thing. People have no patience whatsoever for boredom.

Which is sad, I think. In fact, I have such an appreciation for boredom that I made it the subject of an entire chapter in my latest book, The Color of Your Dreams.

This book was written to help people who want to get published but perhaps lack the confidence it takes to get their words out there. It’s not a “how to write” book, but rather a “get off your butt” book.

But chapter 12 is all about boredom, and how we should embrace it, especially if we want to tap into our creativity. Here’s a free excerpt from The Color of Your Dreams featuring that chapter. If you’d like to dive into the entire book - or hopefully share it with friends, maybe as a holiday gift - you can find it at Amazon, or right here on my site.

WARNING: There is language that may offend. This book is not for kids.

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JOMO Has Replaced FOMO

By now I’m sure you’re familiar with the term FOMO, or Fear of Missing Out. The explosion of social media has created an entire sub-category of people who mourn the fact they’re not out having as much fun as all those hipster-doodles they see on Facebook or Instagram.

Apparently I’m a big weirdo, because when I see photos from some crowded, crazy event the first thought that goes through my mind is: “I’m so glad I’m not there.”

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My Lousy Handwriting

It’s one thing to get older and gradually notice aches and pains, especially first thing in the morning. (Putting on my socks never used to be such an effort, but at 4am my back isn’t on board with my get-ready-for-work routine.)

But it’s another thing to notice something else deteriorating, something I’ve done pretty well for half a century.

My handwriting has gone straight to hell. There was a time when I was proud of my penmanship, thanks to some wonderful elementary school teachers and to my mom, whose cursive was practically calligraphy.

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Take It Personally

In case we need any more proof of the personal connection we make with art, here it is.
You can criticize almost anything about a person, like their car, their lawn, even their hairstyle, and they’ll probably just shrug. We generally don’t care what people think of our choices.

But tell them the music they love is crap and they’ll storm off. Say something derogatory about their favorite movie and they’ll practically unfriend you. Disagree when they rave about a book and you’re not only wrong, you’re a shithead and likely to get punched in the face.

We may not like it when someone disses our shoes but that’s nothing compared to questioning our favorite art. (Although, yes, for many people shoes count as art.) This puzzled me for the longest time until I realized it’s not just a matter of different styles.

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My New Buzz

You know how you get little signs here and there that you’re getting older? Maybe you bend over to pick up something and feel a twinge. Or maybe you stop going to concerts because they’re too loud.

Well, today Gretchen presented me with a hypothetical choice: If I had to pick between two pints at the pub or two scoops of ice cream, what would it be?

I startled myself by realizing I’m suddenly team ice cream.

I’m losing my affinity for alcohol. Back in the day I’d have a glass or two of wine about three nights a week, and enjoyed other adult beverages when I went out with friends.

Now? I’ve probably had wine on 4 or 5 occasions this year, and one of those was during a visit to my friend’s winery. What are you gonna order there? A milkshake?

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The Perfect Day

Yesterday I had a pretty good day. The radio show went well, I took a couple of good walks while the sun was out, and I ended the day by reading six or seven pages before I fell asleep.

But what exactly makes for a PERFECT day?

It’s an interesting question, and one that thousands of people were asked. (The fact that the survey was conducted by a council of blueberry farmers somehow makes the whole thing charming.)

Here are the things that should magically transform your day into a perfect one:

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I Was Held Hostage

This past week I was held hostage for five hours.

The lesson I learned is that there are two kinds of people in this world: Those who love to spend all day on a boat piloted by someone else, and those who would prefer to capsize and drown like rats.

It was a fun trip overall, and this one segment had been billed as “two to three hours” on a boat on the Mississippi. On the surface (no pun intended) it sounded like it could be kinda fun. Grab some beer and snacks and enjoy the scenery, right?

Except our boat was owned and operated by a total stranger, a friend of someone in our group. And she was determined to entertain the shit out of us whether we wanted it or not.

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Cheering For The Bad Guy

I like to think I’m a pretty good guy, but I must admit I love a cool movie villain. It’s not like I’m cheering for the bad guy to win, but usually the actor has way more fun with the character when it’s evil.

These days there are spinoffs for everything, but the one place I thought Hollywood dropped the ball was by not producing a prequel of the original Die Hard. Hans Gruber (played by the incredible Alan Rickman) was so fascinating that we should’ve had a film about his background. What was that dude’s story?

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Lucky Number

I feel like such a loser. I don't have a lucky number.

Now, to be honest, there is a number that keeps showing up ALL THE TIME. I'm afraid to tell you what it is because some people are really freaky about numerology and I know what they'd say about my particular combination.

But if I went to buy a lottery ticket there wouldn't be numbers that speak to me. I know that lots of Americans say 7 is their lucky number, but all I think of when I see that number is John Elway.

There was a survey done recently with people from around the world, asking them what number they'd definitely use in a lottery. The number that came up the most often was . . .

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Why Do We Suck at Soccer?

I love my country, but I can’t understand why we suck at soccer.

Arguably the biggest sporting event in the world, a tournament that captivates billions of people around the globe, wraps up this weekend when France tangles with Croatia in the World Cup Final.

It’s not embarrassing that the United States didn’t make it to the championship game. But isn’t it humiliating that our country didn’t even play well enough to get into the tournament in the first place?

I say this as someone who doesn’t particularly care about the game. I’m not a fan of soccer, but I am an American and therefore, by nature, a competitive s.o.b.

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