Bored? Good.
here's a list of cool ways to waste time
Last Friday, I finished work hours before my boyfriend. It was raining heavily. My phone was dead, I didn’t have a book, and being in Italy, I couldn’t just call anyone to entertain me. So I collapsed onto the sofa, threw a tiny tantrum, and moaned, “I’m BOREDDDDDDDD.”
In my defense, I’m not usually like this. But that day, I realized something: we’ve basically lost the ability to handle boredom.
Inside Out 2 gave us Ennui — the French word (and character) for being simultaneously bored and tired.
Remember when we were kids, way before phones, tablets, and endless streaming, and being bored was just… part of life? When long car rides in the rain meant picking your favorite raindrop on the window and cheering it on in the race? Or waiting at the doctor’s office with nothing to do but stare at the ceiling until the little cracks started looking like maps?
I didn’t think of it as creative back then, but in hindsight, boredom was a kind of training ground. It forced me to invent things, to notice things, to let my mind wander instead of being spoon-fed constant distraction. I became an expert in make-believe. A simple pen could be a wand, a blanket a secret fort, a quiet hour a whole universe.
Also, I’m an only child. With no siblings around to annoy, fight, or play with, boredom was… well, let’s call it my companion. It was just me, my imagination, and whatever random objects happened to be in the room (or not even in the room at all, I had imaginary friends, obviously).
Nowadays, boredom is practically illegal. Phones, podcasts, endless scrolling… we’ve outsourced our daydreams to algorithms. The moment we’re left alone with our own thoughts, it feels uncomfortable, even alarming.
I notice that most people around me don’t really indulge in the art of doing nothing - the quiet, aimless kind that used to spark creativity, mischief, and sometimes the best ideas. Instead, there’s always something to check, scroll, or schedule.
I sometimes catch myself longing for that kind of boredom. Sitting on the balcony, watching the clouds drift by, or letting my thoughts wander while cooking dinner. There’s a rare magic in letting your mind go nowhere and everywhere at once. It’s the same magic that once turned a cracked ceiling into a map or a rainy car window into a racetrack.
Boredom used to be part of life. You waited. You stared. You wandered. And in those gaps, you noticed patterns, absurdities, small tragedies and comedies. Now, even a brief moment of waiting can trigger a reflexive reach for the phone, as if the mere possibility of boredom is a threat.
But what if we embraced it instead? Psychologists argue that boredom serves a vital function, much like hunger or loneliness; it signals a need for more meaningful engagement. Instead of treating it as the enemy, we should see it as an invitation to pause, to reflect, or simply to let our minds run wild for a while.
So when boredom strikes, why not answer it with a little absurdity? Here are some cool ways to fill the quiet:
Try to remember every single item in your fridge without looking.
Give names to every shadow in your apartment.
Draw a self-portrait using your non-dominant hand.
Invent a funny conspiracy theory.
Make a tiny obstacle course for your pet.
Try to balance random objects on your head.
Give your houseplants names and personalities.
Organize your socks by level of fluffiness.
If I could go back and whisper to last Friday’s Raquel, I’d say: Don’t run from boredom. Name your shadows, cheer for raindrops, argue with your furniture.
That’s when you’re doing what no app, algorithm, or notification ever could: being perfectly, gloriously, human.