I've heard that boredom can jumpstart creativity. Or maybe I'm just making that up, thinking that I need a reason to write in my blog. Basically, I'm writing 'cause I'm bored. Hopefully I won't instill that boredom into this post, in turn, boring you. It's a new type of virus, boredom. It used to be spread person-to-person; contact was needed. Now I can bore you without even seeing you; you may be bored and I don't even know you. Such is the beauty of the Internet and speed-of-light, speed-of-communication news. There's a flood in New Zealand and I know about it, even before I see the prices of apples in the grocery store go up. (New Zealand has good apples, right?) And now you know that I'm bored before you even talk to me and see that I have nothing really remotely interesting to say. Wait, does that make me bored or boring?

Yay stream of consciousness.

I wonder why we let people get under our skin. Especially people we don't even know. A random person could check my blog and tell me that I'm definitely in the "boring" category rather than the "bored" one. And I won't know if the person is 5 or 50. Male or female. Cute or Amazonian. Why should I care what they think? Why does that one person's opinion of me (out of a bazillion possible personalities) grate me. I wouldn't go as far as to change for them, per se. But I might watch the stream of consciousness posts. And my consciousness might (unconsciously, of course) tone itself down. But what the heck do I care about that person? Why do I care if they think that I am the most fascinating thing they've read all day. And why do I worry about other people spell-checking my thoughts and cutting through them with red ink? (Nice mental image.) Even thinking about it makes me consider erasing this post and starting again with travel information and bullet points. (Which I'll return to later.) Those bastards; they are the cause of self-editing and self-monitoring. And they don't even have names, faces, voices, or worthy opinions.

I have become obsessed with playing Fantasy Football. I don't know why. I like planning things. I like working with statistics (especially the ones I don't really understand...see "Champion Bullshitter").

Speaking of bullshit, I was talking to my roommate about this earlier. I'm so good at smiling through (almost) anything, that I'm not sure if people really know who I am or what I feel. I don't even think some people realize that I feel. (I'm not dead inside! - see: "Friends" references.) I'm really good at acting put-together. I can convince anyone (even Myself) that I know what I'm doing and what I want. Then I change my mind. And in a snap, I have a new reality, a new goal, a new sense of self. And it's happened so quickly that I didn't even have time to blink or watch my "old" self walk away. At some point, I know I'll have to stick a goal, a dream, a future, a ME and stick with her. But there are infinite possibilities and I haven't found the rightcombination.

But back to football.

I started "liking" football in Middle School. That's when you like it 'cause the guy you have a crush on wears a football jersey to school every Monday. You like it 'cause you can wear the game day jersey with the number matching the cutest boy in school so people know you're "together" (but only if you're cute...and being a cheerleader helps). You want to be "one of the guys" so that you can infiltrate and make one of the prepubescents fall in love with you. You like it because you're deluding yourself.

But that was then. This is now. I actually enjoyed football in college. Going to the games, wearing purple, screaming (still trying to impress boys with my intensity and knowledge of the game), and basically freezing my butt off because, after all, this is Chicago. And now, as an alumni, I'll watch a few games and go to ones with meaning (playing Purdon't is huge and a yearly event). But now I'm in the big leagues baby (so why can't I get a job?). So it's NFL. It's Steelers and Packers (they seem to suck this year and that's sad) and the Bears (even though they embarassed my Steelers, it's nice to have a team nearby). And it's Fantasy Football. Which means I'm involved in more than simply yelling at the TV screen. I can win! I can be the best! I can be someone! I can be...a girl, sitting on a couch, watching a screen, checking if my (almost random) drafts actually pan out. And I'm missing my boyfriend, who lives across the country, and is sitting on his couch, watching a screen, checking if his drafts pan out.

Now I'm simply a girl, sitting on a couch, writing in a blog, missing my boyfriend, thinking about making some money, and wishing I were back in college, where I could go to meetings, write papers, attend football games, and know who I am.