The secret of being a bore.

I am quite literally alone in the suburbs. It is seriously agonizing seeing as there’s absolutely no one to go get a drink with in the mid afternoon. Everyone seems to be either in their homeland, back at school or at their jobs. What am I doing during this time? Writing and drinking.

As the leaves are stripped of their greenery and painted glorious shades of brown, my neighbourhood has grown into something quite gorgeous… But with that said, I am still bored as hell and have nothing to do. With Americano working diligently on studying for his midterms we have made a lot of time for fun autumn events, for example yesterday we went pumpkin picking.

Walking through the pumpkin patches together was quite a beautiful occasion. Not only was it fun to drive up north with the person of my desires, but it was also a fantastic opportunity for instagram photos (Hollah at me).

The downfall of having nothing to do, and having absolutely no money, is the boredom that comes with the territory. Many saw that hope is the true killer of life, but I truly think that boredom is what really kills the soul. Stuck in a house surrounded by never-ending walls drives you slowly into madness. With only a compeer screen to look at, and by scrolling through the endless amounts of social media I honestly feel as if my brain has turned to mush.

Laying on my back on the grass staring up at the brightly lit sky, I look around at the trees. Watercolors all-around painted as if from the artists hand himself. Thinking about it, I know understand why went positively crazy this summer. With cigarettes, alcohol, and nonstop partying, the high given from these narcotics were the only mediums that enabled you to escape the exclusion of the suburbs.

When you live in a city that is alive and awake at all hours of the night, the white picket fences of the suburbs do not do anything for you. When in the suburbs I feel as if I am trapped by sociological implications created in the minds of this misguided cult of the suburban. When I am here, I always feel as if I cannot be myself. For example, the idea of same-sex couples within the city is nothing out of the ordinary, for you see dozens of LGBT couples walking down the street together. While in the suburbs, this act of minor romanticism if seen as unusual and immoral. When walking down the street you see the faces of disproving citizens looking at you as if you are the newest member of the freak show. After taking a late night stroll down the boardwalk with Americano, I don’t think I’ve actually received that many looks of disgust on the faces of the elderly.

Close minded and ignorant. Close minded is the only thing that people of the suburbs have in common. One would think that as the world grows, and Ebola spreads , and the morality of society drops, that society would undergo some sort of adaptation towards acceptance, but no…there is no such change.

I’m a millennial. We have seen everything from the bombing of the world trade centre, to SARS, H1N1, war, hatred of other cultures and the general misogyny of the world. From these terrible acts of mankind, this generation has formed a new outlook on the world, for we have begun to see the world in varying sizes, shapes and colours. It’s not our fault that we have to live in this robust and destroyed society created by previous generations. We did not create this society of financial deficit, pollution and judgement. This world was created by the generation above us. The one thing that I have to say about this generation is that no matter how many narcotics we place inside our bodies, nothing can fill the void caused by the broken fragments of misguided acceptance of the past.

Sitting alone in empty bars with a martini in hand, I guess this all that suburban society has to offer me. If any point in time you decide to join me, there will always be a bar seat available and a martini glass filled.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s