Someone on a newsgroup I frequent, on which I had complained that I was bored (which goes to show how bored I was), suggested I alleviate said boredom by freaking out.
I replied that I do not freak out.
I have stumbled across a hilariously written blog, at dooce.com, and that has alleviated today's boredom. I read the archives to learn of how the expression "to be dooced" came about. You'll probably want to read them yourself to understand this next part:
The authoress of dooce.com lost her job because of her blog. She does things I wouldn't do to tell a story: Exaggerate and outright lie (i.e. her co-workers weren't really like that), but she does so with imagery and a pace that the writer in me finds inspiring and entertaining. But her bosses weren't amused. However, it was her defense of herself, her style, her blog that became the inspiration for this post: Apparantly, some people do "freak out". They like to rev up life's engine to the absolute max before slamming it into a higher gear, burning rubber and scaring pets and old ladies all the way.
And I don't do that. It's not that I wouldn't know how. It's just an odd character flaw in me that I have no need to do such things. I actually like being on the ground - nice, flat ground that my feet can firmly plant themselves on and no where near high cliffs to go off of or deep waters to fall into. I like knowing what's going to happen next, I like having some control, I like predictability, and I like doing unplanned things like long drives into the country on a sudden impulse. Other impulses, though, that might cause upsets in me or someone else, do not turn me on.
I am, however, usually not upset when things are unpredictable. I rather enjoy that. I just don't go in for causing it.
I think it must be chemical. I don't want any alcohol, either, unless I'm already in a happy mood - unlike most people I know, can think of, or have read about in some essay in the Sunday paper. But I like alcohol.