Old Age or Just Plain Old Boring???

Earlier this year, I moved from Los Angeles to Atlanta. It was not a planned move, but a series of [unfortunate] circumstances arose that simply made relocating seem sensible. The truth was I had grown up in the environs of L.A. and, quite frankly, over the last decade, I had grown bored. I questioned the sense of boredom I felt. Events and functions that had once seemed thrilling now felt dull and uninteresting. Was it me? Maybe I had grown too old to appreciate the trappings of youth. Or perhaps it was the repetition of it all (which I suppose in some way is still a symptom of old age). Because I am a creature of habit when I find a coffee shop, bar or club that I like, I immediately become a loyalist. Part of me wondered if I had simply needed a geographical change to jumpstart my excitement. In any event, after learning that Atlanta was my next stop, it seemed I was about to find out. If it was simply a change of locale that I needed, I would soon know.

Shortly after my arrival in Atlanta, I had gotten semi-settled and determined it was time to go out exploring. One week, I ventured out on a Friday to sample in Atlanta’s nightlife. The following week, I would try a Saturday to see if the experience was any different. The truth is each outing was hit-or-miss. Some nights I arrived to find ten people standing around a cavernous nightclub. And once in a while, I arrived to venues that were completely packed. And the fact of the matter was it didn’t make a difference what I found when I ventured out. My boredom remained.

As I sought answers, I wondered whether alcohol was the determining factor. It had been several years since I stopped drinking. After receiving my cancer diagnosis, it seemed like the right thing to do. It’s sad to consider, but back in the days when going out seemed the most fun, it could have been a result of the alcohol. But what does that say about me? Can my life only be viewed as exciting when seen through an alcohol-filled haze? Nowadays when I enter a bar and the majority of the crowd is tipsy or drunk, it’s more distracting than it is fun.

But there was an alternative explanation for the phenomenon of boredom I felt. Maybe it wasn’t me and the magic that had made things exciting had lost its strength. Could the answer have been that easy and L.A. and Atlanta were simply boring? Although I hadn’t planned it this way, 2009 turned out to be a travel year for me. It was almost as if I had done a survey of cities, which included, among others, London, Paris, Barcelona, Edinburgh, Salzburg and most recently New York.

After nearly a year of questioning, pondering, and gathering information, I finally had an answer to my question. It is me. I now realize what is most fun for me is the establishment of emotional connections. Before, I was afraid to connect with people, fearful that they wouldn’t appreciate the true me if I dared to reveal myself. And this is why I believe people do drugs and alcohol. Our inhibitions are lowered, yet our senses are dulled. Previously, with drugs and alcohol, my fears dissipated, but I was also comforted by the idea that those around me weren’t paying as much attention. Not when we were all intoxicated.

Fastforwarding to present day, I am blessed to have an abundance of wonderful people in my life. People who reveal themselves to me in ways they don’t often do with others. Each city I visited, I learned new and exciting things about my friends. I spent hours sitting around, eating meals, drinking teas and talking. I learned wonderful things I didn’t know about people I already knew quite well. And I reciprocated in turn, revealing things about myself.

For me, a new way of having fun has emerged. It is a method of truth and honesty in which we reveal ourselves and remain open and accepting of the truth within others. I rejoice in the reality that many of my friends understand this and that deep and lasting connections continue.