Ennui (noun): a feeling of boredom or restlessness caused by having nothing interesting or exciting to do.
I’ve come across the word long ago but have never gotten around to using it. Somehow, I’ve smugly thought of it as simply redundant, for boredom is already the absence of activity and enthusiasm.
God must have made a mental note of that, and as if to mock my arrogance, the week unfolded into a state of sameness, which succeeded in making me edgy and bored—NOT because I had nothing to do. In fact, I have tons of reading materials to tackle, two major papers to slave over, and fleeting time. And as I sit here staring, no, counting the number of times the cursor has blinked against the blank screen, I am overcome with a strange feeling of powerlessness over the monotony of my remaining days in grad school. I’m bored enough to write about boredom and distinguish it from ennui, see?
Ennui is among Paulo Coelho’s recurring themes, as he wrote about “the tragedy of a life in which everything repeats itself and where one day is exactly like another” and that “when each day is the same as the next, it’s because people fail to recognize the good things that happen in their lives every day that the sun rises.”
I get you, God. Please stop now.