Much Ado About Nothing

“So... what are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you do anything today?”

“Nah, not really.”

“Oh... Okay. Well, you must be really bored.”

“Actually, I'm okay.”

           This is the part where I get a really odd look from whoever had been asking the questions. The look's a blend of disbelief and confusion. Sometimes, there is a severe amount of squinting, like they are trying to squeeze the truth from me with their eyes. How could Apronkid possibly be happy doing nothing? I'll never answer the question implied. Instead, I will let the questioneer shrug and go on their merry way.

          

           I am a dreamer. My most common facial expression is like unto that of a donut: glazed. I'd guess if you were to glance at me in passing I would appear to be bewildered, disinterested, or just plain void of expression. I would probably be staring at the ceiling or the floor, or staring through people. My arms would probably be folded across my chest and I'd being leaning my weight on one hip (my left to be exact). This is me doing what I do best, and that is “Nothing.”

           Daydreaming, thinking, meditating, even praying... Different names for similar games. Yeah, that's just me doing “Nothing.”

           (Rant: I'd like to sit down with the Individual who decided that one must do something to be someone. I'd really like to sit them down and have a chat. Perhaps it's my extensive experience with doing “Nothing,” but my gut feeling tells me I was someone before I ever started doing anything. So, Individual, I do not have to do something to be someone. I am someone, and I did nothing to deserve it. How do you respond, Individual? I'm not sure I want to hear the answer...)

           Anyway, doing “Nothing” opens the door to simply enjoy being. There is just so much to being that I miss when I'm busy doing. It's a beautiful thing to deny the ever-present call to do, and just be. Wandering where I may and feeling what I might, I will always be lost, yet found, in my own mind. I connect dots and I fit pieces together, only to complete a nameless picture I'll never know the meaning of. I soothe the static, and tune into strange (yet familiar) musics, just so I can wonder why I think the sound is beautiful and wonder why it makes me cry. I know the meaning of life one moment, and I can't remember why I was born the next. Isn't that fantastic? I'll tell you it's wonderful! To ponder what I am and am not, and then do absolutely “Nothing” about it... It conjures up within me the most authentic of feelings: the feeling of being... the feeling that I am...

           Doing is making shadow puppets with your hands. Being is recognizing that those shadowy players take shape because you manipulate your hands; that your hands have their own distinct shape, regardless of how you can manipulate them; that without the light, there wouldn't be a shadow at all...

           Hahaha, I read my thoughts above, and I tell you now that I am fully aware that I sound like a raving lunatic. There is reason buried deep in the madness. Doing “Nothing” used to bother me so. I used to live off the feeling of accomplishment and success. I think everyone has lived off of such sometime in their life, even if they didn't realize it. It can be messy business, since life isn't solely made of accomplishments and success.

           Well, to such thinking I say, “No More!” For now, it sufficeth me to just be Apronkid. I am committed to love, to give thanks, to do “Nothing” shamelessly, and to be. This, my friends, is a resolution. :)