Decision Scene
I make decisions like I fill in boxes on a crossword. The clues are the plans I have made for myself, and the plans are planned in conjunction with each other so they can overlap without conflicting. The plans must maximize the number of hours available or the various projects I have on hand or the requirements of an assignment, class, etc. I save up errands to run all at once, and when I do run them, I plan my route in advance for the shortest possible drive and in–store time. I am not loyal to any one store. Rather, I choose where to shop based solely on where I am coming from and where I have yet to go.
Decisions about any one thing must be tested against decisions I have already made about every other thing. What to do today? Depends what I have to do later, what I did yesterday, what I expect to do tomorrow. What to do right now? Depends what I have planned to do today.
If I am bored, it is because I have not planned an activity to fill the precise number of hours which my boredom may last. Boredom usually strikes when school is out of session. It's closely linked to guilt; there are so many things I could do with my time, and such a finite amount of time I have to do them in. My instinctual response to boredom is books or Netflix. For both activities, I can control the amount of time I spend on them. Reading assuages guilt since, as all agree, reading is an intellectual and worthwhile pastime. Netflix–watching increasingly enjoys the same panache, as long as I choose the smart, well–written, tightly–plotted kinds of shows.
Boredom comes at home, and because of my book/Netflix response to it, I associate it with my big green pseudo–suede couch with the broken slat in the back.
Homesickness also strikes me in certain places, but not at certain times. I have felt homesick for many places; I have no one central home to act as locus for my sickness. Instead, when I visit mountains and damp woods, I am homesick for the mountains and damp woods of my childhood. When I see Spanish moss, I feel homesick for quiet bird–watching in high school.
This homesickness is not so much yearning as nostalgia for simplicity.