Perhaps Boredom is Not a Bad Thing

I was talking to my friend the other day, yet didn’t have much to say. “My life has gotten pretty boring, to tell you the truth,” I said to her. I had fallen into routine- I was working 35 hours per week, teaching 2 and (now mostly) 3-year-olds, alternated spending Shabbat with friends in Cambridge and family in Brighton, and went on occasional dates. 

“Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” my friend responded. After hanging up (and feeling slightly regretful that I didn’t have something more interesting to share), I thought about her comment. I’m pretty happy living with chill roommates and enjoy coming home to our large, spacious, and comfortable apartment. I feel fulfilled in my job and get along with my co-workers. It is very cold in Boston, but I feel needed and wanted all around. “Did you fast today?” My roommates ask me on the 10^th of the Hebrew month of Tevet, a “minor” fast day commemorating the siege of Jerusalem by ancient Babylonians. My roommates, though not observant, are in tune with my life and interested in my activities and my general well-being. That’s something I’d struggled with back in New York- finding roommates with whom I get along and have frequent disagreements.

So, I may have a boring life right now- and I hope to spice it up with the creation of an intentional community, with the beginning of a course this coming week that will eventually certify me as Head Teacher of my class, getting into a workout routine at a gym where I just paid membership. But after a few stressful months of moving and getting settled, maybe boring is what I need right now.

Shabbat was Not Made for Introverts

I hosted my second Shabbat meal this past weekend, after volunteering the space to hold the monthly Netivot dinner. Netivot is the local Orthodox LGBTQ organization in the Boston area catering to folks of all denominations- they sponsor these dinners every month, and hold other occasional events.

At 10 people, I’d say the meal went well; it was different than the last Shabbat lunch that included friends of my roommates, and guests of varying orientations, gathered around our 8-person table. I had spent much of the previous evening cooking for the meal and working on rearrangement and set- up of the living room area. I worked in excitement and with high energy, looking forward to Friday night. The dining room table was covered with a Chanukah-themed tablecloth, sprinkled with glittering stickers of dreidels, oil jugs, candles, and the symbolic Hebrew letters- Nun, Gimmel, Hey, and Shin- seen on the dreidels. Decorations hung from the walls, some extra shenanigans I borrowed from the preschool where I work that I thought would made a difference in the vibe and provide a warm, holiday energy.

Although Netivot meetings and gatherings promote a safe space, I sometimes question my comfort level in people-filled environments. While the first goal is to create a space where people of all denominations feel at home, the second part of that is engaging in trivial conversation- not an area of which I am particularly skillful. It was not unhelpful that, instead of being gathered around a table, we sat around an open space of the living room area, which seemed to provide some breathing room to those of us who are more anthropophobic  or claustrophobic. At 10 of us altogether, I’d like to think the meal- which included conversations about icebreakers, Jewish Taboo, and superhero names- was a success.

Sometimes it’s a relief to be hostess, where I’m not tied down to the group too long, where I’m constantly getting up to clear and get the next course, before I get too overwhelmed by eight different voices talking all at once. And, being in my own space, I know I can retreat to the couch, or to my room in order to re-energize, while knowing others are still being entertained.

And then there are those afternoons where- to my great relief- someone brings out a game, passing on the potential tension to hold conversation to a game that is perhaps a distraction. I suppose my question to myself is, how willing am I to continue hosting Shabbat meals, realizing I will sometimes have to experience the discomfort of extended conversations with guests, when my introverted self would prefer to engage in short conversation, and then retreating to my room for some personal space, and to re-energize? How do I reassure people that they are welcome to come over to our home on Shabbats and to hang out, while balance that with my need for small group settings, and/ or desire for personal space at my leisure?