👋 Hi fellow dumdums,

Boredom is often treated like a design flaw in modern life. Something to eliminate. Something to escape. But what if boredom is actually the compost heap of creativity? A dull little void where weird, original, even dumb ideas start to grow?

I hate being bored.
Like, deeply, irrationally hate it.

I’ll narrate cereal boxes in a fake British accent. I’ll rearrange paperclips into tiny battle scenes. I’ll invent entire fake arguments with people I’ve never met just to avoid the existential horror of a moment unfilled.

But recently, something terrifying happened:
I caught my brain doing something... interesting.

I was bored.
And instead of panicking, my brain whispered,
“Give me a second. I’m building something.”

The Modern War on Boredom

We’ve built a world where boredom is an emergency.

The second we feel even a flicker of nothingness, we rush to plug it:

• Scroll.

• Swipe.

• Play the podcast at 1.5x speed while watching YouTube on mute.

• Open five tabs and forget why we opened any of them.

We treat boredom like a design flaw in the human experience.

But what if it’s not a glitch?

What if it’s the hidden launchpad for everything weird and worthwhile?

Curious What Your Brain Does When You’re Doing Nothing?

Turns out, it’s doing a lot — just not the kind of stuff that impresses at dinner parties.

When you're zoning out, your brain activates something called the Default Mode Network — a network of brain regions that lights up when you're not focused on anything in particular.

Translation:

It's the part of your mind that starts making up imaginary award speeches or mentally re-editing arguments from 2013.

If you want a better (and more scientific) explanation, I highly recommend this delightfully nerdy article from Neuroscientifically Challenged called
👉 “Know Your Brain: Default Mode Network”

It explains:

• What the DMN is

• Why your brain daydreams

• And how boredom might be the ultimate creative hack

So the next time someone accuses you of zoning out, just tell them:

“I’m engaging my Default Mode Network.”

Then walk away slowly, like your brain is working on a novel.

Which, honestly… it might be.

Because that’s exactly what happened to J.K. Rowling.

In 1990, she was stuck on a delayed train from Manchester to London. No laptop. No phone. Not even a Sudoku book to ruin quietly. Just her brain, doing nothing in particular—until it did something spectacular.

That idea?
A lonely boy wizard. A lightning bolt scar. A school called Hogwarts.
Boom. Boredom strikes again.

She didn’t workshop it. She didn’t open a Google Doc and type “Chapter One.”

She just stared out the train window and let her mind drift.

And the rest is publishing history.

So yeah — maybe your dumb little brain isn’t wasting time.

Maybe it’s just… summoning wizards.

Reframing Boredom as a Tool

We’re conditioned to fear boredom.
To escape it like a fire drill.

But boredom isn’t the problem. It’s the portal.

It’s where the brain stops obeying and starts playing.

It’s where you stop optimizing and start daydreaming.

It’s where your inner toddler picks up a stick, names it King Charles the Third, and begins negotiating peace treaties with the driveway gravel.

Boredom isn’t nothing.
It’s the soft silence that lets ideas knock.

Dumb Word of the Day: Woolgathering

Meaning:
The art of mentally wandering off into the horizon, often while pretending to listen during meetings or folding towels with theatrical focus.

It used to be literal. Woolgathering meant walking through fields and collecting stray tufts of wool off bushes. You can read about that here if you’re the type who enjoys knowing what 14th-century peasants did with their weekends.

Eventually, it morphed into a metaphor for aimless daydreaming. As Handwoven Magazine (yes, that’s real) puts it, the word “somehow wove its way into the fabric of our language” to describe that beautiful mental state where you’re technically awake, but spiritually chasing butterflies.

And if you prefer your definitions short and sweet, A.Word.A.Day breaks it down like a verbal tapas plate.

Woolgathering is your brain at recess.

No to-do lists. No deliverables.

Just wandering, wondering, and occasionally imagining a new species of musical cheese.

So don’t fight it.
Lean in.
Gather that wool.
Wrap yourself in it.

The Boredom Challenge

Your mission, should you choose to accept it:

Stare at a wall for five minutes today.
That’s it.

No phone. No tasks. No stimulation.
Just you, the void, and whatever your brain invents to crawl out of it.

Then write down whatever shows up.

Could be a dumb poem.
Could be a million-dollar idea.
Could be a new species of sock puppet that lives in your laundry pile and judges your choices.

Doesn’t matter. The point is:
Let your mind breathe. Let it wander. Let it woolgather.