Offsetting ennui

I'm sitting in a room I sit in far too often, but at least I'm paid to be there. People are looking at plans for a new building. They won't make a decision tonight, and they don't actually make the decision anyway. That will fall to the elected officials who aren't here at the moment.

My chair is against the back wall. The room is a small auditorium, and many decisions have been made in here over the past few decades. I've written about many of these, either as a contemporary reporter or as an amateur archivist. 

I'm tense because I want this meeting to be over, and I'd like to relax and joke and play and talk to people. I'd like to write about the people who are in this room, as opposed to the decisions that will be made. The two relate, of course, but in public I cannot write about the people in here, or the people I would like to meet.

I feel stuck in time, despite the growing awareness that I am living a life constrained by decisions I made in the past. I will be in this room many more times to come in the future, listening to more and more discussions about the future of my community.

I feel invisible, same as I have for a while now. I don't want this, but it's happened. I'm constrained but there's not much I can say about it. 

So, how do I offset the growing ennui?

I'm not sure. It's enough to become aware of it, and to try to change behavior to try to peel back the restraints. 

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