Your Official Guide To Having Ennui

Perhaps you first felt it when you were walking alone on an autumn day, looking at fallen leaves, and realizing you were neither happy nor sad, but definitely more sad than anything else. Maybe you tried to figure out the reason for your almost-sadness, but instead found yourself staring at a river while reading a letter from your sister informing you that she joined a convent because she was desperately in love with you. Or maybe that was just Chateaubriand. At any rate, I am here to provide you with the Official Guide to Ennui you never asked for: what it is, how to diagnose it, and what to do if you have it. Fear not, fellow sufferers, my degree in French literature will lead you through these trying times. At least then it will be good for something.

First, you must figure out what type of ennui you have. Many flavors of ennui exist, sort of like ice cream if ice cream gave you no enjoyment but you kept eating it anyway. In this guide I’ll discuss the three most common types.

French Ennui

We’ll begin with French Ennui because that’s where the term originated. Ennui means “boredom” if translated literally, but has taken on a broader significance through its use in literature (see Chateaubriand, Sartre, and Baudelaire, if you really must). French ennui is related to existentialism, but lacks the urgency and atheism of the latter. It is Anna Karina walking on a pristine beach saying over and over, “What can I do? I don’t know what to do.” At its core, this flavor of ennui involves having no real problems and lots of down time. You might have it if:

• You like the idea of nature, but not actual nature.
• You tell people you are “a romantic,” which is different from “romantic.”
• Black coffee and cigarettes are your major food groups.
• You routinely blame things on your spleen.

Russian Ennui

If those don’t sound like you, you might have Russian Ennui, which differs from the French type because it involves some sort of duty or obligation, and more specifically the avoidance of said obligation. In Russian literature the family is the main source of obligation (see also: the State). The more pressure the family exerts on the sufferer of ennui, the less he does, and the less he does, the more time he has to think. Doestoevsky says that excessive time spent thinking becomes a “disease” that produces only more idleness (see Notes from the Underground if, like, you really want to). You might have the Russian sort of ennui if:

• Instead of completing assignments at work/school you take long walks through harsh weather conditions, preferably snow.
• You talk a lot about “citizenship,” but don’t join any clubs/teams/groups.
• Your cabinets are filled with cheap black tea and half-empty bottles of vodka.
• On a good day you answer 1% of calls.

Modern Ennui

If Russian ennui seems bleak, you might have a third kind of ennui which results mainly from living in a society that runs on technology. The blue glow of computer and smart phone screens is the symbol of this type of ennui, and sufferers are those who crave human relationships, but prefer to slip back into the comfort of the internet whenever provided with an opportunity to interact face-to-face. They are plagued with apathy and find it nearly impossible to perform any task that cannot be completed with a few keystrokes, but are cripplingly bored at the same time. You might have Modern Ennui if:

• You can count your IRL friends on one hand.
• A restaurant without online ordering brings on a mild panic attack.
• You are exhausted from working all day on the computer, and as soon as you get home you open up your computer.
• You have a tumblr.

Now that you’ve identified which type of ennui you have, you can go about treating it. Kidding! The essential part of ennui is that there is no cure. Once diagnosed, the best you can do is accept that life is one long road of unceasing monotony. So get a cat, refill your coffee mug, and settle in with the e-book version of Les Fleurs du Mal because you’ve got a ways to go.