Am I The Interesting Friend?

I’ve hiked mountains.

I’ve worked with raptors.

I’ve lived in a national park.

I’ve split an arrow with a recurve bow

I can ballroom dance (and can teach you too).

I’ve lived in four states in the past year, with another coming up next month.

I’ve moved a thousand miles from home, alone… Then I moved three thousand.

And you know what?


My life is boring.


There are six of us…

Three girls and three guys. We’ve known each other since high school; in fact these are the only people I’ve kept in touch with for that long. The one across from me, we’ll call him Jack, he’s the oldest friend I have: 8 years and counting.

Oddly enough, our siblings are married now.

We’re all sitting in somebody’s basement, scattered around the coffee table in nearby chairs and couches. It’s been far too long since the last time we had a get together like this, over a year in fact.

Most of that’s my fault, I’ve been a thousand miles south of town for the past year.

Some sodas, a few slices of pizza, and a deck of cards are the only thing on the table between us. I reach over and grab the deck, of course the same one we’ve been using since high school, and start shuffling.

“So,” I say, counting the riffle shuffles I do, “how’s life? What’s everyone been up to?”


“Anybody? I know Jack’s still at the grocery store,” I speak up again, “and I’ve been in the south for a while.”

“Well,” one of the others speaks up, “I’m working at the college now.”

“Really?” I ask, “you managed to get a teaching job that quick?”

“No,” she blushes, “I’m working at the day care. Working on my master’s degree”.

“That’s alright, at least its something,” I say, looking towards someone else, “what about you?”

“Still at school,” she says.

“Doing what?”

And the same pattern persists for everyone else. I ask what they’re doing, they shyly answer: “still in school”, “going back to school”, “grocery store”, “just got laid off”, and “still at home.”

All of them are still living at home, actually. One was trying to move, another was about to run upstate in the next two weeks for school, another just moved back home. Two never left home.

And these people, my friends, they were the ones everyone had faith in. The ones everyone said “oh yeah, they’re getting the heck out of this town.” One is the valedictorian, another was in the top twenty of my class. I was probably fourth or fifth academically way back in high school; and I was in the top 12% of my class.

“What about you?” one of them asks me, “what the hell have you been doing in Tennessee?”

So I tell them:

“Oh, this one time, I managed to find this bobcat with the kids… no, no. I didn’t know it was there, it was just this random…”

“We were canoeing, it must’ve been like 1:00AM. I know it was after midnight…”

“And I almost jumped on this damn Water Moccasin! It was hiding in this…”

“Then my power steering died, just outside of camp. I’m like ‘crap, now what am I supposed to do?’ So I drive it for a while…”

“So I’m standing there… just waiting. This big ol’ female Gar swims up just close enough. So I shoot it, but I miss. Somehow I manage to reload the arrow and put one dead center of this thing…”
The rest of the night was great.

It was just like we never left, like we had never been apart more than a day. Way back in high school we’d get together at study hall every day, with the same crew, the same deck of cards, and play the same game. Every day. Sometimes we’d have extra time and a few of us would play in other classes.

But there was something… something different.

Nobody seemed as… as happy. As happy as we were back then, barely working to place in the top of our classes. Goofing off every chance we had, and going through high school loves, losses, homecoming, prom, graduation, and all of us with those dreams of “I can’t wait till college. I can’t wait to get out of here and do something crazy…”

And then, two years after graduation, five years since that first card game, where were we?

In that same little Northeastern town.

So this brings me to the next problem…
My Life Is Boring.

Sure, I have some stories. Maybe more than your average person, although I doubt it. But all in all, as I sit here with a few weeks to go before taking my next job, even farther from home, I can’t help but think that seriously… I’m not doing all that much.

I don’t have a house.

My car is a decade old.

I make barely any money.

I don’t text.

I’m still at the bottom of the totem pole career-wise.

I’m single.

I spend my free time reading.

I live at home part-time.

I’m just boring. Why don’t people see that?




I don’t have a house… but I have had either a lake, an ocean, or a mountain range as my backyard all this year.

My car is a decade old… and that Pontiac has gone through hell with me; why replace it?

I make barely any money… but I’ve got more than enough to survive on for a while.

I don’t text… but if I really wanted to hear from these people, I’d call them anyway. I can’t say I don’t enjoy being semi-unreachable.

I’m still at the bottom of the totem pole career-wise… but I’m only two years out of college, and I’m developing my plan as we speak.

I’m single… and ready to mingle.

I spend my free time reading… because I am paid to do what I love 40-60 hours a week.

I live at home part-time… but I also live everywhere else part time.

But still…

I can’t help but believe my life is dull. Maybe its from checking Facebook, seeing the highlights of three hundred people’s lives all jumbled together, all trying to make themselves seem to the world to be the most interesting person in it.

The people who post a hundred pictures of food, or a dozen pictures of their friends, or invite you to every event they’ve ever heard of. A list of bands they like covers their profile, ten causes they think deserve a ‘like’, and pictures of random things I could’ve sworn I saw on reddit six months ago.

And then there’s mine.

It’s empty.

It’s dull.

It’s just… it’s my picture, the pictures people tag me in, and sometimes the occasional “hey guys, I’m in town. Who wants to see me?”

Everyone else I know post either how exciting their life is or how depressing their life is. Statuses that say “hey, look at me, I’m loving my life so much you should be jealous!” or “I’m so tired and bored and lonely you should feel sorry for me!”

And here I am.

Being boring.

Working on a blog entry for a blog I’ll probably get tired with next week…

Browsing reddit a little…

Trying to figure out whether or not I should ask that girl out, the one I’m only going to be working with for four more weeks.

And trying to get rid of this strange, lingering, frustrating feeling that my life is boring and will always be boring…



I really haven’t had that exciting of a life. There are a lot of things I wish I would have done, instead of just sitting around and complaining about having a boring life. So I pretty much like to make it up. I’d rather tell a story about somebody else.

~Kurt Cobain


Oh well. I guess I’ll just have to settle for mediocrity.


Franconia Ridge, White Mountains National Forest, New Hampshire


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