Monday, November 2, 2009


I have far too many friends who consider themselves "boring."

I assume that they often assign themselves this false classification because they have "settled down" with a spouse and children, so they can no longer be as autonomous as they once were.

I'm certain that this is a "the grass is always greener" sort of thing, but frankly, the stereotypical American societal "single life" is actually what I find boring.
I also find it pointless, vapid, evasive.

I'm not a huge fan of sitting in a bar for hours, choked by cigarette smoke swirling everywhere, annoyed by intoxicated idiots, exhausted by the fact that I'm only there because I don't want to be sitting at home.
So, somehow, driving to a different location to sit with other single people, ingest alcohol, and have shallow conversation means that I have "a social life"?

In so many ways, I wish I could be satisfied by going out to the bar every weekend.
I feel as though I might "fit in" better or feel less isolated.

But the fact is, being in mutual love with someone, creating another human being with them, and nurturing that tiny human as they become who they were created to be?
That doesn't sound boring at all.

Although, since I'm a member of the human race and we're a notoriously restless lot, I bet that I would feel "boring" too.

I'm upset that I live in a body and a culture that are so consumed with desire.
It's as if we are constantly advised that we should have more, do more, be more, because we are so drab and lackluster and no matter what, we will never have or be enough.

Perhaps I am not the only one who could use a healthy dose of the gratitude and contentment of St. Paul.

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