My Life Is Boring

Yep, it's official. My life is boring. I've been randomly entering names of old classmates and coworkers into MySpace, because I can't really think of anything else to do with MySpace, and almost all of them have lives much more interesting than mine. The kid who used to make fun of my name in high school has traveled Europe and now lives in San Francisco. The guy I almost got fired with in a Clintonian work scandal (tee hee hee) lives in Chicago with a beautiful wife and a bizarre Cubs obsession. The guy I (and my friends) always secretly wanted to date in school but never even approached lives somewhere in Michigan as a perpetual student. And of course the guy I VERY publicly wanted to date, and share Clintonian scandals with, in school is living somewhere in the depths of Georgia with his profile set to private. Gee I wonder why.

My point is, the life of a housewife who had a kid at twenty-one and never in her life set foot on a commercial airplane somehow pales in comparison. I want to push a vintage Italian motorcycle up a hill in San Francisco. I want to post bass-heavy discotheque remixes on my profile page. I want to study and travel and live somewhere more than 15 miles away from the hospital I was born in. I'd like to be able to say "local scenery" and mean something other than corn and bean fields. It would be nice to walk down the street and perhaps see more than the homogeneous mix of pale white faces this town has to offer.

Ahhh, to live in a place where the neighbors don't know your grandparents. To live in a place where the neighbors don't share your grandparents. A town with more history than "Back when the Dutch Church only had two hundred members," a better claim to fame than "Chainsaw from Summer School was born here." Ahhh, to have a life where a Friday night didn't consist of randomly entering names from ten years ago into My Space.

On a more upbeat note, Tom finally has a definite appointment to get his cherry stems tied back together. The deposit has been sent, the hotel reservations have been made, and the sitter has been booked. Everybody keep your fingers crossed and gods-willing the world will have more little Chucks in the next couple of years. Oh, but to dream!