It’s come to my attention that I’m boring.
It’s come to my attention several times, in fact.
Chanda, while I was in Nairobi, referred to me as the very picture of boring. It went like this, “[Someone] is [some exciting, wonderful characteristic]… not serious like you.” Of course, when I pressed him on what exactly that meant, he maneuvered out of it artfully. (He has a wife and daughters, so I imagine he’s learned from a few “Do I look fat in this dress?” situations.)
Then I went to dinner with Christian, who I know from my previous, non-boring African life (apparently), and who told also told me I’d gotten very serious, like I was thinking too much.
And the English translation of a German telling you you’re serious? “You’re boring. Very, very boring.” And if you know anything about the dissonance between German and American culture, the commentary takes on new, even more bleak dimensions. Whimper.
Anyway, I suffered under this label for a while, but found freedom when I came back to Lopit yesterday—just in time for team meeting—because I realized the root of my boringness.
And that’s my team.
I know, how can I say that?! Right? But we’re so battle-weary, so tense. There’s this aura of heaviness that hangs over our team meetings. And I guess we’re just downright boring. Shrug.
So as I sat in our meeting, which was dragging on endlessly and painfully, I tried to think of a strategy for breaking out of the boredom.
And I decided Kim and I would simply have to streak the fuera (the village center).
Surely that will work, right? It’s tried and true by university students America-wide!
And my idea’s effects manifested themselves immediately. The very *thought* of the response to a whitey’s naked dash through the village center kept me grinning through the rest of the meeting, while everyone else suffered silently through in their own, less crazy thoughts.
:)
And, yes, I’m writing a bit tongue-in-cheek. But, still… I’m committed to being less boring. Or serious. However you want to put it.
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