"You are so boring." My oldest brother Josh moans at me, rolling his eyes and doing everything he can to physically express his complaint. "Who comes to a restaurant like this and orders Grilled Cheese?"
"I like grilled cheese." I mutter into my sandwich. I resist the urge to point out that my meal also arrives ten minutes before his, also that his meal appears to be, perhaps, still alive.
"You don't have any sense of adventure." he gripes, "You don't ever try anything new. You're so boring."
That's not true I think to myself. I'm a very strange person. Very strange. Totally abnormal, and utterly not boring. But then, if that's true, why am I eating a grilled cheese sandwich? Josh over there appears to be eating Cthulhu, and I'm eating melted Cheddar on White. I'm not even eating the crusts. What the hell is wrong with me?
I'm not boring. Am I? Sometimes this is a question that haunts me, for no particular reason. Maybe it's because I was described as shy by a friend of a friend with whom I did not connect, a description that most certianly does not fit me, or perhaps it's because I constantly feel as if I've lost that energetic spark that I had as a little kid. Then again, I still play with toys, race for the swings, and flop on every bed in the furniture department of the mall. I'm twenty. Maybe it's because the above conversation with my more worldly older brother could've happened at literally any point in my life. He's got my number, it doesn't matter what resteraunt we go to, from Denny's to Athena's Paradise, I invariably order a Grilled Cheese Sandwich. Why? Am I really a boring person?
I really do worry that I'm not interesting enough. I think most people do. Maybe it's because I'm a lazy person, or maybe it's because I have poor interpersonal skills, and sometimes look at the world like Mr. Spock observing McCoy and Kirk having a snark-fest. Maybe it's because I'm that much of a nerd. It actually more likely because my interior monologue is more powerful than my external one. I narrate what I do inside my head, and I hold fascinating conversations in the forum of my brain and forget to have them in the real world all together. This is of course in comparison to my best friend who is the embodiment of the quirky character from every 90's cult film, right down to her yellow ruler suspenders and tendancy to walk in diagonals because her one leg is longer than the other. She has verbal diarrhea, but she's so loveably adorkable that nobody really cares.
I'm not boring though. I was the weird kid in high school. Though, given the school I went to, it wasn't terribly difficult. I was labeled lovably quaint because I hadn't ever been to Europe. The colourful tights and use of the word "groovy" just made me all the more quirky. But I'm not boring! I just like grilled cheese. More that that, I suppose, I'm cheap. I don't like spending my, or even worse, other peoples money, on food that I might not like. Give me a taste from your plate and I'll try anything, but when it comes to ordering for myself I'll stick with cheese and bread, thank-you-very-much. That doesn't make me boring. It makes me resonable, and slightly pensive.
I'm just me. I'm a theatrical, costume-designing, zero-to-loud, goofy, and "possess a child-like view of the world". All words used to describe me in high school. Moreover, I like grilled cheese and I have eaten it just about everywhere, in veritably every combination known to man. And I can prove it.
