There’s this thing I’ve been chewing on lately, and maybe it’s just me, but it feels like everyone is out here auditioning for the part of “most interesting person in the room.” You know what I mean—the ones who can’t wait to tell you about their wild trip to Iceland, or how they’re training for a triathlon, or their deep passion for fermenting pickles in their basement. And hey, that’s great for them. Truly. But every time I hear it, I think, Is this what I’m supposed to be doing? Am I supposed to be collecting hobbies like merit badges? Because if so, I’m failing. Spectacularly.
The truth is, I don’t have hobbies. Not really. I have ideas. And I have this annoying tendency to chase those ideas down rabbit holes until I’m either exhausted or bored of them. That’s it. That’s my thing. And for a long time, I felt weird about it. Like, shouldn’t I be more well-rounded? Shouldn’t I have some quirky talent or at least a couple of go-to “fun facts” for networking events? But I don’t. I never have. And the older I get, the more I realize…I don’t actually want that.
I like being boring.
Not boring in the sense that I have nothing to say—God knows I could talk for hours if you let me—but boring in the sense that I don’t feel the need to perform. I don’t have a curated list of activities that make me “fun” or “cool” or “worthy of your time.” What I have are thoughts, ideas, and an almost embarrassing amount of curiosity about the world.
Here’s the funny thing: when I tell people this, they usually don’t believe me. “You’re not boring,” they say, “You’ve done all these things! You’ve built companies, you’ve been on stage, you’ve lived this crazy life.” And sure, on paper, maybe that’s true. But that’s just the highlight reel. Day-to-day, my life is pretty quiet. I read. I tinker. I think about weird things, like how someone decided peanuts could be butter, or why humans are so obsessed with ranking everything.
I’m not out here climbing mountains or discovering new species of birds. I’m just…here. Sitting at my desk, chasing whatever idea won’t leave me alone that day. And the thing is, I love it. I love the simplicity of it. The clarity. The freedom to not worry about whether my life looks impressive to anyone else.
I think we’ve got it all backwards, honestly. We’ve built this culture where “interesting” means busy, flashy, performative. But to me, the most interesting people are the ones who don’t care about any of that. The ones who can sit with you over a cup of coffee and turn a mundane conversation into something unforgettable. The ones who ask good questions and actually listen to the answers.
That’s the kind of person I want to be. Not the one with the coolest hobbies or the best stories, but the one who makes you feel like your stories matter.
And maybe that makes me boring. Fine. I’ll take it.
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