Outside Inside

I complain to others that I'm bored with my life. It is a game of waiting for some who-knows-what to come around who-knows-when. I realize that this is a side effect, like nausea or a headache, of vicariously living my friends lives. I, however, have always been the "fixer." I am the person to go to when something goes wrong.

It is my one true talent - taking someone at that near-implosion state of panic and calming them down. I barter skills and favors of my friends to make the ends all somehow tie together. I have no idea how I do this, but it works. And luckily I have never, knock on wood, truly needed my own services.

As a result of all this fixing, I tend to hear more of what's going on than I ought to. I know who's been wronged, I know who's misbehaving, and I know who's tangling up the lives of everyone around them. It's kind of nice, though, to be able to see the world through so many eyes. They don't try to approach objectivity; I get the full bias. It helps to counter the bordom and sometimes, every once in awhile, makes me grateful that my own life is a little less interesting.