Small talk is a formality in our society. When meeting a person for the first time, there are always the usual questions each party must answer: “where are you from?”, “did you see the game last night? Linsane!” and so on and so forth. The most inevitable of these questions (second to “Wait…are you sure your name isn’t Bryan?”) is “so…what do you do?”

Hmmmm…what do I do? My friends, and perhaps even you, dear readers, are oft to wonder. I am a college graduate with an English degree who’s a member of the Army Reserves and somehow seems to get by on odd jobs, crazy adventures and crummy blogs. Again: what on earth do I do!?

Personally, this answer is simple. With a sigh and a hand running through what’s left of my hair (what with writing blogs all day) I confess: “Well, that depends on who you ask.”

And below you will find, from various perceptions and sources, ideas as to what it is, exactly, that I do:


What my co-workers think I do:

                “So did you have fun climbing Mount…er…what was it…Everest?”


What students at the church youth group think I do:

                “You don’t really have a life…all you do is run around in the woods.”

What my housemate thinks I do:

                “Oh, Bryn? Yea…he’s a professional bum.”


What an eight-year-old kid I work with thinks I do:                

                “So last time you were in an air raid, how many planes didja shoot down?”


What folks from my summer kayak tours think I do:

                “So what’s the largest waterfall you’ve gone over?”


What those who read my resume think I do:

                “It says here you’ve worked at ‘Jacks of all Trades’ as a ‘Master of None’ for 22 years…is that your idea of a joke?”


What my parents think I do:

                “Next time you nearly kill yourself doing something stupid…I’m gonna kill you.”


What my former classmates think I do:

                “So you’re what…living in Maine…and you’re…working odd jobs? Writing? Writing far-off and eccentric pieces of- * gasp * Bryn…are you on drugs?”


What my fellow 2nd Lieutenants think I do:

                “You’re basically a Chaco-donning hippy that has to shave once a month.”


What my (ex) roommate thinks I do:

                “You pretend to contribute to society with mediocre writing and Thoreau-ean ethics, but we all know you’re obsessed with “How I Met Your Mother”, drive a foreign car and have an (albeit tiny) savings account. Ergo, you live a mass hypocrisy.” 


What my brother thinks I do:

                “You’re an English major with a blog and minimal employment…you fulfill clichés.”


What my pastor thinks I do:

                “Your guardian angel is exhausted.”


What the lady at the voter registration booth thinks I do:

                “Um…no… it’s supposed to be B-r-y-a-n. You misspell your own name…dear.”





So what, exactly, is it that I do?


Well, good question. If you keep reading, you might find the answer…

One thought on “Think

  1. It’s almost un-cliché to brazenly embrace clichés, but maybe that’s just my hipster shoulder angel talking.

    P.S. Contra tags, don’t quit blogging.

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