You are ordinary.
Yeah, I know. That's not what anyone wants to hear. Having been thoroughly indoctrinated into the gospel of the exceptional, we recoil from ordinary. We denounce it. We despise it. We're supposed to tell each other that we're special, unique, one of a kind. We're supposed to focus on the things that set us apart from, or better yet, above others. From the moment our experiences congeal into a sense of self, the message is hammered into us – don't be ordinary. Be extraordinary.
And so we strive to be extraordinary in any way we can. Through our achievements. Through our homes. Through our cars. Through our clothes. Through our travels. We line up experiences like trophies on a shelf and hope it's enough to differentiate us from the common rabble. To push ordinary far, far away. Once we've attained some form of exceptional, then, and only then, do we matter. Then, and only then, do we deserve respect, recognition, rewards. Then, and only then, do we become someone. Or so we're told.
And so we believe. And so we hate our ordinary selves.
But please don't.
You may be ordinary. But you know what else is ordinary?
Sunrises and sunsets
And moonlight
And bird song
And winter snow
And summer rain
And spring flowers
And laughter
And tears
And a squirrel skittering along a fence
And a baby giggling in a mother's arms
And a first kiss
And first love
And last words
Most of life is completely and fundamentally ordinary.
But life would be a lot less wonderful without all that ordinary stuff. It's necessary and important. And lovely.
Just like you.
So don't despair that you're ordinary.
Ordinary is already extraordinary.
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The Sh#% Your Parents Should Tell You
Non-FictionYour parents probably tell you a lot of things like study hard, get a good job, be a decent human being, take out the goddamn garbage for christ's sake. But what they won't tell you are the ugly (and slightly less ugly) truths about life that, if...
