Utterly ordinary I

To contrast with previous posts’ display of eccentricity. And just so. To record some thoughts I’ve had on the subject.

Over the last year or so, I’ve been feeling every once in a while what a very ordinary person I still am. And this ordinariness, in better moods, branches into an all-encompassing feeling of connectedness with humankind. I know, it sounds frightfully sentimental. Yesterday, as I was driving through the countryside, I felt that connectedness again. With the old ladies sitting and chatting behind me on the bus, the farm workers, the cats on windows and roofs, the boys playing football. The entire cycle of life and my own small part in it too. It’s a funny sort of feeling. Like looking down upon life and yourself, whilst at the same time submitting to its ways. I guess it sounds very cryptic, so without further ado, a little exercise in ordinariness:

  1. There is absolutely nothing wrong with me. I have arms and legs. I can walk and run and am in good health. I am not tall, but I’m not terribly short either. I’m not strikingly beautiful, but I’m not ugly either. My hair could be thicker and nose could be smaller, but overall, there’s nothing wrong with my looks.
  2. I prescribe to no modern eating style, except that of trying to eat healthy on a regular basis. This means I try to avoid ice cream that is made up of water, coconut fat and 10% of milk powder and seek out foods with higher quality raw ingredients. Real, genuine stuff as much as possible. However, I’m not religious about it and if I feel like it, I’ll eat marshmallows, colourful candy and Emperor burgers. So, I’ll be an ideal guest to any family. No special demands. Will eat and drink almost anything.
  3. I like sports, such as skating, rollerblading, swimming, cycling and would happily try some more if I could afford it (windsurfing, yachting). Other days I’m very lazy and only like to do things at home.
  4. I like having friends and spending time with people. I like to give and receive affection.
  5. I complain about the weather, the government and where the world is going at this rate.
  6. I would like to win in the lottery.
  7. I want to have a lovely home of my own, and to have children and grandchildren one day.
  8. I enjoy birthdays and Christmas and other holidays.
  9. I am bored out of my wits watching some highly revered films. I just don’t get them. The authorial way of looking and showing is alien to me.
  10. I laugh when something amuses me and cry when something hurts me. I think kittens are angelically cute and serial killers pure evil.

I stretched it to ten, but that list was far harder than I predicted. Not because I was so extraordinary, but because a lot of these things are almost undefinable. As I said above, a feeling of connectedness. But abstract, not concrete. Seeing you are alike with the rest and that the differences are trivial compared to the overwhelming commonalities.

A lecturer of mine once said that those who are truly different never stress their difference. And I don’t know if he got that idea from somewhere or whether it was his own, it’s a brilliant idea regardless. It got instantly adopted into my personal life philosophy. I am relatively different from the mainstream, there is no questioning that, but what is my difference compared to that of some who can’t pass off as normal nowhere. Who would like to, but can’t. Me, with all my strange ways, I could theoretically go to a night club and not stand out. Of course, there are places where I’d feel extremely uncomfortable and out of my element, but outsiders wouldn’t know that. I’d look alright. Perhaps shy and awkward, but that’s not the same thing. I suppose that’s the essential ordinariness. I can blend in or digress at will. The truly different, they cannot.

However, I’m not 100% positive which I am in the end. Does emphasising it alone mean that I’m not THAT different? Probably. But what then of my early years when all I did was to hide it painstakingly, up until 17-18 for sure. Was I truly different then and now am not? Or have I simply learnt self-acceptance and confidence. God knows. And I don’t suppose it matters. I am what I am. Ordinary or different.

It is most likely situational.

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