the averageness of being

i am your average person. average = stereotypical, sometimes. average = mediocre, perhaps. average = usual/ ordinary, very much so. i am a standard packet of dreams, ideas and hopes that fill a million other hearts, and occupy mind space across the spectrum. nothing different. (and don't we all seem to strive to be that? your biggest selling point in this world is what makes you *different*, unlike the rest, worthy of attention...) 

someone once told me that its good to be average. because it'd make you strive to be better. whats the fun in being perfect (and i use the term fairly loosely here)...perhaps. my only reason for buying that argument would be because of the person who said it. there i go being average again - for doesn't your average person let sentiment intrude into judgment?

sometimes it is hard to live with this averageness of being. and you go seeking refuge in the supposed brightness of intellect and maturity of thought the world attributes to you (until the moment comes when you realize that such attributes are less (if any) about you and more about a benevolent spirit, a generous heart and above all a happy mood...)

often you realize your averageness lies in exactly what you thought was unique to you...like crying in the washroom. apparently, half the world does that. of course, men just don't cry, so we all know which half of the world i am talking about. an emotional scene in a movie or a song may see me going sniff! sniff! much like half the world. 

i used to have your average hopes of the future, some of us like to call them dreams...that the pursuit of happiness shall be complete...and one is happy and doing everything we were ever meant to do! you want to think your relationships, including but not limited to the family, are special. and then you reach the stage where you deliberately make plans for the evening to reach home as late as possible, because you just dont feel like being home, lest it turn out to be another slugfest! one can gloat on that until someone comes along to tell you - 'dude, what are you cribbing about? you are the average family. its not perfect for anyone. (not that you were expecting perfection!) and for many people, normal has always been abnormal, its always been troublesome.' true. so mine is the average happy, sometimes not so happy family. and the fact that i have seen better days makes me oh so average that i cannot begin to describe!!

and as this goes on you wonder whether to live with this averageness, or to rise above it so to speak. strive and all that. like you tell a hundred others. once again, the average preacher. i am also the average fool - the one who knows better, but doesn't help their own cause. 

do i detest the tag? i can't say for sure. i admit to fighting it sometimes. do i give up? yes. do i try again? yes. do i care? sometimes. does it matter? no.

the average in me seeks redemption just as feverishly as the non-average part of me (which is but a fignment of my imagination, and i let the illusion be)...i am still trying to figure out whether salvation lies in giving one's whole self to either one of these categories. until then, i remind myself:

Alice: Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?

The Cat: That depends a good deal on where you want to get to.

Alice: I don't much care where.

The Cat: Then it doesn't much matter which way you go.

Alice: …so long as I get somewhere.

The Cat: Oh, you're sure to do that, if only you walk long enough.