On Being Average

Best part of my day was my excursion to GO. The organic tortilla chips weren’t bad at all. I found them in the same aisle as the V8 and queried, Why not? I wasn’t particular. What had led me there this morning was mere curiosity to see how life would take me. Turns out I was equal with other people, no more nor less. I was just another guy. That’s the experience of shopping. No one knows you anyway. The cashier will make you feel welcome, but for an obvious reason. Nothing social to be hoped for on a shopping trip where nobody knows you. In my drinking days, I always felt important everywhere I went. Sober today, I feel ordinary – which is right. I find I’m confident enough to “dare to be average.” It’s a paradox, overcoming the alcoholic superman to be a normal guy. I think I like it :smiley:

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At the checkout counter, I could almost see my person from the outside, objectively. I was a man, not a boy; yet a man not particularly interesting. A brown-haired man sort of like my dad. A man one could take or leave, but overall, pretty nice. I was a man that women might like okay, but not a ladies’ man per se. Just a guy, a mortal like everybody. Someone with a Social Security number, an “unknown citizen” until you talk with him. The subjective ego on fire to make a mark on human history was dropped, left behind me like a snakeskin. I was a common man buying four grocery items. It felt kind of good: like my 12yo identity advanced to maturity. I was the grown-up kid who’d read all those ERB novels. The nondescript one who’d read trashy fiction purchased at Oregon Foods. The guy who, when the sound and fury was over, was still just a molasses cookie munching cartoon-watcher. My secondary, alcoholic self got a stake thru its heart. The Mighty Mouse boy stood, fully-grown, in its place.

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Nice post. But I talk in the supermarket occasionally. If I can’t find something I will ask a friendly looking stranger or sometimes I will be in an aisle with someone and just smile or get smiled at. Occasionally.

It is somehow pleasing to be just an ordinary guy as you say. I just am pleased when people in public glance at me for two seconds and then go on their way. Like my psychiatrist told me long ago, out in public at stores or at malls or the doctors office, most people who are strangers don’t hate you or they don’t love you, they are mostly neutral about you and just doing their own thing and not concentrating on us.

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You guys sound like you don’t have the thought broadcasting delusion, which makes you feel like the centre of attention wherever you go. Enviable to not have that.

I used to have that delusion, actually. But since giving up booze and being on Vraylar for five months, I feel more like average.

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