Normal

My whole life, I longed to be normal...

For most of my life, I remember feeling so "different." I was the shy, awkward kid who never fit in. I was always the last one picked for playground games. I was the wall flower at dances. I was short. I was husky. I was the one the kids teased and picked on.

All I wanted was to be normal. To blend in with the crowd.

Yet, at the same time... I was the bright, cute, teacher's pet. I was the precocious sensitive child that the adults all loved. I was special. I loved the attention, craved the attention, sought the attention.

As a young adult, I still sought to fit in, to be "one of the guys." Yet, I aspired to be something special. I wanted to be a chief, not just another indian. I wanted to be great at something, renowned, "the best."

Strange, huh? I wanted to be average, and exceptional, all at the same time.

I went to a small high school at which I was an exceptional student. Had a good circle of friends, was given some leadership / responsibility roles. I was a relatively big fish in a small pond. Somewhat normal - and exceptional - all at the same time. And, reasonably happy.

Strangely enough, I think the closest I ever came to achieving both of these came during my college years. No, not while at college - that was about as far from either as I've ever been - a lower-middle class kid at a rich kid's school, an outsider loner living in the independent dorms on the fringe of a campus where the cool people lived in fraternities in "the quad" at the center of the campus, a student whose grades helped "lower the curve" because they hovered at the fringe of passing. Definitely a very small fish in a pretty big pond. And, pretty miserable.

But, for those almost two years during which I dropped out - of school - and airplanes - I came close. Skydiving made me feel like I was special, and I felt part of a special group. Not totally at first, and not ever fully, but close. At first, I still didn't quite fit in. Now, I was the spoiled middle-of-the-road rich kid who still didn't fit in with the renegades, the skydiver whose skills were okay - not "shit hot." But, over time, my skills improved, and the complexion of our little core group changed as the "old guard" drifted off, and new folks came in to replace them. I found myself where my skills were pretty good - not the best, but not bad. Where I was liked and respected by many, but not all. And where now, when I visited friends still in school, rather than being viewed as boring and dull, I was viewed as somewhat exciting and dangerous. Again, relatively larger fish in a relatively smaller pond - and relatively happy.

Then I returned to school and "the real world." The return wasn't as bad as the first experience, and was probably the best choice in the long run. Even though I now lived alone, off campus, I didn't feel quite so alone. And even though I shot for "C's" rather than "A's or F's" I felt better about my academics. I still jumped some on the weekends, had my circle of friends.

After I graduated, I got a job at a small company. I made friends, I advanced in my career. I got married, I had kids and a dog. Had my middle class house, in my middle class neighborhood, supported by my middle management job which I performed to above average standards. Even though I had stopped jumping, I guess because of work, I felt somewhat special. Once again, relatively bigger fish in a relatively smaller pond, and relatively happy. Over the course of fifteen years, I climbed my way towards the top of the company. I never made it all the way to the top, or even to the most inner circle, but I came close. Not quite the brass ring, but not too shabby.

Then, the company got sold to a very large corporation. The pot of gold that I had always thought I would share in turned out to be not much more than a tin cup with a few coins. All of a sudden, I was once again a small fish in a very large pond. Strange how one can feel "like a fish out of water" when one is a small fish in a large pond.

My next couple of career changes were to progressively larger companies. Even though each change yielded a "promotion" in absolute terms, in relative (to the company) terms, I drifted down in the pecking order. Now the ponds were oceans with lots of much bigger, much smarter, much more aggressive fish. And work seemed to become more and more the only defining element for me. There wasn't anything else - no hobbies, no sports, nothing "special."

So, here I find myself. Middle aged, statistically average (for America) weight and height (which to my view is short and fat). Average job providing a middle class (i.e. average) income supporting a middle class lifestyle. Making no discernible impact on the cosmos. A pebble cast upon the water that yields no ripples.

I've achieved all that I had initially wanted - to be normal. I guess I never quite understood back then that "normal" also meant "just average" and "mediocre."

So kids, be careful what you wish for, you just might get it...

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Posted by David at March 22, 2005 09:11 AM