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The Lameness of Being Unique

This is going to sound strange coming from me, but there’s something to be said for keeping your ego in check.

When I was a kid, teachers and administrators spent a lot of time telling my parents how gifted I was, how I was special. Beyond just being a bright, precocious child, I was somehow ahead of the other kids in the class. They wanted to put me into special class with other kids like me so I could be properly challenged. They told my parents I was unique.

But when those classes failed to challenge me, when I lost interest even in the supposed accelerated learning courses, the teachers began to believe I wasn’t unique enough. And they told my parents so. And they told me so.

Whether or not those special classes for gifted students were a good idea or not is beside the point, except to point out this: It’s a really bad idea to instill a need to be unique into a person.

I hate labeling people, as a rule. A white suburban child saying race doesn’t matter to him probably doesn’t sound very impressive, but I don’t like categorizing people by anything. I don’t set my friends aside because they’re creative, good at cooking, wear glasses, read comics, or date both men and women. Those are merely aspects of who they are as people. I certainly don’t spend a lot of my time comparing those aspects in my close associates or loved ones. And when other people do, I get uncomfortable.

Especially when they do it to make themselves feel better. Or feel superior.

I don’t consider myself to be unique. That word, like quirky, is a big, bright flashing warning that I’m not thinking enough to be descriptive. Other people may think I’m unique, and that’s fine. The sweetest thing anyone ever said to me was in college, where a co-worker told me I march to the beat of my own drummer. The thought had honestly never occurred to me. I’m just a guy, right? If someone thinks I’m special I must be doing something right. What separates me from the true douchey people in this world is that I don’t believe I’m better than anyone else, and certainly not because I would happen to read a specific book or enjoy a particular song. I would hope there’s more to me than my interests. I suppose some people really think they’re completely original.

The truth is, no one is original. We’re all just broken pieces from the same vase. There is no OG.

If your schtick is that you’re the different girl, you need a new schtick. Because there are millions of people out there just like you, making the same decisions, drinking the same Kool-Aid. And trying to out-different them doesn’t make you cool.

A writer friend of mine spent a leisurely walk with me discussing a couple of bands we’d just checked out. She kept trying to paint this picture of one of the bands selling out because they were signed to Sub Pop. Like, really trying. Square block into circle hole. Finally, I just flat-out told her that she was wrong. Just because you tell yourself something doesn’t make it true.

That writer friend, by the way, is cut from the exact same mold as a girl I used to date, right down to the sardonic tone of voice. The only thing different is her tolerance for cheap beer and her strong work ethic. 

Don’t spend your time trying to be so different. Just be yourself. 

Momentary seriousness.

This isn’t going to be the best week for me. Lots of ghosts coming back to haunt. Already it’s worse than I thought it would be. 

To the few of you who read this, please accept my apologies in advance. I might write some stuff that will either hurt your feelings or make you feel depressed. I’ve got other places I could put it, but I think I’d rather have it here. Not that it makes any sense, but this feels more like “home” right now. 

Who knows? Maybe content will be a good thing.

Official Gmail Blog: Mail Goggles

Ever written an email to an ex that you regretted later, after sobering up? You too? Well, Google’s got you covered.

Do you really need more proof that Google is the coolest company in the world after this?

Flexitarians: Can You Be a Part-Time Vegetarian? via: Newsweek.com

A random, caffeine-fueled thought...

Let’s float a hypothetical situation out there: Say you’re at a coffee shop and someone catches your interest. They look attractive and bright, appealing and quite possibly rewarding. After twenty minutes of building up the required amount of courage, you convince yourself to go over and start a conversation, or at least to ask if you and the object of your intentions can meet.

But you’re sitting in a coffee shop. So you can’t really ask them to coffee, can you? What’s your backup plan?

I’m convinced, as I watch these people funnel into and out of this wonderful, artistic coffee shop, that this is a terrible place to meet people. It limits your options.

Or maybe I’m telling myself that because it’s easier to hide in the corner with my book.

I’m waiting for someone else to make a move, prove me wrong. If this guy on my left can work up the nerve to go talk to the tall brunette, this whole post was for nothing. Otherwise, I should win some kind of Internet award for observations stemming from anti-social behavior. 

Grammar counts.