If I look to my own life, I find little inspiration. I am truly the epitome of the ordinary average Joe. I wasn’t picked on in high school. Prom was nothing special; a dance in the high school cafeteria where I wore a rented tux. I wasn’t scorned by the popular kids, nor was I one of them. I got along with the jocks and the band geeks.
I can’t sing. I can’t play an instrument. I’m not an athlete. I was never the fastest, nor the slowest runner. I wasn’t the first one picked when teams were chosen. I certainly wasn’t the last one picked either.
My home life and childhood was good. I had loving parents who gave me what they could and supported me in every way.
I got slightly better than average grades in school. I had a girlfriend. I had a good time in college but was rather anonymous.
I have three kids, a wife and a middle class existence.
I am, like you, a perfect nobody. An average guy, living in the Midwest. Hardly the inspiration for the next great American novel. I live the “Seinfeld” of lives.
I can cook all the dishes your Mom prepared when you were a kid. I probably make them just as good, but not better. I can do basic home repair, but no more.
I probably traveled more than most, unless you were in the military.
I often joke that I would have been voted Most Forgettable in high school, but no one could remember my name.
Heck, even this little-read blog is anonymous.
I live the average life. I’m like you. There is no “It’s a Wonderful Life” story about me. I didn’t touch anyone’s life. I haven’t done good in the community. I’ve inspired no one. I’m good with that.
It just makes for boring.