"Escape the Ordinary" and Other Deceptive Platitudes

Inspired by Sumeeta's and the Bougie Black Boy's recent posts on introspection and questioning ourselves and the world around us, I've been feeling particularly self-aware today. Then I was sent the following text by a man that I work with at my church. I've copied most of it word-for-word (you'll find the props for the writer at the bottom of the entry, so no, I'm not breaking any copyright laws...) and I really liked the message. So I present for your enjoyment, "Escape the Ordinary" and other deceptive platitudes:

Escape the Ordinary
Let’s do a little word-association exercise. What is the first word that comes to mind when you hear the word... Ordinary... Normal... Average...

What was your initial response to the words above? What kind of feelings do these words generate? Would you describe these feelings as positive or negative? What do you picture in your mind when you hear these words? Is it something desirable or undesirable? The fundamental question at the heart of this exercise is this: Is ordinary good or bad? We know that last is bad, and first is good, but what is average? We know that abnormal is undesirable and perfect is unrealistic, so what is normal?

The Search for the Average American
Kevin O’Keefe began research on his book The Average American: The Extraordinary Search for the Nation’s Most Ordinary Citizen, in part, to discover what America thinks of averageness. He asks, "[D]oes being average in our culture mean losing, or winning?" According to popular advertisements, ordinary is undesirable – something to escape from rather than be thankful for.

O’Keefe highlights many advertisements that take this stance: A national campaign for Wachovia promises to provide "Uncommon Wisdom." Another financial services company, E*Trade, urges us to "Challenge the Ordinary." Nissan wants us to "Escape the Ordinary," and Butterfinger to "Break Out of the Ordinary." The respective slogans for Corona and Red Hook Ale are "Miles Away from the Ordinary" and "Defy Ordinary." A Pepperidge Farms commercial concludes with the tagline "Never Have an Ordinary Day." (All of this from companies that want to handle your money or sell you cars, candy bars, beer, or, literally, white bread.) Universal Orlando Resort wants us to "Take a Vacation from the Ordinary."

What is so bad about "the ordinary" that advertisers feel that they must rescue us from it? Are we losers if everything from our candy to our financial situation is ordinary [although it must be noted that "[t]oday’s average-income Americans are better off financially than over 99 percent of people who have ever lived"]? Are we winners or losers if we are simply average?

It is commonly assumed that sports are about extraordinary achievements. Though true,[1] O’Keefe notes that in Major League Baseball, "ordinary effort" is the level players must reach to have their defensive play praised in the history books. Official scorers apply that standard when deciding if a fielder should be credited with an error-free play. On offense, players are predominately defined by their "average." For more than sixty years, every major league hitter has finished the season with an average of under .400; they each failed as a batter more than six out of ten times.

A common saying in sports is "winning is everything." But is this the case?

For many who play sports, winning is not nearly as important as enjoying the game and one’s fellow players. "If kids were in charge, there would still be a retreat from a win-only mentality. Some 64 percent of young athletes would rather play on a losing team for a coach they like than on a winning team for a coach they dislike, a November 2005 Sports Illustrated for Kids survey shows."

Throughout the book, O’Keefe discovers sports that offer awards for ordinary achievements. One recipient of a "Mediocre Award" boasts, "We are all losers, so lighten up and spread peace and joy." Based on 140 criteria obtained from census information, polls, and various studies, O’Keefe identified the most average town in America (Windham, Connecticut) and after a long search, happened upon a man who met all 140 criteria within that town – Robert Burns (a.k.a. Zooman), a maintenance worker at Windham Tech. Robert is a happy husband, devoted father, good neighbor, faithful worker, committed church-goer, and patriotic citizen. He loves God, family, community, and nation. He is not "great" but he is certainly good. In spite of his averageness, O’Keefe experiences a deep and profound appreciation not only for Robert, but also for ordinary life in all its glory.

Joy in the Ordinary
The book raises issues that are precious to me. I have found that the greatest experiences, the most profound joys, the deepest peace, and the warmest satisfactions are found in ordinary, average, everyday, common existence. Even more, I have found that it is in the ordinary movements of life that the transcendent is most clearly encountered: a simple piece of bread, a normal cup of wine, a basin full of water, a meal with family and friends, a chance encounter in a grocery store, a short discussion over coffee, the smile of a passing stranger, the embrace of a child, a cool breeze upon my cheek, the calm of a hot bath. The list could go on indefinitely.

I find the same is true with people. There is a reason that O’Keefe mentions in a footnote that the "most successful films actually feature ‘ordinary’ characters. After all, to get pulled into the characters’ lives, we need to relate to them (thus one reason why Everyman actor Tom Hanks may be the most popular film star of his generation)". Most people are ordinary, average, common folk.

There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations — these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. So much for ordinary! And yet, only in the ordinary is this supra-ordinary reality discovered and experienced. Thus, the only way to "escape the ordinary" is by means of the ordinary. And this brings us full circle – back to the fundamental question at the heart of our initial word-association exercise: Is ordinary good or bad?

[1] Granted, professional baseball players still play at levels that exceed the "ordinary effort" of most people.
© Richard J. Vincent, 2005

Life alteration countdown: 2 weeks

I went to my surgeon today for my pre-operative appointment. This breast reduction surgery is scary stuff. The visit reassured me, even as it made me more anxious for the day to arrive.

First of all, I'll be asleep for three and a half hours while the surgery takes place. During this time, I'll have a catheter in my vagina so that I can pee. Okay, a tube to pee through doesn't sound like very much fun to me. Kind of painful, really. And gross. Plus, I can barely pee in my own home with the bathroom door open, even if no one is around...how am I going to be able to deal with it dripping into a bag at my bedside?! Embarassing, to say the least. And did I mention painful?

Was that too graphic and sudden for you, dear readers? I'm sorry. Do continue reading.

I'll be out of work for four weeks. The doctor is pretty sure I'll be ready to go in by then, and I might be able to do some light computer work prior to going back in the office. But he says I probably won't feel like it. I'm going to have to find a hobby that doesn't use my arms or torso. Maybe I'll take up biking.

So I guess I'm a little scared. It would be unnatural for me not to be scared, I think. This is major surgery. Asleep, some blood loss, can't-bathe-on-my-own, morphine drip major surgery. So I'm trying to think more about the end results than the in-between time.

My life is going to alter pretty drastically after this surgery. I can't wait. I could do without the catheter, though. I'm sure you understand.

Damn, it's COLD

Why do I want to move here again? It is cold as shit outside! But so far, a successful trip...

The flight up here was a little crazy. Mostly because we had a really long delay and then all of a sudden had to board and take off in 12 minutes. The pilots did a great job of getting us into the air and to Chicago quickly...although I did overhear that he was trying to adjust to commercial flying after several years as a Navy pilot. That could explain the sharp turns/acceleration on the runway and the crashing-into-the-seat-in-front-of-you stop when we landed.

Sunday I went to this huge event that my client has each year for its customers. There were almost 700 people there. We all got bussed over to Soldier Field. Good food. Former Chicago Bears players. Open bar. Stadium tours. Open bar.

Today we held a satellite media tour from the booth. For those of you that don't know, a satellite media tour basically connects any TV station that signs up to a live interview via satellite. So we had a bunch of TV stations that signed up to get footage and an interview with an energy efficiency expert. Each station got its own unique segment. It was the first one I've ever gotten to see, so that was cool. Except that I had to be there at 7:00 am and didn't end my day until 6:30. So it was a long day spent on my feet.

And then there was the cab ride to dinner with my friend Emily. I'm fairly certain that the cab driver was intentionally trying to kill me. We took some turns at a crazy pace. And if there was a light three blocks down that turned yellow, he sure as hell sped up to try to make it. And there was the muttering in some language that most certainly was NOT English. But there was soothing classical music on the radio station...probably to calm the heart rates of the passengers!

But I DID get to see my friend Emily, who is going to send me some info on agencies in Chicago for me to start researching. We had a really good dinner downtown and got all caught up on each other's life.

The cab ride home was far less eventful. Nice. But eventful or not, I love cab rides, because I never get to ride in a cab. It's the little pleasures, people! Don't roll your eyes because I get excited to hail a cab!!! I live in Dayton. We have to call a cab company and then wait an hour to get service.

So I'm about to PASS OUT from exhaustion and tomorrow is sure to be another crazy and busy day. To all my blog homies that I haven't talked to in a while, I'll be visiting your sites soon so bear with me!

Packing - Ugh

I'm in the midst of packing for my business trip to Chicago. Ugh. It takes me forEVER to pack. I usually pack too much, take a bunch of stuff out, then re-pack. Unfortunately, this means that it takes me twice as long as it should.

I'm a fairly organized person, but when it comes to packing for a trip, I can never get it right on the first try. I try to be judicious and pack only the items that I think I'll need - but inevitably I pack a pair of boots that I think I'll need and never end up wearing...and on and on.

I like unpacking at the end of a trip. It is easier for me, because I can just dump all the dirty laundry into the basket and slowly pick stuff out of my suitcase as I need to use it.

Question: Which do you dislike more, packing for a trip or unpacking after?

By the way, last night I went to Fricker's, which is kind of like a BWW but local to Ohio. It isn't the place where you'd expect to see a dance off...but there was! A dance off! I love dance battles, I am endlessly entertained by them and secretly hope to be in one some day. This particular dance off was between a 10 year old kid and a 22 year old kid. It was a break dance competition for an aluminum Budweiser sign. Oh, and it was '80s night.

Now this particular dance off is disturbing for multiple reasons. 1) It was between a 10 year old and a 22 year old. 2) It was to a Michael Jackson song ("Beat It"). 3) It was in Fricker's. 4) A 10 year old was in Fricker's on a Friday night after 10:00. 5) It was breakdancing. BREAKDANCING!!!

Dis.Turb.Ing. Yet entertaining!

I'm BACK, bitches!

Ladies and Gentlemen, Lauren insert-last-name-here is back. Back in top form. I have to provide some background, in a series of proof points I intend to support the phrase, "Back to the fact, I'm the Mack and I know that."

ITEM: On Wednesday I got asked out by "Mafia Boy", a wholesome looking "Growing Up Gotti" wannabe - slicked back hair, leather jacket. After talking with him, I learned that looks are deceiving. He still isn't my type, but I took his number with the promise to call.

ITEM: Also on Wednesday, I fell in crush. I'll call him "Trapshoot Guy". His sense of humor is easily the sexiest thing about him and what I am most attracted to. He also isn't my type, but I find myself strangely attracted to the lip ring becuase it fits him. And he is SHY! I adore shy, even though it means that I have to usually make the first move. But he took my number (and called me soon after just to make sure I got his). Such a crush!

ITEM: Today I got a call from a "Zulu Warrior." All ebony skin and exotic eyes. He asked me on my first official date since Andy. We ate at one of my favorite restaurants. He bought wine. He is interesting and funny and well-rounded and well-educated. And SLICK. Too slick for me.

ITEM: Tomorrow night I'm meeting friends from work to go see the amazing band Shrug, where I'm sure to meet "The Producer." At Shrug's first show this winter, "The Producer" asked our mutual friend Eric to introduce us...but alas, it was time to go prepare for the show and I left before they were done performing. But he asked Eric to keep an eye out for me at the next show and officially introduce us. No word yet on whether he'll actually be there tomorrow, but all signs point to yes.

Four men and one crush. And so you can conclusively see that I'm back to pre-stalker, pre-Andy single girl form.

Only two things can bring me (slightly) down from the "I'm back in the single life" post-date giddiness. An unexpected apology from Andy for being a jerk about the whole Nutcracker thing, because seeing a message from his screen name still gives me that little pinch around my heart. And a call from Mr. Big (the first love and high school sweetheart detailed in the post below...), because seeing his name in my caller ID still gives me butterflies 8 years later.

But I'm not letting it get to me. After all, four men and one crush. Yep, I'm back.

Letter to Mr. Big

(Parenthetical subtitle: Saying goodbye to your first love.)

Hello, Mr. Big,

Why do you torture me like this?

You called me again last night. What has it been this time, a month? You were just calling to wish me a "Happy New Year." And when I didn't have much to say, you did what you always do:

"You're not very talkative tonight. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just don't have anything to say."

"Oh. It's just unusual, that's all. My girl always has a million things to say."

Well, yes, that much is true. I do usually have a million things to say. So do you, you know. Usually, what you have to say is something along the lines of, "You know I'm going to marry you one day."

How long have you been saying that, exactly? It's been so long, I think I've lost track of just how many times we've had this same conversation. It always ends up the same.

You want to marry me one day.

Do you really believe that? If you did, would you have done something about it already? Are you just biding your time, waiting until you've had all the fun you possibly can before taking the leap of faith that we've talked about so often? Or do you tell me that, thinking that it is what I want to hear, wishing perhaps that it is what you want to hear, too. Knowing it isn't true.

I was going to "break up with you" tonight, you know. A few weeks ago, after your monthly calll, I wrote it all down. I had it all planned out. The last monthly call call was the final straw. Another round of you saying that you still love me, that you want to marry me and have babies with me, that you want to start now and take me out. Do you remember that conversation, Mr. Big?

Do you remember how I told you it wasn't true, that it wouldn't happen and that you didn't really want to take me on a date? Do you remember how I told you that I just don't believe you? Do you remember how you said you'd call me to set it up, that I'd see that you're serious (this time, at least)?

And then you call today. To check up on "your girl" to see how she's doing. You burst my first-date giddiness. As I saw your number on my called ID, I wondered if I should answer. The words that I had written down and practiced and planned froze in my throat. It was the first "hey sweetheart" that had me holding back. You're the only one who can call me that, without me thinking it sounds wrong. A single, simple word can change so many things so quickly.

And though we talked for a while, I didn't say any of those words that I had thought about so closely. The words just didn't come to me. I found that I didn't have a million things to say. I found I didn't have anything to say at all.

Yet somehow, in the end, I had one word. It sounded cold and raw coming from my mouth, and I hoped that you'd read between the lines, notice that I didn't have anything to say to you anymore. Even as I said it and hoped you'd read between the lines, I wondered if it even meant it. On a sigh of defeat and resignation that I didn't say it sooner or with enough conviction I spoke the words I've tried so often to say:

Goodbye, Mr. Big.

Deep down in my heart, I believe in soulmates. I sometimes even believe that you are mine. But to protect the heart that you've never been able to hold gently enough, I had to say it. I had to do it for me. And if it is meant to be, it will. Afterall, we've always said that we're convinced that we're eachother's great loves because if we weren't, we would move into eachother's lives with such ease, or out with such difficulty.

50 Things About Me

1) My favorite color is pink
2) I love to get pedicures
3) It grosses me out when milk gets dry and crusty around the lid
4) I like cream in my coffee
5) I stay in my pj's for as long as possible on Sundays
6) I'm a planner
7) I also like to be spontaneous
8) And I like to take risks. Calculated risks. Within reason.
9) When I love, I do so fully and without reservation
10) I'm sometimes tempermental
11) I think porn is funny
12) My favorite t.v. shows are "Grey's Anatomy" and "Gilmore Girls"
13) I like to keep my toenails painted
14) I'm funny
15) I'm only 5' 1" but my license says I'm 5' 2"
16) I'm a good rollerskater, but not a good rollerblader
17) I sliced open my knee when I was 6 but I never got stitches
18) I like to fly
19) I like all kinds of music, from Kanye West to Paul Wall to Kelly Clarkson and the Dixie Chicks
20) I think the best thing a man can do for his woman is respect her
21) I like to cook, and I'm usually pretty good at it
22) I'm really good at playing trivia
23) I like to drink beer
24) I love sushi
25) I was one of two white girls on my cheerleading squad in high school
26) I worry about making other people happy more often than I worry about making myself happy
27) I admire both of my parents
28) I have two younger brothers, 21 and 18
29) My two cars have both been grey
30) I'm attracted to dark-haired guys.
31) I will surprise you by looking as good in a Tshirt and jeans as a fancy dress and 3" heels
32) I look forward to wearing flip flops in the summer
33) I read the paper in the morning
34) I order venti nonfat decaf caramel machiatos from Starbucks, even though I feel a little pretentious doing so
35) I enjoy a Grey Goose vodka tonic
36) I cried when Princess Diana died
37) I love to go to art museums, even if my taste runs towards the predictabe
38) I love so many songs, I would be hard-pressed to pick one as a favorite
39) I remember where I was the first time I saw "The Sound Of Music"
40) When I get a big box of chocolates, I save the cream-filled ones for last because they are my favorites
41) I buy my sneakers in the kids' shoe department
42) I've been on vacation by myself
43) If I could pick anywhere in the world to go on vacation, it would be a beach
44) I like to take naps
45) I fell in love at 16
46) I don't like Seinfeld or Everybody Loves Raymond
47) I am obsessed with watching Friends and Sex and the City reruns
48) I am a shoe fanatic
49) I like flowers on a first date, but think roses are cheesy and predictable
50) I like to make lists

Let's talk about sex, ba-by

WARNING: The following post may be somewhat graphic and may not be suitable for some readers. Adult supervision is advised. So if you don't like smutty erotica, you should stop reading. Now. For this is not for the faint of heart.

I need to get laid.

I'm going crazy over here. I can't put it in any simpler terms than that. I want to shout it to everyone, like a club promoter passing out a stack of flyers, in the hopes that someone will make it go away. HIM in particular.

I'm sure you know who I mean. In fact, we talked about it a few weeks ago:

"I'm bored and I'm on vacation. Wanna hook up?"

"Of course. I work tomorrow, but I'm off all weekend. Let me know if you wanna sex me."

"Cool. Why don't you get in touch with me after you get off work tomorrow and we'll see where we're at?"

And then, nothing. I never heard from him that night. In fact, I haven't heard from him since. Not that actually following up (or through) with things is really his style. But still, the rejection stung. It's not like I want to get back together, or anything. I just want to get laid! I mean, can't you just help a girl out?!

Maybe it is better this way, with us just ignoring each other. Maybe not talking to him will help me not think of all the hot, sweaty, inventive sex that I'd like to have with him. Maybe not talking to him will help me forget the feel of his lips against mine, the weight of his body on top of me, the flesh of his earlobe, the saltiness of the sweat on his shoulder, his tongue licking a path along the curve of my collar bone, the scratch of his chest hair against my softer skin, the sighs and sweet clutching of my belly when he touches me. Maybe not talking to him will help me forget the press of our bodies as we're sleeping, the insatiable appetite that we have for one another.

Yes, maybe not talking to him will get those thoughts out of my head once and for all. And maybe, just maybe, not talking to him will make those thoughts worse.

Not having sex and not sleeping. Tomorrow will be a fantastic day. Forecast calls for irritability.

Savoring the simple pleasures

I ate a Ferrero Rocher chocolate today.

My teeth sunk into the crisp outer shell of chocolate and hazelnut bits. As I bit deeper, I tasted the smooth inner ring of chocolate melting in my mouth. Then finally, the crunch of the hazelnut hidden deep inside.

As the nuts and the chocolate swam on my tongue, I was reminded of how important it is to savor the simple pleasures in life. It can be easy to overlook the enjoyment that can be found in eating a piece of chocolate...or any simple task that brings joy to your life. The big moments tend to define ourselves and our lives, but the smaller, simple moments are what make life special.

Tip of the day: Eat a piece of chocolate - or any food or beverage that you enjoy - and think about just how much you enjoy it. Take a moment to savor the tastes and textures in your mouth. And remember to savor the simple pleasures in life.

Bubbles in my chest? More like bubbles in my glass...

Well, the nervous, itchy feeling yesterday was just a fluke...at least, nothing has happened to suggest that the bubbles in my chest were warranted. I did, however, meet up with my friends Elise and Stacey after work for a beer or two or three...so there were bubbles in my glass, if nothing else!

But I'm still not sleeping well at night. I've been tossing and turning at nights, not falling asleep until really, really late. Something is weighing heavily on my psyche, and I can't quite put my finger on what it is.

I suppose it could be a combination of things. 1) The work situation is hairy right now. I found out that it was between me and the girl who got laid off. My boss picked me. My position is actually safer now than it was before, but still. To know that my boss was handed a directive, "Lay off one of these people" is pretty brutal.

2) This upcoming surgery. It is going to be a pretty costly procedure, and I'm not sure how my finances are going to hold up. I know my parents will support me if necessary; but I like to do things myself, take care of myself. I can't depend on them forever.

Not only that, but its a pretty major surgery. Major like I could die. Okay, the risks of me actually dying are small...but still. And a five week recovery period? Ick.

And, though it would be WAY illegal for them to do this, my company could look at the fact that I'm going to be non-billable for 5 weeks and say, "Screw it. She's not worth the cost of paying her sick time and short-term disability. She's of no use to us..."

I have come to a decision, though. 6 months. My goal is to be out of this office by 6 months. I've done a little research into jobs here and there, and was even offered a pretty good position in Cincinnati that I turned down. But I'm about to get really serious, here. I don't want to stay in a company where my financial future - the very financial future of the company - is uncertain.

So if you hear of any public relations agencies looking for an account executive, let me know.

Bubbles in my chest

Do you ever get that feeling in your chest like something is going to happen? That's what I've got going on right now. Pisces are said to be very intuitive...maybe my instincts are kicking in and trying to alert me to something that I don't know about.

More to come later! I just thought that dashing off a quick post my alleviate the bubbles in my chest.