My Blissful Journey to Ordinariness

 When I was young, in my childhood and young adult years, I fancied myself quite an extraordinary person with special talents not possessed by other people. Buttressing this confidence were the statements made to me by other people, who told me I had extraordinary talents.

I realized lately that lately I felt as if I have made a journey to considering myself hardly extraordinary at all, but rather typical, especially as a specimen of my cohort within the flow of the passing generations.  Of course this has been a hit to my ego, on the hand, but on the other hand it has given me great peace to know how ordinary I am--almost a stereotype in some ways---and it has strangely given me a feeling of meaning to my life.

I had thought the meaning of my life was to use my alleged extraordinary talents to provide some great contribution to humanity through creative uses of my intellect. Somehow this never happened. The years went by. Judged on the standards of my childhood, and what people expected of me, I am nearly a complete washout.

But as an ordinary man, I have found new purpose is being, well, ordinary. Even this blog I write, and have written for over fifteen years now fits into this. I imagine this blog will disappear into the aether at some point when Blogger shuts down and the database is destroyed. Or I will leave this earth and my dormant account will be removed. This does not even include the inevitable end of all material things in the universe, however that happens, but certainly which no computer server can survive.

Even many years ago, when I was a scientist I have said to myself, "suppose there is some end to all of our civilization, and years from now there is an archaeologist or archivist who stumbles upon old writings preserved in some means, and suppose, by some pure random act, they include everything I have written. Suppose however that one's one name and identity is not preserved---only ones writings---so that they are effectively anonymous to people in the future who find them. What I would I then bother to write?"

In thinking about Classical Antiquity, it's clear that many of the most valuable writings are anything that preserves a sense of the life of ordinary citizens.  Do you see where I'm going with this thought?

Here then is a typical man. I have the advantage of being a white man, which according to current thinking means there is nothing special about my "identity" that needs expressing or explaining. Too much ink, phyical and digital, has been spilled by and about people like me, So that's another way I'm free to be ordinary. No respectable publisher would be the least bit interested in my story, or any of my stories, because of my sex and skin color disqualifies me. What a burden has been lifted from me, to attempt to publish anything by that route! I say that without irony. 

Instead I can just write to you, my dear readers, especially the ones who keep coming back here, and also to anyone reading this in the distant future.