Todd Dufrene Unique Human

One of my deepest fears is my fear of being average. Not that there is anything at all wrong with being an 'Average Joe'. In fact, our similarities and averageness are the glue that hold us together. A commonality that says "welcome brother, you are part of the great fraternity of humanity". In fact, it is hard for us to relate to someone we perceive as vastly superior, or inferior, to ourselves. We tend to avoid them and label them as freakish. Such is the plight of the genius, or the idiot-savant, or the garden variety idiot. All equally alien. All equally abnormal. All equally outside of the parameters of what we can relate to.

I am no great thinker. I am not driven. I am not a superior athlete, businessman, or intellect. Neither am I a complete moron, quadriplegic, or sluggard. Much to my chagrin, I fall somewhere in the middle of that giant bell curve that defines averageness. Remarkable only in my exceptional mediocrity. Neither high enough up the scale to be proud nor low enough to be entertainingly and endearingly inept.

A friend of mine emailed me and indicated jokingly (I hope) that I would really benefit from a little therapy. In my reply, I found myself exaggerating my own craziness, for comedic effect, but also (to psychoanalyze myself for a moment) out of a need to be exceptional. Better to be crazy (exceptional) than sane (average). It's as if I could deal better with being on either extreme of the sanity scale – but not in the middle. Of course, saying I was extremely sane was out of the question, since no one would buy that, so I had to opt for the insane option (which holds more comedic promise anyway). If you can't go for the gold – go for the laugh, right?

Everyone wants to fit in. Everyone wants to be special. Most want some claim to fame, but to remain safely within the confines of normalcy. Of course there are exceptions. You will always meet the occasional rebel who revels in standing outside of the mainstream. But, even then, they usually feel the need to have a common bond with other rebels. There will be a baseline normalcy within any chosen niche.

The biker. The brain surgeon. The tattoo artist. The corporate executive. It's all relative. Most will end up in the middle of their own subgroup's scale. Of course a mediocre brain surgeon still, hopefully, has exceptional intelligence and dexterity as compared to the population at large. The biker may think himself quite a rebel. He may have the baddest bike and the coolest tats in town. Then he goes to Sturgis and realizes that his bike and his tats are, well, average within that group.

Of course the person who likes to blend in and longs to be accepted, has an equally hard task. We do have an underlying common humanity, but also an endless diversity of variations. Snowflakes. People. Each unique. Each individual. We do, at first glance, seem to be a homogeneous mass, but look closer at that ordinary looking person you see beside you. Their features are not exactly like anybody else's. The twists and turns of their life story would probably shock you. You truly cannot judge a book by it's cover. Who knows how many unassuming Clark Kents hide a Superman inside? Who knows how many apparent statuesque gods have feet of clay?

I guess the question becomes how to stand out and yet blend in. How to be exceptional and yet be acceptable. How to be neither a nameless, faceless drone nor a sideshow attraction. How to reconcile the great paradox I am: unique – human.