The Corner of Irrelevance

Chapter 2 The Problem with Mediocrity By almost any measure, I have led a mediocre life. I course through my existence as a middle-of-the-range performer at best. My virtues are few and far between and my vices are timeless. Average, typical, normal…these are words that pretty much sum up who and what I am. Average is safe. No one questions what is normally typical. I don’t like rocking the boat, neither am I comfortable with trouble. So I put in my time, do what I’m told, and hope that someday, things will work out all right. Hope, I think, is the only thing I’m good at. Hope that my work station will transform into an office one day. Hope that my hard work will earn me a promotion…and that needed raise. My pea brain tells me I am just one of them…a school of fish, a swarm of bees, an army of caterpillars. I am no different from everyone else. I am safe. I am secure. The thing is, at night when I finally lie down on my bed to sleep and I think about my day, I cringe at the idea that I am just one of the so many. I wince at the thought of expectations half achieved, of risks not taken, of never really being able to live a full life…because of the fear of failure and defeat. Because it is so much easier to be regular…common…mediocre. Was I born mediocre or did I simply choose to be one? Will I always be middle management? The problem with mediocrity is that at some point in time it brings one to scrutinize his life…his path; and when such scrutiny results to nothing but regret, what choice does anyone have but to end his worthless life? Mediocrity scares the living hell out of me. But mediocrity is easy. So is dying.