Ordinary is okay

Let me start with this: “not everyone is going to become a president, a CEO, a superstar or any other noun that spears at overt riches and seemingly achieved fulfilment.” No. Not everyone is. And you know what? IT’S OKAY.

I’m not trying to shatter dreams or come off as awfully pessimistic. I promise you this isn’t my intention. Like I wrote in introduceyourself, these are my own thoughts. They really don’t have to count—to you at least. It’s just that, no matter how opportunistic the world becomes, majority, and I’m talking about the >90% of people won’t amount to anything particularly grand (like being the first man to live a day on Saturn). And that is okay.

Look, I’m 22 years old, and while I can’t say I have much life experience in my bank, there’s a particular truth that continually stands out, which is: I know nothing. And the more I read, live and experience, the more I realize how little I still know. My reading journeys make me stumble upon several quotes, ideas and beliefs that try to instigate this feeling of “I can do all” in all of us; to tell us that we can be great; that we can become anything if we put our minds to it. They cite examples of people who had nothing and later, by sheer hard work and perseverance make it. While this in itself is not a bad thing, the promises they offer are awfully misleading and sadly, not applicable to everyone. They forget that people are subjectively different and opportunities are not equal!

I shuttle commercial buses quite a lot because driving in Lagos is stressful and I’ll rather have someone drive me at the expense of a little discomfort than for me to struggle bad, narrow roads with drivers whose definition of patience has nothing to do with actually being patient. Naah, I’ll pass.

On the bus, I usually sit at an edged window seat, because it allows me to look out and observe. I love those situations frankly: me just sitting there by the edge of the window, music in my ears and my eyes trying to capture the fleeting moments as quickly as possible. And even when there’s traffic, the car still moves intermittently enough to allow coolness via breezing. Sometimes I smile. As I observe, so many things go through my mind—mostly because the sights trigger memories of things I’ve read, watched or thought about. I see people trying to live their day to day lives—mothers who have infants to feed living on the streets (and the question ‘where are their fathers’ come to mind); I see wives sitting in shops, makeshift shops, kiosks, waiting for customers, and looking at the road with that forlorn, wan look as if thinking “is anything better going to come along?”; I see youths with sagged trousers and scruffy hair sitting in corners prattling about football and tickets. I see children playing on the streets, naked and carefree, living without any worry or care, basking in momentary joie de vivre. I see beggars moving from car to car, pleading for alms as the car drivers try to avoid eye contact. I see abled youths selling ‘gala’ and sometimes chasing prospective buyers even at the peril of their own lives. I see all these things in my small corner of the bus and the only thing that prints in my mind is the word ‘privilege’.

You can’t tell me it’s these same people tholing every single day that are going to be great. I mean, c’mon, realism has to play a part here. It’s why when I read blogs centred on everybody’s ability to achieve greatness, I roll my eyes. Life is complex; it’s intricate and confounding. Philosophers can try to explain it, wise men may mix words to try and demystify it but they’ll only fail. The fact that life is relative in itself and that people’s experiences differ already sets way for misconstruction and ambiguity. But gratitude to the cosmos, the ether, or whatever deity on identifies by, will always be important.

I watched one of the many YouTube videos that are captioned ‘this is the most motivational video you’ll ever watch’ (yeah, those things get me. Hehehe…) and the first point the speaker made was that we should lay our beds immediately after we woke up. He later explained how achieving that one simple task allows our brains to trigger a sequence of cognitive rewards. Fine, but some people don’t even have beds to start with. I have tried to imagine myself in the shoes of these other people and I’ve come off short every single time because, really, my brain can’t process it.

So if motivational speakers are spouting such things like we can all be great, I think they should marginalize their audience and separate them into privileged and non-privileged, because what applies to one category does not apply to the other. There’s an answer on Quora which I saved because of the almost gospel truth of its content. I’ll post a screenshot here:

And even with the supposedly privileged ones, not all actually want to be great per say. Some enjoy the banality of it all. You know the way there are so many sayings against the conventional notion that we are not just born to work, have a family and die? That we were made for more? Not everyone actually cares about that; some are okay with banality. Take me for example: I graduated with honors in college and so, many will expect me to do something great with my life—like become the CEO of a big company or invent the next cool thing or something within that ilk. How laughable. I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but if you know me and are one of those, just forget it, or just throw that thought away. I mean, first of all, my actions are not premised on others’ expectations, and if I’m to succumb to that line of action, it’d be extreme folly. Secondly, I only graduated finely because school for some reason comes easy to me. School requires diligence, commitment and all other nouns that spear at a singleness of purpose, all of which I naturally grok. While others will be distracted by the party at the cafeteria or the prospect of that girl that sent ioi’s earlier, I’m busy playing FIFA or reading. Basically, my personality allowed me thrive well in such environment. In the real world, I’m not as hot as you’d think, mostly because the real world is too chaotic and selfish, while I in contrast am more placid and ‘ajebo’. I won’t change though.

Anyway, my point is, I’m fine with having a family and doing all those things the society contemporarily deems as merely existing and not living. I’m the kind of person that fantasizes about family: The wife and the kids sitting around the dinner table, and everyone telling stories about their day. The wife giving me furtive looks that aim at gratitude, as if saying thank you for such a wonderful family you’ve given me and she without saying, knows I feel the same way. I’m the kind of person that ascribes everything about joy and actually living to family. I’m the kind of person who wrote that the day I start living is the day I get married because, everything for me that defines joy is centered around my own family. I’m the kind of person eager to face the undulations that come with being married: the fights, make ups and every other thing I am eagerly anticipating. I’m no fool; I know it’s not a walk in the park, I mean, cmon, I have siblings and I have parents, I’m observant to say the least. But with all, I’m still ever as willing.

So when you tell me, I can be the president or be a Nobel Prize winner if I want it, I can only laugh because that’s not the kind of life I imagine for myself. Fame, prosperity and success are nice but they are not my goals in themselves, they are merely stuff I can decide to chase or not. Call it ordinary, call it boring. I don't care. It's okay with me and that's all that matters.