This is a rant about who I’m not (also, from my blog, but whatever)

I'm nobody special. I've wrestled with that for a long time, constantly re-imagining myself and the world so that, in some crazy way, I had a story to tell. But the truth is, I have no disease, have suffered no serious personal losses, have never mused over some inconsequential moment or had a revelation about some deep truth of life. If you must know, I started realizing this in college...well, before college when I had to write an essay for an application. Up to that point I had volunteered at a hospital, worked in summer camp and learned to juggle. So what? Then came my Freshman writing course: one guy learned about judging people when he edited porno movies as a summer job, another spoke of her uncle who persevered against some exotic condition. Even my attempts at self-awareness fell flat. I wasn't even boring enough to be interesting for being boring. Somehow my cat's life and death didn't open itself for explication or some epiphany-producing moment. And my hamster? Not a chance.

Then came the rest of college. I had my heart broken, bounced back and eventually married. I worked as a secretary, an advisor and a teacher and I had a couple of kids. Now I wake up in the morning groggy as all get-out, mobilize equally tired kids and have them ready for the bus, and then go to work. I have stopped trying to believe that my parenting will change the world. I have given up thinking that my work in a school will "touch the future." I won't achieve immortality through my work (or by living forever, thank you Woody Allen). I won't discover some cure; I won't solve the major crises of our day. I'm going to live an average life in which I play poker, watch television, read the occasional book, speak up for something I believe in and eventually, drift off to sleep and not wake up. I have learned to accept that. As Gag Halfrunt said, I'm "just zis guy, you know."

But at the same time, I am something. I'm not sure what, but I do help people sometimes, and I do know a couple of answers. After all, I was the one who found the house keys last week. In some small sense, I matter. But when I leave the house, I'm just another face in a sea of anonymity. Tens, hundreds, thousands of people, all packed into their cars and trains, all shuttling off to some where to do some thing. Each one is connected to others somehow; it is just that the exact nature of the connection is not nearly as important as we like to make it out to be. Some, in their private spaces fight aliens, or nurse foundling kittens. Some starve themselves, beat their spouses, or sculpt exquisite art in their basements. Each person has a story and no story, a past and no past. We are all bound together in both our averageness and our uniqueness.

When you see me on the street, you won't know enough to stop me and say "I really like the way you explained that math problem to that kid" or "you make a mean chicken Kiev" and I won't know to shake your hand and shout "hey! Here's the guy who ties his socks in knots to keep them from getting lost in the wash!" We'll both just keep walking, absorbed in the stresses of our mundane, little lives, never knowing that the guy we just passed won $500 in the lottery or can tie a cherry stem in to a knot with his tongue. Maybe he rescued a man from a shark, or invented a better paper clip, but who knows and who cares to check? We are all kings within our castles and commoners without.

I am not famous, and I probably won't ever be. I won't be honored for saving a life, or recognized for giving back to my community. But I do it anyway. You can't learn much from me or my life and, odds are, I can't learn much from yours. And I don't care either way. Can you really extrapolate some message from the fact that I drive a stick shift or prefer warm weather to cold? Is there really any sense in noting that I went through graduate school, love my parents, or collect pennies? I haven't adopted anyone and I don't work from home so that my wife can pursue her dream of walking across Wisconsin. My life isn't a lyric which speaks to the masses or an epigram which resonates and helps everyone be more introspective. I'm just like everyone else, just less so. Maybe someday, we'll stop looking for the deeper meanings and little bits that make us examples for each other, and start focusing on living our lives better just because.