Extraordinarily Ordinary

Allow me to introduce myself:

• I'm weird.  No, really.
• If embarrassing myself were a profession, I'd be financially set for the rest of my life
• I like shiny things
• If I could describe myself in one word, that word would be, "Huh?"
• I'm a slave to my hungry stomach
• My exercise of choice?  Fidgeting.
• I only smile a lot to compensate for the fact that in its resting state, my face looks like it's out to get you
• How do you eat without getting food stuck in between your two front teeth?  I haven't mastered that technique yet.
• For some reason I always look fugly in pictures.  Probably because I look waaayyyyyyyyy better in my imagination.
• I don't retain knowledge.  In fact, my knowledge regresses with each passing day.
• A major pet peeve (and this happens A LOT): when kids fart near me and then other people walk by and I'm soooo sure they think it was me.  Little punks.
• I'm *really* clumsy
• I have an exceptional ability to drool--asleep, awake, mid-snore and mid-sentence.
• I procrastinate because I'm a perfectionist.  Or at least I'll say that so you don't think I'm lazy.
• I once found a quarter on a tree branch and excitedly announced, "I guess money really DOES grow on trees!"  True story. 
• Squirrels excite me beyond comprehension
• I've tripped both down AND up stairs
• A major fear of mine is getting stuck in a freeway shutdown when having to pee
• I'm impulsive and lack self-discipline, as evinced by my dusty, unused Zumba DVDs.
• In correlation with the above point--I've gained weight
• Board games?  Yes, please.
• Also, banana.   
 

Yep, that's me in a nutshell--a goofy, fun-loving, pint-sized oaf; a perfect candidate for an exciting life of channel surfing and gummi bear-snacking.  Alas, neither of these awesome activities has the potential to earn me any income, unless of course a reality TV show about little, hungry couch-potatoes comes knocking on my door...(the sad thing is, this might actually be a real show).

I know I'm no super model, artistic genius, or world-class singer, but, for the most part, I was finally starting to love myself for the mess that I am.

That is of course, until I entered the entertainment business, a place where you're not good enough unless you're a combination super model/artistic genius/world-class singer who eats sparingly, can literally blind people with your veneers and whose face is stuck in a permanent smile due to excessive botoxification.

Let me tell you, working with impossibly beautiful and talented people all day long takes its toll.  One mere glance at another actor's headshot, with their perfect hair, teeth, and sickeningly photogenic face, can make me want to avoid mirrors for up to a month.  Checking out another actor's resume, whose 'Special Skills' section is chock-full of amazing feats of physical, vocal, instrumental and linguistic prowess, can send me straight to the psychiatrist begging for a lifetime supply of self-esteem pills.

I begin to wonder...why wasn't I born with green eyes, a size C rack, perfect hand-eye coordination and a symmetrical face?  Why can't I back flip and land into the splits, then break into a pop and lock routine after drop-kicking a bad guy?  Why didn't I practice piano like my parents told me to?  Why do I sing like an American Idol reject?  Is my vampire-pale skin really that offensive?  Female body hair is considered desirable in some countries, isn't it?

The self-loathing thoughts play on repeat until I realize how shallow I'm being.  If I'm going to whine about my under-achievements and lack-ofs, looks and performance skills should definitely not be at the top of my list!  My focus shifts to academia.

How does a computer work?  Why can't I do math quickly in my head?  Why do I prefer Spark Notes to classic literature?  Why can't I understand astrophysics?  Wait...why can't I understand regular physics?  Why can't I develop a cure for cancer?  Or at least a cure for morning breath?  Which way is north?  Why can't I remember anything I learned in bio 101?  Hold on...did I even take bio 101??? 

I guess what all my whining boils down to is this: all my life I've wanted to be someone extraordinary--you know, someone who excels at something, someone whom people admire and look up to, someone who makes a positive difference in others' lives on a grand scale.  Growing up, this desire would consume my every waking moment.  Instead of paying attention in class, I'd daydream about being an important person, whether it be making decisions in the White House, ice-skating for a gold medal at the Winter Olympics, treating patients as a world-renowned doctor, or dazzling onscreen as a critically-acclaimed starlet.  (Well, I'd daydream about all that, plus ice cream cake and DragonBall Z, to be perfectly honest).

Now, however, as a dreaded adult, I'm constantly reminded that I'm anything but extraordinary.  Unlike my friends, co-workers, ex-classmates and fellow actors, I've got nothing to brag about; I haven't accomplished any of the lofty goals I had originally set for myself and I'm nowhere near being an expert at anything in any field.  (Now that I think about it, I probably should've spent all those years paying attention in class instead of drooling over desserts and imagining how I'd look as a Super Saiyan).  I'm no brainiac, athletic prodigy, or superstar.  Heck, I can't even bake a cake or change a tire.  I was always so obsessed with the idea being amazing at something, anything, that I neglected to acknowledge what it takes to actually reach that coveted level of extraordinary: talent, time and devotion.

Since I was born with a condition called "untalenteditis," which renders me completely talentless at anything I try, I'm already lacking one of the key ingredients to extraordinariness.  But I can make it work with two out of three ingredients, right?  Well, if I had two out of three, that is.  My devotion levels drop significantly when I'm made fun of, have gas in public, or bump my funny bone.  And time...time is a tricky thing.  Lately I've been so busy working my day job I barely have time to think about all the things I'd do if only I had some free time.  But when I do have free time, I spend it on the couch in a supine position thinking about how much I wish I'd get some work.  (I then proceed to chomp on a burrito.) 

Whether it be a lack of self-confidence, a fear of failure, an under-developed passion, a slow brain, or just plain laziness, I think I've finally come to the realization that I'm extraordinary at only one thing in life--being my silly, dorky, smelly, weird self.  And after spending my entire life wishing I could be something more, I think it's time to start being satisfied with the me that I am.  Time to start giving more weight and importance to the things that I have rather than what I have not.  I'm extremely grateful for and plan to enjoy the mobility, vision, hearing, freedom, and sanity (at least partial) I've been blessed with while I still can. 

And who knows?  Maybe my new and improved attitude will help me stumble upon (literally stumble...remember how I said I was clumsy?  Well, I wasn't kidding.) the path to some newfound skill that'll turn out to be the perfect cure for my untalenteditis.

Or, more likely, I'll just end up embarrassing myself like I always do.

Anyway, here's hoping this new year brings happiness, a healthy attitude, and an abundance of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups to you and yours.  Happy New Year!  :)