its somewhat unfortunate when you realize you’re going to live a decidedly average life. an ordinary, unconventional, somewhat plain but mildly eventful life. you with your average face and your average hair and average sense of humor will graduate from your average high school with your average 3.1 GPA. you’ll go onto a college that is by no means ivy league and get a degree in business or english or psychology and go out into the rat race. maybe you’ll find a job or maybe you’ll decide to immerse yourself into student loans again to get an average master’s in your average field. and soon you’ll marry that one friend from college who is by no chance your dreamboat but is nice and makes you laugh a little and makes great lasagna. then after struggling for six years in a one bedroom apartment you’ll have saved up for that three story suburban condominium with included garage for your 2004 Toyota Camry. and just in time, too, since you’re expecting your first baby in seven months. and when you move in you might feel an overwhelming surge of pride in accomplishing the “american dream” despite the massive amount of interest on your student loans and the hiking gas prices and spiking mortgage rates and the budgeting you have to do every night so you don’t go under because you splurged on those organic tomatoes and free range eggs. you’ll be proud for a moment. before you realize your life has been stagnant. that the best selling novel you intended to write never got past the first page, that the fortune 500 company you intended to found never broke free of your mind, that the disease you intended to cure will still kill thousands of people every year. you’ve gone up, but not out. you are back in the transparency of suburbia, of middle America, of your parents. you didn’t travel the world like you wanted, became world renowned like you wanted, become rich, help the poor, make a difference. you’re just average.