There is, indeed, nothing more annoying than to be, for instance, wealthy, of good family, nice-looking, fairly intelligent, and even good-natured, and yet to have no talents, no special faculty, no peculiarity, even, not one idea of one’s own, to be precisely “like other people.” –Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Idiot
If I ever decide to write an autobiography, it should be read cover to cover–specifically the back cover to the front. That way, it’ll sound like an inspirational story instead of the mediocre one it really is. “She wandered through life without any purpose or direction until one fateful day when she won first place at the science fair. The End.”
The thing with being mediocre is that you will always get shafted. There is no major obstacle to overcome to make your success special, and there exists in you nothing innately special to cause any success. No one ever shoots to be average. I mean, who has ever been happy reaching the middle ground in a compromise? Whose goal has it ever been to move out to Middle America? Who has ever volunteered to take the middle seat in a car? We are living in a world of middle-seaters who think they’re in the driver’s seat. We really are the 99%.