February 16, 2004
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Less Than Ordinary
I’m taking a survey…
Would you rather be really really… like really good looking that whenever men and women gaze at your formidable beauty, they have an uncontrollable urge to jizz in their knickers? This, of course, would include a multi-million dollar modeling contract and the power to control the “common people” to bend to your every whim. Not to mention an amazing sex life. But once you get older, your beauty will soon be forgotten… resulting in spending shitloads on botox injections and the longing for the glory days of your youth. Then on your death bed you die realizing that people only liked and respected you for your looks, but nothing about the true “essence” of you… whatever that may be.
OR… would you rather be a misunderstood genius who is constantly tortured by the frivolity of life, resulting in awkward social situations and emotional detachment to all but two other equally pretentious, yet highly un satiated individuals? This, of course, would include a Pulitzer/Nobel prize and the prestige of ultimately making a positive impact on modern society. Unfortunately, your impact will never be truly recognized until after your death… and your only image of happiness is that of a mere childhood memory… looped over in black and white, artsy framing, and speckled with reverberating laughter.
I am, undeniably, neither.
Both seem like pretty lonely lives, to be perfectly honest. But both lives seem so interesting… so completely above average than, well, the average shmoe. Perhaps this is all stemming from a dream that I had last week. My father was grabbing me by the shoulders, shaking me like a doll and yelling, “Who do you think you are?! You’re not special. You’re NOT SPECIAL…” and then I abruptly woke up with a cold sweat and the idea that will forever remind me that my life will be unmistakably “ordinary.” (I actually have a good relationship with my pops… so don’t worry.)
I became frazzled. I have only been a college graduate since last May… and my stay here in Japan is but a mere interlude before I return to the unstoppable force of emotional/physical/spiritual aging. At this ripe age of 22, I believe that many of us are filled with ideals, hope, and aspirations to be something. I, for one, would like to appear with a golden halo by the age of 35. Those around me will weep with adoration as I pass by on a frilly float down Main Street. My epitaph will read a credulous statement like “Jason was the closest thing to perfection.”
Realistically, on the other hand, I’ll most likely end up being an ordinary person whose ideals had been lost in the decades of work… work… and work. I’ll be attending dinner parties only to find myself discussing about the market economy or being completely floored to hear how ”little Davy” successfully took a shit alone in the family pot. Then I’ll return home bitching about how fake everyone was at the party when I, myself, was equally a two-faced shmuck with a Rolex and a million dollar estate. My Beamer, my platinum bidet, and all my other material items will then be mistakenly valued as some kind of self-worth. I’ll then suffer from a heart attack by the age of 64 from high cholesterol from the lavish life I had been “living,” and everyone will make those “tragic, he was so young” comments… But then I’ll be there – rotting away 6 feet under with my million dollar death costume, an ivory casket, and an epitaph that now will read: Our beloved Jason Chan. He was a good fellow, but unmistakably ordinary.
Fuck that shit. I’d rather be the botched up botox has been or the existential depressed ridden snob than be an ordinary Joe-Shmoe.
Yet alas! My caffeine induced state of motivation is fizzling out as we speak. My arch-nemesis, by the name of “Lazy Ass” has reared his ugly head, quashing my attempts to be the godsend I deserve to be. Am I destined to be ‘ordinary?’
Actually, what’s the meaning of life?
I’ve been wondering what you people… people of xanga… people of the world, really…. think your purpose in life is? (Feel free to post your thoughts in my comment box.) For me, I believe my calling is to undeniably be neither a model nor a genius. I’ve decided to be both.
Enuf of this ordinary (bull) shit.
Comments (24)
For me, its a no brainer. Id rather be the drop dead gorgeous sexy model with faithful followers tending to my every need and whim while adoring fans shreik in delight just be be able to catch a glimpse of me…. Then, get myself a plastic surgeon bf (I may be rich, but I can still be thrifty!) to do what it takes to keep my looks till Im forced to live out the rest of my life with my boy toy and sipping champagne with my eggs for breakfast by the pool of the house I got after my 7th marriage. Now *thats* a life!
lol..very interesting read..
model would be nicer, i suppose. nobody truly understands another’s mental processes anyways. …well..you can tell how shallow i am by answering with this but no matter.
jason, in no way could i ever come close to being as eloquent as you, so i will just say– i feel you. the reason i love books and movies with the theme of life crises and/or isolation is because it taps into my deepest fear of waking up one day when i’m old, only to realize that my life has no meaning, and that i am completely and utterly ordinary.
which is why i’m staying in japan for a second year– to avoid that inevitable force of emotional/physical/spiritual aging and trying to figure out where my life is going. because i honestly have no clue where i’m headed. just concentrating on making the journey anything other than ordinary…hopefully.
One dream I had was to become an auditor. I want to be able to go around my university and thoroughly examine the spending practices of some of the administrators here. And when I have found them to be unfit, I would slash their budget with my red pen.
I though that would be my calling. I would be called “The Auditor” and I would run around with a cape and a big A on my chest.
Maybe not … the sounds too much like the Scarlet Letter.
Wow, it’s late and I don’t know where that idea came from.
You have a wonderful site, Gasian, and the Gay Avenger would like you — and your readers — to know that he and his site are there for you. Visit me to see which homophobic xangans I have identified and given comments to; you may decide to visit them too, and give some comments of your own. Let me know if anyone directs homophobia your way; I will organize feedback/response, if you like. I got the idea for doing what I’m doing from some young kids here on xanga: some guy set up a site & on his first post dissed some girls and — wham! — eighteen people came to the girls’ defense. The guy whimpered back something about first amendment rights and — wham! — he got smacked again with people saying, yeah, that’s right, and that’s exactly what we’re exercising when we tell you what a jerk you are. I think that homophobes would be less brazen if they had to deal with more consequences. You might — as I have done — set up a separate account/user name for this purpose if you decide to join in. Oh — and regarding the model v. genius thing: c’mon! have you really taken a good in-person look at older people who have had plastic surgery? They look like older people who’ve had plastic surgery! Which is sort of, I think, undignified. Unless you’ve been in an accident or had a medical problem and have just tried to restore something of THAT sort… it’s tacky. If you’ve had sex with one of them, you know that they taste like old people, too — sorry, but it’s true (I know — I’m 42, and pretty much at the cusp of that “old taste” thing, and I’ve gotten it on with 60-somethings, being middle-aged, and few of my readers at this moment have, I’d bet!) — and unless you are turned on by artifice, and most really smart and feeling people deep down are not, well… plastic surgery is not what will make for sexiness later on. Being centered and being able to feel attracted to fellow-decaying-humans, really, is the way to go, and it’s what will create a REAL and SATISFYING love life down the road. Botox, by the way, paralyzes facial muscles & creates a bit of an “I had a stroke” look and, again, not many people really find that sort of effect sexy… I guess, for people who do find post-stroke expressionlessness to be a turn-on, putting the time & money & risk into it may be worthwhile; for the rest of us, let’s concentrate on feeling and being certain ways more than looking certain ways. Remember your adolescent disdain for the superficiality and hypocrisy of adults? Well… try to hold onto it… rather than become what you once scorned. This comment needs to end, but before it does, I will make a final observation: there are some nice-looking guys — really, by 20-something standards — who are attracted to wrinkled & lined & balding me. Granted, they are hardly a dime a dozen, but they exist — and they will be there for you too if you don’t turn them off with hair plugs, paralyzed brows, and the assorted other evils of capitalism’s denial of death.
i’d rather be hot. but alas, i’ll probably be regulated to being excruciatingly ordinary and the master of lowered expectations. would be nice to have the occasional moments of brilliance though. then followed by madness.
you make me think.
my goal in life it be understood. to have someone that i understand. to raise a family. to make sure my kids heads are on straight (or gay if you prefer). to make a difference in someones life. all seem to be so simple. but when it comes down to it. ive found it a lot harder than it seems. its a tough world we live in. or maybe its just me. =
cold . . . like my toes.
and my school lunches.
anyways, i THINK i’d have to choose the latter. call me silly but in a small way, deep inside, i still feel like i wanna make a difference in this world, contribute something, be somebody. even if its not till after i’m dead.
at least i will have done something positive . . . rather than contributing to the rapid deterioration of morals and the sense of true worth, beauty and genuineness that our nation is already lacking.
“constantly tortured . . . awkward social situations and emotional detachment to all but two other individuals?” sounds like my life now.
haha. i hope no one who picked the “beautiful” option takes my comment as a personal criticism. i’m just playing around.
being drop dead gorgeous sounds awfully appealing too . . .
nice picture . . . of the hot naked boy . . . yumm
i seek some ordinary life; where i’ll just work and get paid and spend lots of time with my loved ones and travelling around the world. to be more specific, i’d want to be a doctor or chemical enginneer, settle down with someone at the age of 28. continue supporting parents and visiting them as often as possible. travel round the world to meet people i adore. bla bla, in terms of looks, i just wanna be average. as long that person whom i’ll spend my life with, build the house with bla bla like me for who i am. however, i think i’m just an average teen who thinks too much.
Interesting question… yet I feel that I fit in both of those scenarios. Not to be egotistical, but I cam good looking, however… quite smart and misunderstood. People approach me because I look harmless and humanitarian, however they get a cold stare of “I’m going to add you into my next novella as the village idiot… in a nice way… really”.
People’s opinions of me have ceased to matter. I think I got over that mentality in high school once I realized that no one thinks of anyone other than themselves, and feel that any difference (be it good or bad) is some sort of label onto themselves, and take out any insecurities on anyone spineless enough to take their burden.
one thing my parents used to tell me is that they just want me to be normal (even before they found out I was gay.) I guess since they grew up in a world so full of ups and downs and poverty, normality = stability = survival. Then a few years ago one of my best friends told me that one of my faults is that I hadn’t come to terms with my own mediocrity. He was right, I am destined for mediocrity. But I always have the hope and belief and confidence that I can escape my fate; I’m not deterministic in my worldview. Isn’t having dreams the only thing that keeps our miserable lives worth living? I know everything I’ve said is one big cliche. But I’ve done the jaded and ironic thing. Sometimes you have to be earnest in order to live happily.
I’m teaching English in Asia too. Self-discovery time, again.
you are profound. im subscribing.
Cheer up…eat tofu..that always makes me happy.
The purpose of life, in a very biological sense, is to copulate and sustain life. I accept this view, but as a gay male, it sort of rubs me the wrong way. There is some evidence that homosexuality is an evolutionary tool used to regulate population growth; I suppose that might be an equally honorable role, but, again, it just doesn’t swing with me. In the end, it’s up to you to define your own purpose. You must give your life purpose.
Now, as for the meaning of life, I am contented to say there is none -at least, I do not believe there is one outside of what you create in your head. So, I’ve ended on a cheery thought, right? You’re in control!
yay!
i just want to be happy. plain and simple.
where’ve you been mister?
long time no see!
so is this what japan does to you? i swear when i graduate, i’m pulling a diane lane and moving to tuscany.
p.s. i’m a model genius whose ordinary life i’m living extraordinarily. which is what i tell myself every morning after i wake up while waiting for my cried-out eye-puffiness to dissipate.
Since I’m already beautiful, I’d rather be the tortured artist. I mean, duh. Beauty fades, money doesn’t (to quote the sugar daddy desiring side of me. Oh, come on bitches.. you all have that side, too.)
John
i am definitely just an ordinary guy, and that is who i really want to be. yeah yeah, i wanted to be the genius, but never wanted to be the real good-looking one (on the same token, not the real ugly-looking one either). i don’t want people to recognize me on the street so that they can point and comment… i just want to be another passer-by that’s here to simply do what i am set out to do: bring something into other peoples’ lives, and hope that i would also take some things from them as well. i don’t have a formula for that yet, but i am (hopefully) moving in that direction.
Plenty of people have meaningful existences without being incredibly beautiful, brilliant, or humanitarian. Does the whole world have to know about (and even accept) your accomplishments in order for them to be meaningful? I don’t think so.
My personal goal is just to make some positive contribution to the world before I leave. It doesn’t have to be big — but when I die, if people can say, “He was a good man. I’m glad I knew him,” I think I’d be happy. Umm… yeah, I think that’s all it’d take. That and lots of money to pass down to my family.
she does have eyebrows!! they’re just thin. I have proof, theyre not tattooed!!
very interesting question man. I personally don’t know what I want to be. rite now, im the depressed genius u speak of. i don’t know how it is like to be gorgeous. but like u said, both seem like empty lives (i know one is).
i am really glad i ran into ur site. i came here accidentally, haha. hmm…
Wow, that’s interesting stuff J, as usual, I might add!
I often think about this, too. Too often, really. I can’t give you a solid answer because I don’t know, I have yet to figure out what it’s all about. I have been told by my mother that the purpose of life is to find God and to serve others. But now I have this wacked out belief that life is meaningless unless I’m really really amazing, and that even great stuff, like graduating from college with depression and motivation issues is nothing, just–status quo.
Anyway, back to the issue. I feel like you have nothing to worry about! I know you’re not really drawn to the million dollar mansion thing anyway, I wouldn’t worry about it. Have you ever thought about being a writer?? Seriously! Or an activist?
Or you know what? Your occupation doesn’t even matter, because you’re great just as you are. Remember I told you that after we ate at Pho 79 (76?), and I still feel that way. OK, I’m getting all gooshy. But really, I owe a substantial portion of my new way of viewing the world to you. And it’s not a bad way at all. I used to be way too intellectual and stuff, always wanting to discuss things like Marcel Proust or the situation in Albania….
Anyway, everyone goes through this, and if they don’t, then they’re just ignorant and will end up miserable, with 3 Beemers and 3 divorces to go with em.
Ok, anyway, I gotta go. Hope you stumble across this. Take it easy. Ja ne Ja Hei
Dev