Right now a guy is all cuddled up in his blanket watching a movie on his laptop. Today was like any otherday for him. He got up in the morning, made himself a cup of coffee, had cereals in breakfast, took a shower in the afternoon, wrote “n” numbers of emails, attended calls, walked his dog, ate dinner.
When you would see him, you would call him average. The world would say he is just another guy. Well, indeed he is average. There isn’t anything amazing that he does, or in anything that he does. He wakes up and goes to bed just like every other person in this damn world. His coffee brand for once might get changed but the way he beats his coffee never changes.
Right now he is watching a show just like an average human. He doesn’t approach a film or tries to analyze it like an artist. He enjoys it just like he enjoys writing and singing songs in between the busy moments of his life. The world only knows about the 100 unread work emails, but it does not know about 30 drafts – stored with some beautiful poems, some unfinished piece of writing, idea starters for a song, random words waiting to turn into something.
He is one of your average folks who has his own average struggles, bathroom speeches, and dreams. He is okay being average. He is okay being called average. He knows that being average does not mean being ordinary. He knows it well when he sees his dog catching the same frisbee every day like he is doing it for the first time.