I’m reading a book that has brought up living an ordinary life. In the book an ordinary life is a bad thing. The author views it as boring and as if the person living that life is asleep; They’re not really living. For me an ordinary life would feel the same way. I fell into the somewhat ordinary life and it suffocated me. I lost part of me.
Unlike the other author I can see that an ordinary, quiet life that is similar to those on television may be ideal. I can see how certain people can be happy settling down, working a stable job, and simply living life.
Ordinary does not fit who I am at my core. Even when my life is primarily ordinary I look for the extraordinary. I need to keep my eyes open to the uncommon and I am grateful for those times.
Living an unique life isn’t all about travelling the world, going on strange adventures late at night, and meeting one of a kind characters. More often than not it is little stories that are not forced or expected and one of a kind routines that are all your own.
My life strays from ordinary every Saturday I spend writing my novel and the nights I spend on my visual art pieces. It becomes unique when I have to test my church’s worship leader that I will be late to serving as the sound board operator, because my landlord’s pop-belly pig is loose and trying to find non-extant treats in my bag. Also, most people don’t drive slowly calling for the same pig that found her way out of her pen a second time, so that the pig would get back to the house.
I do travel cross country often and meet one of a kind characters even more frequently. When your eyes are open though, you’ll see everyone is a one of a kind character and we all travel, even if most of the time it’s in your mind.
My life is not for everyone, but it is perfect for me. I am grateful for my uncommon life and hope you are grateful for whatever type of life you’re living.