As far as I remember, I have always wanted to be out-of-the-ordinary. I am posh and annoying that way.
Holidays in Spain lounging on a chair in the sun, sangria in one hand and a book (or a cigarette) in the other ? No thanks, give me cycling in Myanmar or rafting down a cold river.
9-to-5 job that leaves time and energy for life outside of it ? Huh huh. I’d rather have the all-nighters, the adrenaline, the travels, the rise and fall.
1 child ? Or maybe 2 ? No way, it will be at least 3, because there’s no way we are going to be the ordinary 2.1 family.
Stay in my hometown ? Hell no. I want to live in as many different continents as possible.
Ballroom dancing ? Hip-hop instead.
Feminine perfume ? Man smoky essence.
1 boyfriend ? 2 flirts.
And yet recently I realized how mundane my life is. After a week of work comes the week-end and it is filled with ordinary things. Ordinary pleasures.
Waking up next to my husband every morning. Playing in the mud with my baby. Going to the greengrocer and pick ripe peaches. Writing a short blog post, that very few people will read, with my 3 year old playing with Peppa Pig stickers. Have a hot coffee. Smile. Hug. Sleep. Laugh. It feels good.
The young years are ones of thrill, instability, change, choices. The middle of life is a grind. That’s where the real effort begin, that’s when it takes gut to be yourself when life throws you little choices instead of big ones. That’s where an extraordinary life happen. When you let go of the dream of being different for the whole world to see and decide to have an impact on the people around you. Screw originality, good lasts longer.