Mediocrity Rules!
MEDIOCRITY RULES! screamed, loudly emblazoned on my daughter's t-shirt, as she set to go to school this morning. I laughed at the joke and admired her sense of humor. Or, could it be that she had stumbled upon some really important wisdom at 19? Well, I wasn't that wise when I was her age.
She may have turned mediocre, if indeed her advertising is true, but outwardly tells a whole different story. She, with the curly hair and streaks of red and blue, with various rings adorning her pierced nose, ears and belly, with all these strands of beads, heap upon heap, on her wrists, ankles and neck, not unlike a Somali princess, with accompanying poetic rocker attitude to come along with the shirt.
When I was 19, I remember being playmates with my then boyfriend (now husband and Papa to our 3 kids) when we lived the rock-and-roll life. I mean, no mediocre for us, what are you? Fortunately, I do not consign all those years of too much partying memories to amnesia alone so that I still have these bits and pieces left over to shake my head over and laugh about, but most of all to cite as example for my kids as their parents' been there, done that so-don't-do-if-you-can-help-it routine.
Incredible as it may seem, MEDIOCRITY RULES! may as well be a battle cry for us these days, having gone through, and burnt-out, from all that 'being different', routine in our youth. If mediocre means this quiet, smooth and peaceful life that we snugly embraces today, let me tell you that I, this happy celebrator of recovery and an absolute Jesus freak, am thankful for the peace.
My children, I observe, are all not in a hurry to grow-up. The mediocre Somali princess, of late, I see her whiningly but dutifully bent on finishing papers required of her English Lit course. The two younger ones, display just about as much gusto going to Sunday school, as they do when they get into their frequent little arguments about math, Roald Dahl books, tv, their turn at the PC, and everything else under the sun. Are my daughters turning out to be mediocre in that sense? Excellent! And thank God for that.
Filed Under: Life
She may have turned mediocre, if indeed her advertising is true, but outwardly tells a whole different story. She, with the curly hair and streaks of red and blue, with various rings adorning her pierced nose, ears and belly, with all these strands of beads, heap upon heap, on her wrists, ankles and neck, not unlike a Somali princess, with accompanying poetic rocker attitude to come along with the shirt.
When I was 19, I remember being playmates with my then boyfriend (now husband and Papa to our 3 kids) when we lived the rock-and-roll life. I mean, no mediocre for us, what are you? Fortunately, I do not consign all those years of too much partying memories to amnesia alone so that I still have these bits and pieces left over to shake my head over and laugh about, but most of all to cite as example for my kids as their parents' been there, done that so-don't-do-if-you-can-help-it routine.
Incredible as it may seem, MEDIOCRITY RULES! may as well be a battle cry for us these days, having gone through, and burnt-out, from all that 'being different', routine in our youth. If mediocre means this quiet, smooth and peaceful life that we snugly embraces today, let me tell you that I, this happy celebrator of recovery and an absolute Jesus freak, am thankful for the peace.
My children, I observe, are all not in a hurry to grow-up. The mediocre Somali princess, of late, I see her whiningly but dutifully bent on finishing papers required of her English Lit course. The two younger ones, display just about as much gusto going to Sunday school, as they do when they get into their frequent little arguments about math, Roald Dahl books, tv, their turn at the PC, and everything else under the sun. Are my daughters turning out to be mediocre in that sense? Excellent! And thank God for that.
Filed Under: Life
Poppycock | 10/11/2005 |
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