Anything You Can Do, I Can (Maybe, Probably, Maybe Not) Do Better

I read somewhere once that there's always going to be someone better than you, no matter how hard you try or how many people you sleep with. (This is the only thing that has prevented me from promiscuity, crushing my childhood dream of having so many baby daddies that I have to sort out my business on Maury. I figure I can still drag Gideon and our clan on the show once we procreate. We can bring two of our male friends to play the other baby daddies. While not what I have always dreamed of, it's a pretty nice trade-off in the end.)

The older I get, the more I agree with this statement. I am not the funniest person in the world. I don't have the greatest fashion sense of all time. The only thing I probably have over other people is the most split ends in the universe, but that's not really a thing to brag about. If it were, I would have already ordered a large statue in honor of how much willpower I exhibit in refusing to pay for a haircut. 

Seriously, I need a haircut more than my cat needs dry food. I am poor.

Even though I'm fairly intelligent and have done well in school, I've always felt as if I'm underperforming compared to others. Yes, I graduated from college cum laude. I had friends who graduated with even higher honors. Sure, I have pretty quality potty humor. My friend Chris, though, has told the best poop joke of all time. 

When I began my freshman year at Lyon College, I was surrounded by go-getters just like me. These people wanted to be involved in everything while simultaneously succeeding academically. I did, too, but I became more realistic about my goals after my first semester. (My lovely friend Clinical Depression visited and wanted to hang out non-stop for a couple years, making it difficult for me to tear myself away to focus on school and work as much as I wanted to. We talk occasionally now, but she's a little too high maintenance for me.) After I received my first semester grades, I felt as if I had failed. I wasn't in the top ten percent of my class; I don't think I even made the top fifteen. It absolutely killed my spirit, and I have never really been the same since.

I won't paint this as a negative. I would have a year ago, but I am not the same person I was a year ago.  Doing less well than I expected that semester taught me that I'm not necessarily special. I probably wouldn't stand out in a large group for anything other than my knowledge of the television series Lost, and I'm okay with that. It's a relief to know that I'm not a prodigy. I'm a human who makes mistakes and watches way too much reality TV sometimes - okay, most of the time. 

I may never be the best journalist who ever lived. Statistically, this definitely will not happen. To combat the crushing feeling of being inferior to everyone in the world - if I am great at something, it's hyperbole - I'll just focus on bettering myself. I'll stop focusing on superlatives and start focusing on how to achieve minor goals, hopefully eventually leading to a large-scale goal. 

And if all that fails, I will try promiscuity. It could still work out for me.