On the average, I would have to say that I like being alive, more than I liked being dead. Don’t get me wrong, we through some pretty wicked parties back in the dead-old-days, but now that I’m back among the living, I can finally grow old and enjoy my family life.
It takes me a while to think about average. I never want to be that. I want to be above and beyond this petty word. What is average? I really don’t know, I’ve never experienced it. That’s the way I live, that’s how it ought to be. I would never settle. Never.
i hate being average but i am i want to be different but i am not i am unique without trying i love my life i love myself i am human and i am everything interesting in this world. i can die happy knowing this.
To be average is to be somehow less. There is no uniqueness in being average. Average confirms that you conform, that you blend, that you are like all the rest.
Someone has to be average for comparison purposes. How else will you know you are smarter or more athletic or better at any number of things? How will you know if you are doing better or worse? By setting an average, we can strive to become better than the average and thus improve ourselves.
average is a really boring word and there’s only so much you can write about it. like, it’s an average word and it makes my writing just average, nothing special, and nothing horrible, either. it’s been an average day and i don’t have much more to say about that.
When you add two things together and divide by two, you get an average. Our life was just us, divided by two: average. There was nothing extraordinary about us, nothing interesting. Nobody was knocking on our door to take our picture and get a soundbyte. But we never got bored.
boring. normal. Oreo’s are average cookies. Bugs are average but nasty. Adding a bunch of numbers together and then dividing by the total number of numbers will give you an average. I don’t want to be average. I want to be unique.
I am average. This is a lie. From what I can tell, I’m rather far from average. Short hair, baggy clothes, healthy weight. I am not an average teenage girl.
Sometimes they seem so stupid, average folk. They don’t see the things and connections I observe daily. Yet, sometimes I wish I could be like that. Be simple. Have a simple life, without seeing everything so clearly as I do. Walking through life without a care, oblivious to the world around them.
I don’t want to be average. I want to be the best, at all of it. I want to stand out and be noticed for once in this quiet life I leave. I’m here, can you see me yet? Can you hear me? Do you want to? I don’t want to be average.
I am nothing more than less than average. What a funny way to phrase mediocre. Honestly, though, who even decides what average is? No one has anything in common, at least not anything that can be measured. You can’t measure the size of our hearts and the colors of our insides. You don’t know us at all.
No one is really average because everyone has something special about them in there somewhere. Average is not something I’d ever want to be called. It’s actually something I’d be really pissed off to be called. I don’t think anyone should strive to be average, because that’s settling for less than you deserve.
someone is average. i hate average. i don’t like feeling like i’m one of one million other people. a clone. i would rather be one of a kind. you know? this is harder than i expected.
Today I was above average. Just like my mom always says, I am always above average. But what is average? Being the same as everyone else? The majority? I’ve always known that i don’t want to be the same as the majority, but what if i am?
Average. Why on earth would I settle for simply, “average”? I’m going big- I’m the standard of excellence. You can’t hold me back, I’m taking over. I’m making it count. Average is normal, which I am not. Call me “exception” for that is what I love. Oh, what a wonderful exception indeed!
Toby used to be an average boy. Toby was cursed by a magic panda, and when he was hit with a frying pan over the head, he turned into a fish. his friends thought he was quite strange. they knew they couldn’t be friends with him because of his abnormal tendencies to turn into a fish. this made Toby very sad, and so toby ran away.
I am average. Just a normal person trying to get through the day. Not many people know my name. I don’t have a boyfriend. Boys don’t look at me like they look at other girls. I’m invisible. Your average teenage girl working to figure out who I am. And sometimes that involves coaching myself to get out of bed in the morning.
We yelled at the top of our lungs…”TURN IT DOWN!!!”…but it was in vain. Dad’s rock band practiced so loudly that our bunkbeds would vibrate all over our bedroom and when morning came we’d be clear on the other side of the room…we lost our voices too.
Average White Band. I think that’s the name of a rock group from the 1970″s. that they played.
I don’t want to write about how my life is average, because I don’t even know if it is. My life might not be, but I am. A usual person plopped into an unusual situation. Why couldn’t I think of something more original to write?
There is no such thing as average. On an average day, an average person does average things. Except each day is unique, each person an individual and each thing is itself. Average does not exist.
The idea of an average item is a silly concept. That’s what you’ll read if you look at what’s been written on the site.
Nothing is average. Everything is unique.
Is that so?
If reality is colored by our perceptions, and we perceive things to be average…we brand most things as such. Except ourselves and those we know well. Death is average when it happens to others. So is a rare disease. It’s all average. Nothing is important, truly important, to our own self-interest.
Average. Average is kind of a mean word. That means that there are worse things, but there are definitely better things, too. I want to be better than average. I don’t like average foods. Fast food is below average, but I’d say that chain food restaurants are all about average.
We are all average. Just high-schoolers, not even adults, so don’t consider anything important. There’s no reason for you to care about us. Unless you really get to know us, we’re just average. Like you.
I’m average. There’s nothing special about me at all. But you, you’re so special. You’re talented and amazing. Maybe that’s why you scare me so much. If only I was braver. But I’m not. I’m a coward. That’s worse than being average..
She didn’t strike me as anything but a dull redhead. Her hair wasn’t as bright red as it could be. Why couldn’t she be more striking? Perhaps the deadpan look in her eyes and the normal slope of her nose, longish but not too much so, was part of her charm. Could average be charming? Was that a thing now? I’ll never know but I did fancy her a bit.
she was just average. a nose, some hair, legs in a set of two. why was this guy talking to her? maybe he thought she was someone else. maybe he had some we
Average. That’s all I am. Nothing to be remembered, held deeply. No one even has the energy to hate me. Because I’m average. Being average means people can pick you up or drop you off at will, and it doesn’t matter. Being average means you don’t have real emotions, you’re just neutral. No one thinks you’re allowed to be angry, or sad, or too happy. You have to be what they need. But I guess it’s better then being alone.
If you put them in a room together there was almost a balance. Her barely sentient drooling served as the perfect counterpoint to his meandering orations on the world markets. Their mother looked on and wished for one average child.
the average person isnt really average. everyone is different. it has the word age in it. it has 2 a. there is 2 e in it too. its a very average word. It isnt very a nice word. i hate writing. i hate when people use to too and two in the wrong place.
why the hell do i keep getting the word average. average is such a general term to write about. this, what ever this is… journal, is average. I am not thinking about how to averagely write this journal, I dont want to get an average mark on this.
being average is sad; thters nothing average about it. it’s just as bad as being bad. mabe even worse. individuality is what i prefer. uniqueness is my greatest pride, just kidding i hate doing this
I recently joined a gay hookup site, adam4adam. On their bios, the guys often describe themselves as “average.” “I’m just an average guy.” It almost seems as if they’re trying to prove it to themselves.
On the average, I would have to say that I like being alive, more than I liked being dead. Don’t get me wrong, we through some pretty wicked parties back in the dead-old-days, but now that I’m back among the living, I can finally grow old and enjoy my family life.
It takes me a while to think about average. I never want to be that. I want to be above and beyond this petty word. What is average? I really don’t know, I’ve never experienced it. That’s the way I live, that’s how it ought to be. I would never settle. Never.
“The weight of the average piece of pork shoulder butt is somewhere in the twenty to twenty-five pound range,” she said slapping the marbled meet t
i hate being average but i am i want to be different but i am not i am unique without trying i love my life i love myself i am human and i am everything interesting in this world. i can die happy knowing this.
To be average is to be somehow less. There is no uniqueness in being average. Average confirms that you conform, that you blend, that you are like all the rest.
simple
Someone has to be average for comparison purposes. How else will you know you are smarter or more athletic or better at any number of things? How will you know if you are doing better or worse? By setting an average, we can strive to become better than the average and thus improve ourselves.
average is a really boring word and there’s only so much you can write about it. like, it’s an average word and it makes my writing just average, nothing special, and nothing horrible, either. it’s been an average day and i don’t have much more to say about that.
When you add two things together and divide by two, you get an average. Our life was just us, divided by two: average. There was nothing extraordinary about us, nothing interesting. Nobody was knocking on our door to take our picture and get a soundbyte. But we never got bored.
boring. normal. Oreo’s are average cookies. Bugs are average but nasty. Adding a bunch of numbers together and then dividing by the total number of numbers will give you an average. I don’t want to be average. I want to be unique.
I am average. This is a lie. From what I can tell, I’m rather far from average. Short hair, baggy clothes, healthy weight. I am not an average teenage girl.
On the outside
my shell screams average.
Dig beneath the surface
and you’ll find anything but.
The person I’m dying to be
isn’t this shy girl.
She ain’t afraid to say
what’s on her mind.
Ain’t scared of what thoughts
run through other’s minds.
She’s dying to mark
up her arms.
Dying to stick holes
in her ears.
Dying to drive a truck.
Dying to be revealed.
Sometimes they seem so stupid, average folk. They don’t see the things and connections I observe daily. Yet, sometimes I wish I could be like that. Be simple. Have a simple life, without seeing everything so clearly as I do. Walking through life without a care, oblivious to the world around them.
I don’t want to be average. I want to be the best, at all of it. I want to stand out and be noticed for once in this quiet life I leave. I’m here, can you see me yet? Can you hear me? Do you want to? I don’t want to be average.
I am nothing more than less than average. What a funny way to phrase mediocre. Honestly, though, who even decides what average is? No one has anything in common, at least not anything that can be measured. You can’t measure the size of our hearts and the colors of our insides. You don’t know us at all.
No one is really average because everyone has something special about them in there somewhere. Average is not something I’d ever want to be called. It’s actually something I’d be really pissed off to be called. I don’t think anyone should strive to be average, because that’s settling for less than you deserve.
someone is average. i hate average. i don’t like feeling like i’m one of one million other people. a clone. i would rather be one of a kind. you know? this is harder than i expected.
Average usually means normal to me. They call me this a lot at home and school.
Today I was above average. Just like my mom always says, I am always above average. But what is average? Being the same as everyone else? The majority? I’ve always known that i don’t want to be the same as the majority, but what if i am?
Not great, but not bad. Just average. in the middle (:
Average. Why on earth would I settle for simply, “average”? I’m going big- I’m the standard of excellence. You can’t hold me back, I’m taking over. I’m making it count. Average is normal, which I am not. Call me “exception” for that is what I love. Oh, what a wonderful exception indeed!
Toby used to be an average boy. Toby was cursed by a magic panda, and when he was hit with a frying pan over the head, he turned into a fish. his friends thought he was quite strange. they knew they couldn’t be friends with him because of his abnormal tendencies to turn into a fish. this made Toby very sad, and so toby ran away.
I am average. Just a normal person trying to get through the day. Not many people know my name. I don’t have a boyfriend. Boys don’t look at me like they look at other girls. I’m invisible. Your average teenage girl working to figure out who I am. And sometimes that involves coaching myself to get out of bed in the morning.
We yelled at the top of our lungs…”TURN IT DOWN!!!”…but it was in vain. Dad’s rock band practiced so loudly that our bunkbeds would vibrate all over our bedroom and when morning came we’d be clear on the other side of the room…we lost our voices too.
Average White Band. I think that’s the name of a rock group from the 1970″s. that they played.
That’s brings back some great memories.
I don’t want to write about how my life is average, because I don’t even know if it is. My life might not be, but I am. A usual person plopped into an unusual situation. Why couldn’t I think of something more original to write?
There is no such thing as average. On an average day, an average person does average things. Except each day is unique, each person an individual and each thing is itself. Average does not exist.
The idea of an average item is a silly concept. That’s what you’ll read if you look at what’s been written on the site.
Nothing is average. Everything is unique.
Is that so?
If reality is colored by our perceptions, and we perceive things to be average…we brand most things as such. Except ourselves and those we know well. Death is average when it happens to others. So is a rare disease. It’s all average. Nothing is important, truly important, to our own self-interest.
I’m just an average girl,
Living in an average world,
But my mom always says,
You’re different in many ways
But I don’t see how that can be,
I’m no different than he or she,
She tells me that I’m unique,
That I don’t belong in a clique
She also says that I’m am smart,
Very creative, and good at art,
She says I’m wonderful all around,
Unlike any other, I won’t hit the ground
But I still belive, I’m not special,
Thinking about this is so stressful,
Becuase you see, I’m just an average girl,
Living in an average world
Average. Average is kind of a mean word. That means that there are worse things, but there are definitely better things, too. I want to be better than average. I don’t like average foods. Fast food is below average, but I’d say that chain food restaurants are all about average.
We are all average. Just high-schoolers, not even adults, so don’t consider anything important. There’s no reason for you to care about us. Unless you really get to know us, we’re just average. Like you.
I’m average. There’s nothing special about me at all. But you, you’re so special. You’re talented and amazing. Maybe that’s why you scare me so much. If only I was braver. But I’m not. I’m a coward. That’s worse than being average..
She didn’t strike me as anything but a dull redhead. Her hair wasn’t as bright red as it could be. Why couldn’t she be more striking? Perhaps the deadpan look in her eyes and the normal slope of her nose, longish but not too much so, was part of her charm. Could average be charming? Was that a thing now? I’ll never know but I did fancy her a bit.
she was just average. a nose, some hair, legs in a set of two. why was this guy talking to her? maybe he thought she was someone else. maybe he had some we
Average. That’s all I am. Nothing to be remembered, held deeply. No one even has the energy to hate me. Because I’m average. Being average means people can pick you up or drop you off at will, and it doesn’t matter. Being average means you don’t have real emotions, you’re just neutral. No one thinks you’re allowed to be angry, or sad, or too happy. You have to be what they need. But I guess it’s better then being alone.
If you put them in a room together there was almost a balance. Her barely sentient drooling served as the perfect counterpoint to his meandering orations on the world markets. Their mother looked on and wished for one average child.
the average person isnt really average. everyone is different. it has the word age in it. it has 2 a. there is 2 e in it too. its a very average word. It isnt very a nice word. i hate writing. i hate when people use to too and two in the wrong place.
average,
An emotion, a ending score. A height measurement, or a result of a product. Four vowels. Three constanants.
why the hell do i keep getting the word average. average is such a general term to write about. this, what ever this is… journal, is average. I am not thinking about how to averagely write this journal, I dont want to get an average mark on this.
being average is sad; thters nothing average about it. it’s just as bad as being bad. mabe even worse. individuality is what i prefer. uniqueness is my greatest pride, just kidding i hate doing this
I recently joined a gay hookup site, adam4adam. On their bios, the guys often describe themselves as “average.” “I’m just an average guy.” It almost seems as if they’re trying to prove it to themselves.