A word so looked over, but so powerful. Average can be positive, negative. But most of all, average is it’s own oxymoron. For being average is not something the average person wishes to do.
the book was average, nothing special about it, but Steven knew something was queer about it, there was something hidden in the golden leaves of that simple book. they say its lasted time, it has lasted war, famine, and death.
I’m average, but I’m exceptional. I’m ordinary, but I’m special. I’m the same as you, but I’m unique. I am here, but I’m there. I’m everyone, and I’m no one. I’m average.
I’m an average man and an average writer. Average may be overstating my abilities as both a man and a writer. It’s going to take a lot more work for be to become acceptable in either of these regard.
The average life of a bear is 28 years. Do I know that as a fact? No, but did you believe me because it’s a random piece of information? Now you’re thinking about it. Google it.
the average amount of time it takes to find the average length of time it takes for the average time it takes of average time. it takes the average time of time. it takes.
Average is just a word used in math but has many other context. What many people want when they think of average is actually the median because unlike average it does not include the outliers. But we are all above average. It is a nasty word used to make us feel below ourselves.
Who decides what’s average and what’s not average? I mean, shouldn’t average be more of a subjective thing that people decide about themselves? why are there standards that must be met in order to be considered “average” or “above average”? Shouldn’t you just be able to be you and that be enough? it should be like that, but unfortunately society isn’t set up to function that way.
The girl was just average. She sat at her school desk, her mousy brown hair cascading over the wood beneath her face.
“SLYVIA?”
She snapped her head up.
“Sylvia, answer question number three.”
She was just an average girl. In an average school.
this is an average moment for the masses. nothing special is happening at this very second, this very minute. a number of people are sleeping, some people are watching the stars, there is a shooting star somewhere in a dreamer’s eye. nothing special. nothing to report. nothing to make the sirens scream.
Average. Thats all ive ever been. I had average hair, average clothes, average eyes, an average smile. Yet i always had amazing friends. The sweetest, nicest, most pretty friends. They shopped at the best stores and wore the latest fashions. I still have the friendship neclaces and braclets we shared. When i was ever around then i felt extrodinary. I felt like i could laugh and cry in complete confedence. I love my friends :)
I was average. Plain and simple. Sure, my grades were better than most, but other than that, I was your run of the mill student. Well, kind of. I happened to switch back and forth between working at a bathhouse in a magical world filled with spirits and going to school in the regular world, but you know .. average.
His appearance was nearly average, but there was a warmth in the eyes. The corners of his mouth gently coaxed his lips into a timid half-smile. I liked the wringing hands. The skin looked soft, like two delicate things quarreling. In servility to his mouth, they gripped tighter. He exhaled his words effortlessly, tenderly. I left the room with a sense of the untenable and with a hope that I could be wrong.
average kiss? i think my mind is easing up now, covering the scars of your last affections. at least for me. or maybe for you? hun up in stories i dont even know. i dont care anymore. ords are too similare, passages too far. home of the average. home of us
He always thought there was something wrong with being average. He had to be better than everyone else, by far, or even by a little bit. He can’t stand it when others tell him, “Oh, you did okay.” If it’s not excellent, it’s unacceptable. What’s wrong with being average? Really, I’m just an average human being.
Average can be explained in a simple sense; whats accepted and acceptable for people. However, the most revered and famous individuals are acceptable because they’re better than average, more than average.
As she walked home she reminisced about her day, pablo was not just any average boy, there was something special about him. Mary hoped that some day she might speak to Pablo, instead of just admiring him from a distance. Mary knew she was not just an average girl either,
It’s an average day. With my average life. In an average town. My sites set not above average, yet not sinking lower than the normal. The average life is not what the average person aspires to.
Average lint is what you could call sub-standard cloth and dust. I mean, come on. But seriously though, if you think hard about it there are ways you can actualate these things into something a bit more perverse. Take, for example, a lake of tacos. Can you think of any who would not enjoy such a swim?
who wants to be known as just average? Why not strive for greatness? being average is never meeting one’s full potential, only being just good enough. being average puts those behind people who do not settle
I think the whole idea of becoming average was a mistake on my part. Shannon always insisted, though, “We could be popular. They would like us.” But they never did. And when she died, they laughed. And I was sure then, this was not the life I wanted.
there are too many things that turn out to be average work when you dont put enough time and effort into the work. it just depends on the quality that you want to achieve with the time you have.
I used to be average. Back before I went to boarding school. I was quiet, a nobody. Just another conformist. But then I met Debra. My best friend. I really miss her. When she left I cried for days. I lost everything to go to a boarding school. What a stupid mistake that was.
The average kid lies beneath desks as long a possible during air raids. Former students long to tell of their mental wounds. Horrible, horrlible stories are told about class dismissal as result of this exercise
I’m a little less than average. At my best, I’m coming in second. I have been in this spot all my life, and I think I’m ok with that. I may not be good as you, but I am who I am. I’ll be who I am supposed to be, do what ever I want to do. This is my life, my second rate life.
i have seen people like her before. not to tall not to small, everything about her was average. her hair, her weight, everything. but for some reason i can not stop thinking about her.
It had been three moons since M’Bala had thrown the rock at the elephant. It was if anything, a distant memory how the pachyderm had just sauntered off into the jungle, seemingly unfazed. It was a warm day when M’bala was lazily tossing Mancala stones around with his friends outside his hut on the edge of the village, when the boulder landed on him, squashing him flat. Bumbo’s memory was better than average.
He was an average man. Average height, average weight, average looks. You might pass him on the street and never notice. That was what kept him from being caught for so long. He kept all of his treasures in his basement, hanging there on meat hooks and was never suspected–precisely because he was average.
She was anything but average, and she was the only one who didn’t know it. He didn’t understand how she couldn’t. She was beautiful and talented and kind, always putting others’ needs before her own. Just once he wanted her to see herself through his eyes. Just once, he wanted her to be selfish.
The average life span of a fly is only about one day. This means that the day of a fly must be anything but average. What would you do if you only had one day to live? I wonder what flies do? Hang out with garbage probably.
Long believed to be average, or maybe less than, or maybe just slightly more than, now we find that we are anything but. Average. In the light of the other’s eyes, what was average, uninteresting, unremarkable, takes on a sheen. And this, this is not. Just. Average.
A word so looked over, but so powerful. Average can be positive, negative. But most of all, average is it’s own oxymoron. For being average is not something the average person wishes to do.
the book was average, nothing special about it, but Steven knew something was queer about it, there was something hidden in the golden leaves of that simple book. they say its lasted time, it has lasted war, famine, and death.
I’m average, but I’m exceptional. I’m ordinary, but I’m special. I’m the same as you, but I’m unique. I am here, but I’m there. I’m everyone, and I’m no one. I’m average.
I’m an average man and an average writer. Average may be overstating my abilities as both a man and a writer. It’s going to take a lot more work for be to become acceptable in either of these regard.
Since I’ve left law school, I feel like I’ve dropped from ‘elite’ to ‘average,’ from an upper-echelon spot in life to back-in-the-pack.
Then I think about people that use words like ‘echelon’… and I can’t lie, I’ll take average if it means I don’t hate myself or the people around me.
The average life of a bear is 28 years. Do I know that as a fact? No, but did you believe me because it’s a random piece of information? Now you’re thinking about it. Google it.
the average amount of time it takes to find the average length of time it takes for the average time it takes of average time. it takes the average time of time. it takes.
Average is just a word used in math but has many other context. What many people want when they think of average is actually the median because unlike average it does not include the outliers. But we are all above average. It is a nasty word used to make us feel below ourselves.
Who decides what’s average and what’s not average? I mean, shouldn’t average be more of a subjective thing that people decide about themselves? why are there standards that must be met in order to be considered “average” or “above average”? Shouldn’t you just be able to be you and that be enough? it should be like that, but unfortunately society isn’t set up to function that way.
The girl was just average. She sat at her school desk, her mousy brown hair cascading over the wood beneath her face.
“SLYVIA?”
She snapped her head up.
“Sylvia, answer question number three.”
She was just an average girl. In an average school.
this is an average moment for the masses. nothing special is happening at this very second, this very minute. a number of people are sleeping, some people are watching the stars, there is a shooting star somewhere in a dreamer’s eye. nothing special. nothing to report. nothing to make the sirens scream.
Average. Thats all ive ever been. I had average hair, average clothes, average eyes, an average smile. Yet i always had amazing friends. The sweetest, nicest, most pretty friends. They shopped at the best stores and wore the latest fashions. I still have the friendship neclaces and braclets we shared. When i was ever around then i felt extrodinary. I felt like i could laugh and cry in complete confedence. I love my friends :)
I was average. Plain and simple. Sure, my grades were better than most, but other than that, I was your run of the mill student. Well, kind of. I happened to switch back and forth between working at a bathhouse in a magical world filled with spirits and going to school in the regular world, but you know .. average.
His appearance was nearly average, but there was a warmth in the eyes. The corners of his mouth gently coaxed his lips into a timid half-smile. I liked the wringing hands. The skin looked soft, like two delicate things quarreling. In servility to his mouth, they gripped tighter. He exhaled his words effortlessly, tenderly. I left the room with a sense of the untenable and with a hope that I could be wrong.
i already wrote about average
(the average in you
and the way your filling me up
with it)
(i don’t even think it’s killing me)
average kiss? i think my mind is easing up now, covering the scars of your last affections. at least for me. or maybe for you? hun up in stories i dont even know. i dont care anymore. ords are too similare, passages too far. home of the average. home of us
Average
some people are tall
some short
some skinny
some smart
some athletic
but what is average?
Below average height. Above average intelligence. Not average in looks. You are entitled to your opinion as to which way she sways.
He always thought there was something wrong with being average. He had to be better than everyone else, by far, or even by a little bit. He can’t stand it when others tell him, “Oh, you did okay.” If it’s not excellent, it’s unacceptable. What’s wrong with being average? Really, I’m just an average human being.
Average can be explained in a simple sense; whats accepted and acceptable for people. However, the most revered and famous individuals are acceptable because they’re better than average, more than average.
As she walked home she reminisced about her day, pablo was not just any average boy, there was something special about him. Mary hoped that some day she might speak to Pablo, instead of just admiring him from a distance. Mary knew she was not just an average girl either,
the clouds started rolling in at incredibly high speeds,all,it seemed directly on top of her.lightening stared flashing closer and closer.
“hmmm,”stated powerful girl,”why do i get the feelng that this isn’t just your average thunderstorm?”
It’s an average day. With my average life. In an average town. My sites set not above average, yet not sinking lower than the normal. The average life is not what the average person aspires to.
Average lint is what you could call sub-standard cloth and dust. I mean, come on. But seriously though, if you think hard about it there are ways you can actualate these things into something a bit more perverse. Take, for example, a lake of tacos. Can you think of any who would not enjoy such a swim?
who wants to be known as just average? Why not strive for greatness? being average is never meeting one’s full potential, only being just good enough. being average puts those behind people who do not settle
I think the whole idea of becoming average was a mistake on my part. Shannon always insisted, though, “We could be popular. They would like us.” But they never did. And when she died, they laughed. And I was sure then, this was not the life I wanted.
there are too many things that turn out to be average work when you dont put enough time and effort into the work. it just depends on the quality that you want to achieve with the time you have.
I used to be average. Back before I went to boarding school. I was quiet, a nobody. Just another conformist. But then I met Debra. My best friend. I really miss her. When she left I cried for days. I lost everything to go to a boarding school. What a stupid mistake that was.
A piece of string, just average length
wound round the fingers of the free
and held them captive on their chain
onto the mast of liberty
I could talk about how I’m average,
and simple,
and boring.
But I’m not going to
because I’m not.
And neither are you.
The average kid lies beneath desks as long a possible during air raids. Former students long to tell of their mental wounds. Horrible, horrlible stories are told about class dismissal as result of this exercise
On the average, Ted thought his life was good. Sometimes great. But usually always good.
Not always. Except for that one time. Well, looking back, there were lots of terrible times, but one stood out from the others. One was worse.
That one he couldn’t forget.
An average is an amount of something for example: The average time in an hour is sixty minutes.
I’m a little less than average. At my best, I’m coming in second. I have been in this spot all my life, and I think I’m ok with that. I may not be good as you, but I am who I am. I’ll be who I am supposed to be, do what ever I want to do. This is my life, my second rate life.
i have seen people like her before. not to tall not to small, everything about her was average. her hair, her weight, everything. but for some reason i can not stop thinking about her.
It had been three moons since M’Bala had thrown the rock at the elephant. It was if anything, a distant memory how the pachyderm had just sauntered off into the jungle, seemingly unfazed. It was a warm day when M’bala was lazily tossing Mancala stones around with his friends outside his hut on the edge of the village, when the boulder landed on him, squashing him flat. Bumbo’s memory was better than average.
He was an average man. Average height, average weight, average looks. You might pass him on the street and never notice. That was what kept him from being caught for so long. He kept all of his treasures in his basement, hanging there on meat hooks and was never suspected–precisely because he was average.
She was anything but average, and she was the only one who didn’t know it. He didn’t understand how she couldn’t. She was beautiful and talented and kind, always putting others’ needs before her own. Just once he wanted her to see herself through his eyes. Just once, he wanted her to be selfish.
The average life span of a fly is only about one day. This means that the day of a fly must be anything but average. What would you do if you only had one day to live? I wonder what flies do? Hang out with garbage probably.
Long believed to be average, or maybe less than, or maybe just slightly more than, now we find that we are anything but. Average. In the light of the other’s eyes, what was average, uninteresting, unremarkable, takes on a sheen. And this, this is not. Just. Average.