The Excessive Averageness of Extraordinary
An adjective that gives you an additional bit of just enough.
This is a word that’s been bothering me for the longest time. And it took until now for me to find the courage—time—to express it. I can’t believe I haven’t come across anyone who’s noticed it before.
Extraordinary.
Defined by Merriam Webster: going beyond what is usual, regular, or customary; exceptional to a very marked extent. If it matters, extraordinary is an adjective.
Seems rather impressive doesn’t it? Hang on a moment.
Much like I wrote that I find crestfallen to be an elegant and beautiful word despite its intended meaning, I would like to submit the excessive averageness of extraordinary which is contrary to its intended meaning.
Say it quickly and it sounds impressive. It’s like exhaling a breath of lavender, mint, and vanilla. Picture a sunset at the beach, the waves crashing against the shore. You would use extraordinary. I once had a slice of pizza that I thought was going to be just like every non-chain pizza slice I had ever eaten. When I bit into it and was shocked by the flavor, I thought just how extraordinary the slice was. Yes. Extraordinary.
But if you were to take your time and read it on a page on its own, extraordinary is extremely misleading. It’s a lie. It’s like a person’s headshot on their dating site profile page not even coming remotely close to the piece of work that shows up. Instead, it’s a guy who’s been eating convenience store burritos and playing Call of Duty 48 hours straight. That’s some hurtful, trust-busting level lying there by extraordinary. And you thought the Cheetos dust on his fingers was adorable? It’s not. And neither is extraordinary.
Here’s the thing: extraordinary has a dirty secret. Like a father who’s been hiding a second family the next town over dirty secret. Are you ready? Here’s where you get the M. Night Shyamalan-style twist normally reserved at the end of the movie because it’s been in front of our eyes the entire time.
Extra. Ordinary.
We’re a culture that celebrates achieving greatness and overcoming seemingly insurmountable odds. We look down upon those who aren’t any good but we look down even more arrogantly, more fiercely on those who are simply average. This is a good place to start. Let’s begin with average.
Remember how your teachers would go crazy on you for doing just enough to pass? Sometimes it was because they knew you were capable of more. Other times it was borne out of the frustration of having done everything in their power and having used every trick in their book and dangled every kind of (legal) reward just to get you to inch further than a ‘C’. It was worse than little Jimmy, sitting in the corner and eating crayons in hopes of seeing if his poop would come out as a brownish rainbow. Those teachers knew that the only graduating Jimmy would do is going from eating crayons to torturing small animals. This wasn't you. You were meant to be great…or so they thought.
Just meeting the minimum requirement was construed as being lazy—why do more? Or it was defeatist—I did all that I could please leave me alone. And so average was all you could muster. Or it was all you could muster.
That’s what ordinary is…average. Now imagine getting even more ordinary. Actually, how about getting more average? Does it make you as great as extra ordinary? Well, if you calculate the average of a set of numbers and then you add more of the average, you don’t get anything more than the average. The needle doesn’t move a bit! So what the hell is the point of being extra average? I’m actually shaking my fist after typing that last sentence.
Who’s the person that doesn’t just want average but wants even more average? Their dream is that they’d have so much average that they wouldn’t know what to do with themselves. Psst. Ladies, that’s the guy with the Cheetos dust on his fingers.
Here’s another: bland. This word on paper looks as boring as it sounds coming out of your mouth or even when you’re thinking it in your head. Geez, you’re apt to fall asleep or daydream just by thinking the word bland because it’s so damn boring.
Bland is the food that you have at someone’s house that screams of nondescript notes the moment it hits your tongue. You find that the only thing it’s seasoned with are the biased reviews from immediate family who swear it’s the best (insert name of dish here) ever. It’s been so hyped that the moment you bite, chew, and swallow you’re left wondering, “I’ve had more flavor in a leaf of iceberg lettuce”. The real enjoyment comes in the extra glasses of wine you didn’t expect to drink but now need to chug in order to wash the plainness from your mouth. You thought the cook was going to add some flourish to distinguish it from the warm tap water you’ve been sipping? Fooled. Instead you’re living off of the memory of the cheeseburger you had for lunch.
Bland is ordinary. We don’t send a dish back to the kitchen because it’s got too much flavor, do we? Hell no. But if it’s even just a tad bit off, we’re already raising our hand and calling the waiter over. And it doesn’t matter that it’s an Applebee’s.
Now imagine meeting the person who wants that extra helping of bland. I’m sure he’s out there. Here’s another heaping pile of bland for ya. Enjoy it with a side of boring along with a tall glass of common. Does this person go to a fancy restaurant and pay for a meal that tastes like what we would think the color white would taste like? And that person asks for even more bland. Extra bland.
Extraordinary is like a dad bod wrapped in a nice fitting suit. Seeing the total package you’re impressed. Tear away the clothes to reveal what’s underneath and you’ll struggle to un-see the man boobs and back hair. Imagine the furor over the false advertising.
Extra. Ordinary. Don’t turn away from it like a recently paroled cousin you’re looking to avoid at Thanksgiving. Sear those words—yes, we’re making them two separate words—into your brain.
Why do we stick to the definition when the word itself runs so contrary to it? We’re being misled to believe it’s one thing when its name is telling us the truth. We’ve been too blind or too much in denial to even question it. You’re doing too much Inception-level nesting here when it isn’t necessary. As I said, “It’s right there in front of us!”
Extraordinary is a sham and it’s been laughing in our faces. It’s been allowed to weave its way in our conversations and media for God knows how long, knowing that it wasn’t supposed to be there. But its definition gives it access. Extraordinary has its own section at the club complete with a table littered with expensive bottles of champagne. It smirks at us knowing that it’s getting away with murder. And we do nothing about it.
This isn’t about finding a better word. A simple internet search (which I did) will give you a nice lineup of options. Simply, there are plenty:
Remarkable. Amazing. Astounding. Marvelous. Wonderful.
So where are we? Why all this fuss? This is about a cease and desist order issued to a word. It’s firing this word for a job it’s not qualified to perform. By the way, extraordinary is the applicant who lied on their resume. You knew something was amiss when they listed “internet” as a skill.
Extra. Ordinary. Oh it hurts. I’m actually ashamed for having ever used it and perhaps you’re feeling the same way too after reading this. And you’re angry. Why? Because extraordinary has been playing us all for so long.
The five alternative words I mention above is a small sample size but any of them will more than capably do. I don’t see them used enough so when they do get applied, it’s special. It’s that breath of lavender, mint, and vanilla scented air.
And even if they don’t capably express your feelings, at least broken down you wouldn’t feel like you just got catfished.