This Hotdog Tastes Like Mediocrity

A Story by Casner P

A story about how I was considered mediocre throughout most of my life, and how I learned to embrace my inner mediocrity and become more than just a simple word.

During elementary school (shoutout to E.G. Lyons Elementary!) our 5th and 6th grade literacy classes were divided into 3 sections: low, middle, and high (in regards to the students’ reading/writing ability) take a wild guess at where I was placed those two years...no really take a guess, c’mon! Okay, if you guessed “middle” you are one smart cookie or you’re just really good at reading titles and putting two and two together. So in regards to our reading/writing skills we were just average. Fast forward to high school (whaddup Blue Hills Regional Technical High School!) and it’s near the end of my senior year, and I have contracted some form of conjunctivitis/a cyst on my eye and it looks like someone decked me in my eye socket, oh believe me it was truly a hit with the ladies. They all took turns lining up and clamoring over my infected eyeball, one girl even asked to lick it because it turned her on. Yes, I am lying. Unless some gal had some sort of eyeball fetish (do those even exist?) I was attracting zero female attention. I wouldn’t say they were repulsed by me, but I definitely wasn’t making their panties wet either. I’d say in high school overall, I was just middle of the pack to say the least. Anyway, I ended high school with a 2.7 gpa which essentially averages to a B- so I wasn’t exactly making potential colleges cream their granny panties either, however Bridgewater State University seemed to be moist enough for me and they decided to accept me to their wonderful institution.

College was interesting for me, because I began to truly figure things out. Not academically of course, because I mean it’s college. We spend most of our time there, taking bullshit classes (uh music appreciation...what the f**k?) to fluff up our gpa’s and brag about it on social media/to our potential employers/at thanksgiving dinner...where no one gives a s**t (shocker). No, I began to figure things out about myself. I honestly can’t even tell you how I began to figure this out. Was it because I was getting older? Was it because the people around me? Was it because each time after I jerked off I always felt a sudden urge to become reflective/and or sleep? Who really knows. The comparison I always make in regards to me beginning to figure myself out, is being lost in the woods. Everything before college is me being lost in the woods, but not being aware that I’m lost. I’m just having a grand ol time in the woods, and then BOOM. College hits ya like a ton of bricks (and tuition) and you start looking around and you ask yourself: “where the f**k am I?” I mean you’re finally aware you’re in the woods, but how the hell do you get out? That’s how I feel. I’m beginning to scratch the surface in regards to getting to know myself, but how do I find my way out the woods to truly become one with myself?

While I was chilling in the woods trying to get the f**k out, one of the things that I began to think about was how people perceived me. Not only the words people uttered to me but their actions towards me as well. As, I gathered this bullshit data in my head I realized something: I was deemed average by society’s standards. Lower middle class? Check. 5’8 ½ ? Check. 10 ½ shoe size? Check. 12 inch dick? Check. Just kidding, not about the dick size but imagine if that was considered average? Holy s**t. Okay, totally kidding about the dick size but you get my point. Physically, everything about me is average! “But Casner, what about your astounding intellect?” you may be thinking to yourself, as you eagerly sit on the edge of your seats to hear the rest of this thrilling story (a guy can dream, right?) and I would say great question. But, in regards to my intellect, I was considered mediocre too! Just look at my history: Elementary Literacy class, middle of the pack in high school, got accepted to a school that was once considered “just” a state school. As a matter of fact, I only took the SATs once, and I scored a 1290. So according to those statistics, I’m a doofus! (Fun fact: I almost physically pissed myself during the SATs because I drank too much water).

Here’s the best part though: even some of the people closest to me think I’m average. Flashback to 2013, I’m at Bridgewater State’s commuter area where people with little to no friends hangout in hopes that someone talks to them and one day becomes their life partner. I’m just kidding, but on this day in 2013 I really thought I was talking to a gal who could potentially become my girlfriend. I’m telling you this girl (Taylor) looked like Winona Ryder circa 1988 (go watch the movie Heathers right now) and if you know anything about your boy, you know that I am absolutely goo-goo-f*****g-gah-gah over Winona Ryder circa 1988 up until whenever she went crazy and started to shoplift s**t. Needless to say, I was heavily into this girl and it was my first time talking to her. We were having a great chat and whatnot and she went to go fill her water bottle, as she’s going my friend Bryan sees me and comes over to say a friendly hello. I give him the deetz about how I’m going to marry this woman and she will soon have my babies, and we’ll have cute little mulatto babies who resemble Winona Ryder and Steve Urkel. Anyway I tell my bud to give me a good ol ego boost, ya know a little bro love. You know what this mutherfucker tells me? “You’re deceivingly smart” I mean he said more than that, but I was too busy wondering which college Taylor and I were going to send our Winona/Urkel hybrid to. Anyway, now when I think back to this conversation it always hits me: Deceivingly? Really? Huh? For some reason that word was just not sitting right with me. Had everyone viewed me in the same way Bryan aka Mr. I have no f*****g clue how to give my friend an ego boost viewed me? As I desperately tried to escape from the woods, I realized the answer was yes.

I never brought up this conversation with Bryan, nor did I ever get with Taylor and our dreams of living happily ever after were forever ruined. Actually, I think she moved to Alaska, found a boyfriend, works at Starbucks, and still finds the time to post s****y pictures of her hipster-esuque thrift store outfit creations. Facebook is a great place guys. Anyway, Bryan’s weird a*s comment helped me realize that either I was giving off vibes that I was dumb, but was surprisingly smart or I gave off vibes that I was pretending to be smart. As far as I knew, throughout my life the word smart and I were never associated together. I just always thought I was “eh” My parents never really gave me the backing that I was more than “eh” either. There were times of “oh you’re so smart Casner” followed by a “you’re a lazy pig for not cleaning your room” and “your beer belly really stands out in that shirt you’re wearing.” Thanks for inspiring confidence Mummy and Papi, really appreciate it. Here’s the thing though: as I was figuring all this s**t out, while simultaneously trying to become one with myself I realized I was fine with people thinking I was “eh” because “eh” turned into the chip that has always been on my shoulder. People keep expecting less, and I keep delivering more. I passed my three MTEL (Massachusetts Tests for Educator Licensure) tests the first time I took them without studying once, when many people can’t even pass the first two exams. I completed my student teaching (never missing a day) with the bitchy mentor teacher from hell. I’m just the 6th person out of many many many family members to graduate college. This past summer I was hired as an 8th grade literacy teacher, and I’m only 23 years old. This is not me attempting to brag, I’m just proud of my accomplishments. I’m still trying to get out the woods, but at least I’ve accepted my inner ‘mediocrity.’