You’re Outvoted

I’m putting this here mostly as a reminder to myself, but if it boosts your spirits too, then we’ll count that as my bonus karma for today:


It is ok to let yourself be outvoted.


There are days (laws-a-mercy, there are plenty of days) when I wake up, blink at the room, and think, “Today I shall be awesome! And mighty! I shall be awesome and mighty, and I shall rule the world!”, but by the time bedtime rolls around, I’ve decided that I’m actually the lamest example of boring lameness in the history of lame boring things, especially given that all my friends are apparently off being awesome and mighty on a more-or-less daily basis. I know some exceedingly cool people, and they do tend to set the bar pretty high, which is great in a theoretical way, but which doesn’t always do a whole lot to help boost the ol’ self-esteem.


But here’s the thing: the cool kids like me. They invite me to their parties, they send me emails just to chat, they have friended me on Facebook and say things like “you rock!” right there in front of god and everybody. They text me to ask if I can come join them for lunch. They hug me in public. They introduce me to their other friends without a hint of shame or embarrassment in their voices.


The cool kids think I’m cool, is the moral of the story. Whether I can always see it or not, the people against whom I measure myself have spotted some kernel of intrinsic worth deep in my core; they tell me that I’m funny, or fun to be around, or kind-hearted, or generous, or gracious. They tell me that my strength inspires them, as does the depth at which I love people. They tell me that I’m awesome, or nifty, or–my inner 15-year-old will never get over this–they tell me that I’m cool.


They tell me that *I’m* cool.


The cool kids say that. Like, frequently. Like, all the time.


So on those days when I’m feeling pretty spectacularly lame, I would do well to remember that. The friends of mine who are out changing the world? They think I’m also changing the world, albeit via a different method. The friends who bring beauty into the world for its own sake think that I also contribute beauty to the world. The comedienne thinks I’m funny. The ones everyone wants to hang out with think I’m fun. The smart ones say I’m smart, and the one everyone goes to for advice says I’ve got wisdom to share.


Whether I see it or not, I’m one of the cool kids.


And there are simply too many of them to be ignored. I’m outvoted–there are bunches of them, and only one of me, so I can shout, “No, I’m boring and dull!” all day long, but they are winning this vote by a landslide.


And as it turns out, it’s ok to roll with that. I can let myself be outvoted. Because even when I don’t see a shred of redeeming awesomeness in myself, the cool kids can see it. And as any 15-year-old will tell you, that counts. A lot.


Not gonna lie--this one always cracks me up. This particular version is from


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Filed under General Musings and Meanderings, Play Nicely

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