I’m Not Like Everybody Else (or So I Tell Myself)

I’m Not Like Everybody Else… (or So I Tell Myself)

I love the Kinks, and one of my favorite songs of theirs is a lesser known song called “I’m Not Like Everybody Else.” There’s a point in the live version of this song (which I like much more than the tame studio version) where the audience enthusiastically sings in unison, “I’m not like everybody else!”

Indeed, we all want to believe that we are unique individuals. That said, I suspect I am not unique in savoring the delicious irony of an audience of thousands engaged in affirming their uniqueness… by doing the exact thing that everyone else is doing.

Whether it’s a gift or a curse, my social science training renders me ever alert to evidence of the foibles of the human species. The Kinks’ song affords a rare opportunity for my life long love of music to converge with my interest in the remarkable subterfuge with which we human beings so adroitly and successfully deceive ourselves. My doctoral dissertation was a flawed attempt at studying this difficult topic… but at the time I fooled myself into believing it was a more substantive work of precocious insight. As said dissertation, having served its purpose of earning my degree, was quickly relegated to obscurity somewhere in the labyrinthine stacks of Ohio State University, history has rendered its verdict.

Other social psychologists have done a far better job of plumbing the dark depths of self-deception. Harvard social psychologist Daniel Gilbert’s brilliant book Stumbling on Happiness further elucidates the Kinks’ song with this insightful and delightful quote: “if you’re like most people, then, like most people, you don’t know you’re like most people.” 

Clearly, some level of self-deception is healthy. And so “most people” err on the side of positive self-evaluation and distinguish themselves from the rest of the herd. The burden of low self-esteem can reduce our engagement with life and cast a gloomy cloud over each day. But left unchecked, self-esteem can grow like a cancer into the pernicious condition of narcissism. 

Psychologist Jean Twenge has tracked narcissism levels over time, and concluded that America is in the midst of an epidemic of excessive self-adulation. This research predates the disturbing popularity of one particular individual happy to put himself at the top of every desirable trait or skill a human can possess, which likely only exacerbated the problem. (I will acknowledge that the IQ of said “stable genius” no doubt exceeds that of the other horses in the stable, with the possible exception of Mr. Ed or Clever Hans, the horse gullible people thought could do arithmetic.) 

The majority of the human species appears to zero in on a more modest level of perceived self-superiority. An astonishing amount of studies show that “most people” (roughly 80%) rate themselves as “above average” (a statistically impossible form of self-delusion) across an vast array of skills, attributes, and other qualities that distinguish one human from another.

Arguably the “80% above average” standard is the Goldilocks zone of self-esteem—we feel good about ourselves, a tad better than we should, but short of the level where we risk being perceived as an arrogant jackass (assuming such an individual has such sensitivities, clearly lacking in cases of profound narcissism).

Some human skills, like how many words you can type per minute or how fast you can run, can be readily evaluated by objective measurement. But many attributes, probably the majority, are far more difficult to objectively evaluate, if indeed they even can be. For example, determining the most physically attractive beauty contestant or movie star or high school classmate is largely a matter of consensus, and beauty, famously, is in the eye of the beholder. 

Such burning self-directed questions as “how attractive am I?” (or one that concerns me, “how good a songwriter?”) are not only difficult to answer with confidence or accuracy, but also determine our behavior. A lack of self-confidence limits how ardently one pursues a particular passion; perhaps we try half-heartedly or with a self-defeating expectation. But should we sally forth undeterred, underprepared, and overconfident, we risk collision with a fateful and crushing rude awakening.  

In the arts, this phenomenon is known as the “vanity project.” Imagine a songwriter who invests thousands of hours and financial resources into a project that has, say, 16 songs on it. How does this hypothetical individual (any resemblance to myself is purely coincidental) evaluate the end result, having nurtured it through all its phases, listened to it all a thousand times, after such a monumental investment? 

Accurate self-evaluation is just about impossible, as, short of catastrophic memory loss, we cannot distinguish the experiences of the person who made the music from the aesthetics of the person who is listening to it. So if, like me, you are an aspiring songwriter (or school teacher or entrepreneur or whatever), who has launched their passion project for the world to consider, get used to the uncertainty… and the obscurity of competing for attention against the huge numbers of other aspirants (many of whom are immensely talented).

I am grateful that I absolutely love the process of creating music, from the first glimmer of an idea to the last tweak of the final mix. So, even if no one listened, I’d still do it. I cherish every supportive comment from anyone who has taken precious time to listen and respond. But of course, like everybody else, I wonder what everybody else thinks of what I’ve done (as we all do for any of the attributes or products we present to the rest of the world), and I’m nagged by doubts that any music I’ve ever made amounts to anything of value beyond the limits of my own cerebral cortex. 

Perhaps I am unique in one regard: unlike (almost) everybody else, as a result of studying self-deception, it’s more difficult for me to (as the Church of the Subgenius calls it) “pull the wool over our own eyes.” But I have no doubt that I will find new ways to do so!

Speaking of self-deception, I have just realized that this essay is just a roundabout way of my saying that I hope you listen to and enjoy the music I’ve made, but it’s ok if you don’t. Same goes for your take on this particular screed. Meanwhile, go forth and be creative and nice to each other.