When did I become normal?

So I've been thinking about the song "Common People" because I heard William "Captain James T. Kirk" Shatner's version again a few nights ago. (It's off the new album: Has Been).

I think it's a great song, and that Shatner's version is pretty good, actually. I like it.

But the idea of not being common until you're relegated to the most basic version of humanity, the 90% that slog through their lives 'commonly', is intriguing to me, and I wonder if I'm common or not, and whether or not I want to be common.

This all comes into sharper relief at certain times. One of those times occured tonight. I ran across a couple of friends (both now married, with children) that I knew in High School and previous, when all the world was young and dinosaurs ruled the earth.

To paraphrase (my memory is a bit fuzzy) "When did you become normal? You're not supposed to be normal! You're supposed to have a fanny-pack* and tell us to grow up."

It begs the question: When did I become normal? Was it when I started to fail more often than I succeeded? Was it when I burned out? Was it when I betrayed love for temporary need? Was it when I faced the truth about who I am? Was it when I started paying attention? Or was it when I stopped?

*[editor's note: long embarrasing story--I was fashion impared]