A Theory on Originality

The other night I went to an informational meeting for a prospective job opportunity. I sat amongst the other fidgety freshman, overeager for the chance to feel independent and fund our Chipotle addictions. I glanced around, sizing up my competition as others innocently chatted up their neighbors.

“Be yourself on this job, we want you to be who you are,” one of the supervisors encouraged, way too enthusiastically.

Sounds doable. I may have a resting bitch face, but I do actually know how to smile and laugh.

“On your application, be creative. We get a lot of similar responses on these questions, so being original and unique can help you stand out,” she continued.

I hate the word original. I hate all of its alternative forms as well. As much as I —along with pretty much everybody else in the universe — have tried and probably failed, I could never dictate a clear definition of what it is to be original.

Is it taking an artsy selfie for Instagram? Is it composing a song about unrequited love for your amateur garage band? Is it shooting a film reel full of evanescent sunsets and long stretches of vacant freeways?

What defines originality? Is it the number of extra curricular activities on your resume? Is it the number of friends you have on Facebook? Is it the number of words you wrote on a page?

Originality is ambiguous and arbitrary. There is no measure of success. There is no goal to reach.

We tend to believe that creativity and uniqueness are synonymous with the ability to “be one’s true self.” Yet, your level of creativity does not influence your originality and your level of originality does not correlate to your creativity. You can be original and your thoughts can be related to something you’ve read or something you’ve seen, and you can be creative without necessarily being original.

I was talking about this idea with a friend recently and he presented an interesting argument: Philosophy majors base their ideas off of philosophers’ theories. In this way, these students may think for themselves, but already presented ideas incite alternative ways of thinking. Was the philosophy major’s foundational idea new? No. Was it creative or innovative in ideology? Possibly.

There is no proof that originality and creativity stem for one another. They may influence each other, but they do not have an inherent connection.

So the next time someone tries to tell you that you aren’t being original enough, tell them that you don’t have to be original. You just have to be who you are, and not in that cliche, “just girly things” way. I mean it in the way that just by breathing, speaking your mind, moving, and living you are something, you are someone. And by allowing the world and ideas around you to influence you, you are actually thinking for yourself. Take advantage of being unoriginal.

Image sources: rap.genius.com, www.examiner.com, www.izquotes.com, www.huffingtonpost.com