Fringer
Earlier this week I was interviewed for a new podcast, and I found myself saying lots of stuff I never really put together before. I’ve been a guest on many podcasts, and been interviewed many, many more times, but I don’t recall ever being the topic. Though this experience was a little awkward at first, I ended up rambling on for nearly two hours of prompted monologue.
Now I’m more than a little nervous to listen to the edited version and hear what I said.
One of stories that kept running through was of being the weirdo over in the corner doing his own thing. I’ve been that since I was a child, as far back as I can remember. Content to be off in my own little world, not needing much attention or praise, but reaching out and trying to connect to people every so often — wishing that the others would come play too.
I hadn’t realized how well this describes one of the dominant themes in my life until after the recording light was off. In every endeavor, and in every group no matter who they may be, I tend to find myself in that same position relative to the others. I’m often treated as if I’m coming from the outside. Well, really more the fringe, I guess. People don’t quite know what to do with me. This was true in school, it was true in my music career, it’s been true in my working life and my family life, and more often than not in any social interaction. It’s not that I am trying to be different or special or an exception. It just turns out that I am. I came by it honestly enough. I can pretend to conform like in any acting gig, but I can’t actually conform enough to be like the others. Not even if I did want to.
The first two decades of my life were pretty lonely. The next two contained a lot of confusion and pain. But somehow along the way, I got to feel okay. Thank goodness for that! I’m nobody special, just the weirdo over on the edge there, doing his thing. Enjoying the exploration of it all, and wishing that the others would come play.