On Being the Other

I missed my high school reunion, it was this past weekend. I only heard of it from word of mouth from one former classmate, but was unsure of when it actually was. My high school either didn't sent out anything, or only sent out very few notices, it wasn't in the local paper's calendar. There was no word of it, despite the owner of the bar it was held at being told it would be a big event.

I pondered my reunion quite a big, I even wrote about it and the idea of whether or not I wanted to actually attend. Main reason being, aside from an education and a small circle of friends, I really had no connection to my high school. I still see some of the people from my graduating class now and then, I have an idea of who's successful, who isn't, know who started a family and whatnot.

My circle of friends was small, and even then they were the ones considered "misfits". I was the smart but unambitious type who hung out with guys who had learning disabilities. Having friends of mixed company with no romantic interaction is considered an oddity at this phase in life. We were "others". Even amongst this crew I still felt like the "other". I was both the eldest child in my family (My friends were the youngest in theirs) and yet I was the youngest of the group. I was also the only one whose parents were separated. I was already drifting away from the girls I was friends with since elementary school. My personal tastes and beliefs were different from theirs, even today I'm still different from them. While they're all settled down with families I turned out more like my guy friends, committed but not settled.

I have always been an Other, it was drilled into me by my peers at an early age. I was no different from them in terms of visible differences. I was just the "odd" one who became singled out. In later years I grew to accept it. I was different, and there was nothing wrong with that. My personal interests were based on what fit my life, and the same went for those I grew up around. While one friend balked at my preference for nonfiction rather than high fantasy books, I found some form of solace in the rock bios I was reading. My teen years were strangely tumultuous and none of my friends could relate.

The years after high school started with what became a dormant period. The last of my childhood friends drifted out of life only to retain sporadic contact. I slowly gained other friends, some of them older than me. I grew into this different skin gradually. I know one thing that helped was becoming an artist and making myself a part of the art community. While what I do is very different, I find my Otherness is welcomed. It's seen as bringing something new to the table. I'm once again the one of the youngest people in my social circle, but my youth is seen as an asset. I was the one who was given the opportunity to do social media work for an art group. My peers are familiar with email, some with blogging, but are not as net savvy as myself. My personal style goes outside of the local, which is again welcomed as giving my work a universal touch. Being a performance poet, I also touch upon issues most artists in my area don't have avenue for. Landscape painters would have a difficult time addressing issues such as bullying through their art.

Otherness is something that should be celebrated. In formative years it is awkward to be different from most people, but unique attributes can become assets. While I am still wildly different from many of the people I associate with, the things that make me different are what make me accepted.