Thinking About: Being Different



I think that I’ve known I’m different from a very early age. It became pretty obvious that I don’t think like or think about things the way most other people do. People seem to be constantly amazed, confused and, to be honest sometimes horrified, by what comes out of my mouth. Back before I learnt restraint I’d just say the first thing that came into my head which surprisingly didn’t get me into much more trouble than it actually did. After a couple of tense exchanges though I have imposed some self censorship and, on the whole, think about the consequences before I open my mouth.


But speaking my (at least to others) incomprehensible mind is only part of it. People have found almost everything about me worthy of criticism – and not just random strangers either. If I was a weaker person the constant criticism I have received from both friends and family would have reduced me to being a nervous wreck. The main focus of the needling is, rather inevitably, the books I read – or even the fact that I read so much of anything. I have lost count of the number of times I have heard “always got his head in a book” whenever I’m mentioned in conversation. Of course the fact that I read SF and Fantasy novels has come in for particular criticism – probably because I enjoy them so much. They are however “escapist” so have an immediate black mark against them. But it’s not only books. I have been advised to change my friends, my hairstyle(s), my clothes, my job, my house, the city I live in and so it goes on. It seems that my life would only be complete if I was more like the person giving me their ‘advice’. Stubbornly, however, I remain me – regardless of the consequences.


The consequences of being slightly ‘odd’ or ‘different’ are generally the negative effects it has on relationships. I have few friends for instance, most of whom are in the ‘odd’ or ‘different’ category – birds of a feather and all that. But because so few people ‘get’ me the pool of potential partners is a small one indeed. This is one of the reasons why I’ve spent most of my post-pubescent life on my own. In my youth I couldn’t understand what was wrong with other people, why they couldn’t see the real me. I learnt, somewhat to my shock and surprise, that the ‘problem’ wasn’t with them but with me. Other people had little problem forming relationships both of the short and long term variety whereas I often didn’t get past the first awkward moment which, being me, came fairly early. There’s an Alanis Morrisette song where she says something along the lines “what I’d give for a kindred”. I know exactly how that feels. In the 40 or so years of looking I’ve yet to meet anyone quite like me – never mind a female version! I’ve known some people who shared some of my interests, I’ve met people as smart as or even smarter than me (indeed on my last MA course I met some frighteningly smart people). But I’ve never really met a kindred spirit, no one who ‘got’ me most of the time never mind all of the time.


I think that mostly I’m tolerated by what I call ‘normal’ people. I’ll do something or say something and either their eyes will glaze over or they’ll roll their eyes and mouth ‘typical’ under their breaths. Sometimes I’m amusing in this way and sometimes I impress people by seeing links, connections, between things that no one else saw. But mostly I’m ignored or, even worse, expected to ‘perform’ on command. At least that’s what it feels like. Don’t get me wrong though. People, generally, like me. Most people anyway. Some hate me – I kid you not. Maybe they see me as some kind of threat or something. It’s quite bizarre but I do have fun ripping them a new one whenever we clash. Being fairly bright, witty and fast on my mental feet I can normally reduce them to laughingstocks before they realise what has happened.


Of course one way out of all this is to pretend to be normal. I do that already to some extent in order to ‘fit in’ to society. Actually becoming completely normal though would take a great deal of time, energy and effort, little of which I am prepared to waste on what I see is a pre-doomed endeavour. Anyway, I like being me – despite the real downside to it all. I am a misfit and, as much as I can be, proud of the fact. If people have a problem with that I shall refer them to a favourite Bette Midler quote: Fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke. Basically I’m not willing to compromise who I am to get what I want. Who I am is more important than that.