On Being Weird

I have recently come to the conclusion that I am weird.  I do not say this lightly and I say it only after years of thinking that I am normal (and that you all are the weird ones).  Being weird, or at least acknowledging that one is weird, is actually a difficult thing to do properly, and requires a lot of admissions and concessions to arrive at that place.  I'd like to share my little journey to weird with you and I hope I don't come off as too pretentious.

 

What does it mean to be weird

Weird is defined as "very strange, bizarre" (once you get past the older, supernatural definitions of the word).  In some ways, perhaps the supernatural, otherworldly definitions are better.  Not because of how amazing or powerful weird people are, but because they often don't feel like they belong with this world. While being a "nerd" these days doesn't have the same negative connotation it did when I was a kid, that word probably fits as well, at least the old version does.

Having been weird for probably 30 of my 40 years on this planet, I have learned that being weird is generally just valuing different things for different reasons than most.  

 

A good example is music.  I have weird taste in music.  Some of it is "good" music.  Music which is generally accepted as being of high quality, though it may not be overly popular.  They Might Be Giants, Radiohead and Beck are examples of unusual music that, while not necessarily mainstream, is generally acknowledged to be of high quality.  The fact that I love these bands does not make me weird, but it may be a symptom of my weirdness. No, a better example would be The Dead Milkmen, KMFDM, Meat Beat Manifesto, El P (who is now accepted as "good" now that he has joined up with Killer Mike in Run The Jewels), and Aesop Rock.  These are groups that are not generally viewed as of particularly high quality. That does not mean they are not "good" groups or musicians, just that they aren't generally accepted as such.  I had always equated the fact that I really liked these groups as evidence that I had a discerning palate.  That I was able to find "diamonds in the rough" that not everyone else appreciated.  I labored under this misapprehension for decades.  Finally, after trying to explain the beauty of Aesop Rock's "The Harbor is Yours" (a jarring, beautiful rap about a pirate and a mermaid)for the tenth or so time, I realized, I will probably never convince a non-weird person to listen to Aesop Rock or think that rapping about a pirate and a mermaid is a thing that should be encouraged.  The fact is, that these groups are different, and I guess that's why I like them.

Nature, Nurture, or Choice

 

Am I genetically weird, weird by environment or by choice?  A strong case could be made for any of the three.  

To determine if I am genetically weird, one need only look at my elbows.  Just kidding.  One would look to my ancestors to determine whether I was destined for weirdness or normalcy.  Without going into specifics, or naming names, from my perspective, there is ample weirdness on both sides of my family tree to explain me away.  Monty Python fans exist in my collection of aunts and uncles.  I have family members who obsess about sci fi, x-files, Journey and other cultural kitsch.  To conclusively determine if my weird is genetic, though, you would have to identify the "weird' gene.  Science has done a lot of amazing things, but I don't think that gene has been located.

What about nature?  Did my environment lead to my weirdness?  There are dysfunction and quirky personalities aplenty. Some dysfunction is clearly unhealthy, some simply entertaining.  Some personalities are prickly and some are loving, but many seem to be rebels with iconoclastic tendencies.  But, how much of the perceived weirdness is actually weird?  Is there such thing as a real, living, mortal family that is completely devoid of dysfunction?  Is there a family that can withstand close inspection without disclosing some warts and a hand or two with six fingers?  What about my adolescence?  It was kind of traumatic.  I moved around quite a bit.  I was teased and lightly bullied (which may be similar to the "lightly killed" crunch frog of Monty Python fame).  I was far from popular for years, and waged a futile campaign for social acceptance for quite some time in middle school and early high school.  Did this lead me to weird?  Did this crucible mutate my personality?  I think one cannot say.  

Finally, did I choose to be weird?  Did I analyze the social dynamics of my high schools and say, I can find acceptance in this group of people with the least amount of effort by wearing Dr. Martens, buying t-shirts at Hot Topic and not trying out for sports anymore?  Did I look at the fruits of my labors, at the time spent trying to be accepted by the mainstream popular kids and decide that my rebellion would be against the mainstream?  I am not sure.

The Price of Weird

 

My lack of certainty in why I am the way I am is not without consequence.  Everyone, from preschool until death finally tells us to put our pencils down, is told to "be yourself."  "To thine own self be true" and to "do you."  When you don't know who you are, how do you be you?  How do you be true to someone who is, at best, a shade, a ghost of an entity that you see sometimes from the corner of your eye, a shape without features or color?  Simply put, it's hard.  The struggle to find one's self is not unlike finding love.  Will love reveal itself or will love be selected as part of a conscious weighing of risks versus reward?  Which is better?  

In High School, after struggling through middle school as a denizen of the least popular groups in school, I stopped trying out for sports.  My mom pushed me to join Speech & Debate, because she thought I was smart.  In Speech & Debate, I hung out with the counterculture of high school. While there is no doubt that plenty of the forensics kids were crossover stars - they were accepted in the mainstream of the school as well as in the dark recesses of the theatre, there was a very strong feeling that I was now part of the opposition.  I did well in speech and debate and my merit in that field bought some credibility in my clique, this ended the lonely years of middle school and early high school.   My association with them as well as the skaters introduced me to "alternative music" when it was still an alternative.  This music was different. We thought it was unique.  It wasn't, but it was different from pop.  

In the end, I was conflicted.  I was accepted by the theater kids.  In fact, as a team captain, I became a social captain as well.  At first I was just happy to have a place at a table (even if it wasn't "the" table).  I was happy to be in a group.  Then, I had to come to grips with the fact that, by being a part of a group, I was now a gatekeeper, party to the exclusion and admission of other kids to the group.  I remember once that I was trying to eat lunch with my girlfriend (which, to me, was one of the most important social signifiers I could attain, a view that I am embarrassed to have held) and someone I didn't really know wanted to sit with us.  I was not looking to make new friends so I moved.  This person then, unashamedly, got up and followed.  The idea that I was now a person whose favor others were trying to gain was disturbing.  It was not intoxicating, as one would have hoped.  

This confusion and inner conflict are telling of the difficulty of accepting my weirdness.  High schoolers are very keen to achieve the purest state of being.  They want to be their truest self without the slightest hint of "selling out." Or they want to be completely exceptional.  They want everything to be given them simply by virtue of who they are.  Being a person of power (no matter how little), felt like selling out.  I wanted to be exceptional, but I didn't want any of its trappings.  It was pretty straight-edge, from a social perspective.

Making Peace With my Weirdness

Law school probably helped me cement my weirdness.  Once I realized that I was not the high-achiever my mom raised me to be, I was able to start thinking about what I was willing to do to achieve "success."  It turned out that "success" in and of itself, at least as defined by my peers, was not what I was after.  I was a guy who enjoyed the process.  Once I realized I was not a top 10%er, I just enjoyed law school.  I took classes that interested me and got a job (of course, I got a weird job.  In retrospect, maybe the universe decreed I'd be weird).  In any case, I realized that the mainstream jobs (the fancy jobs at big law firms that the achievers wanted) were not for me.  They were not for me for a few reasons, one of which being that they did not want me, another being I knew they weren't right for me.  

In the end, I got a job on the "dark side."  A job that my communist boss in college warned me against - in an office paid for by insurance money, with fancy chairs.  By that time, I had identified the things I really felt I was good at.  I felt that litigation was a place for me to excel, to strengthen my strengths.  In general, it has been.  

However, moderate success in litigation has not made me fit in any better.  I am not motivated by the same things as my peers.  Networking, campaign events, parties, these things do not motivate me.  I am motivated by the opportunity to more things that I enjoy.  

So, I have had to "play ball" enough to make others comfortable around me.  The reason weird people don't fit in is because they're not as predictable and they aren't motivated by the same things as others.  If one is weird, they have to demonstrate that they can be motivated to, in the employment sphere, get the job done in an unobtrusive way before they can be trusted.  I have marketed myself as a person who is not interested in politics, in being popular at work, but who doesn't foment or get involved in political disputes.  I have to show employers that I will get the job done.  I am never quite united with my coworkers, but they let me come and do the work I like to do.  

So in the end, I'm not marginalized, I'm not abused or mistreated.  I am generally accepted for who and what I am and I have had to accept that everyone else is different than I am.  The only real conflicts now are internal.  Are my differences a strength or a weakness?  Is my weirdness the result of laziness or is it an acquisition borne of hard work and idealism?  Is my acceptance of myself an acceptance of flaws that I should be busy remedying?  

Finally, I have had to deal with my weirdness as not being weird.  Everyone is weird.  I am unique, but that is all.  I am a special Human, emphasis on the humanity, not on the speciality.  When you define yourself as weird, it is hard to admit that there are others who are just as weird as you, who are just  as good as it, and who don't care that you are weird.

I expect that these conflicts are similar to what everyone deals with.  I have stopped trying to be in a clique or a group.  I am now focused on being a better me.  I am trying to be a version of me that helps those around me and makes their lives better.  The only perception from others I allow myself to worry about is if I am perceived as kind and competent.  I hope this is wisdom and that my teenage angst and rebellion have metamorphosed into independence and maturity.  I now am looking for my art.  I may find it in the law, I may find it behind a camera, or maybe I'll find it in this blog.  

Well, that's enough pretending to be mature and enlightened for today.  I'm on a diet, so eating is a big deal again.