The Almost Never-Finders.

I  found myself in some unknown, foreign territory this weekend, a church-like gathering, a Stepford like neighborhood. Felt like an intruder, an outsider, a misfit, an interloper. That's not unusual. Not sure just exactly where I fit in, and really, if I think about it, the answer is probably nowhere.  Sometimes it's slightly disconcerting, a little surprising, maybe humbling. I'm one of those humans who just doesn't fit. I have always been a bit uncomfortable in my skin. I have never really felt at home, except maybe in my head. My own imagination, my own internal landscape. I have affinity for the dreamers, the imaginers, the visionaries, the poets, the quirky singers, the searchers, the almost never-finders. I suppose I would put myself in that camp. But of course, this camp only exists as a vapor-trail in my dizzy head.

Of course, there's a Dylan line that comes in handy: "If my thought-dreams could be seen, they'd probably put my head in a guillotine." Right. It's kind of like this idea that the not fitting in is a problem, a weakness, but then, I suppose it's also a strength. That is something I have learned over the years. Even when I try to fit in, it doesn't really work. So maybe just accept it? Don't judge it, just let it flow. So the not fitting becomes a way of life. An affirmative thing. I just don't, so maybe like Melville's Bartelby the Scrivener, I choose to "prefer not to."

Yes. So preferring not to is a way of life,  a way of life totally acceptable to me. I'm not worried about it, just reminded of it, often. I didn't just adopt this pose, I embody it, ever day, every moment of every day. "You're not from around here, are you?"