My whole life I have been the outsider. There's never been a place that I ever felt I belonged, or a group of people that I felt understood me. Maybe I'm too picky. Maybe I'm a jerk. Maybe I'm missing some essential ingredient that will draw people in and make them stay.
Maybe it's the stainless steel operating table in my basement. I tell people it's a Romanian air hockey table, but I don't think they believe me. I think the bloodstains might be a red flag.
I'm a social guy. I like conversation. I have plenty to talk about. I don't get out much, but when I do the general opinion is that I'm good fun. And when I drink it's game on.
None of it matters because the trade off is to be boring. And I will take being weird any and every day of the week over being boring.
SG is as close as I have ever come to feeling a sense of normal. How ironic that in a community built by and for outsiders that I should feel like I belong.
Peace out, y'all.
