Jun 17, 2013

The Perks of Being an Outcast, Part II

Where did we leave off? I think I was about 21 when I left behind a group of friends who had helped shape the fundamental way I think of myself.


So, as an outcast, it's never been more evident than in my own family. I am the brother who did not kill himself. I am the-only-son-left who may or may not pass on the nearly extinct  family name--a last name that's been quite the bane to my patience. I was the first kid to graduate high school even though I'm the fourth in the birth line. I'm recently the first to have a college degree. While these are obviously things to celebrate, I feel this strange shame over having accomplished something my four siblings did not. It's like, what did I do differently to deserve it?

I feel the exact same way about the last example I'll give about how I am an outcast. I have friends who live with their parents. I have friends who live in shitty apartments because they revel in their independence. But then there's me, the twenty-seven year old who lives in his best friend's parents house. On paper, it sounds absurd, not that it's any of your business. But, in the same way Michael Orr grew into a fine young man, I have been privileged to grow into my talents, and work on accepting them.

And so it was a week ago, at midnight, that I laid down in the middle of the field-sized backyard and waited for a star to shoot across the sky. I was in the mood to make a wish. After about thirty minutes of twinkles and blinks, I gave up on looking for a streak. But, since I was already out there, I decided to stay a little longer. I had a lot on my mind, as usual. I had guys and feelings to think about. I had this fall to think about. I had big, life-altering decisions that needed attention.

It was then, as I realized I had spent the last hour as a mosquito buffet because I am too au naturel for my own good and skipped the bug spray, that I had already made all the wishes I'd needed--AND that they had come true. I once wished to feel at home. I never did growing up. I felt more at home after being kicked out by my mom for coming out, than I did prior. I never really felt at home in my own skin either.

Lying in that field, the one I see almost every single day because it's where I park my car and where the dogs take a shit, I felt more at home than I ever have before. And even right now I feel at home. It's not the field that makes me feel at home. It's not the , it was this home into which I was graciously welcomed, that inspired me to become the person I am today.

This farm that has been in the same family since 1876, drew me out of the mind-sludge brainwashing that the suburbs of Holland had allowed me to experience--part of that dumbing myself down bit.

If I had not been an outcast, this farm would never have been available to me. I never would have become this bizarre little man who is revered by the current caretakers of the farm. I wouldn't have been humble enough to accept their invitation to this wonderland.

My friends and colleagues tell me they drive by this place and remark at how lovely of a house it looks. If only they knew its powers. My friends say they lament not being invited to Hogwarts. Fuck Hogwarts. The Radtke-Fisher Farm is where the real magic is.

I mean, look at how I went from a shadow of a person who felt as pinnable as Pan's shadow, to this flesh and bone writer of bizarre blog posts.

I intended to create a happy ending for this post, but it just didn't wrap up the way I thought it would. Really, how can one wrap up a post that has no real ending? "To be continued..." is the normal countenance for such occasions, but I used that up on the last post, for which it was a much more appropriate use than it would be here.

Instead, I'll leave you with this:
My best friend told me I need to stop thinking so broadly and get my head outta the clouds. I need to live in the moment. I need to stop rejecting the idea of a relationship and just be chill with the guys I desire to be with. I need to stop hating my job because in fact I truly love it and the talents I have discovered because of it. I need to be the Jonathon that I am in the following photos. I need to stop being who I am think I am supposed to be, and accept the perks of being an outcast. The perks of being Jonathon.

The aforementioned bff AKA Lifesaver


  1. I LOVE COLORING! There I said it... ;)

    Your BFF is a genius! Keep her ;)

  2. "The Perks Of Being Jonathon" sounds like a great book title. Or a sitcom. ;)

    It's good to be home, Jon. I'm glad you found it. :)

  3. That farm sounds like a lovely place, and a lovely perk of being you :)

  4. To me, you are who you are, you don't have any family bags to carry around with you. I get the feeling guilty thing. It's weird. Hugs! If I were a mosquito, I'd go after you!

  5. Ha ha! Leave it to Anita to bite you as a mosquito!

    You are Jonathan. And you are wonderful!

  6. I mean you are Jonathon. Not Jonathan. :)

    Coloring relaxes me.