"Ordinary fucking people. I hate 'em."

I'm looking at a tiny Charlie Brown Christmas tree across from the bed. It's the first one I've had in my house in almost a decade. I haven't celebrated a holiday since I moved out of my Dad's house the day before I turned eighteen. It's born from the same part of me that was a vegetarian for seven years and refused to drink for almost thirty. It's the contrarian me.

Honed during two decades of listening to punk rock, being an individual meant being different. Holidays were something that regular people did and were fake and lame. I was the kid who would have called Holden Caulfield a phony. The emphasis wasn't even on being better, just different. I am because I am not you. 

Now I'm older and unintentionally weird. I don't have to try to differentiate myself from others. I like all sorts of odd stuff. Now I relate to people poorly and don't make friends easily... which is a bummer. High school Nick would be so proud of how I've distinguished myself from the rest of the world. But I'm tired of being different. I want to go into a bar where they're playing music I know. I want to see someone wearing a shirt of a band I like. I want a stranger to get one of my movie references. There has got to be more kids who grew up the way I did. Is it just my five friends? Am I all out of compatibility?

Sameness is not a four letter word. It lets us feel like we are not alone, like other ships sail the same seas. I'm making an effort. So I'm celebrating a holiday and having a beer when it's socially appropriate. I'm eating a goddamn steak. Doing regular people shit, like regular people do. Trying my hand at joining rather than abstaining. Trying to say yes.