Confusion and Curiosity: The Outsider Syndrome

Being on the inside is fun, I suppose. I have to suppose, because it's a largely unfamiliar territory. Everyone is born into and raised within a specific community. Small town girl, city boy, lonely world. Being a military child is a unique experience these days; deployments, overseas tours, and the globalization of just about everything gives every family their own obstacles.

Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

"Hi, my name is Alicia." We shake hands, even though the situation doesn't really call for it; this is orientation week, not a boardroom. We stand kind of awkwardly, because everything about this is awkward. New people, new place, everyone trying to hide the fear that we humans, apparently singular amongst the animal-like kingdom, cannot smell. 

"Nice to meet you, Felicia," I am offered in return. I keep my sigh inward, choosing not to comment on the mistake. My social instincts, on a finely sharpened edge, tell me that an exacerbation of the awkward situation isn't the way to go. I wonder if I should put my name tag in a more prominent place. My forehead, perhaps?

"So where are you from?" 

Maybe she heard the slight twang of the Southeast, imbibed into me by four years of sweet tea and red clay. Maybe it's because I'm not one of them. No height to me. Not blonde enough. I keep my sign inward again. Tact. Diplomacy. I'm trying, I really am.

"Actually, my parents just moved to Germany," I say. I try not to think about dropping Mom off at the airport, B silently accepting my hiccoughing sobs as we drove away. What a neurotic eighteen year old. 

"Wow!" There it is, a spark of curiosity. It's a true emotion, not the dull acceptance of the hundredth introduction. Name. Hometown. Major. Dorm. Okay, that's nice, move along, this is not the student you are looking for. 

"So are they missionaries?"

Valid mistake. Christian school. Far away from most military installations. But I decided to correct this one. Felicia is to Alicia is not as Missionary is to Military. The SAT is too fresh in my mind.

"Actually, my dad's in the Navy." I keep a smile. 

And there it is. Curiosity begins to fade into confusion. She doesn't get it. She has no experiential framework with which to classify me. 

"Oh, that's nice." Move along, pat down the edges of the peeling name tag. I am not the student you're looking for. Because you wouldn't even know where to begin.