When people mention their religion, or church, or love of god, I don’t roll my eyes and say “what unbelievable horseshit the whole thing is and why on earth do you think the god you believe is any more real than all the Hindu gods, or Roman gods…” etc., etc., etc. I say, politely, that I’m not a person of faith and leave it at that. People would be more comfortable with a cannibal than an atheist I think.
I have been known on the other hand to offer to strangle a chicken as a sacrifice to the dark forces when others say they’re praying for something. I like to do my part.
It is unlikely anything would make me fit in. Generally, I look sullen, so noone bugs me. Happily, I live in a poor neighborhood where appearances don’t matter much. I have two very nice suits and am willing to get a haircut, if the occasion is important. Better be DAMNED important.
Being a known maniac is helpful. Criminals are quite willing to take on a badass, but will balk at confronting a crazy person.
My friends have an entirely different opinion of me, of course. I’m especially popular with children, who think I’m the coolest babysitter EVER.
And I avoid, for the most part, giving my opinion on Feng Shui, alternative medicine, homeopathy, and all sorts of New Age soft-headedness, unless asked directly.
I’m an American in Japan. I couldn’t fit in if I tried. The closest I’ve ever gotten is when a co-worker audibly wondered about something that people in foreign countries do, and somebody suggested that she ask me. She said, “Oh yeah, I forgot that he’s a gajin.” So in her mind at least, I’m sort of an honorary Japanese.
Living here just makes the weirdness official. I never fit in at home either.
At least here people either find it interesting, or just shrug and move on, chalking it up to culture, another one of those foreign things they’ll never really understand. That’s a lot better than trying to convert my heathen ass, or talking to me about sports, or about celebrities and scandals that I could not care less about.
I know several women of my mother’s generation and above who say it as “the older I get, the less I give a fuck what others will think.”
I don’t shave my head (although it would really be nice in the Spanish summer). I don’t dye it funny colors (actually, my not-dying-it-at-all is found highly irritating by some of my acquaintances, who know this is my real color and who have much more white than I do; most people think I’m dyed). I wear “office acceptable” clothes rather than T-shirts from Hard Rock Café, metal groups and nerd websites over painted-on jeans. I say “thank you, that’s so nice!” when someone gives me a present, even if it’s something I wouldn’t pay a penny for, rather than “and what gave you the notion I’d like something like that? I mean, appreciate the effort and all, but gee holy whiz, you sure don’t know me at all”.
