The Island of Misfit Toy

There is only one time in my life I ever remember feeling like I belonged: during (most of) my seven years working at a company called Razor & Tie. I always referred to it as "The Island of Misfit Toys" because its staff was mostly comprised of whip-smart, charming, and somewhat idiosyncratic folk who would never fit in at a traditional record label. But somehow, together, the core group who stuck around for more than a year or two - myself included - all were in sync, despite our wild differences.

I've been kind of lost since I left Razor & Tie.

I've been looking for the same camaraderie amongst the companies and clients I've worked with for the last two and a half years since, but haven't found it. I hold that quality of teamwork and collaboration we had in the highest esteem. It has set the bar very high for my future career endeavors.

But career aside, I am still a misfit, and always have been. In high school, I tried to fit in with various groups - the dirtbags, the metalheads, the geeks, the popular kids - but even when I embedded myself in the drama department, successfully getting cast in a variety of musicals and plays, I was always on the periphery. My mother never let me stay for late rehearsals. She never let me go to cast parties. I had to beg to even audition. I was an oddity among oddities.

And now, having moved to LA at such an advanced age, and left my friends and family back in New York, I am facing my own oddball nature more than ever.

My preexisting LA friends are busy. They're working. They're married, or cohabitating. They're parenting. It's important.

Sure, I can try to supplement them. Fortunately, with no punishments or curfews holding me back as an adult, I can seek out and pursue a whole world of new social groups into which I can try insinuate. So over the course of the 20+ months since moving to LA, I have tried mingling with a variety of groups with whom I'm certain to have something in common. There have been the naturalists. The bikers. The hikers. The sailors. The architects. The Art Deco enthusiasts. The foodies and the homebrewers. The historians. The preservationists. The environmentalists. The nostalgists. The lovers. The ghost-hunters. The dearly departed. Not to mention the actors/screenwriters/directors - but that's just about everybody in LA, at least a little bit.

I am alone - and lonely - amongst all of them.

And now I realize: I have found my island - but I'm the only misfit toy on it. If I can't find another (more populated) island to hop to, I've got to find some other toys who want to come join me on mine.

Related Posts:
Not What I Moved to California For
This Is It
Someone for Everyone
Get a Move On

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