Before the photobomb...

I was somewhere outside of the tweens and into the teens. This is the '90s. I always felt a little different from my peer group in ways that seemed to define my upbringing. Skewing towards shy and sometimes finding comfort in looking at my shoes instead of someone's eyes, I was the girl next door with more nerdy tendencies than popularity votes. The one who would have to find ways to fall in love with who I am without the other loud resounding voices giving me a reason to. This little story is not about one distinct time that I found myself in a position of being not so accepted. But it speaks of being someone who tried so often to shove round pegs into a square hole inside myself. Or just being way too aware that I was sticking out in the crowd. And how to accept that quirky you without breaking into pieces and falling apart before becoming the person you were meant to be.

There were a few places that I felt I was comfortable, such as the band hall, or the choir room. There you are free to be whatever you are. And just be honest to the love for music. No one comes to judge you. Success is a team effort and guess what? You made this one, baby! The fact is that when talent comes into play, the difference between you and your friends depends on the teacher. Those top jocks or cheerleaders that happen to participate are on an equal playing field to any former or future geek, nerd, or wanna- be popular kid. These extracurricular activities seem to be designed for the ones who just need to belong somewhere, and rest their heads at night knowing that talent is based on merit systems and not the things we truly cannot control. Like who likes who for how long.

As I found out in the social media space, likes are pretty nebulous and last as long as cotton candy or popping rocks in a liquid substance. It is fleeting and very conditional, sometimes just a momentary choice that has too much of a lasting impact on the hearts and minds of youth. But I was around doing my kid thing way before the heart emoji. And loved being protected by the arts in an affirming, loving way. Hearts all around to the arts community for giving this young sista love and many others all around this world. Without this saving grace, countless millions would have not discovered their true meaning.

Those spaces are "safe zones." In high school, you need all the safe zones you can find. That fact is one of universality, ages old and generation free. Free to be quirky, original, or just not the typical cookie cutter of what it means to be loved for what you look like. But what you bring to the table. The way it felt to jump into character in a musical or get into my first chair seat in band was enthralling and very special. Nothing like that under the sun nor skies. To know that your part was meant to be there, and your contribution will add to the success and total impact of the team. There are often too many times to be shunned away from a team because of a passing fancy, and no real reason to be dismissed. Except that there is a benchmark of being able to determine who plays the game. Instead of fighting to get inside the exclusive clubs, I would rather succeed in the safe zone. Just south of cool and north of average. But truly, a place that saved my life. To think about where I would be without a place to belong is sort of scary. Actually mind blowing and frightening.

So where is that aforementioned photobomb? A moment that lives in infamy. That awkward moment that you see something jump into the frame but the shutter already has gone off. And there it is, an undesired blip or character, for everyone and man to see. They are as famous as the actual shot and subject. Sometimes they are so funny that you just can't get enough. Who actually has been one of those and tried to? Sneak into the party and just crash it, for the hilarity? To be the legend that somehow was lurking around in some place no one really needed you in. To think that you may have ruined the magic moment. But just happened to be in the right place at the wrong time.

I often became that photobomb. That unintentional visitor to a frame that did not intend me to take part. When that was not the terminology. In the 1990s, we called it being cut from the picture. Having your face visible, but maybe not your extremities. A piece of yourself. It was kind of who I was that year. Not fully embraced. Just wanting to fit the dimensions of what meant being accepted. And I tried to be the real subject. But to the people who were in the clique, I really did not belong in it. I was speaking another language. Even in a club that we all belonged in, I was the one outside the picture. I was too short to jump into the background. So my favorite spot to take group pictures and make the cut was in the corner. To pop my head into it and say cheese. It is how I made the social media scene before there was one. I took my rightful place even if I was not fully part of that group and who cares? I enjoyed the space of time that felt like they were welcoming me in. I may have been riding the waves of delusion, but nonetheless, it felt like a home I yearned to call mine. Was it popularity or simply inclusion?

When you just know that you were meant for something, but you cannot find the door in. You just take the floor in front of it and wait for your turn. And allow that awkwardness to be yours until you get your notification of approval. Then somehow, you're still late and seem to be that shadow in the background of the photo. Like I recall in a few of my band group photos.

It was a photobomb but why couldn't I be one of them? We were all bandmates. We all rode the yellow dog for hours and hours after a long night of supporting the football team. We knew the drill and the assignment and came with it each and every game. So when there was a trip, you had to find your group. To convince them that you were someone that somehow logically fit into their mold. And even though I spent my night on a charter bus listening to Mozart's symphonies, I could hang with the best of them. If I was just given that shot. But somehow I was not group photo subject worthy. Rather than to be eliminated for no good reason, I jumped in and took that role of photo bomb person. And those mall food court shots never looked better. And having an improved sense of self worth and value lasts longer than any of those Mickey D's burgers and fries ever did. Sometimes the most humiliating moments are there to simply refine us into who we were always meant to be.

I never took many vacations, but the ones that band afforded me were priceless. And those pictures of me somehow being in the corner of my own camera's Polaroid shots are some that brought me the most happiness. Silly to say, but I felt that at least I was with my friends. They somehow allowed me to hang out in their force field of likability. They helped me find a new voice when I had resigned myself to find comfort in something uncomfortable. They were okay with this person who may have not been as okay with myself. And to me, the embarrassment of peeking in on a group shot was really alright with me. As long as I knew that we were all there in that moment being kind and happy with one another and promoting each others contribution to the planet that we live on. That we were we. And that meant everything.

So if you have been in a situation where you wanted to melt away into the crevices of the floor, trust, you have a friend in me. This self- professed shy girl and outsider who just knew that I fit somewhere but maybe not where I wanted to. Or when I wanted it the most. I went in and out of periods of adjusting and tuning. And probably will always have a touch of that awkwardness somewhere within. Today, I strike a chord where my voice became one with a Leo roar and friendly personality more in tune with my zodiac. And the musings of my story of the photobomb before they were in style are my grappling aloud with some painful memories of shyness past.