When I was eight or nine, my Dad bought a (now ancient) Compaq Presario 4660 computer. It wasn’t the first computer we owned, but it was the first one I really played with. I knew nothing. I remember getting a CD burner for Christmas and spending hours figuring out how to set it up, only to realize the solution was as simple as moving a piece of plastic. But I learned.

I never made the decision to actively improve my understanding of computers. All I knew was that I really had a good time trying to figure those things out. And I did. It has turned out to be an essential skill. I keep myself organized, informed and entertained through my use of computers and the like. But until recently, I was never proud of the fact that I knew this stuff. The problem with computers is that, when you are a teenage boy who is trying to impress girls, they give off a less than desirable impression. Inside, I’m a glasses wearing, socially awkward computer geek who could talk for hours about how the public’s use of Internet Explorer is hindering web development due to Microsoft’s unwillingness to adopt modern web standards.

Shockingly, girls don’t really like to hear about that. Maybe because of this, I never felt those skills had any value. Computers were just something I did. That’s one of the unfortunate byproducts of being a teenager. In order to fit in, you have to fit in. All individuality and uniqueness is pushed out as to not appear “weird”. What a terrible word. I wouldn’t wish that label on any kid. I was lucky enough to make it through middle school and high school unscathed, but not everybody does.

As a twenty-three year old adult, I realize how much of a shame that mentality is. The people I find most interesting now are those who are unique and have deep interests in things I’m not well-versed in. Take my friend Jake, for example. Jake is Jewish, a topic I know next to nothing about. Ever since the day I met him, though, I’ve asked questions and he has patiently answered and explained. I am now a more well-rounded and understanding person for knowing Jake and having him pass along that information to me.

That’s one of my most important take aways from college. I don’t mean it in the way that my first grade teacher meant it when she read us The Rainbow Fish or the countless ways in which we “celebrated diversity.” How, as a seven year old, anyone could be expected to understand that is beyond me. What I do mean, though, is that being unique and having interests is cool. One of my favorite quotes is by Butch Walker, the musician and record producer. He writes:

“I can smell it on people a mile away if they were brought up as carbon copies of their own peers. The shirts, the lingo, the philosophy, the record collection, etc… just take chances because you will never regret that.”

I wish I had taken that to heart a little bit earlier in life. Now I know that “being different” isn’t some meaningless piece of advice written in a children’s book or tacked up to a wall in school. It’s actually a really great way to do things. Sometimes you’ll find things you really love. You’ll find people you really love, too. Either way, you’ll be better off for it.