"From the Background"
When I was younger than I am now, the people that I befriended were all of the same variety: loud, confident, self-assured people who always wanted the spotlight of affection pointed directly at them. And they were the kind who looked good in a bright light, too; it set their self-confidence in an attractive light, rather than lighting up their flaws like a flare as it does for some. I’d assume now that I was drawn to these kinds of people because of my own shyness and lack of confidence, but back then I believed that if I wanted to be liked or thought of as interesting, I needed to be like them—always throwing myself to center stage.
During my life up to this point, that belief had been the justification to do a lot of things that I didn’t actually feel comfortable doing, like performing in front of others, acting confident and arrogant, and pretending (or attempting) to be outgoing. But I’ve definitely learned from one of the smaller and less important things I enjoy doing that that was the wrong way to go about it.
Whenever we’re in the car together, my sister wants me to sing along to the radio with her. It’s not because I’m a particularly good singer, which I can assure you that I couldn’t be due to how weak my singing voice is, but is instead because I have a knack for making up harmonies and accompaniments to songs as I go along. She sings the melody and I add an improvised layer of harmony, which I enjoy doing more than singing the actual tune. I don’t need to have a strong or beautiful voice to do it, or be a particularly good singer—I can just use what I am good at to make the music prettier on the whole, and I can sing the part I want to, making a difference from the background.
“Making a difference from the background.” That’s the key to what I’ve learned. I can play a part that’s not up front and center, and still be valuable, appreciated, and needed; playing every part is important to the bigger picture, and just because I’m not the one that everyone is looking at doesn’t mean that I’m less useful or less interesting. My importance isn’t defined by the role I play, but instead by the quality of what I do and the enjoyment I get out of doing it. I believe that I can make a difference from the background, and that I don’t need to be the loudest person in the room to be heard.
During my life up to this point, that belief had been the justification to do a lot of things that I didn’t actually feel comfortable doing, like performing in front of others, acting confident and arrogant, and pretending (or attempting) to be outgoing. But I’ve definitely learned from one of the smaller and less important things I enjoy doing that that was the wrong way to go about it.
Whenever we’re in the car together, my sister wants me to sing along to the radio with her. It’s not because I’m a particularly good singer, which I can assure you that I couldn’t be due to how weak my singing voice is, but is instead because I have a knack for making up harmonies and accompaniments to songs as I go along. She sings the melody and I add an improvised layer of harmony, which I enjoy doing more than singing the actual tune. I don’t need to have a strong or beautiful voice to do it, or be a particularly good singer—I can just use what I am good at to make the music prettier on the whole, and I can sing the part I want to, making a difference from the background.
“Making a difference from the background.” That’s the key to what I’ve learned. I can play a part that’s not up front and center, and still be valuable, appreciated, and needed; playing every part is important to the bigger picture, and just because I’m not the one that everyone is looking at doesn’t mean that I’m less useful or less interesting. My importance isn’t defined by the role I play, but instead by the quality of what I do and the enjoyment I get out of doing it. I believe that I can make a difference from the background, and that I don’t need to be the loudest person in the room to be heard.
This is labeled as a bonus piece because it does not contribute anything to proving that the American Experience is about the journey, but instead goes beyond that claim, just as one is apt to do throughout the American Experience. Not only that, but it is a way of applying the idea of the lesson being in the journey to an individual point of view. It again emphasizes that every piece is important, but in a different way than before. The point that this essay makes if one looks hard enough is the idea that even though each individual's Experience will be different, it will still be important, and it will still contribute as a piece of the bigger picture when fit together with everyone else's journeys. The lessons you learn and the things you accomplish along the way will have value.