And now, for a little bit about myself.
I made my entrance a generation or two after the expatriates left the Old Galaxy; my grandparents were the bookish and technological types, and my folks were no different.
Enter yours truly: Keila, a relatively unremarkable specimen of the homo sapian, which isn't necessarily the greatest thing to be when in a minority situation. For some reason members of minorities feel the need to be distinguished somehow, make themselves different from the crowd, as if being a part of a minority in the first place isn't remarkable enough. Folks in this area in the outer rim of Andromeda are used to humans by now, but there's still a hint in the eyes of the older and conservative folk that we're not like them, we're not of their kind.
It's enough that I'm human. Doesn't help much that my hair's a vivid copper. It's such a peculiar color, in fact, that I'm told it slightly glows in the dark. I'm often used as a visual landmark during mega-close-range aural subetha transmissions, what the older folks call "phone calls".
Sometimes I wonder if that should be taken as some weird compliment, or an insult. I prefer to think of it as the former.
It didn't really bother me that I never particularly fit in among much of anybody. It just bothered me that I could never really do too much with it. I mean, yes, I could make my, how you say, uniqueness a joke or conversation starter, but I still felt isolated somehow. It didn't bug me much, but at the same time… it kind of did.
I think it's a raised-by-expatriats thing.
Despite this difference, though, we all got along in our little system; folks frequently went between planets, and we all mingled like we weren't different species, one group of which was from another galaxy entirely. This comradeship was probably strongest among my age group; we were the most used to each other, I suppose.
My own particular comrades were an interesting bunch themselves, none of which you could really categorize other than considering putting them in "other", "miscellaneous", or "unknown" bins. They were definitely quirky, to say the very least. I think there's some old Earth saying that goes on about birds of a feather, or something like that. We're all definitely our own folks, though, all very content to do our own things, some of which happen to be similar.
One thing we discovered we all are passionate about, interestingly enough, is incredible travel with dirt-cheap rates and often-similarly wacky characters.
I'm Keila Lenz, I'm an Andromedese-raised human, and I'm a hitchhiker.