This just occurred to me:
In the sixties, if you were not a non-conformist, you just didn't fit in.
Once back in school, in class somebody pointed out the old cliche that "there's a thin line between genius and madness". And somebody else said: "yes, just look at Eolake."
I don't recall how I took that, but I guess I should have taken it like a compliment. I was fortunate enough that my mother was of a bohemian bent. It's a less comfortable life, sure, but to me, trying to walk to the beat of your own drummer is the only satisfying life.
Note that I say "trying to". It is much harder than you expect. Like the joke about the sixties above, one often finds that when one has been thinking one was non-conformist, one has only been conforming to some other group's ideas and ideals.