the theory of being real

As I sit in an air-conditioned southern california home, typing on a laptop, big-screen TV playing in the background, I am reminded of how ignorantly I often draw conclusions about life. It's not that I've never tasted pain or hardship, but if I'm honest with myself I have allowed many of my convictions and beliefs to go untested and unchallenged.
Lately I've been reminded of the sometimes harsh nature of truth. There is a naivity that results from surrounding myself with people who think a lot like me. I know in my head that people live and think differently, but I experience it very little. Every day I am convinced more and more that pursuing friendships, and engaging in conversations with people who think differently than me is essential.
Just because the things I believe make me feel secure and give me hope doesn't mean that these beliefs will not create friction with others. I have been experiencing this lately: I've been discovering a world in which my convictions are often unwanted. In order to remain true to myself has meant being slightly isolated. This seperation is never desired on my part. I'm just like anyone; I enjoy being with others. But I want to be real, and I'm doing my best not to compromise.
So, the theory of being real sounds great. To stand up for what you believe. To be consistent, reliable, loving. But what happens when being real means upsetting other people? What happens when being alone is the only way to avoid saying something you'll regret?
The truth is, the theory sounds great from your living room, or whatever place shelters and comforts you. But when that security is lost, and when you are tested, it's much harder to remain true to yourself. This all probably sounds obvious, but in the midst of my life right now, I needed to get this out.