I Say, And So Say I, My Morning's Day Seems Nothing Like Its Night, My Night, So Self-Assured, Was All At Sea When Faced With Dawn's Strange World

--"How Can It Be", Forever Thursday

For as long as I've known her, Breanne has been trying to talk me into watching NASCAR for her and, for as long as I've known her, I've resisted. It wasn't anything personally against the sport. I merely have noted that there's a mysterious acrimony towards the hobby and towards its enthusiasts. There are plenty of activities and pursuits that I've taken a lot of heat for so I wasn't frightened of being thought of as odd. I just didn't have the heart or the patience to add yet another preference that was out of the mainstream. I didn't want to expend the energy to defend it against the masses who consider it a Southern redneck sport for people who didn't have the intelligence or patience to follow a real sport.

I believe the other reason I fought against getting into it was I've always carried a chip on my shoulder about being told what to like or dislike. Nothing annoys me more than being in a group of people and not being able to go to a restaurant I like to eat at, see a movie I would like to see, or generally being outvoted by the consensus of the collective. For this very notion, I strive to always choose where I want to go and what I want to do when it's just me and one other person. It's my way of making up for all those times I had to play along. Being told which hobbies to like falls under this purview. Very few individuals can tell me about a new phenomenom and entice me to like it upon the first try. I resist under the assumption my tastes are just vastly superior to everyone else's and that to make a recommendation is almost akin to sacrilege. It galls me sometimes when people presume to tell me what I might or might not like. That's why whenever Breanne told me to go watch a race on Sunday, I made up some excuse why I couldn't. She said NASCAR and I heard "I know what's best for you, Patrick."

However, I've come to the realization that this is entirely the wrong attitude to take, especially with people who have known me for awhile. I like to think of myself as multi-faceted. I'd like to believe I have avenues not yet trod by most people who've met me. But for those lucky few who have seen the seemingly opposite sides of my personality, I think they may stumble upon ideas, thoughts, and pursuits I had never considered for myself but, one day, may grow to love. I've stopped thinking of it as an attempt to do away my freedom of choice or freedom of opinion and started to think of it as encouragement to broaden my horizons. Yes, I could have stayed on the same course I've always taken, liking the same things and squashing all pleas for me to change a bit, but that wouldn't get me very far. Because as much as I am a packrat, hoarding onto my treasures that have kept me company all these years, I can also be rather impulsive. The more I look at it, the more I realize that, true, my stubborness and my refusal to accept the latest fad at first glance has kept me relatively stable, but it is also true that my willingness to jump in with both feet has led me to some of the greatest days, greatest discoveries, and greatest people in my life.

Like a certain Southern gal who insists forty-three cars doing circles around a track can be entertaining. I remember a time when I thought she wasn't as experienced, as cultured, or as intelligent as myself. But now I find myself realizing there's a great deal she's learned about over the years and that she probably really does know me better than I know myself. I resisted her once because she was so new and I didn't think she'd be sticking around that long, but now I realize how futile that whole exercise was.

So now I'm a bit of a NASCAR fan now if only because it makes her happy and because I have no doubt I may grow to love it as well some day.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers