Monday, December 10, 2018

Contrary

I don’t think I’m all that stubborn. I don’t argue for the sake of arguing. I mean, that sounds exhausting and if I don’t feel strongly about something, I don’t usually want to put forth the energy necessary to fight about it.

But I suppose you could say I’m contrary. If someone tells me I should try something, my automatic response is to not want to try it. For example, most week nights after I’ve made food for Olivia, I’ll be scrounging around the cabinets and fridge looking for something to stuff into my own face. Tom’s learned not to make any suggestions whatsoever because whatever he suggests I will scoff at and not eat. I don’t do this on purpose. It’s not a conscious decision to NOT eat what he suggests, but my subconscious doesn’t want to be told what to do.

I do realize how childish that is but after 40+ years, I don’t see myself changing in that aspect. Lucky for me, it’s become a running joke in our house.

I do like to be right. In fact, I don’t usually argue unless I know I’m right.

I refuse to argue about opinions because there’s no proof either way. You have your opinion, I have mine, we can almost guarantee that no one is going to change anyone else’s mind, so why argue?

My freshman year of college I didn’t work the first semester. My grades reflected the fact that I had too much time on my hands.

I ended up starting to work at the cafeteria in my residence hall during the spring semester of my freshman year. My neighbor worked there and it seemed convenient. She’d told me how awful the dish room was and how everyone hated it.

Guess which job in the cafeteria was my favorite? Yep, the dish room. It was away from the public (my own peers) and I was able to just go in, rinse dishes, load and unload the huge dishwasher as needed and get through my shift with little to no interaction with anyone except the others who were working that shift in the dish room. It was awesome. And I can’t say whether my innate contrariness was what made me like it more than say the serving line (which was awful because college students are assholes) or even the check-in station where you had to swipe every ID card for every student coming in to eat that meal. I hated that one because the person manning that station was supposed to stop people from taking food out of the cafeteria. I’m sorry, but most 19 year old college students aren’t going to stop their peers from taking a freaking apple back to their room. That seemed like a lot of work for someone who was not at all invested in the process.

When I took the year off between high school and college, I knew I’d go to college. I just wanted to stay home for a year and help my mom with my littlest brother, who started kindergarten the fall after I graduated from high school.

I have a cousin on my dad’s side who is old enough to be an uncle. This cuncle (Ha! I just made that up and it cracks me up because it fits Phil perfectly) declared that if I didn’t go to college immediately after high school, I’d never go. He told me more times than I can count that I was going to waste my intelligence and that if I don’t go to college RIGHT THEN, I’d end up working production in a factory at 30, divorced with three kids. Now, I admit that Phil is a dick even on his best days but his insistence that I would never go to college was probably a big part of why I did go. I would show him, I thought in a state of contrary indignation. No one was going to tell me how my life was going to go!

And off to school I went that very next fall. Thank you, Cuncle Phil for pushing me to reach beyond that dire future you laid out for me.

Now, there are times when I probably come across as a pushover because I just don’t care enough about something to stand up for myself or others.

I’m working on that. I don’t want to come across as being spineless just because I don’t think something is worth a small argument.

I admit that even at 48, I still have a lot of growing up to do. I feel lucky that I am still here to do just that.

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