Sometimes I’m just contrary. This can be both good and bad.
For example, being contrary meant that while growing up, I never felt the urge to follow the crowd. I was different, and that’s the way I wanted to be, and if you tried to push that way, I would quietly dig in my heels and not go. I wouldn’t push back, I just wouldn’t go in the direction I was being pushed. Once the pushing ceased, I might, might, go in that direction, or I might not. When one considers how peer pressure can be such a powerful force on teenagers, this contrariness probably worked to my advantage during those vulnerable years.
On the other hand, being contrary can be, well, a way of denying myself things I might like. For example, the mere fact that John Grisham is such a popular author is plenty of reason for me not to feel like reading him. Maybe one day I’ll pick him up, maybe I won’t. Other times, recommendations actually make me more hesitant to pick up a book rather than less, even when I’ve asked for the recommendation. Of course, I don’t feel that my quality of life is thereby significantly diminished, but it is a more or less bad result of being contrary.
Straight-out bad? Well, I like book clubs, but every time I’ve gotten involved in one, I’ve ended up feeling extremely contrary about actually reading the “assigned” book. Sometimes I’ve forced myself to do so, and it was okay, but a lot of times I’ve found that I really don’t enjoy reading some of them. In the end, I feel pressured, which is not how I like to feel about reading.
Maybe I won’t continue with this book club thing.
But I will definitely continue being contrary.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll actually do a new year’s posting.