There are a lot of very popular things that I’m not interested in. I’m not saying these things are bad or criticizing anyone else for liking them. They just don’t flip any of my triggers.
I have fond childhood memories of my dad taking me to see Twins games at Met Stadium. I was even at the Metrodome for Game 6 of the 1987 World Series, the game when Kent Hrbek hit his grand slam. I think Target Field can be an almost perfect place to spend an afternoon, as long as the weather isn’t miserable. Despite these things, I can’t call myself a baseball fan. On any of those nearly-annual Target Field visits, I’m always slightly fascinated by things like the statistics displayed for each player throughout the game, and the constantly updated scores of other games being played that some afternoon. It makes me wonder what it would be like to live a life where that kind of thing meant something more to me than just a momentary diversion.
I acknowledge that country artists can be skillful songwriters and talented musicians. I appreciate the aesthetic that comes with the genre, excluding the most intentionally pandering examples of it, which is something found in any type of music. I saw the Oak Ridge Boys perform at a Boy Scout Jamboree when I was a kid, and I remember enjoying the show. I remember a city bus ride I took in college when the driver had us all locked into a country music station for better part of an hour. I was under a speaker during the ride and listened to all of this established music I didn’t know with curiosity, wondering what it would be like to be fluent in those artists and the work they produced. It’s never connected with me, though.
Whenever I encounter another slice of the world like this, a part of me speculates about how my life would have been different (or could be different) if that unfamiliar interest was (or had ever been) a part of it. I hate running. Dear God in Heaven, how I hate it. I hated it even when I was young and strong enough to do it well. I’m never going to be one of those people posing in Facebook posts with the medal they earned from their most recent “escape the White Walkers” themed 10K. There’s something about running that drew those people to pursue the interest that didn’t connect with me. I don’t understand the pleasure of spending an afternoon pulling weeds out of the dirt to make more work for myself by planting and tending to flowers or plants that may or may not ever grow. I’ve never understood the purpose of spending so much time preparing exquisitely planned meals.
But then I have one other adult at my school I can talk to about whichever video games we’re currently playing and how excited we are about it, while most of the other people we work with (many being younger than us) would roll their eyes dismissively to overhear that conversation. I couldn’t name check a single college football or basketball player in the country, but I can hear far too many songs from the 1980s and know the artist, the album the song came from, which track it was on the album, what year it was released, who the members of the band were at the time, often the songwriter, and at least one piece of completely superfluous trivia about it. I can remember favorite lines from innumerable movies. I can, and often do, sit for hours and make up stories. I mean, who in their right mind does that as an adult, when there are so many serious things to do? Lawns to tend? Grills to clean? Boats to winterize?
If it’s true that people are the results of their choices, it has me wondering about the ones I’ve made. Not just what my choices were and why I made the ones I did, but what inspired my reasons. Why am I drawn to bands and musicians that so many other people haven't heard of? Why am I able to dismiss everything about hockey so immediately? How is it my father and my nephews can identify the makes and models of different cars with little more than a quick glance while I have to work at remembering details about the one I drive?
Are we the people we are because of our surroundings, things chemically pre-determined, suggestions that come from the example of those around us, or the results of our own ongoing self-discovery?
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