Why do you believe what you believe? Do you even remember why you believe certain things? Those things that shape your tastes; how much do you need them validated by others as recognition of yourself?
Aging can, and certainly should play a role in undermining untested certitude. When you're younger, you assert all and know shit. With wisdom comes less defensiveness about thoughtless matters, and a comfortable solidifying of tested beliefs, that become less about proving oneself than the foundation of personality. The sharp colors in the plumage fade, in other words, but the birds are no less vibrant for having taken them to heart long before the wash. Convictions once held for outward display are reassessed constantly; the affirming remain, while the unimportant are disregarded.
Consider the media I consume, in great quantities, and my dissolving dispassions: Until recently, I had never seen a Friends episode, but long held dislike for it, often in conversation with others. To repeat, I had never seen the show, so my attitude was completely unjust, and profoundly idiotic. I have since watched several episodes, and you know what? It's pretty darn funny. Likewise music, where I've dismissed entire bands, or even genres out of nothing but petty stubbornness. Thankfully these tendencies erode over time, and don't harden into restrictive prejudices. I'm not implying that my life's happiness would be diminished by not having seen a Friends episode. But why the predisposition towards antipathy over which are not only potentially compelling, but in the overall scheme of things, insignificant to the point of near irrelevancy?
A friend of mine recently told me that it's not what you're like, it's what you like. Catch the distinction there? Even three years ago, I might have agreed with her, but no longer. I've met people with identical tastes in many pop culture trimmings, who've turned out to be nasty fuckers. Conversely, some of the finest human specimens I've ever run across do things like (gasp!) listen to country music, and have never seen shows or heard music that's supposedly the benchmark of coolness and compatibility. I have also dated women with whom pop culture is all we speak of, like we're in the running for top-honors at a Trivial Pursuit contest. That gets really, really old, really fast, when everything's a Simpson's quote, and nothing substantial is raised.
The wider the cultural net cast, the greater future benefit, even as the task of sorting is more involved. Greater perspectives lead to increased tolerance. Whenever I talk, and I mean seriously talk to anybody, I'm amazed at the variety of passions, kinks, oddities, and habits among us. It's fantastic, and I appreciate every last bit of it. Those are the things that make people interesting, not how well they confine themselves to genres, tastes, or roles, usually ingrained and unthinking. This is because I've flitted around so many ideas like a fuzzy moth. Some have become a part of me, most haven't, but to each their own. Well, I draw the lines at those who make snuff films, or carpet their kitchens. I have no time for those people.
Untenable connections between necrophilia and flooring aside, my point is this: When you're younger, especially in your teens, establishing and maintaining an identity is paramount. Tastes are likely inherited through peers and parents, giving your perspectives a triviality, and forcing you to siphon vast quantities of information in hopes of pulling a few golden nuggets. It's an exhaustingly necessary facet of growing up. Another youthful misdirection is to be influenced easily by anyone's tastes, sometimes permanently. A girl I once knew, whom I grew to dislike, was into a certain band I had never heard, but immediately hated once our relationship ended.
Later, I rediscovered the music, and liked it. Amazing, the impact of those formative years on tastes, which is fine, and expected. What should also be expected is the ability to get over oneself, and to refine one's own tastes with as little extraneous interference as possible. Think about how many of your views lack origins, or are at best outdated convictions spoken like empty mantras, worn like verbal body-armor. That's all for now; I'm going off now to laugh at Chandler Bing. Might even download some Taylor Swift.
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