Convictions and Embarrassment
My upstairs neighbor has bad taste in music. Feels silly to have an opinion like that. All of these sounds and words mashed together into something, and I have the nerve to say that’s it bad. What is bad about it? Does it not feel authentic? Does it represent a culture I don’t agree with? Or maybe it’s that she’s blasting it at 9 am. Perhaps because I’m not the DJ. Or it’s just not my preference. Which is fine. I’m not offended on any personal level, and I’m sure she’s having a good time, but it’s still mostly bad music.
I have convictions. It turns out I have convictions. There are just things I stand by and things I don’t. It doesn’t mean I’m an unchangeable being, but I’ve discovered how I wish to operate over the course of my life. I prefer certain music, and I don’t prefer certain music. That’s all fine and fair. I don’t think I’d be doing myself a service if I were suffering over any of it; it’s just not the road I want to walk down, and these are …
