Why do we
like what we like? I’m sure there’s all
kinds of scientific studies out there that try to explain the phenomenon of
taste, but I’m too lazy to do research, and the way things are now, what good
does it do you? Facts and science and reason
just get in the way. Why does it seem
easier to explain what we don’t like than what we enjoy? This time of year, I find myself thinking
about reasons a lot. As I go on to enjoy
my annual immersion into the LPGA
visit to Portland, I seem to need excuses to provide to people as to why I
enjoy it all so much. I’m not sure why,
because I don’t need to justify it, but I try and try. Perhaps I’m self-conscious, because even the
majority of my fellow volunteers at the tournament and the amateur golfers we
caddy for don’t follow the LPGA, or attend the actual tournament itself, which
I do not get. These people get a chance
to meet bright and talented LPGA stars and they have no interest in coming out
to see them perform in the heat of competition.
Most of the people I know don’t understand my love of it either. It generally brings out bemusement or just a
blank stare if I begin to explain how much fun I think attending the tournament
is. This is the highlight of my year! I
have gone on and on about it on this site for several years, and once again I
begin to contemplate my motivations and question why I like what I like. Why do I love it so much? I don’t particularly enjoy playing golf
anymore, and yet, I can’t get enough of walking around a course for 8-10 hours
a day watching it and going on an emotional rollercoaster pulling for the
players I like the most. Speaking of which, I
think I’ve found a potential new favorite golfer: Robynn Ree. She’s a rookie
on the tour and the Cambia Portland
Classic was the first top 10 finish in her young career. It was her restless energy, that she was
wearing what seemed like gear from my High School, Taft High in Lincoln City,
Oregon, (orange skirt, black top, and black golf hat with an orange T), and that she seemed to be occasionally drinking from Capri Sun pouches during the round that
drew me in. Capri Sun? I haven’t had one of those since like 5th
grade. I didn’t know they still existed.
I remember not liking Capri Suns, yet I
was so excited that she pulled one of those weird foil pouches out of her golf
bag before teeing off on the 15th hole. Why?
Robynn Ree
Back in High
School, when I was about 17, I discovered the old TV show “The Patty Duke Show” on
the Nickleodeon Channel’s “Nick at Nite” rerun fiesta. I’m sure it was delirium setting in, as I had
reached a high point of insomnia by this age.
I was attending school, working essentially full-time, watching late
night music programs like “120 Minutes”
and “Snub,” as well as classic
reruns of “Hogan’s Heroes” and “Mister Ed,” and listening to music all
night on my headphones. It was during
one of these mixed up nights, maybe after trying to read Johannes Kepler’s Harmonies
of the World for a school report (mistake), I developed a crush on Cathy
Lane, the identical cousin. If you are
unfamiliar with this show, it stars Patty
Duke as both a crazy American teenager and her identical cousin who is, I think, supposed to be
Scottish. None of it makes sense, nor
does my fascination for the show. The
opening to the show promises all kinds of wacky hijinks that would ensue from
such an insane concept clearly born out of serious alcoholic binges from the
creative team, but is actually quite subdued and a little sad. But Cathy.
I had no time for Patty and her hot dogs and lack of control. Cathy was my girl. I often felt heartbroken by episode’s end, as
she never seemed to find the right boy, while Patty always had suitors, aside
from her whiny steady Richard. The crush
went so far that I even sought out and read Patty Duke’s autobiography
in-between stabs at assigned reading by Homer,
Aristotle, Aristophanes, and a bunch of other old guys for school. Getting intimate knowledge about Patty (or
Anna) and her twisted childhood did not change anything: it was Cathy Lane I
liked, not the two Patty’s. But
why? Why did I like that character? I know it was Cathy that kept me watching the
show, but why?
The assumption
is that we like what we like because of the pleasure we receive from whatever
it is. Yet, we all know it’s much more
complicated than that. It’s not so clear
cut. Why do some of us enjoy things that
scare us, or burn our mouths, or cause us pain?
Plus, like a small curious child, one can keep asking why to every
justification a person can provide. It
can keep on going and going. Personally,
I don’t think we need to know why we are all drawn to our particular interests,
though it can be fascinating to ponder.
Around this
time of year, back to school time, many many years ago, I will never forget
moving into my dorm room for a second year at college. It was very early evening and time for dinner
in the horrifying campus dining hall. I slowly
wandered down the stairwell, loudly humming Kim Deal’s falsetto vocal part from Pixies’ “The Happening” (“Beneath
the Skyyyyyyyy…”) because of the perfect acoustics, while wondering about
the non-appearance of my new roommate for the school year. I went outside and feeling unready to face
the dinner and being overwhelmed by the warmth of the evening, I sat down on
the steps on the side of the dorm building across from the University Center where
the meals were generated. While sitting there pondering the state of my life, I spotted a
girl standing by an outside table enthusiastically telling two rapt people some
sort of story. I could not hear the
conversation, nor did I know who any of these people were, and I could not take
my eyes off of this story teller. Her
eyes were alive with energy. Her
gestures bold and her smile engaging.
All other activities around me faded away. It was as if my heart and blood pumping through my veins had left my body and were now under her command. I’m certain I must have been blocking the way
for others coming in and out of the door.
Everything but this girl was muted and pushed aside. I became filled with electricity and nausea
and paralysis. Time stopped.
I’m guessing
most, if not everyone, has had that kind of moment at some point in their lives,
where we are so suddenly stricken by another that everything else melts
away. Why? What is it that makes this happen? I encounter women that I find attractive for
a myriad of reasons nearly every day, yet I’ve only had a couple of moments
like this in my entire life. It’s good
that it doesn’t happen all the time, because nothing would ever get done. Is there some sort of underlying understanding
that we intuitively are drawn to within people that makes them that much more
alluring? In this case, I was
right. This woman is a great person full
of amazing traits who I cheer on from afar to this day. But what about when these things go horribly
wrong? What we like often leads us into
serious trouble like addiction and abusive relationships.
Sometimes it
feels like we’re all puzzle pieces finding ways to connect by using our list of
likes as the connecting points. Unfortunately,
unlike in the movies, we don’t seem to be very good at it, because there are too many sides to our shapes . It’s not so easy to make connections. We all find ways of complicating
everything. When I mentioned that I was
trying to conclude a piece about why we like what we like with no conclusion to
Alexandra via text she suggested
that it’s all Voodoo. I’m inclined to
agree. I don't think it would make any difference if we all knew what truly makes us tick and why. We'd still all do what we do. I do not have any idea why I like
what I like, nor do I know how to live a life where I like most of what I
do. One might think that I'd have learned how to do that by now.
This song seems especially apropos and highly recommended:
Holiday Flyer "Movies" 1999
"Could it be that we're just empty
And we're looking for something to take up space
It's so frustrating"
Love this!
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