Think For Yourself.
I've started to think you
care less about how others may judge the things you like with age.
(Says the world-weary 36-year-old.)
I’ve discussed this subject here before, so forgive me for repeating myself (though I’m not sure who I’m apologising to, or why, as if you’ve read my blog that extensively, you brought this on yourself), but it’s one of life’s lessons I’m still getting to grips with, hence me returning to it. I was reminded of it this morning, as I listened to the Nineties-era McCartney album Off the Ground while washing up; this isn’t exactly one of Macca’s most highly regarded works, but it was the first CD I bought, so I think of it fondly, though I know this isn’t the general consensus.
I found myself particularly getting into the song Biker Like an Icon - a track I've seen described online as pretty much his songwriting nadir - and while on an average day, it wouldn’t figure highly enough in my eyes to be even classed an album highlight, something about it fell pleasantly on this occasion and I appreciated it for what it is.
My point is that when you’re a teenager, you'll often frame what you like by what your peers might think, instead of accepting you’re entitled to be a fan of whatever you want (provided it’s legal). For example, I clearly remember the time a guy in my year at school took the piss out of me for wearing a Paul McCartney t-shirt on non-uniform day. Even at the age of twelve I knew there was nothing wrong with my choice of outfit, but I still backed down for fear of reprisals. I don’t know why I worried in retrospect: this kid was nicknamed Peanut because of his abnormally shaped head, and I've since learnt you needn’t covet the opinion of a person whose only notable feature is the their bonce-circumference; I've never been one for phrenology.
(Says the world-weary 36-year-old.)
I’ve discussed this subject here before, so forgive me for repeating myself (though I’m not sure who I’m apologising to, or why, as if you’ve read my blog that extensively, you brought this on yourself), but it’s one of life’s lessons I’m still getting to grips with, hence me returning to it. I was reminded of it this morning, as I listened to the Nineties-era McCartney album Off the Ground while washing up; this isn’t exactly one of Macca’s most highly regarded works, but it was the first CD I bought, so I think of it fondly, though I know this isn’t the general consensus.
I found myself particularly getting into the song Biker Like an Icon - a track I've seen described online as pretty much his songwriting nadir - and while on an average day, it wouldn’t figure highly enough in my eyes to be even classed an album highlight, something about it fell pleasantly on this occasion and I appreciated it for what it is.
My point is that when you’re a teenager, you'll often frame what you like by what your peers might think, instead of accepting you’re entitled to be a fan of whatever you want (provided it’s legal). For example, I clearly remember the time a guy in my year at school took the piss out of me for wearing a Paul McCartney t-shirt on non-uniform day. Even at the age of twelve I knew there was nothing wrong with my choice of outfit, but I still backed down for fear of reprisals. I don’t know why I worried in retrospect: this kid was nicknamed Peanut because of his abnormally shaped head, and I've since learnt you needn’t covet the opinion of a person whose only notable feature is the their bonce-circumference; I've never been one for phrenology.
