Life Is An Argument
Here's the Question Of The Day: Do you put the story first, or the moral? On one hand, I like the idea of putting the story first because it gives you some background to whatever conclusion I might have come to. On the other hand, perhaps you shouldn't have to read through a bunch of anecdotal garbage to get to the point of what I'm saying.
I like stories, so I'll put that first today.
I went to class tonight. Well, sort of. I registered for a class last semester on child and adolescent counseling, and we only covered "child". I was really going for the "adolescent" portion, which was only about two days' worth. So, instead of staying home and thwarting the evil plans of my favorite enemy (an AI Monopoly opponent named Creosus), I decided to attend the next class and learn about it - even though I won't be receiving credit for it.
If nothing else, I can say that the class is really entertaining. We watch counselor-training videos that, taken out of context, are absolute comedy gold. We've watched counselors tell their clients things like, "You know what your problem is?", "I've paid you a lot of compliments, I think it's time you paid me some", and "That's nice, but I want you to draw your dead mother." There was also a video of Richard Gardner, the Christopher Walken of counseling, but that's a Premium Story*.
Anyway, I'd just finished with this class, and I was riding back with my friend Shelly. As usual, I was tearing apart the training videos and telling her what exactly I'd do differently if I were a successful, well-paid counselor whose videos people watched across the nation. (Insert laughter here.) After half an hour of laughing at how hard a guy in a pink polo was trying to get a gang member to dress like him, Shelly gave me a really weird look.
"Why are you even taking this class?" she asked. "All you ever do is argue with the techniques that are presented. You're never going to change your mind about it, you're too non-directive. It seems like a waste of your time."
"It's really not," I replied. "I do this a lot. I didn't agree with what Ward (our practicum prof) was saying when I first took his class. I couldn't understand how you could possibly go into a session and ask ONE QUESTION and hope to get anything out of it. He changed my mind, though, and now that's the approach that I really love."
Even before that, in undergrad, I took a class by a prof named Andy K. One of the things we had to do was attend an interfaith seminar at a local church. As a rabid fundie Christian-Bible-college kid, I just could NOT understand what the value in this might possibly be, and I was REALLY vocal about it. A couple of years later, I look back on that experience (and all of his classes) as some of the most mind-stretching and educational classes that I've ever taken. Still, I argued all the way through it.
Cue the moral: I've come to understand that this is the way I am in life.
I'm not a great debater. I think exceedingly slowly - sometimes so slowly that the other person thinks I've stopped paying attention. Given an argument with no factual basis, the only way I'll feel like I've "won" is if I hang up on them, or the other person starts crying. (Or both. It's happened.) Still, I believe that any idiot armed with three crumbs of truthful insight could win a debate against any Harvard grad with a well-logicked argument. You guessed it - I also like to think I'm that idiot.
If I'm arguing against something, it's not necessarily that I think it's wrong. Sometimes, I'm just arguing because I feel like it needs to be argued. (Everything needs to be argued. Especially the fun subjects.) Most of the time, I'm actually trying ideas on. If I can argue my hardest against it and still come back to it later, or if my own mind starts arguing it against me, that's how I'll come around to an idea. It doesn't happen all the time - there's a lot of dumb arguments out there - but sometimes those arguments are my way of figuring out what's true in life.
Now if you'll pardon me, I have to go argue with an imaginary jerk named Creosus. The dimwit is trying to take Park Place.
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* I've decided to take a cue from The Internet and start having subscriber-only content. I think I'll call them "Premium Stories". To gain access to these awesome tales, you're gonna have to come over and have a beer with me. I can't just give all this amazing wit away for free, you know.**
** The beer's free.
I like stories, so I'll put that first today.
I went to class tonight. Well, sort of. I registered for a class last semester on child and adolescent counseling, and we only covered "child". I was really going for the "adolescent" portion, which was only about two days' worth. So, instead of staying home and thwarting the evil plans of my favorite enemy (an AI Monopoly opponent named Creosus), I decided to attend the next class and learn about it - even though I won't be receiving credit for it.
If nothing else, I can say that the class is really entertaining. We watch counselor-training videos that, taken out of context, are absolute comedy gold. We've watched counselors tell their clients things like, "You know what your problem is?", "I've paid you a lot of compliments, I think it's time you paid me some", and "That's nice, but I want you to draw your dead mother." There was also a video of Richard Gardner, the Christopher Walken of counseling, but that's a Premium Story*.
Anyway, I'd just finished with this class, and I was riding back with my friend Shelly. As usual, I was tearing apart the training videos and telling her what exactly I'd do differently if I were a successful, well-paid counselor whose videos people watched across the nation. (Insert laughter here.) After half an hour of laughing at how hard a guy in a pink polo was trying to get a gang member to dress like him, Shelly gave me a really weird look.
"Why are you even taking this class?" she asked. "All you ever do is argue with the techniques that are presented. You're never going to change your mind about it, you're too non-directive. It seems like a waste of your time."
"It's really not," I replied. "I do this a lot. I didn't agree with what Ward (our practicum prof) was saying when I first took his class. I couldn't understand how you could possibly go into a session and ask ONE QUESTION and hope to get anything out of it. He changed my mind, though, and now that's the approach that I really love."
Even before that, in undergrad, I took a class by a prof named Andy K. One of the things we had to do was attend an interfaith seminar at a local church. As a rabid fundie Christian-Bible-college kid, I just could NOT understand what the value in this might possibly be, and I was REALLY vocal about it. A couple of years later, I look back on that experience (and all of his classes) as some of the most mind-stretching and educational classes that I've ever taken. Still, I argued all the way through it.
Cue the moral: I've come to understand that this is the way I am in life.
I'm not a great debater. I think exceedingly slowly - sometimes so slowly that the other person thinks I've stopped paying attention. Given an argument with no factual basis, the only way I'll feel like I've "won" is if I hang up on them, or the other person starts crying. (Or both. It's happened.) Still, I believe that any idiot armed with three crumbs of truthful insight could win a debate against any Harvard grad with a well-logicked argument. You guessed it - I also like to think I'm that idiot.
If I'm arguing against something, it's not necessarily that I think it's wrong. Sometimes, I'm just arguing because I feel like it needs to be argued. (Everything needs to be argued. Especially the fun subjects.) Most of the time, I'm actually trying ideas on. If I can argue my hardest against it and still come back to it later, or if my own mind starts arguing it against me, that's how I'll come around to an idea. It doesn't happen all the time - there's a lot of dumb arguments out there - but sometimes those arguments are my way of figuring out what's true in life.
Now if you'll pardon me, I have to go argue with an imaginary jerk named Creosus. The dimwit is trying to take Park Place.
----------
* I've decided to take a cue from The Internet and start having subscriber-only content. I think I'll call them "Premium Stories". To gain access to these awesome tales, you're gonna have to come over and have a beer with me. I can't just give all this amazing wit away for free, you know.**
** The beer's free.