What's a non-issue, anyway?

If I'm completely honest, I don't really like the number 5. It's okay, but I much prefer 4 and 7. I downright dislike 3. I also kind of dislike J, but I'd still take a J over a 3.

So which do you think is better, J or 3?

That, my friends, is a Non-Issue. It's a matter of apples and oranges, and it's exactly the kind of non-issue that you encounter all the time. Maybe you've heard (or said) this sort of thing before:

"The book was great, but the movie is terrible because it's not exactly the same."
"The movie was okay, but the TV series is better."
"This dessert is okay, but not as good as the one at the other restaurant."

People invariably use the words "better" and "good" when what they mean is "I prefer" or "I like." I guess when you use the former words, you don't have to bog down your sentences with things like justification or reasons.

I'm immensely open-minded, on the verge of being rabidly anti-opinion. Certainly I've been called apathetic a good deal over the years, because of the "I don't cares" I express. But I like open-mindedness. I like approaching things without preconceptions or expectations, and derive all the goodness it has to offer. I like to enjoy things without worrying about where they fall on some giant spectrum of "goodness." Why rank things? Why let your enjoyment of a thing be impacted by the mere idea of some external thing? Even more importantly, why should your opinion of a thing impact my enjoyment of it? Arguing against somebody's likes/dislikes is generally fruitless, and invariably arrogant. It's so common, though, that I've long since ceased crediting anybody's opinions on any matter of taste.

I don't understand the obsession with ranking, with qualification. When you allow one thing to inform your enjoyment of another thing, you're robbing yourself.

The book vs movie battle, for example, always bothered me—but I couldn't place why until I took a graduate seminar on movie adaptations of books. (Okay, I dropped it after the first class; but it was an informative first class!) Books and movies are simply not the same textual experience, and each tells a story using the range of conventions peculiar to itself. Comparing them qualitatively doesn't offer anything productive, and diverts attention away from being fully present. It's like saying you didn't like a book because the soundtrack sucked.

But more importantly, all of this is subjective. It's mind-boggling how much people confuse their own subjectivity and opinions with fact.

I kind of get it. I've proclaimed myself to be anti-opinion, but even I admit to being passionate about a few things, and I understand the personal affront it can feel like when another person dismisses something you think is simply amazing. But even dismissal is preferable to the arrogance of people who actually argue with you about what you should or should not enjoy. I am staunchly anti-snob, in the sense that I don't dismiss an entire genre of anything. There are always shining examples, and life is richer for this realization. Sure I have my preferences, but I recognize them as subjective.

Allowing totally irrelevant things to inform an opinion is nothing less than a logical fallacy, a non sequitur. Where did this tendency come from, to illogically manufacture discontent?

I've been accused more than once for being apathetic, or perhaps too dense to appreciate quality. This used to seem like a fair assessment, but now I'm glad it's my way, though I'm not saying my attitude is better than anyone else's. It works for me. The fact is simply that there are a lot of things I'm largely indifferent about. I literally don't care where we go for dinner (and I'm not "one of those" who claims indifference and then complains at every option), because there's guaranteed to be something at least mildly appealing on the menu. Maybe it's not my very favourite meal, but I don't know anybody who would want to eat their favourite meal at every opportunity anyway.

Back in undergrad, Roman history class was always my favourite, though some bits are foggy after so much time has passed. I remember the prof explaining to us why one of the triumvirates had failed. One member was content to be paralleled, but not surpassed. The second member would not bear to be even paralleled. (Perhaps the third member had no strong opinion on the matter.)

Sometimes my dinner partners strike me as being the problematic triumvirate members. Rather than enjoying a given meal, they get distracted by what it could have been. Maybe the meal is fine. But is it as good as other meals they've had? And if even if that isn't enough, is it better? If other people's enjoyment seems to hinge on whether they dine at a specific subset of restaurants, why wouldn't I leave it up to them?

But the point of all of this is: there are things in this world that just are, and they should be taken as simply that. Things that don't deserve special remark. Things that do deserve to go unremarked. Things that aren't black or white, or even grey; things that can only really be what they are, if they're allowed to be without judgment or appraisal.