ignorance is bliss, and so is sensitivity

Liz has been reading this book about raising a "spirited" child. I read a bit and liked how the author talked about being careful how we label kids. That much was kinda obvious, but it was more a change in perspective on the part of the parents that needed to change than simply changing the labels... and that's what I think the author was trying to address.

I'm called picky about many things... guys, smells, music, movies, styles. The list goes on. If the author were to label me, she would call me "sensitive." Perhaps I'm more aware of certain things that others may not be aware of... or I'm simply more sensitive to those details, allowing me to be more selective. Either way, I'm sensitive, not picky. I like that, because it allows me to be the way I am without having to feel like there is something wrong with noticing more or caring more about little things. The key word is "more," says the author.

But, you say, in noticing or caring "more" about certain things, your options are fewer! This is true in some cases. And therein lies a problem.

Another part of sensitivity is feeling like you are argumentative. Finding yourself with opposing views on things both deep and superficial that are discussed on a day-to-day basis can make you feel that way. Often having another way to see something that changes it from black or white to a shade of gray... well, people stop listening sometimes. People often like the simple, short, and absolutely positive answer. Which would you rather hear?

Did you like the movie?
- Yes.

OR

Did you like the movie?
- Well, I'd be lying through my teeth if I didn't say the movie had a horrible screenplay and the main actor was inconsistent. The ending was so unsatisfactory, and the dialogue was so lame. But man, that one scene where --- was amazing. Did you notice how she ---- and then he ---- and the other woman ----? And how the camera went from her to him right when the woman smiled? It was so subtle... so perfect. But, overall the movie was horrible.

To avoid sounding pessemistic rather than sensitive, I'll answer yes sometimes. And so sometimes, I tell white lies.

Well, few-ness and the appearance of pessimism aside, I like being sensitive... because I have good reasons to like what I like. And I like them 'more.' I like them so much my voice gets louder and I talk faster and I kinda freak out. It's a good feeling.

Last night I was reading 2 Nephi 2 about opposition in all things. If it were not so, all things would be a compound in one. Here's to breaking up the compound and loving the good parts. Here's to being sensitive.

Here's to us!
Who's like us?
Damn few!
And they're all dead!

Well, except Liz. She's alive. Phew.