Why I Hate Class

No, not like class in school. I miss that class.

I hate the idea of being classy. The concept of ‘high taste’. Garbage.

My favorite teacher in high school was a humble man named Ed Krug. He taught me and some of my best friends Latin for four years. And one of the most valuable tidbits of life advice he passed along was an old adage: “De gustibus non est disputandum,” which roughly translates to “In taste, there is no dispute.”

I took this to heart. Especially as I grew older, went through a phase of browsing 4chan, and met different people in college. As my view of people widened, I became more accepting. I learned that even though I sometimes still do it, it’s wrong to make fun of people for what they like. That every time I make fun of shit music, it actually makes me more of a loser. That when I walk into a contemporary art museum and realize that 20% of what I’m looking at is garbage, I just don’t get it.

I hate the commonly accepted connotation of class because it hinges on other people’s perception. Whether or not something is classy is decided by some cultural elite. And if you do things or try things primarily because they’re classy and you want to seem culturally superior, then you’re a tool. I think truly being cool is being honest with yourself and others about your tastes, interests, and quirks regardless of how they’re perceived. It’s about having the courage to savor what you want to savor.

I love good cigars and craft beer, but not because they’re deemed classy. I love them because they taste good and make me feel good. Because I can enjoy them for myself.

Now this isn’t to say that I don’t care about how I look or about what people think of me. I do, and I don’t think that’s wrong. But when you let it dictate how you choose your interests, you become a less interesting person. You start conforming and trying to always fit in so that you’re socially safe. So that no one can make fun of you. The people who only venture into interests and tastes just because they’re ‘in’ are cowards.

I’m still not as brave as I’d like to be, but I make a conscious effort to always remember that what people think of me pales in comparison to what I think about myself. It’s why I randomly dance in public. It’s why I played guitar and sang badly on the bus to and from school. It’s why I write this blog, even though I know not everything I say is everyone’s cup of tea. Even though I’m contradicting my post about why you shouldn’t always be yourself, god dammit, you really should be.

The idea of class goes against being yourself. It boils down to thinking that things ought to be done a certain way when they need not be. No elbows on the table? There’s no logical reason behind that formality. Properly holding your wine glass by the stem and not by the goblet? Unless you care so much about the body heat in your fingers slightly affecting the temperature and taste of your wine, no need to be pretentious. The expectation of highly ranked men to always wear suits and ties? Care about what’s in someone’s head, not what’s dressing their body.

Class is the antithesis of ‘De gustibus non est disputandum’.

When I hear hardcore gamers laughing and screaming at their computer screens, I don’t think “wow what loser nerds.” I’m actually jealous that I’m not having as much fun as they are. Same goes for when I hear some teenage girl passionately singing along to One Direction.

One of the most profound realizations I’ve ever come to is that if your goal in life is to be happy and have enjoyable experiences, it logically follows for you to like as many different things as possible.

So try to like the music you think is shit. Try to like bad movies. Try to like food you avoid. Try to like IPA’s even though they’re so damn bitter. Try to like fields of study different from your own. Try to like, or at least be accepting of fetishes that make you cringe. And most importantly, try to like the people you don’t like. Because the more things you like, the funner and richer your life becomes.

I used to despise teenage pop sensations and reality TV as worthless drivel, but now if a Miley Cyrus song comes on, I can put my hands up and the butterflies fly away. When my friends are watching The Bachelor, I can totally see why Corinne is like, soo not right for Nick. But for a lot of other things, it’s still a work in progress — like with contemporary art. Someday, I hope I’ll be able to look at a single straight line drawn on an empty canvas and not think it belongs in the trash.