Know Your Enemy

In the book Interview With The Vampire there is a passage in which the protagonist, Louis, says something to the effect of “I am at odds with everything.”
This passage stood out for me, as it’s a pretty accurate assessment of my own personality. In most areas of life, my tastes tend to run counter to those of the majority. If there is some song, or movie, or book, or TV show that is universally loved, there’s a pretty good chance that I won’t like it.
(There are exceptions, of course, but it is a general trend in my life.)
This isn’t some sort of knee-jerk reaction on my part fueled by some desire to be a non-conformist, it’s just the way things tend to be.
Beyond simple matters of taste, though, it often seems as though I’m going through life swimming upstream. For whatever reason, everything, even the simplest of tasks, is an epic struggle, as though the forces of the Universe are aligned against me, engaging in a consistent campaign of harassment intended to annoy the hell out of me via stubbed toes, blows to the head, and a seemingly infinite variety of other irritating guerrilla tactics in a war being fought to prevent me from achieving any level of comfort or performing a task with ease.
My biggest enemy in this unending war, more often than not, is myself.
I am at odds with everything, and everything includes me.
It brings to mind another book I’ve read, A Scanner Darkly, in which the hemispheres of the protagonist’s brain are at war with each other.
Back when I lived in Ashburn, I bought myself a pair of kitchen shears, as I had decided that from that point on I would never bother struggling in vain to open any sort of packaging by hand, as doing that sort of thing just opens me up for yet another of the Universes acts of petty terrorism, and I try – usually in vain – to avoid giving it any such openings.
So using the shears for opening things helps to prevent a repeat of the “salad explosion” I experienced a few Thanksgivings ago.



I showed that bag of salad who’s boss (The bag of salad, naturally.).

However, somewhere along the line I developed a tendency to not put the shears back in their slot with the knives, which would inevitably lead me to have to conduct a search for the shears the next time I needed them.
Somewhere along the line in my last place I failed to put the shears where they belonged and never found them again. I’d hoped they would turn up in the course of the move to the new place, but no such luck.
After I moved in I bought a new set of knives that included a pair of kitchen shears.
Despite having lost the other pair, I clearly haven’t learned my lesson, as every day in my battle with myself I use the shears, then set them on the counter, or on the table, or in the refrigerator (I haven’t done that so far, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time), and then, when I turn to leave the kitchen, I notice that I’ve done this and, cursing myself, put them where they belong.
Why? Why do I do this? Why can’t just cooperate with myself and immediately put them back after using them? Why must I continually fight this battle with myself? Isn’t it enough that I have to defend myself against the forces of the Universe without having to be my own worst enemy? To paraphrase Rodney King, can’t Jon just get along?
Sadly, I’m afraid I know the answer to that final question, and I have no doubt that these acts of sabotage that I perpetrate against myself will continue, and likely worsen throughout the years.