Favoritism

I’m an incredibly indecisive person. As it is, I have a really hard time picking “favorites.” Favorite foods, favorite movies, favorite books, favorite musicians. Unless you want a really vague response, just don’t ask. And when I force myself to make such lists (as I regularly do on In the Key of Orange), it is not something I take lightly. Even if you asked me to “just go crazy” and list the top five songs of Led Zeppelin as they come to my head, I couldn’t do it. Something inside me prohibits me from taking these things so lightly. Sure, the impromptu uttering of a top-ten list is in no way a binding contract. It is not as though I’ll go to jail for perjury if, in the midst of polite conversation, I unintentionally exclude Steppenwolf from my list of favorite books. But I feel like I will.

Regardless, I do have vague, in-no-particular-order notions of what songs, albums, movies, TV shows, and so on are among my favorites in life. And how do I know? Because I won’t want much to do with them. For years, I have known Barenaked Ladies to be my favorite band of all time (one of only a few things I can say with certainty). I own all their CDs and have been to several of their concerts. And how often am I likely to listen to them? Pretty rarely, really. And how often do I watch my so-called favorite movies? Hardly ever. And I own almost all of them.

The thing is, some things are so good they have to be given your fullest attention. They have to be savored. They are sacred and, like the top ten lists on which they appear, should not be indulged in carelessly. How hard is it to appreciate the scenery of the road you’ve driven down a million times? How hard is it to get excited over a song that’s on the radio almost constantly? Likewise, to overplay your favorite albums or movies is to destroy their grandeur.

Nowadays I have my favorite favorites, and I have my day-to-day favorites. These two categories do not always mix. For example, I often find myself listening to A-Ha’s 1985 album, Hunting High and Low. This is not an album I would ever consider one of my all-time favorites. It would never even occur to me. Yet when I’m browsing through the CDs I’ve ripped to my computer, this one tends to catch my eye quite frequently. And it always hits the spot. Given the evidence, I guess I’d have to say it’s one of my day-to-day favorite albums. So should I list it when I’m asked about my favorite albums?

To facilitate conversation, I’ve taken to recognizing items from both categories. Depending on the situation, I can delve into my day-to-day favorites to give a more accurate account of my listening/watching/reading/eating/etc. habits. If the conversation is more earnest, I can stick with the crème de la crème. The only problem is when you have to make a non-specific list (as in Blogger profiles) that cannot differentiate between love and fervent appreciation. Favorite lists can become ambiguous at this point, but such is their nature when given in-no-particular-order. So why do I still manage to take them so seriously? It must be one of my day-to-day favorite things to do.