I have an embarrassing story and an announcement that will cause many of you to unsubscribe. But that’s a risk I’m willing to take.
First, the story:
I have long wondered if something was wrong with me. And I’m not talking about the rash on my back (I know that’s wrong with me).
For as long as I can remember, I’ve had this recurring question in my mind, “Am I crazy or is everyone else?”
Why am I insatiably curious about ideas that are interesting to me, but seem absurd to others? And much to my parents and teachers dismay — why do I like to consider the opposite view of what I’ve been told?
The combination of these two traits makes me a second-rate dinner guest. After receiving plenty of eye rolls and making several people squirm in their seats, I started to believe I was the crazy one.
This led to a self-diagnosis of chronic intellectual isolation and the prognosis was terminal. Or so I thought.
Why was I so against being normal? Why couldn’t I extinguish this burning desire to refuse to fit in?
I did everything in my power to hide this. And it seemed to work for a while. Well, sort of.
I trained myself to act interested in excruciatingly boring conversations ranging from “What did you think of the latest episode of The Kardashians?” to “Can you believe insert-talking-head-of-choice said that?”
I also conditioned myself to bite my tongue when everyone around me seemed to have been infected with the mainstream thinking virus. “My parents vote democrat so I do too” or “I read the New York Times because that’s what everyone reads”.
I felt miserable but I was actually quite proud of myself. I thought, “Hey, you’re doing it. You’re being a normal human!” But deep down I was clinging to the hope that there had to be at least one person out there who shared my affliction.
And then it hit me like a bag of bricks. There’s 8 billion humans out there. It’s mathematically impossible to be the only one suffering from this intellectual isolation.
I could cure my ailment, thanks to the Internet, by connecting with other independent thinkers. My fellow weirdos.
Now, the announcement:
Arman’s Antics is dead.
The Curious Contrarian is born.
This site has a new name to better reflect who I’ve always been, and more importantly, to connect with fellow independent thinkers.
What’s in a name anyways? Not much, I thought. But I was wrong.
It’s the ultimate first impression.
Most people have no clue who Arman is, so why in the hell would they care about his antics?
But 272 of you still took a chance by subscribing to Arman’s Antics. And for that, I’m forever grateful.
Yet, it’s time for a change.
The goal of this new name is to purposely prune the 99.99% of those who my writing isn’t for.
The Curious Contrarian is not for those who:
Don’t like questioning the culture’s commonly held beliefs
Don’t encourage or celebrate independent thinking
Don’t want to explore unusual, even unpopular ideas
Basically, if you crave mainstream ideas put forth by mainstream thinkers, then please scroll to the bottom of this email and click unsubscribe.
You’ve stumbled upon the wrong place, and that’s OK. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding something better suited for your (basic) tastes…
Still with me?
I knew I liked you for a reason.
This will be an experiment to see if you and I can build a community of curious contrarians. Those who:
Want to explore the serious business of living with a pinch of humor
Are willing to consider the underappreciated view that laughs in the face of mainstream thinkers
Will never take themselves too damn seriously
If that sounds like you, then you are more than welcome to stay in my internet home as long as you’d like. In fact, why don’t you invite a friend?
My only ask is that you don’t automatically agree with me. When it comes to my ideas, recall those beautiful words of Buddha, “Monks and scholars must not accept my words out of respect, but must analyze them the way a goldsmith analyzes gold — by cutting, scraping, rubbing, melting.” (You are my monks and scholars by the way)
I give you permission to call me out when I miss the mark or sound foolish. That will happen more often than not.
So now what?
You will still receive a recap of what I’ve been pondering and exploring with my curious contrarian hat on, every Tuesday morning.
And you will receive an essay where you and I explore interesting ideas on the serious business of living that the mainstream thinker would find extremely distasteful (still with a pinch of humor), every Thursday morning.
If that sounds good to you, then no further action required.
If that sounds like a complete waste of your limited attention, then I bid you farewell!
There is zero guarantee that this will work. But that excites me. And I could use some more excitement in my life. Couldn’t you?
Who wants to become more curious and less furious?
PS - If the name The Curious Contrarian does nothing for you, then I’ve done my job. This site is NOT all-inclusive. I want to explicitly exclude the 99.99% of people I’m not for (7.9992 billion). So I can connect with the 0.01% I am for (800,000).
Which means there’s still 799,728 curious contrarians waiting to find their fellow weirdos.
Likes and comments below.
I'm here for this! Congratulations on following what feels the most authentic to you. I look forward to your curious and 'contrarian' views!
Your market share math is very inspiring and I'm happy to counted among your peeps. Love the new name.