Life will try to smooth your rough edges. Your job wants you docile. Social media wants you agreeable. The algorithm wants you predictable.
We tend to use the word ornery to describe a mule that won’t cross a stream, or a grandfather who refuses to use a smartphone, or a cat that knocks a glass off the table simply because the table exists.
Go on. Be a little difficult today. The world will try to move you, but you don't have to budge. Life will try to smooth your rough edges
It is the mechanic who refuses to let you drive away with a bad brake pad because “I don’t work that way.” It is the editor who scratches out your purple prose. It is the friend who refuses to validate your self-destruction.
The old farmer who is ornery about his tractor might yell at the sky. He won’t yell at the kid who wanders onto his land to fetch a ball. He’ll just grumble, hand the ball back, and mutter about “kids these days” under his breath. That’s the difference. The algorithm wants you predictable
The ornery person isn’t usually violent. They are resistant. They feel the current of the crowd pulling them toward the latest trend, the latest outrage, the latest obligation, and they dig their heels into the mud.
Think about the people you actually trust. Are they the people who agree with everything you say? Or are they the ones who, when you propose a truly stupid idea, squint at you, cross their arms, and say, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard all week”? Be a little difficult today
Of course, there is a fine line between righteous stubbornness and being a jackass. True orneriness has a code. It pushes back against the world, but it doesn’t destroy the people in it.
