Saying I don’t know what I like anymore is a bit misleading. I did…then I didn’t…but now I’m starting to again. Let me explain:

I tend to be a pretty easy-going guy. In middle school and high school I was happy to listen to whatever songs my friends wanted to put on. I enjoyed the movies they were interested in. I joined websites like newschoolers.com and watched Line Traveling Circus because that’s what they did.

It could be said that this behavior is indicative of an individual with no personal taste. There’s probably some truth to that. But as a counter, I think I’d say that the people I surrounded myself with just had extremely interesting taste and were simply the best curators out there. I mean, I never felt bored, I was always hopping onto new websites, listening to new music, playing new video games, learning about new technology. It was awesome.

Fast forward to 2016, though, and things changed a bit. I’m in college and my high school curators are now spread across the country and I’m hopelessly stuck listening to the same music I was in high school with no hope of getting out, my style was stagnant, my hobbies hadn’t grown or changed. I was a bit stuck.

Basically. I realized I didn’t really know what my own taste was, or how to go about discovering it.

In walks Spotify.

In walks Instagram.

In walks Pinterest.

In walks the Algorithm.

The Algorithms helped me discover new and wonderful things. But there was an issue with the algorithms. Yes, they learn what you seem to like and you get fed a lot of good stuff related to those interests. But ultimately, they rely too heavily on mass appeal, putting things in front of you simply because they’ve found most people with your tastes like them. Is that bad? Not necessarily. But I found that I craved something a bit more.

If I’m being honest with myself, the algorithms saved me. They got me moving again, taking the place of my high school curators. I needed some serious help in the music department. Well, all departments really. I self-described my style as “never in, never out.” My hobbies were…well, at the time I didn’t really have any. And my cooking left something to be desired. I basically just focused on school. Late nights at the library, late nights at home, late night study sessions.

So, the algorithms were useful.

Spotify introduced me to new artists and new sounds and filled those late nights with a lot of fun discoveries. By far my most prized creation was my first road trip playlist. Milky Chance’s “Stolen Dance” and Glass Animal’s “Gooey” (who my girlfriend, now wife, introduced me to) will forever be tied to some seriously fun freshman year road trips.

Pinterest was a life-changer as well. My repertoire of recipes was limited (also read as “non-existent”). Pinterest made discovering, saving, and using new recipes easy, making cooking and eating much more enjoyable.

Instagram became a place for discovering rather than simply a place to follow family and friends. This led to the development of a totally new hobby, photography. I’d always liked the idea of photography. I knew the technical details of most DSLR and mirrorless cameras developed by all the major brands. However, I never got around to actually buying one. Being able to easily surround my digital self with professional and hobbyist photographers gave me the motivation to dust of my dad’s old film camera and try it out.

The algorithms grabbed my hand and guided me down some pretty incredible paths. Every time, though, it felt like the path led me to the same mountain lake. It was pretty, but I’m pretty sure there are other cool places out there. I was rarely coming across unexpected or delightful new landscapes. The music sounded the same; the recommended recipes were often someone else’s take on the exact same recipe I had just saved; the Instagram photographers were all over-editing and seemed to all be using the same formula: big landscape, cool beanies, vivid colors.

And to add to all that, the algorithms and I were both putting in so little effort that things I did find held little value. I’d heard the phrase “the fruit derived from labor is the sweetest of pleasures,” and now I was beginning to understand it.

And, most importantly, it didn’t feel like I knew what I liked…just what I was being fed.

Things began to change when I realized music was no longer enjoyable to listen to. Something had to change. My wife (bless her) was one step ahead of me and had begun more actively engaging with her music. While I just turned on whatever generated playlist seemed the most interesting, she would do that too…and then, when a song struck something in her, she’d go to the artist and listen to the whole album, read their bio, and explore their other music.

It seemed so simple, yet it required just enough effort to have kept me from doing it before. I thought about what she was doing and realized I wanted to take music out of the purely digital realm and make it more “real” to me.

So, we bought a turntable. And that has made all the difference.

Now, when I want to listen to something, I wonder over to our small but growing collection of vinyl, think about what feeling I want to create, and pick the music accordingly. When I do that, when I put that miniscule amount of effort into my music, it hits something deeper in me. And, it’s changed the way I engage with music on Spotify.

This is about when I came across the idea of curation. Not curation in the sense of having a “perfectly curated Instagram profile,” but the idea of human led curation.

The first uses of the word “curation” were as early as the 5th century and referred to moral or spiritual healing. Later, in the 12th and 13th centuries, it was used to describe providing a certain level of care or guardianship.

My high school friends had been curators, sharing what they loved and enjoyed with their friend group as a form of attention or care. Some of it would be inspired by what they thought I would like, and some of it would be inspired by what they like. The algorithms couldn’t do the second half of that, and that was what was missing.

By having other humans as curators of music, food, art, and experiences, you infuse a bit of randomness and unexpectedness to your experiences. And when you find a good curator, it all just feels more meaningful and personal.

Through this randomness, you are given the opportunity to decide when you like something new you didn’t know you would. Or you may find that there is something you don’t like. Either way, you begin to discover your own taste separate from what the Algorithms think it is.

At least, that’s what happened to me.