Rebellious

I drove down the street a couple of days ago and saw some roadkill, and then smelled the potent aroma of skunk. My first thought was a sigh. Ahhh, skunk cabbage. Skunk cabbage for those who aren't familiar is a wetland plant that looks like rhubarb but smells almost exactly like skunks when you break/bruise the leaves. I remember playing with them a lot as a kid. The smell brought back happy memories. Most people don't smile at the smell of skunks. But I do, and I did. When I was little I remember specifically talking to my peers telling them I liked the smell of skunk. Mostly I think I was motivated by the fact that everyone hated it so I had to like it.
The same thing happened in my sophmore year of High School. We were assigned to read Moby Dick and everyone was like "This is terrible, I can't believe we have to read this. It's so boring." Everyone hated it so I had to like it. And really I thought it was pretty good although there is a chapter or two that it could have gone without.
Perhaps I'm a tad rebellious. . .
Probably because of situations like this my parents would tell me that I was a rebel, and I thought of myself as such. Later, one of my mission companions, told me that I wasn't rebellious at all. I tend to be pretty obedient, so I guess she was right but it left me a little confused.
I guess I'm rebellious about somethings and not about others. . . Maybe I'm still confused.