BEING WRONG AND BEING ME

"Our errors are surely not such awfully solemn things. In a world where we
are so certain to incur them in spite of all our caution, a certain lightness of heart seems healthier than this excessive nervousness on their behalf."
- William James, "The Will To Believe"


In reading a fascinating book, part philosophy, part psychology, titled BEING WRONG, ADVENTURES IN THE MARGIN OF ERROR by Kaththryn Schulz, I find I am experiencing the phenomena of being "Me" in an entirely new way. If, thanks to error, we can revise our understanding of ourselves and amend our ideas about the world and if the capacity to err is actually a sign of intellectual superiority, crucial to human cognition (that is, if we can freely acknowledge our errors and go on), and if, indeed, there is actually very little we can one hundred per cent be right about....then I am an absolutley fabulous,fabulous person.

Because I am wrong.....or at least I0 make lusciously hearty errors....at LEAST once or twice a day.

Probably more.

I was wrong when I approached the line of men at the automobile place and said, quite audibly, "I don't know what to do." I was wrong when I backed up out of my narrow garage on the first day I purchased it....and put a dent and a scrape on its shiny red surface.

I was wrong when I kissed Aleister in front of a group of boys his own age beneath the Victoria Secret's new bosom laden sign.

I was wrong when I didn't add butter to the oil.

I was wrong when I machine washed the new red top that said "Dry Clean Only".

I was wrong when I took the fashion magazine's advice and began going to bed minutes after having washed my hair. Ahhhh-chooo.

This last not-very-interesting but somewhat telling list all occurred within a week. But there's more. Much, much more.

Each time I claim to know something, I am essentially saying that I am not wrong. And if I want to contend with the (very real) possibility that I COULD be wrong, then the idea of knowledge only serves me so far. I must also examine my belief system, which is mostly subjective, even if I think it is not. And we are all full of beliefs, both conscious (_____________ are nutjobs) and unconsious (the table will hold my plate of food)....well, see I am probably now wrong for going on and on in such a way that interests me but not likely anybody else.

For the past three weeks I have been eating two Madeleine cookies for breakfast along with one cup of coffee. While this is in no way illegal, nor is it anybody else's business, I have an idea that a nutritionist might shudder and might even find me to be.........wrong. Bananas are the only fruit I eat. I have fallen in love with ginger beer. I have lost ten pounds. That is good, but WHY is it good? Is it good because I get complements? Eating like I do? Is it right? No, it's wrong. Am I out of my mind? No, I am very much IN my mind. In fact, one might say I live much more inside my mind than I really SHOULD.

Alan says I am sedentary.
I know what he's saying.
He's saying I'm wrong.
To be sedentary is wrong.


Perhaps I'm simply a tad rebellious. One of the first words all of us learn is: no. It is soon followed (or, less often, preceded) by "yes". But, ueually, "no" comes first.

When my parents used to tell me to do something I would start, slowly, slowly, oh ever so slowly, to back up until I was about one or two feet away.... at which point I would yell, "I Will and I Will and I WON'T"........at which point I'd run like hell.

The author Philip Gourevitch writes, "One doesn't write what one means to write, one writes what one CAN write." See, this a variant on the kind of erring I do every day. I decided to write a blog on how fabulous I am because of how many errors I make every single day (read: hour) of my life and here I am, discussing matters of childhood and writing.

Oopsie. Wrong again.