Out Comes the Day

Posted: March 25, 2015 in Uncategorized

Being wrong makes me feel uncomfortable. Very, very uncomfortable. I’d like to make some smarmy observation about how little it happens, but it happens all the time. The trick is that I deal in minutia, so when I’m wrong, it’s usually a forgive-and-forget kind of thing. But moments of ridicule in being corrected still haunt me, from poorly understood anatomy from the mind of a teenager, to failing to recognize an abbreviation’s Latin roots and having cooked up my own explanation. The simplest parallel is when somebody reads a word, reads it dozens of times, but never hears it. So then they have a chance to use it (maybe to show off, maybe because using the right word in the right situation is like the perfect parking job or having the right number of books on a shelf), and they butcher the pronunciation. They have no idea. In their mind it’s right. It’s the language that’s wrong. But the shame is real, all the same.

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