To Err Is Human

Recently, I read an interesting op-ed piece in that fine publication, The Dallas Morning News, that explored various aspects of one of humankind's greatest fears.

Being wrong.

In her column, Kathryn Schulz articulates the feelings we often get after erring in any number of ways: by our words, our actions, our ideas. "We often respond with embarrassment, irritation, defensiveness, denial and blame."

Light-hearted example: in a moment of temporary stupidity (or maybe, in my case, permanent stupidity) while hanging with a couple of friends in a bookstore several years ago, I had a "brilliant" idea to fill an empty niche. With a sincerity that belied my single-digit IQ, I proclaimed, "Hey! I wonder why there's not a place where you can rent books? I mean, you could make so much money!"

Really.

Needless to say, intense laughter and embarrassment followed. But more serious situations of course would result in more serious psychological responses. Messing something up at work/school, for instance, probably would result in that irritation and defensiveness Schulz was referring to. We take ourselves awfully seriously sometimes, because we don't like it when it's made painfully public that we're NOT perfect. "Misunderstanding our mistakes in this way -- seeing them as evidence of flaws and indictment of our overall worth -- exacts a steep toll on us," Ms. Schulz says, "in private and public life alike."

Maybe it helps a little if you realize that it's EXTREMELY natural to be wrong, and we're ALL wrong A LOT. But alternatively, if you sit and think about it, it's astounding just how often we're right...and simply aren't aware of it.

To illustrate this point, Schulz asks you to recall learning the English language:

"If you are a native English speaker, you figured out within the first several years of your life that you should add the suffix -ed to form a past-tense verb. This was a brilliant guess. It's largely correct, it taught you a huge number of words in one fell swoop, and it was a lot less painful than separately memorizing the past tense of every verb in the English language. But it also meant that, sooner or later, you said things like 'drinked' and 'thinked' and 'runned'. You got a huge number of things right, at the price of getting a certain number of things wrong."

So this could help soften the blow a little. Plus, we're not wrong because we're dumb or lazy or whatever (like Seinfeld's Kramer here). We're wrong because we're still learning.

When I remember to be self-aware in this way, I like to conclude my erroneous episodes by emphasizing to myself that I just learned something. Sure, maybe it doesn't help much when I say something stupid during, say, a job interview or a first date. But it's better than nothing.

Coo Coo Ca-choo, Mrs. Robinson...

Ah, the subtle discrepancies between life in reality and life on the big screen...

I watched The Graduate recently, and found it fascinating on a number of levels. Quick background: a recent college grad, Benjamin Braddock (Dustin Hoffman), becomes entangled in a romantic affair with an older woman, Mrs. Robinson (Anne Bancroft). Hence the famous line, "Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me." Things get complicated, though, as Ben falls in love with Mrs. Robinson's daughter, Elaine (Katharine Ross). Ben becomes so hopelessly obsessed with Elaine that he pretty much goes to the end of the earth and back to win her heart.

First of all, the first third of the movie is absolutely hilarious. Ben embodies an intense awkwardness as he engages in the affair -- it's painfully obvious when meeting her at a hotel one night.

What I found more intriguing was the manner in which Ben chased down the lovely Elaine during the last third of the movie. Herein lies a conflict:

From a cynic's point of view, you'd have to think that, in reality, such extreme measures would at some point have resulted in a restraining order. But from a romantic's point of view, it's a gorgeous fairy tale that teenage girls dream will happen to them one day.

I randomly ran across someone's thoughts on obsession (an emotion which dominates Ben's motives) recently: "Obsession: a persistent, disturbing preoccupation with an often unreasonable idea or feeling; compelling motivation. I like the latter definition personally. I can be compelled, but at what point does persistence become disturbing? Also, don't most good ideas and feelings initially seem unreasonable? Honestly, by definition, if you're not obsessed, I just don't think you're trying... you lazy buggers."

An important detail I've left out until this point is that the feeling between Ben and Elaine was at one point mutual. In other words, it's NOT an unreasonable idea that Ben, given persistence, gets the girl. But if the girl (or guy) just has no interest whatsoever, it matters not how persistent the pursuer is, it just ain't gonna be successful. Here's where the cynic's point of view wins out: persistence isn't romantic; it's just plain creepy and disturbing.


Circling back...to me, the most ingenious part of The Graduate was that it doesn't really resolve this conflict in the final scene, unlike the usual marshmallowy romantic tale. Sure, Ben and Elaine run off together in the end (quite literally), but as the credits begin to roll, it's not 100% clear whether romanticism wins (Ben's obsession is rewarded and he gets the girl) or loses (reality sets in and it doesn't work out).

Which is actually painfully realistic.

Sense of Humor

Nothing like a little comic relief to lighten the topics of death and eternity.


Credit: Non Sequitur, by Wiley Miller

Credit: Dilbert, by Scott Adams
"God has a sense of humor." It really would explain a lot.