(image of Serenity from Syfy’s Firefly – grabbed from the Drafthouse)
You know, it happens. A friend, or acquaintance, someone tells you, with just the most slightly off tone in their voice, that you are going to love something; and you decide at that minute to be obstinate. Nope – no interest, thanks for playing, moving on… In fact, every time it’s brought up, you change the subject, or lose patience – and you miss out on a window of opportunity because you were wrong.
SyFy’s ‘Firefly’ was one of those missed chances. Yeah, I can tap dance around the fact that my work schedule was non traditional to begin with, when this show aired, but basically, I gut a stick up my butt and decided I wasn’t going to watch it. It may have been the “You’ll totally love this – it’s like cowboys in space!” – it may have been the assumption of the other party was so intense, that I felt like they were pushing me – it’s long gone. So when I rolled my eyes, some years later, at my husband who insisted I try one episode – well, he had a good laugh. It was completely fair, and yeah – considering the original referrer – “cowboys in space” was an in depth description. This has become one of my favorite shows, ever – although the movie broke my heart. The theme song will give me serious tune crimes to the point that I can’t listen to any of it – but aside from that? Perfection! I never really liked Westerns, either, but Joss Whedon made it work for me!
Sadly, this is not the first time I made an assumption that I wasn’t going to be entertained or pulled into a world I hadn’t been the first to explore among my friends. (Hmm. That may speak more about my own arrogance than I like!) ‘Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark’ I was completely expecting to be a snoozefest. All the promo pictures and things I saw were Mayan pyramids, and I was only interested in Egyptology at the time. Sur-PRIIIIIIISE! I got both, and was fully drawn into the world of the intrepid Dr. Jones. (Although, his methods of excavating and display are a little off the approved archaeological methods.) Harrison Ford was completely perfect in this role, and while some of the following movies were less to my liking (Temple of Doom, anyone?) I found that yes, there are great story tellers outside my own findings.
When my husband and I were first dating, he asked if I wanted to watch ‘Doctor Who’ with him? I was elated, I hadn’t seen an episode since the 80’s, and thought it would be a great blast from the past. He turns on the TV, to the episode A Christmas Carol, and I’m asking where the heck the Doctor is, and who is this strange looking fella? Once again, assumption bites me in the hide. Yes, I knew The Doctor as having a 17 foot long scarf , mad hair and a hat, and traveled with K-9; I didn’t know about his regenerative abilities. Let me assure you, I’ve been brought up to speed, and can name the actors in order. Usually. Sometimes I have to refresh my memory, but it’s also opened up an amazing connection with people here who are also “Whovians”. I still need to knit that scarf for the Hubs…
Perfection is a mind game; it doesn’t exist any more than healthy, natural, good for you calorie free sweeteners do. It’s not how Nature works. Sure, you can hit some near points, but the end result is that at some point in time, you are going to be wrong. You’re going to be wrong a lot, and at the end of the day, how you choose to handle it is going help shape not just who you, are but how you’re seen.
We’ve all seen them, the people who are “never” wrong. They will bully, manipulate, loom, harass, collude, scream, pitch fits – do anything to hide the fact that they screwed up. I can only presume it’s fear that motivates these ridiculous and childish behaviors. Maybe these people never got past the idea that “Adults are always right, therefore once I’m an adult…” Maybe they never learned accountability. I don’t know. However, one of the more amazing portions of being human is not only can we admit we made an error, and apologize for it – we often get a second chance.
Being the slightly perverse person I am, I rather enjoy admitting I am wrong. Not because of the looks on people’s faces, or because of any need to beat myself up; I enjoy it because it means that I’ve learned something I didn’t know before. Feeding curiosity is a lot of fun. It’s also a terrific way to have a conversation – “How did you know this? Why is this important to you? Can you explain this bit without spoilers?” I feel like I’m more open minded when it comes to what I’m willing to entertain or educate myself with – for the love of heaven, I was opposed to ‘Chopped’ just because of the title! Yet I’ve learned a lot about cooking on the fly, and being creative in the kitchen from watching.
There are still genres that I’m not going to get into – horror for one. I’ve tried to watch some of the Netflix/Marvel shows, and find that there just too traumatic for me. It’s a pity; they’re well written, and well cast – they cross a line of violence that I can’t comfortably cope with. So I don’t. Boundaries – what a concept.
These are some small potatoes in the admitting to being wrong. I was wrong to tell my kids how much their Dad was playing head games with me, and said things they never should have heard. I’ve mismanaged money to the point that I actually prefer to have someone else hold the reigns most of the time. I’ve said derisive things to my husband about some of his family, that really, never needed to leave my mouth outside my therapists office. Those are the BIG ones. But I’ve learned, and apologized, and continue to learn.
I’m good with being wrong, so long as I own up to it. It’s an opportunity to fix the wrong, and who can’t use that in their life?
Under my skin 