Am I the only person on this planet who says stupid things? Probably not, yet it feels true, and just when I begin to think that I may have finally grown beyond letting stupid words come out of my mouth, I hear myself being stupid again.
You might think I am being too hard on myself, and maybe I am. Maybe I am no more stupid than anyone else. Maybe I simply see my stupidity loom so large that it blinds me to anyone else’s. Maybe.
Still, I wish there was a cure. I wish that in social situations I would always be eloquent and gracious and never say things that in retrospect sound insanely inappropriate. Other people appear to be able to pull that off, so why not me?
Is it because I feel more competent on paper than in person? Or is it like what happens to me when I go bowling, where the more I bowl the worse I bowl?
I’m thinking maybe I should start keeping track of when I say stupid things, to see if there is a pattern. If it happens every full moon, or every 18 days, or every time I eat macaroni and cheese, then I might be able to do something about it. But what if there is no pattern?
What if I have a rare condition that causes random utterances of stupidity? What then? Or what if there is no cure, other to accept the fact that I am human, that I am imperfect, and that failure is a part of life?
As I ponder this, I am reminded of a conversation I had with a friend who asked me, “Do you know what God expects of you?” Before I could come up with something that didn’t sound stupid she said, “He expects you to fail.” Excited by the answer, I declared, “Well, then, that means I am doing GREAT!”