Being wrong sucks.

Today I had an amazing conversation with a powerful woman and during part of it I made a mistake in how I said something and she humbly called me out on it. And that feeling started creeping down my back.

In my social skill set I have been known to be quite good at “BS-ing” my way out of things. Usually this is done by getting quite aggressive or strange and making large theatrical claims about something or rather and I’ll fight till my bloody corpse stops flailing so that I never have to admit I’m wrong. Because I hate feeling wrong. I hate that weak feeling in my back that says I made a mistake.

But today I basked in it. It was weird. I saw what she was saying. I agreed with what she was saying. I saw my mistake and I kept my mouth shut. It was awkward. It was uncomfortable, it was “the worst”. I took notes. I asked questions to clarify how wrong I was and then I took more notes.

Thankfully I am not THAT wrong too often. Because it was not a fun moment of my life. She was also very gracious, which was awesome.

I also jammed with one of the greatest bass players ever today. I hadn’t played drums with anyone like that since 2013 and I was rusty, and he knew it, but he played along and it was super fun. Then a french man washed my feet and made me laugh a lot whilst his epically wise wife told me some things I needed to hear.

I like my life. I like that I am growing up and learning things, and I am privileged to live alongside amazing women.

Die hard is also a good movie.

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