I realized last week that I get things wrong a lot.  (<em>Shocker right?</em>)

Still I couldn't help thinking about it.  Being wrong. But because I am not always <em>right</em>. Yeah, you might be wondering what I am talking about right now. Right? Wrong? I know, I know. This post doesn't seem to be going anywhere. And why is she admitting to being wrong.

<em>Heck, why does she care about something like wrongness!?</em>

Well, I'd never really thought much about how often I am wrong and in how many different ways I am wrong each day until I read this great interview on <a href="http://www.slate.com/blogs/blogs/thewrongstuff/archive/2010/06/07/on-air-and-on-error-this-american-life-s-ira-glass-on-being-wrong.aspx" target="_blank">Slate with Ira Glass called The Wrong Stuff--On Air and On Error</a>.

The first question in the interview made me think: Oh my gosh. This is why people like my blog. I am narrating wrongness.
<blockquote><strong>Do you consciously think about wrongness as a narrative device?</strong>

I don't go looking for stories with the idea of wrongness in my head,  no. But the fact is, a lot of great stories hinge on people being  wrong.</blockquote>
It was strange to see myself and what I am doing with this blog reflected in this interview. And it was even stranger to think: Ah-ha. That's right. It's wrongness. A huge amount of what I am writing about the moments I am wrong--when I don't understand something, when I am embarrassed because of something I've done or when I feel the crush of living between two cultures.<!--more-->

So in fact, I guess I am narrating a huge part of my own story on this blog in terms of wrongness. It's about trying, not quite getting it and trying again. But I it's not like I have a market or a corner on wrongness. I'd just rather laugh about my wrongness than to get hung up on it.

And as many of you, my readers have pointed out over the last two year, I am wrong a lot. My brother and sister will tell you that I've been wrong even before I started writing this blog. Now, given my life abroad, in this wonderfully mixed up country, I have an opportunity to be wrong that much more.  So this part of the interview also jumped off the page at me:
<blockquote><strong>I think some kinds of wrongness can be intensely pleasurable or  useful or revelatory or transformative. </strong>That makes me think of something I've noticed in this writer we used  to have on the show all the time, David Sedaris. He would tell stories  about his family, and in those stories he was always the one who was the  butt of the joke. He was the one who was wrong and everybody else in  the family was right.

After he went through the most dramatic stories of his childhood he  had to figure out what his next book was going to be about. So what did  he do? He moved to France, where he would always be wrong again. I don't  know if he thought it through this way or if it simply happened—I  think it's the latter—but he couldn't have written that book [<em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0316776963?ie=UTF8&amp;tag=slatmaga-20&amp;linkCode=as2&amp;camp=1789&amp;creative=390957&amp;creativeASIN=0316776963">Me  Talk Pretty One Day</a></em>] in New York, where he knows his way around  and speaks the language and feels at home. Whereas living in France was  just constant wrongness. He was always going to be the butt of the joke  again. I guess what I'm saying is that that being wrong turns out to be  a very natural place for a lot of people to write from.</blockquote>
This it seems to me is exactly right. The way that there's a sense that you're always wrong when you're living abroad. It also made me think: Carolyn, buy this book. <em>ASAP</em>. Luckily I can do these things--thanks Kindle. And again, this part of the interview reinforced my sense that I am writing this blog and narrating my experiences from a place of wrongness.

The best part?

When I realized that you guys like me even when I am wrong.  Or, maybe, you like me <em>because</em> I am wrong.

Or maybe you like me because of my dashing good looks...

Either way, that's pretty great!