I find as I continue through my life, misjudgments happen more and more. I cannot speak for anyone else, but I become infinitely more complex each decade I live in this plane of existence. Given that complexity, the likelihood of misjudgment seems to exponentiate. More intelligence, more creativity, greater curiousity, higher sensitivities … I push all these aspects of myself … these are all vectors for misjudgment.

A good example would be, a person can ask me my opinion on something in the morning, and I give you my ‘take’. Later, in the afternoon, asked the same exact thing, I might offer a version different enough that a straightforward person might be taken aback.

Is this a sign of condescension, dishonesty, premeditated concealment?

Of course not. I’ve just had another few hours or so of opportunity to think about the subject. Yet many misconstrue what I’ve said, even why.

A friend once reprimanded me: Is not a red object in the morning is still red in the afternoon? Yes. But ask a more complex question, that requires delving into shades of grey, teasing out interpretations, wracking the brain for bits of information … I tend to continue to think about interesting subjects, winnowing more details out of this encyclopedia of trivia I call my mind. Ask me once, you get a first ‘ferment’ on the subject. Ask me a second time, a second ‘ferment’. On really difficult subjects, I could probably come up with a dozen plausible interpretations, from which I impressionistically choose the most appealing option at the time, one that allows me to express the most character.

Are they all my opinion? Yes. And no.

Yes when I express them.

Five minutes later? Maybe not.

I sincerely doubt I’m the only one who ruminates this way. Blogging has made this a bit worse, I suppose. I gnaw the bones of facts in my head, looking for reasonable conclusions. However, to more straightforward persons, this seems a sign of deceit — or insanity — these days. As I love to say, “the facts often stay the same, but the truth shifts around.” I am not a simple soul to know.

Harder are the misjudgments related to visible age. A young lady was taken aback when I lifted a heavy bag of dog food onto my shoulder easily … “Are you sure you should do that?” It’s still new enough of an experience for me that I’m insulted. Someday I’ll appreciate it - and I keep telling myself to bite my tongue when these things occur.

The only answer to misjudgement I’ve found is to just double down on being who I am. Taking my metaphorical hand of cards and laying them face up on the table, leaving nothing hidden … over and over … hoping the consistency of my intelligent earnestness over time will prove the misjudgments wrong.

Truth, I’ve found, always wins out. May take some time, but wins the race eventually.