Notes on Foolishness

I'm in Mexico and I'm fucking up.
Chronically, constantly, from one second to the next.
It's quite possible that I've always made this many mistakes in a row,
and that every social interaction is peppered with mishaps,
but here in Mexico, as I try to learn Spanish, each pie-in-the-face
hits me in slow motion, and there's a kind of beauty to it.
Back in my regular life, I had been working on admitting my faults,
accepting myself, the usual middle-aged quest for a little bit of peace
in a hectic world. Judging from the NPR segments on failed start-up CEOs
who are now sought-after potential employees because they "know how
to fail well," maybe, as a culture, Americans are ready to accept some
humility too. Accepting failure, analyzing it, not being so afraid of it that
you hide under the covers...I'm interested in these ideas.
I'm studying Spanish which is something I have wanted to do
since I was sixteen and gave up on, since I could not
 (and still can't) roll my r's.
I gave it up because I knew I would never be perfect at it.
That idea was certainly a mistake in itself.
Everyone here has an accent. The other day I made the Australian
guy say the word "mermaid" three times before I got it. And he was speaking English.
So I hope to fill this blog with my mistake stories.
And, in that spirit, I'd like to let my words fly out a bit more freely
than I usually do. I'll do one super-fast draft on paper and then edit only as I retype.
Consider this blog a toast to foolishness and buffoonery of all stripes. Call it the manifesto of the
klutz. Cheers!