At our church retreat, one of the speakers (Roger, a counselor) noted about himself that he found it necessary to make explanations of his actions so people wouldn’t get “the wrong idea.” Oh, these cookies aren’t both for me…I got one for my son, type of thing. I found that very insightful and true of myself. And for the next half hour it was like Simon Peter and the crowing rooster… Every other sentence I uttered was a justification/excuse/explanation to someone so they wouldn’t get “the wrong idea” about me. It’s kind of laughable. What difference does it make if it’s my first or second serving of such and such? Who cares if no one knows there was “lots of traffic” and that’s why I’m late? And on and on.
But apparently I’m co-dependent. Is that when you can’t have anyone thinking bad of you? I think so. Because I can’t have anyone thinking bad about me, even if that someone is a lady from Indiana I have never met/will never meet.
See, this particular lady (a lady I don’t know from Indiana) had a misunderstanding about me. A horrible misunderstanding. Because I guess, to be honest, there are some misunderstandings I might let slide. You think I’m rude? Oh well. My style is a year behind? Uh, probably right.
But then there are other things. This lady – she thought I couldn’t spell. She thought I had poor grammar. (I know, right?!?!?!) And do you know why she thought this???
BECAUSE OF MY BLOG NAME!!!!
The second I started reading the message, about how she “hated seeing misspelling come up in her news feed,” and “how the irony was just too much” (that “smarter’ was misspelled), immediately the color rushed to my cheeks, I felt lightheaded, and no longer wanted the rest of my lunch. (Jessica not hungry = BIG deal, folks. it’s big.)
And all of a sudden, I was so ashamed. I felt embarrassed for every person, every stranger, that had seen my title. Of course they all thought that! They thought I was stupid!! That’s what I would think!
And then I got annoyed. At first I was annoyed at this lady, insulting my name and all. How is it my fault I got a misspelled last name?? And then I got mad at them, those “Smartts” from centuries ago (illustrious and reknowned of a family as they are) for whom a simple “t” wasn’t enough. Noooo, they had to be different, and add another. And make poor me spell it “Smarttwithtwo’t’s” every time I tell someone. And make me get made fun of, by the lady from Indiana.
So. So I did what any self-respecting, co-dependent, insecure Smartt with two “t”s would do.
I changed it. Immediately.
Unfortunately, I also had to change (immediately) the 250 ship-next-day business cards I had just ordered four hours ago, with “smart” spelled all kinds of wrong ways. (Timing, lady!! Where is your timing?!?!?) Side note, if you need business cards, use Vistaprint. Especially if you are prone to be indecisive, and need to change options midstream. highly recommend.
Anyways, I also had to change Facebook, and my email address. And my signature. And I began to realize another thing about myself, besides that I was deeply co-dependent.
I am horribly impulsive.
Jessica. Slow down. Did you even check to see if smartereachdayspelledright is available?
Gulp.
Turns out, someone already thought of that extremely clever title, and for the last 13 minutes I had been directing all my hoards of followers to their site. 🙂
And apparently, if you happened to be logged into facebook during the hours of 1pm and 2pm on Wednesday, you got to witness a bit of this madness in action. Thanks for being on top of the game with notifications, facebook.
“Jessica Smartt changed the name of the group Smartter Each Day to Smarter Each Day,” and back. And forth. And back!! Ugh!!! Someone stop me!
So finally it was decided that I will be Smartter, misspelled. Here is where I’m supposed to tell you that I’ve grown and matured and decided who cares what everyone thinks. Unfortunately, this may or may not be the case. I still cringe at the scoffing criticism of imaginary followers, dismissing me for a grammatical idiot. And it just pains me.
But in the meantime, go ahead and bookmark this page. At least until I get my next round of impulsivity. Or my feelings hurt. Whichever comes first. 🙂
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Jennifer Fromke says
You will never please every person all the time. The best we can hope for is to please some of the people some of the time. If someone hates the spelling of your name and/or blog, they should not read it. But if she takes the time to read your blog and find out who you are, the spelling becomes poignant. Yup! Poignant is a big word and it’s cool when you do something that can be labeled poignant. And the reason your blog title is poignant is because . . . drum roll please . . . you are actually smart in a very Smartt sort of way. AND! You are becoming more Smartt (yes, that is bad grammar), more YOU each day, which is smart. This brings delight to those who notice – sorry if this explanation is too obvious for the readers out there, I enjoy it that much.
Your candor is delicious because it’s so rare. Thank you for sharing your Smartts with us. (Did you notice my capitalization “error”? Do you think less of me for it? :-))
Hawk says
Jessica: Interesting article, While I get your blog is about teaching life’s lessons it is also about appealing to “many so has to be catchy”–personally I took the two t’s as a marketing or branding tool much (not a lesson in grammar) like some other well known brands, toys r us, chick filet-a, fatz & petsmart NOT sure any are spelled correctly but I can candidly remember them well & find them when needed. Great marketing move don’t sweat the small stuff, it’s all small stuff…..just my 2 cents.
Hawk says
Jessica: Oh was that me that put the word much in front of the parenthetical not after or did I really misspell chick filet-a? Sorry please place much after the parenthesis & change chick fil-a to WHAT wait no that’s not proper spelling oh well, have a great day. Yes my tongue is in my cheek, sorry had to chime in…as Mrs Fromke said you won’t please every body but you go right ahead & keep trying…at least your doing something! I love you, dad