Contradictions

"A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. Speak what you think now in hard words, and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict every thing you said to-day. — 'Ah, so you shall be sure to be misunderstood.' — Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood. "
- Ralph Waldo Emerson, from "On Self Reliance"

I read this essay when I was in high school. It was in one of my textbooks, and I loved the excerpt so much that I photo copied it and taped it to my bedroom wall, above my desk. (Yes, I was a nerd. I believe I've long established that.)

Anyhow, why am I bringing this up now? Because I would be a fool not to learn and grow.

When I was fourteen years old, I became a vegetarian. I was a huge fan of Howard Jones, and had just read some article about why he was a vegetarian, and I was so moved by it that I declared myself vegetarian. The leftover chicken (which was delicious earlier that day) did not sway me. The bacon we had for breakfast the next day did nothing. And for a long time - five years, in fact - I remained a vegetarian. Finally, during my freshman year of college, I recognized that my vegetarianism had shifted from its original lofty origins to being purely about pride. I had been vegetarian for so long, and had worn it as a badge, using it to characterize myself. But the moral reasons, the care for animals, that was only secondary - or tertiary. I found myself wanting to eat meat, but not feeling like I could because I had been such an obnoxious vegetarian for so long that I was afraid of what people would say (damn those "people", pretty much all in my head).

So on my birthday, my family came to my dorm to pick me up and take me out to dinner. And I let my brother (a life-long chicken-and-rice eater) order for me. As I turned nineteen, I put my foolish pride aside and returned to the rank of omnivore. I don't know if I realized then, or if it's just retrospectively that I recognize, that I had forgotten Ralph Waldo Emerson's message.

I am not a mountain, nor a building, nor some law that needs to remain firmly rooted and unchanging. It is my right as a human to change. It is the right of others to judge me for my inconsistent declarations, but then it is my right to ignore them. Frankly, the best lesson that semester was that nobody really noticed the change. It was refreshingly humbling to learn that something that had seemed so important to me really didn't matter to anyone else (because I wasn't preventing anyone else from eating what they wanted to eat, so who really cares).

I bring this up now - not to wax philosophically about Michael Vick and whether I believe he has changed or not - but to retract an earlier declaration I made on Facebook. (See, there is a point to this post).

I'm not going to self-publish "The Gandhi Gang". At least, not yet. My husband has challenged me to acquire at least ten more rejection letters before I give up on traditional publishing. I had a definite goal in mind: sell 1000 copies of my book to be listed as a published children's author in the Society of Book Writers and Illustrators Directory. And I had started strategizing how I would go about doing that. I figured, with my website, I'm encouraging writers to self-publish their stories, so if I'm going to talk the talk, I ought to walk the walk. Show that I too am willing to self-publish my work. But have I really given it my all? Am I simply being too impatient to give my story the chance? Perhaps.

So despite all the encouragement I have gotten from my Facebook friends, I'm going to hold off on self-publishing ... for now. I have to explore more deeply the business of trying to get published.

- Ms. Inconsist