Recently Jason and I heard a story on NPR that included a clip of music played by a young (14?) violin virtuoso back in the 50s or 60s. That kid was just amazing, zipping up and down the scale, adding feeling to 32nd notes as if they were whole measures long. I remarked that I wish I could do anything that well. It wouldn't matter what it was - bowling, knot-tying, differential calculus - just as long as I knew I was great at it, and preferably a few other people did, too. I know that the violinist had natural talent, years of training, years of practice, and was sweating his butt off while he played, but the fact is that the kid could do something really, really well, regardless of the effort it took to get him there.
It got me thinking about my skills, and how diverse - yet shallow - they are. I have known since high school that while I'm good at a lot of things and actively bad at a few, I'm not great at anything. Many of my friends had definite areas where they excelled - Kara at math, Melissa at history, others at music or writing or art. But I got decent (but not perfect) grades in everything, liked (but didn't love) most of my subjects, and only did poorly in German class ... it made picking a college major somewhat difficult.
Even today, I'm decent at a lot of things. If you want a decent quilt, a passable drywall installation, or a dinner you wouldn't be ashamed to invite your boss to, I'm your gal. If you want a prize-winning quilt, professional-quality carpentry, or a gourmet meal, it would be best to ask someone else, because I'll screw it up somehow. My friends and family either gracefully ignore the defects in my work, or they don't know enough about the subject to point out the flaws - but I know they're there, and it bugs me sometimes. There's nothing worse than being somewhat of a perfectionist when you know that perfection is something you're historically unable to achieve. I've found that I'm much happier overlooking my faults than I am trying to keep pursuing perfection that I almost never attain - it's faster, and I get as much satisfaction out of getting a lot done good enough, as in getting one thing done exactly right. I've told Sam the Electrician that my motto tends to be, "It's not perfect, but it's done."
So I let my house get a little grungy, I don't use my seam ripper as often as I should, and I try my best to avert my eyes from the ugliest of the drywall seams in our attic ceiling. But somewhere in the back of my mind, there's a little part of me that still thinks, "Wouldn't it be nice to be that good at anything?"
Monday, April 24, 2006
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2 comments:
Hey - YOUR masterpiece is sleeping now,or crawling or brawling! So don't beat yourself up. Katherine's mom
You forget that no one is the best at anything. There is always someone else who can do it better, faster, or differently. I bet that your NPR violinist is haunted by the fellow who can play with melodic intensity. I believe that the only folk who do not share your inherent insecurity are those with really obnoxious egos.
Personally, I see my nitch in the word as being an integrator. I'm not very good at anything, but I have fun bringing different things together. Sometimes the fusion works (like fresh Basil-vanilla icecream) and sometimes it doesn't (ref. any of my paintings).
I see you as occupying a unique intersection of communication and science. You have a skill with your ability to non-confrontationally conveying information. This is very unique when combined with your learned skills at chemistry, tapestry, and frivolity. Plus you are a pretty good fencer to boot. And your back rubs are "to die for"
So, I'll echo Katherine's mom and say that all of us think the same way about ourselves.
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