Birthdays are just those horrible days that remind you that you should be one more year wiser. I even hear that little voice of reason inside me scream that I can do anything, that nothing is impossible. Yet I think it's time to accept that there are just some things I will never be able to do.
Like doing my hair. Don't get me wrong, I'll still try, (even bought myself one of them straight irons for my birthday) but it's safe to say that if after 37 years I haven't mastered this daily chore, really, I never will.
Sing. I enjoy listening to singing, and there's a magic there I don't understand but feel in my soul. I long ago accepted that the beauty of song was in my ears, not my voice.
Kill little pests. I mean, mice freak me out, gophers annoy me, snakes are always in my way, but I just can't kill them. Relocate-- let them freak out, annoy and get in the way of my friends.
Figure out Google Plus. I love that place. I feel the potential there. I see the interactions. I watch others doing things, but for the love of writing, what is it?
Wear high heels. Another thing I can't figure out. Why do I need to pretend I'm taller by cramming my extra large feet into that tiny itty bitty slant? Can't do it.
Cook a perfect meal. We'll survive, we made it this far. This one really just come down to my attention span, it's easily distracted by other kitchen chores I have neglected.
Draw. What my mind sees can't ever be recreated with that much detail or perfection, not by these clumsy hands anyway. Words have always been more my thing.
Take a day off. I'd kinda like to know that I could go without writing for a day or several and come back to it, but something inside me screams that if I taste freedom, I won't ever chain myself to my desk again. Maybe I'm just obsessive. Passionate. Insane. afraid.
I considered picking one of my non-talents and working on them, perfecting them, or at the very least making the attempt, but then, really, do I have time to waste on things I haven't cared enough about to master yet?
What has wisdom taught you? Are there things you accept that you can't do?
Like doing my hair. Don't get me wrong, I'll still try, (even bought myself one of them straight irons for my birthday) but it's safe to say that if after 37 years I haven't mastered this daily chore, really, I never will.
Sing. I enjoy listening to singing, and there's a magic there I don't understand but feel in my soul. I long ago accepted that the beauty of song was in my ears, not my voice.
Kill little pests. I mean, mice freak me out, gophers annoy me, snakes are always in my way, but I just can't kill them. Relocate-- let them freak out, annoy and get in the way of my friends.
Figure out Google Plus. I love that place. I feel the potential there. I see the interactions. I watch others doing things, but for the love of writing, what is it?
Wear high heels. Another thing I can't figure out. Why do I need to pretend I'm taller by cramming my extra large feet into that tiny itty bitty slant? Can't do it.
Cook a perfect meal. We'll survive, we made it this far. This one really just come down to my attention span, it's easily distracted by other kitchen chores I have neglected.
Draw. What my mind sees can't ever be recreated with that much detail or perfection, not by these clumsy hands anyway. Words have always been more my thing.
Which brings me to writing. What is it I can't do as a writer?
Take a day off. I'd kinda like to know that I could go without writing for a day or several and come back to it, but something inside me screams that if I taste freedom, I won't ever chain myself to my desk again. Maybe I'm just obsessive. Passionate. Insane. afraid.
I considered picking one of my non-talents and working on them, perfecting them, or at the very least making the attempt, but then, really, do I have time to waste on things I haven't cared enough about to master yet?
What has wisdom taught you? Are there things you accept that you can't do?