Before anyone goes off on some spiel about how I should be grateful for what I have and how there are people worse off than me…I get it… I do. I’m very grateful for what I have but why shouldn’t I want more? I often wonder when special gifts and talents were being passed out was I absent that day or just passed over?
When I see people blessed with such special gifts I want to say I’m envious. Truth be told I know “jealous” is more like it. What aggravates me more are people who are blessed with special talents and flush them down the toilet…ie Lindsay Lohan, Mad Mel Gibson, (insert your own personality here) etc.
Ever since I was a little girl I’ve always day dreamed big. I can remember being in second grade and writing a story for an essay contest. I had no clue what to title my story or what to even write about, so I peeked over at my neighbor’s desk and saw her title “The Boy And The Liberty Bell.” Wow, what a great title. That’s it! I’ll use that one. And I did, not even realizing what Plagiarism was at the time. I used her title but wrote my own story. I was so sure I was going to win that essay contest. Guess who won? Yah, its rhetorical.
Then there was the period in my teens where I dreamt of being a model or singer. My cousins even nick named me Brooke Shields. I didn’t even care if I could or would be famous or not, I just wanted to have a special talent. Then I learned that you had to be at leat 5’6″ tall to model. I’m 5’4″ and as far as singing went I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. Okay, scratch those…what’s next?
Hmmm, maybe a musical instrument was my cup of tea. I had an older sister that also played the flute so naturally that is what I played too. It never dawned on me I should want to play my own instrument of choice. Although, I’m not sure anyone played the acoustic guitar back in the sixth grade. My parents couldn’t afford flute lessons for me so I had to learn from just going to band class.
I hated band. Or maybe it was just my hot-tempered band teacher Mr. Racey that ruined it for me. That man would get enraged while conducting our out of tune overture of Greensleeves and bang his baton on his music stand turning beat red as he yelled at the top of his lungs. He always had these white balls of slimy spit that formed on his purple lips that would stretch out over both lips as he spoke. Eck I’m bringing back post traumatic band stress. I quit band after two years of being passed over for solos.
Then there was the oil painting. My mom enrolled in some paint classes with some of her friends and she brought home her beginner books. She would always watch that crazy haired white afro painter, Bob Ross on public television on Saturdays and I would watch snip its of it as I did my chores. So one day I dragged out her easel and color palette and experimented. This might be the one time that I actually was good at something without any formal training. I painted a fiery orange and yellow sunset over a bayou with weeping willow trees just from reading my mom’s book and following the steps. My cousin liked it so much that she asked me for it and I gave away the only master piece that I ever painted.
This whole no talent thing has really been bothering me. Frankly I feel left out. So now I’m on some mad hatter quest to find my special talent and hopefully I’ll be able to do that and check it off my bucket list. Maybe I’ll take up painting again or buy a used acoustic guitar and learn how to play it. I’ll have to hire someone to sing though.
1.) What’s your special talent or gift?
2.) Are you still searching for yours too?
3.) Would money or fame change you if your talent lead you to ultimate financial success?