Everyone's Better At It Than Me
May. 13th, 2002 02:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kyburgYou name it. If I allowed it to bother me, I'd go open a vein someplace.
I'm a person with a Comm Arts/Broadcast Option degree trying to keep up with folks with Doctorates in Engineering, Computer Design, Programming, etc. I can barely put together an equation and these guys do them in their heads to keep from being bored.
My sister and her husband make more than 6 figures - me and mine will be lucky to get oh, halfway there - my house is a third the size of hers, and she even has the 2.3 wonderful children to go with it.
Everyone can sing better than me; draw better than me and look better than me.
I suck at video games. Don't ask me to arrange flowers or shoot pool, either.
I'm still learning how to use most of the graphics applications everyone takes for granted. I say "learning," but I've yet to touch anyone of them once. Let alone use them for anything.
I can work hard. I'm tenacious that way. I'm relatively bright even if I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed.
I mean well. I say what I mean and mean what I say.
My memory isn't photographic, but it's damn close.
I figure it all works out in the end.
If not, not my fault. I tried.
Go look at a beautiful journal I stumbled across -![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
muted_rain - great photos, thoughtful text and I think he's just a nice guy on top of it, which never hurts.
I was a good daughter. I drove an hour in a car I rented so it would be new, clean and have A/C to my Mom's house in Hemet, and went to church with her.
Yup, went to Church with Mom. And it wasn't half bad. They actually passed up the boring "Oh God, we're so unworthy, don't kill us" hymns all written in the key of C and deadly dull -- with a small family that all played stringed instruments - three violins, a viola - and the oldest boy was actually really good with a harmonica.
And the minister was married to another fully-ordained minister. VERY good.
I have the coolest Mom on the planet.
So I drive her another hour and a half out to Palm Springs to a shii-shii-lala French restaurant I've never been to (but it came HIGHLY recommended by the Los Angeles Times) and she loves it. I have the lamb, she has the prawns and we both have creme brulee and coffee -
If I was sensitive to snubbing, I'd have been miserable. They tried - they seated us inside, in a tiny *corner* of the place, and even if the owner of the restaurant came by and checked on us himself twice, I had to take my check up to the bar to get us cashed out.
Mom loved it. The corner put us in the coolest spot where we could see the patio and the people-watching opportunities were magnificent.
We got in on time, everything was delicious and went got home on time.
Practically perfect in every way.
But I was sooo tired when I got home, met up with Jim, returned the rental car and went to go get dinner...vaugely wondering if going from meal to meal without anything else inbetween was a good thing...and slept like the dead.
Today? Monday. All over
I'm a person with a Comm Arts/Broadcast Option degree trying to keep up with folks with Doctorates in Engineering, Computer Design, Programming, etc. I can barely put together an equation and these guys do them in their heads to keep from being bored.
My sister and her husband make more than 6 figures - me and mine will be lucky to get oh, halfway there - my house is a third the size of hers, and she even has the 2.3 wonderful children to go with it.
Everyone can sing better than me; draw better than me and look better than me.
I suck at video games. Don't ask me to arrange flowers or shoot pool, either.
I'm still learning how to use most of the graphics applications everyone takes for granted. I say "learning," but I've yet to touch anyone of them once. Let alone use them for anything.
I can work hard. I'm tenacious that way. I'm relatively bright even if I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed.
I mean well. I say what I mean and mean what I say.
My memory isn't photographic, but it's damn close.
I figure it all works out in the end.
If not, not my fault. I tried.
Go look at a beautiful journal I stumbled across -
muted_rain - great photos, thoughtful text and I think he's just a nice guy on top of it, which never hurts.I was a good daughter. I drove an hour in a car I rented so it would be new, clean and have A/C to my Mom's house in Hemet, and went to church with her.
Yup, went to Church with Mom. And it wasn't half bad. They actually passed up the boring "Oh God, we're so unworthy, don't kill us" hymns all written in the key of C and deadly dull -- with a small family that all played stringed instruments - three violins, a viola - and the oldest boy was actually really good with a harmonica.
And the minister was married to another fully-ordained minister. VERY good.
I have the coolest Mom on the planet.
So I drive her another hour and a half out to Palm Springs to a shii-shii-lala French restaurant I've never been to (but it came HIGHLY recommended by the Los Angeles Times) and she loves it. I have the lamb, she has the prawns and we both have creme brulee and coffee -
If I was sensitive to snubbing, I'd have been miserable. They tried - they seated us inside, in a tiny *corner* of the place, and even if the owner of the restaurant came by and checked on us himself twice, I had to take my check up to the bar to get us cashed out.
Mom loved it. The corner put us in the coolest spot where we could see the patio and the people-watching opportunities were magnificent.
We got in on time, everything was delicious and went got home on time.
Practically perfect in every way.
But I was sooo tired when I got home, met up with Jim, returned the rental car and went to go get dinner...vaugely wondering if going from meal to meal without anything else inbetween was a good thing...and slept like the dead.
Today? Monday. All over
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
En Guarde
Date: 2002-05-13 05:56 pm (UTC)I will never be excellent at handling money.
I don't tidy up.
Sometimes it feels like ranting on my journal, swinging a sword, and singing are the only things I do better than other people (and I don't consider myself excellent at any of those things, either).
I will never satisfy my mother's desires.
I will never be as great as my father was, in my eyes.
But I will never be as good at networking as you are, and no I don't mean with Cat 5, oh-she-who-still-keeps-in-contact-with-someone-she-used-to-ride-the-train-with.
And I will never be able keep my head as together as you do under crisis and stress, though I hope to be at least a pale image of your capability.
I will never have the cajones to state my opinion, without editing and without preamble, and (from my eyes) still make it quite clear that it's just opinion.
And I would never have been able to deal with Cliff with such patience and mastery as you did.
May whatever gods as we understand them bless you, my dear. You rock more than you give yourself credit for.
And though you may not be perfect, I love you anyways.
In Mutual Envy,
-Silver