Friday, June 3, 2011

You are a very beautiful tribal termination

Now that I am married, and this is no excuse, I suddenly feel compelled to settle down, focus and make something of myself. One gapingly big hole in my life has always been my perceived lack of real-world skills. You know, the kind of thing that would keep me in the tribe because I added something valuable and indispensible to the whole?


I am a writer; it’s what I like, it’s what I do. And yet, I get the sneaking suspicion that in a post-apocalyptic society, this would not be a highly valued ability.


I was searching through job listings today, and it is pretty pathetic when you peruse each one and say, “Nope, nope, nope. Ooh, that would be cool, if I knew the first thing about park services. Errrr…..” and then it always ends up turning back to writing. Even in previous jobs I have attained, at entry level, the job has always ended up turning gradually to my writing. It doesn’t mean I am some writer wunderkind (at al!), it just means that I say a lot about my enjoyment of writing, and then the bosses say, “Ok, let’s take you for a spin.” It makes me feel happy to know I have a passion, and at the same time the pigeon-holed aspect of it all sort of worries me. No one is pigeon holing me, I have pigeon holed myself into belief that this is my favorite thing to do and it is the ONLY thing I can do.

But that’s nonsense. I have a VERY extensive list of other things I can do.


I can…crochet.

I can…. make Café Rio Salads (that might be my next application, ooh)

I can…play about 7 chords on the guitar

I can…sight read music on a VERY amateur level

I can…. make babies cry by looking at them.


That last one has always upset me, but now I see I could have a super lucrative career in baby scaring. I’m not hiding THAT one under a bush.


In other news, my husband makes babies smile and coo just by entering a room. I kid you not, at his brother’s wedding a little girl - no relation to the family - having never seen Tom before, clung to him from the moment he walked into the room until the traumatic moment her mother had to surgically remove her from Tom’s arms (yes, she had surged herself to him). Not pretty.



(Exhibit A. Sort of. It's a different baby, and Tom looks happier than him)


Anyway, this clip tells me I’m not alone, and even the crème de la crème fear these things.



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