It has been awhile since I have visited my blog, and I have been told from more than a few I should start it back up, although I have no idea why my random musings would be of any interest to anyone but me. Yet here I am...
A friend (whom I consider to be a good one, and with whom I have had some incredible conversations, which I am missing greatly) sent me something that he had written to look over and offer an opinion on, and I did. I also told this person that I thought he had a great deal of potential. This, in turn, was met with quite a bit of resistance, as if it was unfathomable that there was indeed a talent there not yet recognized. Our exchange ended when I asked this very question: "Why sell yourself short?"
It is the same conversation I have frequently with my oldest child; she has so much going for her, but she also has a hard time believing it. For some reason I don't understand, since her talent is not the same as my talent, she figures she has no talent, no special ability, at all.
Everyone knows I write, and not only do I write, but I write everything imaginable. I write humor, satire, political, business, religious, erotica, fiction...if I ever focused down, I could probably make a fortune (romance is out, though; it's stupid and not happening in this lifetime). The fact of the matter is I have always been able to write, and I have always written - it is just what I do. My mind formulates everything in words; the same way a photographer can capture an amazing scene in the every day mundane, or an artist can portray an entire emotion with a stroke of a brush, I can turn a blank piece of paper into whatever I want it to be simply with the words I choose to put on it, and make my audience see what I want them to see, and how I want them to see it. Furthermore, I can produce an entire piece of work in the same time it would take most, even accomplished writers, to produce one chapter. Call it what you want; a talent or a God given gift, but whatever it is, it is something I possess.
So what does this little bit of ego blowing have to do with my daughter? Simply put, she can't write like I do, and she cuts herself down for that one simple thing, without ever acknowledging everything else she can do. For instance, my mother was an incredibly gifted artist who could have worked for Disney, had the drugs and alcohol and other torments not consumed her life. I see this very gift blossoming in not just one, but both of my children; both are highly artistic and creative, and I've tried to nurture that potential.
But it isn't writing.
And, truth be known, my oldest daughter can write...when she takes the time and puts her mind to doing it well. Of course she can't write like I do, but in her frustration at pointing out that I am a prodigy (every chance she gets), she forgets that while the above is true, and I have always just been able to do this, I also have 27 years on her, and I couldn't write at 11 the same way I do at 38. Not only that, but some of the most accomplished authors are those who have had to work for that accomplishment - the words don't come as easily, but they do come eventually, and while it make take them longer to make the vision in the mind meet the words on the paper, it does happen. As I tried to explain to my friend, who was lamenting the fact that it took a long time to put together what was meant to be said, it isn't the length of time it takes you to do it, but whether you are proud of it when it's done, and he very well should have been.
Besides, like I tell my daughter, a gift is only a gift if you use it, as is evidenced by my mother, and, to a lesser extent, me. We were both born with these extraordinary abilities, but my mother died without ever letting hers take her where it could have. As for me, I use mine, but not nearly to the extent I should; sometimes this becomes a burden, as I am often reminded by the well meaning that I "could be doing so much more with it"; to which I once retorted: "Spend a week in my mind, and let's see what you do with it." (Needless to say, that exchange ended rather quickly, but it's true; my mind writes everything, and sometimes it is hard to sort it all out.)
I guess my point is that to cut yourself down simply because you don't have the same talent or ability as someone else, or if you do, possibly not to the same extent, is just not fair, because you are failing to recognize what you do have, even if it is nothing more than the ability to be a good person. I try to explain to my daughter that she doesn't have to be like me to be special, and at some point, she will realize her own unique person; but no matter how hard I work to impart this particular bit of wisdom to her, I am also figuring out that she will have to discover this for herself...and I hope she does.
Of course, I have also told her she shouldn't want to be like me, because I can be extremely short tempered, cranky, moody, and sometimes downright miserable. In fact, it has been scientifically proven that people who are highly intelligent and highly gifted are more prone to psychosocial problems, mental instability, manic and clinical depression; alcoholism amd drug addiction; and sometimes sociopathic behaviors, because our minds never shut down; even when we sleep, they are constantly going...it never stops. While there are medications to curb this, it also dulls the very thing that makes us who we are, and I personally don't like that sensation of being "dulled down". I guess with every blessing, a little curse must fall.
But, as often happens with a child her age, just about everything I say goes in one ear and out the other...or at least I think it does. Then again, maybe it doesn't, and maybe somewhere in the rolled eyes and exasperated sighs, she is actually retaining a little of what I tell her, and maybe someday, it will all surface and she will become the very person I already know she is...an incredible young lady of whom I am very proud.
Until then, I guess I will just have to remind her it really is "i" before "e", except after "c".
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