missed-stic. Ironically, I suspect that a big part of why I've been so unsuccessful in adult life is because as a young person, many things that were considered important came to me very easily. It's not that I never had to try. I became a decent cross-country runner and a national-level musician, and I don't think my natural talent at either of those things was very great, but--especially the music--I really really wanted it.
Otherwise, though, I wasn't ever encouraged to put more effort in to get better at something that I wasn't naturally excellent in; there was a lot of "okay, good enough," coupled with some impatience on my part, along the lines of looking up the solution to the puzzle at the back of the book, or abandoning the puzzle half-done.
But the times I finished the puzzle without cheating, the time I put up the shelf for my mom, leveled it, and redid it ("no, leave it, it's fine") so that it was actually level, provoked a sweet, earthy/hearty/grounded satisfaction of a whole different order from the easy victories of perfect test scores.
I learned to drive in a European university town. This meant that parallel parking wasn't just a technicality on the driving test; it was a necessary skill most likely to be called upon every time one drove a car. In the fourteen years I've lived in the US, that skill has become far less relevant.
This afternoon I was running an errand on 4th Avenue in Tucson's University district, and the first parking spot I found was a parallel park, circumscribed both front and back. I seriously considered not even trying. My first two goes were a mess with my back to the curb, which I realized wasn't surprising since I learned to parallel park in little cars with no power steering (and my California-days Mazda was that same way--I did need to parallel park in Berkeley), whereas my Subaru is as long as a small truck and has power steering--of course I ended up overshot if my body remembered making these movements in a shorter vehicle with a tighter turning moment.
So I swung out for my third attempt...and here comes the streetcar! I would have just driven away, but the streetcar was already stopped, waiting, watching. Probably everyone on the sidewalk was watching the stopped streetcar for why it was stopped. Public humiliation, for sure... But third time turned out good--really good, right? Straight, true, close.
I almost couldn't believe I'd done it--just about had myself convinced that I wouldn't be able to. I don't consider myself mechanically skilled, or car savvy, or spatially aware. Getting to prove my negative self-talk wrong through action was an unexpected gift.
So, hang in there. Delayed gratification can be delicious.
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| I suspect this will never be my street address... But interesting to have it as a nearby cross street. |
But the times I finished the puzzle without cheating, the time I put up the shelf for my mom, leveled it, and redid it ("no, leave it, it's fine") so that it was actually level, provoked a sweet, earthy/hearty/grounded satisfaction of a whole different order from the easy victories of perfect test scores.
I learned to drive in a European university town. This meant that parallel parking wasn't just a technicality on the driving test; it was a necessary skill most likely to be called upon every time one drove a car. In the fourteen years I've lived in the US, that skill has become far less relevant.
This afternoon I was running an errand on 4th Avenue in Tucson's University district, and the first parking spot I found was a parallel park, circumscribed both front and back. I seriously considered not even trying. My first two goes were a mess with my back to the curb, which I realized wasn't surprising since I learned to parallel park in little cars with no power steering (and my California-days Mazda was that same way--I did need to parallel park in Berkeley), whereas my Subaru is as long as a small truck and has power steering--of course I ended up overshot if my body remembered making these movements in a shorter vehicle with a tighter turning moment.
So I swung out for my third attempt...and here comes the streetcar! I would have just driven away, but the streetcar was already stopped, waiting, watching. Probably everyone on the sidewalk was watching the stopped streetcar for why it was stopped. Public humiliation, for sure... But third time turned out good--really good, right? Straight, true, close.
So, hang in there. Delayed gratification can be delicious.
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