Ok, like a lot of folks, I consider myself purdy smart. And, however smart I am, there are so many things I am helplessly bad at, can’t do – am not smart about. Now, you could say some of that is by choice as in a refusal to read the directions until after I have been reduced to tears by one thing or another is a choice, right? Yes, yes it is. Technology can make me cry faster and harder – after making me break out in a sweat – than pretty much anything else other than deeply attractive yet cowardly, deceitful men; even the directions tend to flummox me. What. Is. That?!! What does that even mean? And when I am told it’s all – use of their technology – soooooo intuitive, I really want to scream. Intuitive to whom? Twelve year olds? Anyone under a certain age raised on computers as I definitely was not, y’mean??!!
Deep breaths.
I am not good at mechanical things of all kinds. Do not ask me – please, for both our sakes – to figure anything mechanical or mechanically adjacent out, please. For years I drove a BMW 1066 – great ride, so much fun – but it smoked whenever I went over sixty (often), and there were various lights on the dash, which lights I ‘intuitively’ kept covered with feathers, the better to block annoying flashing whatever those are all about. My nephew, who has a doctorate in chemistry, is gifted with all kinds of anything chemical and mechanical as well as with tech, the lucky devil. I once spent 4 long hours trying to get new baseboard heat covers to fit in one tiny (8’ x 10’) room of my house; every single time (and I swear I was following the very sparse directions) I snapped the last piece in place, cowabunga, and FML, the rest fell out of place, back onto the floor. My nephew, called to the rescue, took one look – ONE, made an adjustment that was clear as mud to me, and bingo, it all stayed put. He finished the rest of the entire house install in about 45 minutes, leaving – at my insistence – one room for me to finish because c’mon, really? Yes, really.
So. Not good at mechanicals. Cars. Chemistry – but I can cook, does that count? Good hand eye coordination, but not good at running over fifty feet unless I’m being chased by a bear.
No to dusting and cleaning in general. It’s BORING. Yes, the large fur baby does add a lot of dirt and mess to mi casa, due to his superb ability to drool and bring in dirt; I should be dusting once per week, vacuuming twice a week, and mopping three times a week but that is simply not going to happen. I used to invite friends over to dinner in NYC because that was the only way to motivate myself to clean my apartment. I had a dinner every two or three weeks. Ridiculous, right? I had two dogs then, and while they were not droolers or bringers in of seeds and etc. like Diego the wonder dog, still. I am not good at cleaning. I am not interested in cleaning.
Is anyone? Yes, I know people who love to clean their houses and apartments. They’re weird.
I am not good at waiting – but then, other than practicing Buddhists (maybe), no one is.
I am not good at tech, which I bring up again in part because this platform keeps ‘innovating’ and making life harder for me. However, I don’t aspire to be good at tech because – well, because. I am not good at social media, by which I mean I believe, I think, I assume, I guess…I should be doing tweeter and insta and snapchat and linked-in (ugh) if I really want to succeed in ‘driving engagement’ – but, no. I don’t want to drive anything except a car that is fun to drive and doesn’t nanny-state me (my current vehicle is a bit nanny-ish and I hate that aspect of it with a passion).
I am not good at gardening, particularly, but I love it so much who cares? So my kale was a total fail, as was my cabbage. Meh.
I am not good at staying below the speed limit.
I am not good about other drivers being able to do so, stay at 53mph or 54 while tooling around the Catskills; I’m not nice about their sticking to a speed way below the limit when it is raining or merely drizzling a bit, or lightly snowing because omg, weather!!!!! (slow-poke brother fckers might just be my name for them).
I am not good about asking for help. This is definitely not good. We all need help sometimes. We are all occasionally inept and helpless – made from broken timber as Alexander McCall Smith puts it – trying our best, hopefully, maybe, stumbling big time oftentimes, and – asking others for help is necessary. I am working on it. Independence is my numero uno personal value, you see, and I am very, very good at that.
I am lousy at opening things. Jars, mainly, but FFS – why is everything packaged like a crazed mad men is trying to get in it these days? I have a bottle of ghee I bought at least 6 months ago that I cannot get open; I forgot to ask my nephew when he was visiting and I’ve tried myself until I’ve seen stars. I have go down to my neighbor and see if he can get it done for me. My little hands simply cannot do it, even with the gripper thing I bought for this very reason. I occasionally buy jars and ask at the grocery store cashier line – after paying, of course – if anyone, someone could help lil ol’ me. But I mostly forget to do so. When I remember, however, it does make people feel good, doing little things like that for another person. But, if you’re thinking, ‘why Moj, that’s an example of you asking for help which you just said y’ain’t good at,’ you need to know that I was not referring to small tasks like getting jars open. I meant the big stuff. Life and shit.
I am not good at confronting people in the moment. My childhood trained me to be a witness, to not react – because reacting made it (whatever it was) much, much worse, and no matter how hard I try, or how long I live in the present moment, I am rarely able to say even just ‘ouch’, which I read once (and liked, thus remembering it) was a good way to handle people being shitty to one’s face. ‘Ouch.’ Growing up, reacting in the moment, saying what I thought was going on (‘You’re just jealous, mom’ on one notable occasion) got me backhanded, twice across the face, and sent to my room. This was around the same time she threatened to institutionalize me for being difficult, which I probably was, and still am, probably. People don’t always like to hear the truth, or enjoy when others make observations that ring true – even if it’s just an expressed or solicited opinion. I learned to observe, and – mostly – keep my mouth shut. This is a bad habit, one I want to unlearn. I’m working on it. Storing up hurts, and the anger that often goes with them, is unhealthy, and the eventual eruptions that also can occur are not particularly helpful, either. Sigh.
I am pretty good at being healthy, but not always, not entirely. 60-40, 70-30, depending on the day, and year. It’s been a while since I was 80 or 90 to 20 or 10 healthy, but I remain optimistic despite all evidence to the contrary. It could happen.
I am NOT GOOD at letting go of the past and of grudges held. Every single day I try to let go. Every. Single. Day. I am not good at it, but – maybe – possibly – I’m getting better?
Fingers crossed.