nineteen

Day 19 - a talent of yours

There are a few things that I am very good at. But when I think about them, I just feel sad. Not proud. Rarely proud. They are the things I had to be good at, to survive. And I don't really want to talk about that right now.

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But there are other, more innocuous talents that I could mention, I suppose. Talents that have nothing to do with survival.

I write pretty fairy tales, and poetry. I have excellent rhythm. I can swing dance -- Lindy Hop, East Coast, Charleston. People tell me I have a nice voice, and there are times when I might agree. I read aloud with feeling. I take good pictures; pictures that speak to people, when I need them to. I can french-braid my own hair. I have an eye for what kind of clothes would look good on you, and what you should stay away from -- but I won't get in your face about it. I'll only tell you if you ask.

I am protective of my talents, wary. I never felt appreciated, growing up. Anything I was good at was only exploited for the family's benefit. It was never about celebrating who I was, as a person. So I don't like to admit that I'm good at things. Which is probably why job interviews make me so miserable.

I'm not humble. I'm just onorously guarded. You ask me what I'm good at; immediately I wonder what you want from me.