Tag Archives: talent

Sharing My World 50

Coffee Wars Front Runner in Action
Coffee Wars Front Runner in Action

SHARE YOUR WORLD – 2016 WEEK 7

What are you a “natural” at doing?

If natural abilities show up in childhood with a minimum of encouragement, perhaps mine was related to music.  I never had much of a singing voice (my sister got all the talent there) but I had an ear for music and perfect pitch and could sight-read pieces and play them on the piano with ease.  In teachers college when I finally showed up to try out for the special music class they asked me what in the world I’d been waiting for.  Not much ever came of all that talent.  I haven’t touched a piano in years.  I get supremely annoyed if someone sings off-key or hits a bad note.  I like to listen to classical music and jazz once in a blue moon, and sometimes switch the sat radio to tunes from the 1940’s  They’re so bad they’re good.

Now I’m a natural at making soup.  It’s a much more useful ability.  My mom must have passed on to me part of her talent for throwing a bunch of stuff together without a measuring cup in sight and ending up with something delicious.  No recipe, difficult to duplicate, always a surprise.  Edible music to warm your soul on a cold winters day.

Would you prefer a one floor house or multiple levels?

The house you need/want/prefer is constantly changing as your life and circumstances change.  As much as I have always loved the idea of living in a six-story castle with turrets and ballrooms, I’m afraid all those stone staircases and drafty halls would kill me now, never mind the responsibility of servants and groundskeepers and film makers wanting to use it for a movie set.  A grand old three-story mansion with an attic would probably do me in as well.  I’m too old for haunted spaces and fireplaces with dead birds stuck in the chimneys and entire rooms made in to dusty old libraries.  I’ve also given up my dream of having a cathedral ceiling with windows everywhere and a cozy artists loft.  Even our three bedroom bungalow is feeling too big for the two of us these days.  I’m ready for something smaller with no stairs anywhere, not even up to the front door.  Flat as a pancake and easy to clean.  Sturdy shelves for my books and a corner for my art supplies and a kitchen almost too small to turn around in, but big enough for soup.

What was your favorite subject in school?

You might expect me to say art, but I didn’t love it because it was so structured then, with too many rules and often disappointing results.  I did love English, or Language Arts, and composition.  I hated how we were made to do book reports though, dissecting everything to death.  It was like explaining a joke until it was no longer funny.  In high school I thoroughly enjoyed Latin.  That was like having a love affair with words.

Complete this sentence: If only the rain..

…..would soak the world with joy and wash away all the pain and hurt and hate.  And maybe sweep some obnoxious mouthy morons down a sewer grate.

What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?

It is getting easier every day to know what I can and cannot eat to keep my diabetic readings stable.  Last night we dined out.  I had Chicken Parmesan, sweet potato fries and five ounces of Merlot.  Perfect.  Except for the blatant absence of vegetables.  But sometimes I make a meal of nothing but vegetables, so it all evens out.

We have packages of coffee, both beans and ground, that we are trying half heartedly to use up by brewing a pot of coffee in the morning.  It’s coffee brewer vs. Tassimo, and Tassimo is sneaking in a lot of wins.  It’s just so much easier than measuring out water and scoops of coffee and having the coffee sit there and get stale and then poured down the sink and spilling the filter full of wet grounds on its way to the little green compost bin.  Life is just so hard when you have nothing of consequence to do with yourself.

There is this one thing though.  W has asked me to do one of my collage pictures with a fishing theme.  He wants to hang it up at camp, although where exactly is a mystery because the walls are already covered with photo boards and other fishy things.  I said ‘what if you hate it?’ and he said ‘I’ll hang it up anyway’.

I’m grateful he has shown an interest in my work, other than to ask me what the hell I’m planning to do with all this shit.  So that’s my next project.  When we move to our tiny little pancake house we will be having one hell of a garage sale.

share-your-world2

 

Just Jazzy 82

Don’t they always say you should do whatever you’re good at doing? (Aren’t they just so crazy smart sometimes?)  I was born with a natural talent for laziness and have spent most of my life trying to fine tune and perfect this skill.  The process is going quite well, but one can never go wrong with extra practice.

Today I plan to be Super Lazy!  That's like normal lazy, only wearing a cape.
Today I’m going to be Super Lazy! That’s like normal lazy, only wearing a cape.

Music for the Road

The best type of music to play while driving is something you can sing along to at the top of your lungs. It may not be pretty, but it will definitely keep you awake and your mind off those road trip snacks which are almost impossible to open with one hand and get crumbs all over the upholstery and down your neck. Belting out those vocals is hands-free. And relatively safe, unless you get totally carried away by your own incredible talent.

It’s a definite plus to know all the words. Or at the very least, be able to make them up as you go along. Hit those high notes! Or not. Who cares? Nobody can hear you. Practice those latent harmonizing skills. Throw in some crazy background vocals. Do you stare at other drivers at a stop light? Of course you don’t – so nobody is staring at you either and there’s absolutely no need to interrupt your own brilliant performance by humming while pretending you’re not.

The music I remember best is what I listened to in my teens. So I tune into a radio station that plays the golden oldies; perfect for this golden oldie. Hearing myself get the lyrics right is kind of astonishing; sort of like when I’m playing Trivial Pursuit and the right answers seem to pop into my brain without any effort at all. (Okay, I admit that happens RARELY, but it does happen.) I don’t know why I know all the words to every Lovin’ Spoonful song ever written but it is what it is and I’ve resigned myself to the fact.

Sharing my dubious ‘talents’ with the rest of the world would probably be mortifying, for everyone. My car acts like a little sound proof box on wheels. I can crank up the volume and turn up the bass and suddenly I sound amazing. Passengers, unfortunately, seem to ruin the acoustics and curb the enthusiasm somehow. Best to do this on your own. And if it’s a long trip, think up some plausible reasons for your croaky hoarse throat before you reach your final destination. Damned air conditioning or something like that.

I’ve tried audio books, talk shows with phone-in participation, classical stations and easy listening – they all lull me to sleep. Whereas my brilliant one woman concerts keep me focused and alert. Plus they’re funny as hell. I’m almost sorry you can’t share them with me, but keeping them private is probably for the best.

Poor radio reception? No problem. Five cd’s of Rod Stewart singing the American standards along with one jumbo pack of red licorice (no crumbs) and I’m set. You’d be surprised at how fast those deafening miles fly by.

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In the Spotlight

Yes, I’ve been “on stage”. Don’t remember a spotlight though. What I do remember is being seven years old, in grade two with my best friend, and having a teacher with a flair for the dramatic.

“Once there lived side by side, two little maids,

Used to dress just alike, hair down in braids,

Blue gingham pinafores, stockings of red,

Little sun bonnets tied on each pretty head.”

We didn’t even have to audition for the parts. We were chosen. I think perhaps the cute factor had a lot more to do with it than any kind of talent. Picture the two of us at our school Christmas concert; braided hair, fussy little ruffled checkered aprons, red tights, sun bonnets made from bristol board and crepe paper. Shockingly gorgeous. Trotting out onto the stage arm in arm. Reciting the little poem in unison (there’s much more to it, but I’ll spare you that). Then we have to pretend to have a fight, and go stomping off to stage right and left respectively where we glare at each other, which makes us giggle. ( I improvised at rehearsal sticking out my tongue, but that part got cut.) Finally we sing this little refrain back and forth to each other, all snotty, hands on hips.

“I don’t want to play in your yard,

I don’t like you anymore,

You’ll be sorry when you see me,

Sliding down our cellar door,

You can’t holler down our rain barrel,

You can’t climb our apple tree,

I don’t want to play in your yard,

If you can’t be good to me.”

You HAVE to hear it to truly appreciate how adorable it must have been. There are several renditions on YouTube, all cloyingly sweet and gag-worthy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kV1AgrdM2To

Unfortunately no video exists for this particular performance, and not even one photograph. Nothing I’ve done on a stage since then has even come close. If we all get one shot at stardom, I guess that was mine.

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