Improving

     “Wouldn’t it be convenient if everything that I wanted to be good at was something I was already proficient in?” This was what I asked myself after I had thrown my pen across my dorm out of frustration. The cause: I was attempting to write a long personal essay for my Creative Nonfiction class. I often launch items far distances in my room, mainly because I always try to engage in some sort of creative pursuit. After failing at whatever artistic task I designated for that day (and also after I express my anger on inanimate objects), I find myself utterly disappointed in my lack of "talent". I want to be great, exceptional, or at the very least half-way decent. This depressing feeling is always amplified whenever I compare myself to my creative exemplars' works, which include: the powerful production tracks from a Tyler, the Creator album; the subtleties of cinema language in every scene of a Martin Scorsese movie; the carefully constructed sentences of a Fitzgerald novel; even the pin-precision hand movements of magician David Blaine. I always open my mouth in amazement as if I was observing aliens displaying a piece of technology unbeknownst to man. I attribute their talents as destiny. They were gifted with God’s graces, allowing their progress to flow at an exponential rate while I struggle much more than I was allowed to be.

    I sat back in my creaky wooden chair, contemplating what I was already good at. That way, I could be on the path that I always meant to be on. I know I wasn’t always good at making music, nor was I good at writing scripts. I’m terrible at drawing and I couldn’t shoot a hoop to save my life. I struggle over the complex grammar structures of both Japanese and Spanish (the latter being more embarrassing when considering my birth country of Honduras). The list soon began to dwindle as I went through every art form, every sports game, every craft, and every hobby. I was devoided of any talents that required an ounce of creativity or skill. Maybe I could go with something that you didn’t have to come up with ideas for. I always was good at walking. I can walk perfectly. Well, I do walk quite slow. I’m still decent at walking though, but it wasn’t something I was always good at. I had to crawl first and even that took months to achieve. I'm that great at talking neither. I stumble, misuse, and forget various words and sentences. Even in my younger years, I babbled and used “-ed” instead of the proper conjugation. I couldn’t even tell the difference between a sheep and a dog, so I wasn’t actually always great at thinking. No baby is great anything. Well, other than improving on things. Babies always manage to get a little better every day at something. I was reminded of that when my two-year-old sister discovered how to avoid dripping apple sauce from her mouth whenever she got spoon-fed. She used to be extremely messy at eating for most of her two-year life, dropping bits of food onto the floor or spitting them out when she was unsure about the taste. Now, she’s basically an expert, gifted at consuming! Yet, soon she will find more things she needs to improve on. I mean, she can’t even write a single letter. She’s going to have to type paragraphs for her essays eventually. That will get easier for her. She’ll improve slowly over time as she has done with other skills because getting better at things is natural. For now, I will pick up my pen from the floor and continue on with my work.