A Crisis of Conscience
I'm reeling a bit from an encounter I had yesterday with a guy my age who is much further in his career than I. This is where my self esteem goes to hell.
I'm a sham. A charletan. A cheat. A swindler. I should not be allowed to teach anyone anything because I have no experience. Not even life experience. I'm a moron who knows nothing and no one should seek me out for anything even resembling guidance. I suck at this. There is nothing that I do extraordinarily well. I'm passable. Jack of all trades, master of none. A person would be out of their minds to finance anything that I do.
I couldn't tell you if any of this crap is actually true. I know, deep down, that I have talent. It is just that I cannot figure out where the hell I belong. I am just uncomfortable everywhere. I'm uncomfortable teaching. I'm uncomfortable being a student. I'm uncomfortable at the playground. I'm uncomfortable in a bar. I'm uncomfortable in an office. I'm uncomfortable on the phone- I can't even order pizza without getting the heebee geebees. I'm uncomfortable selling things. I'm uncomfortable buying. I'm uncomfortable handling money. I'm uncomfortable letting someone else do it.
The only place I feel truly at home, heaven help me, is in someone else's clothes under burning bright lights. Examine me. Peel me apart and see how I succeed and how I fail. Look at my mistakes and my triumphs and talk about me over drinks.
I'm uncomfortable admitting that this is true. I'm even more uncomfortable admitting that I don't have the strength to pursue it with any consistancy. But when I'm there, everything is okay. Maybe not for my character, but for me, I know I'm functioning to the best of my ability and at the height of my compassion.
What a sick, sick way to live a life.
I'm a sham. A charletan. A cheat. A swindler. I should not be allowed to teach anyone anything because I have no experience. Not even life experience. I'm a moron who knows nothing and no one should seek me out for anything even resembling guidance. I suck at this. There is nothing that I do extraordinarily well. I'm passable. Jack of all trades, master of none. A person would be out of their minds to finance anything that I do.
I couldn't tell you if any of this crap is actually true. I know, deep down, that I have talent. It is just that I cannot figure out where the hell I belong. I am just uncomfortable everywhere. I'm uncomfortable teaching. I'm uncomfortable being a student. I'm uncomfortable at the playground. I'm uncomfortable in a bar. I'm uncomfortable in an office. I'm uncomfortable on the phone- I can't even order pizza without getting the heebee geebees. I'm uncomfortable selling things. I'm uncomfortable buying. I'm uncomfortable handling money. I'm uncomfortable letting someone else do it.
The only place I feel truly at home, heaven help me, is in someone else's clothes under burning bright lights. Examine me. Peel me apart and see how I succeed and how I fail. Look at my mistakes and my triumphs and talk about me over drinks.
I'm uncomfortable admitting that this is true. I'm even more uncomfortable admitting that I don't have the strength to pursue it with any consistancy. But when I'm there, everything is okay. Maybe not for my character, but for me, I know I'm functioning to the best of my ability and at the height of my compassion.
What a sick, sick way to live a life.
posted by Bree O'Connor at 9:01 PM
3 Comments:
Thank god.
Someone else who can't talk to the pizza people...
I don't know.
If you were to ask me from what I have read here, you just haven't found the niche yet.
Like you, I am a jack of all trades (hairstylist, janitor, barista, courier, printer, forensic lab intern, chemist, and now chemical QC/QA for a superfund consultation company). I was pretty damn good at the hairstyling and barista things, but I couldn't stand being asked to be a miracle worker (hairstylist) or have one more coffee snob (who didn't really know anything aside from StarBucks) tell me that I should get one of those automatic espresso machines instead of handcrafting each ristretto shot made with full-city roast instead of the burnt black pus that comes from espresso roast.
[oh dear, that snotty side is coming out, ignore the last bit]
Anyway, I enjoyed certain jobs I've had, but the only reason I think I'll stay where I'm at is that this company I just signed on with takes care of its employess in a way that has made my jaw drop.
Am I good at what I do? I don't really think I've honed those skills yet. Do I belong? Not really. Do I think I am a bit of a fraud. Most definitely.
You seem like a perfectly articulate, well-rounded intelligent person from what little I know about you.
Niche.
Personally, be it NYC or MPLSTP, I think a gorup of folks, with a big ol' jug of red wine ($7.99/gal) would lead to an interesting evening of discussion. Add Portland to that mix. I can think of two people there I 'd like to meet and include.
BTW -- how do you know the Scrimshaws? I went to HS with Josh.
Well, fuck off you know Josh!
The Brothers and I used to do shows together in the MSP- long ago when puppies were the oldest animals. They recruited me from a radio class we happened to take together. I noticed that they really started to take off once I left town. I like to credit their success to my leaving! But, seriously, I love the brothers like, well, like brothers.
Thanks for the kind words. You know, I've always depended on the kindess of strangers.
(Music swells, lights fade)
Wow -- that IS way back. I remember when my sister (who went to school with Joseph) called me up to say that they were becoming the next thing in comedy here.
Ha! Small world. I 'spose you next tell me that you went to North and took George's WAP class. Then, I'd really have to find my yearbooks.
From one Barnum to another... Cheers.
[the resounding melodic ring as two wine glasses touch]
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