I love to joke around my friends, and one of the jokes is about our various talents. I think that each and every single person that is born has some sort of talent, whether it is drawing beautifully, running like the wind, or producing melodies so beautiful it makes my eyes prickle in the corners when I hear them, there is a gift. My own personal ‘gift’ isn’t even something I find very useful in the real world. I can take tests. I can walk into a classroom, be handed a pencil, a test, and a mint-green scantron and pass. It’s as simple as that, just the ability to fake my way through a test.
I’m not known to be really the best at anything. I wish I was though, I wish I could draw something so real that it looks like it will fly off the paper and into my life. But I can’t, all I can do is fill in bubbles in a pattern that will get a passing grade printed onto a small slip of paper in hot-pink ink.
Many people call it natural smarts or even living up to my potential. I don’t think most people know this about me. Up until middle school, I thought I was smart, I thought I was everything that everyone else thought I was. Until that fateful day when I first realized: I don’t even know my left and right.
I always knew the big picture, Venus spins in retrograde and Uranus almost on its side. But I didn’t know which hand was my left, and which was my right. It was that day, when I finally realized that I’ve always known the bigger picture. But if I look closer… I can’t see anything at all. The details are blurry and I’m not certain. The concepts I can get, but the small ideas, I might never even be able to begin to conceive. I’m not quite sure how you spell ‘grammar’, but I can form perfectly acceptable sentences with decent grammar.
The day I learned that right is the hand I write with, is also the day I decided to try and grow up, try to open my eyes, and for once, try to see things the way that other people sees them. If I say this, what would they feel? Would it matter if I was being true to my personality? True to my own beliefs? To this day, I still don’t know. But I’m hoping I’ll learn. Pictures are important things, but what you see is never what it seems.
I believe that even though the bigger picture is important, the details are what make that bigger picture beautiful. Just as in painting a portrait, it doesn’t matter if you have the general shape of a face, that last tiny stroke is what brings out the best parts of the picture. That last tiny stroke, barely visible, is what completes the picture, making it absolutely perfect.