Why do I constantly feel like a dilettante?1
For those of us who are now cocking an eyebrows, a dilettante is a dabbler, a superficial one, a phony connoisseur, in arts, sciences, anything of that sort. I remember distinctly eighth grade vocab (or ninth grade...they're all blended since I had the same teachers) thinking about some pompous man, round, cigar-smoking, somewhere around the turn of the century, explaining to his party guests ideas of impressionism or metaphysics. Not quite a practical application.2
The beginning is a nice place to start. I never had a direction. My parents never forced anything on me, but they never so much as nudged. My youngest memories are of science, of nature. Writing was there, from my mom, but never did a thought cross my mind of it. It was natural. 3
Also, there was music. It was regarded as a kind of constant petty hobby, nothing serious to be considered. So, I started viola in third grade. My teacher, who shall not be named, saw potential in me, but I had no drive for it. I kept on drifting.4
I liked to paint as well, and was extremely serious about that for a while, but I have absolutely not talent, so that point is moot. 5
But soon, I was old enough to see the world as it is, see how soon I will have to decide, see that I was at more than a crossroads, I was in a fog, and had no idea where any of the paths were.6
Un-blindfolded, I am dazzled by everything I see.7
Music is my passion. Writing is my passion. Compassion is my passion. Music is something I connect with, something I understand, something I work hard for...but also something I have to work hard for. It is one of the few things that doesn't come like breathing to me. So, it MEANS something. Writing comes easier than breathing, but more than that, if I go for too long without it I think I would mentally break down. Compassion is something that I just feel pulling my heart; I feel pain, I feel such anger when I hear about things happening half a world away. I'm pulled by them, and I'm afraid it might be my calling...8
Tell me if I'm wrong, but I think there's no way I can be all I can be. Temporally, spatially, physically. 9
For now I'm a dilettante. This makes me feel like an idiot, because I almost like everything, and I sound like an doormat...but I'm afraid. I'm afraid if I choose one thing, I won't be good enough at it. Or, I'm too good at it, and I'll stew, I'll die, because I'm all of these things, truly, in my soul. 10
I know you don't care, I know you either don't understand or you just dropped whatever kind of food you were eating, and I know I'm small and frivolous. But I'm afraid.
Author notes
stream of consciousness. gotta love these things.
This ain't fiction, betches.
A contest entry
- Open for ALL Categories (6 options) by FreeStyleBlue.
375 points, ended January 8, 2008, 6 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - anything decent less than 600 words. by Anonymous Shadow.
100 points, ended January 24, 2008, 26 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
what're your opinions/error corrections?
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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This was very real, and you use big words well. Not everyone can do that, but a few of your sentences ended in prepositions. I always notice them because i also have a bad habit with them. Just today I heard a quote.
"Everyone is good at something. Everyone has a gift. Don't waste time trying to perfect what you are good at, but perfect that which you are gifted"
I guess the trick is knowing what our gift is, but we all have one that is for sure.
Regards,
Shell -
Oh wow! This sounds so much like me. I really felt like I could connect with what you were talking about. I do feel a little differently about wanting to do everything, though.
Wanting do everything sounds like something everyone should want. The world is full of so many neat things, kinda like a buffet. It's hard for me to understand how people would not want to at least try a bit of everything. -
I understand perfectly. My goal in life is to move from town to town, getting temporary jobs, begging, and mooching off my friends. And to write, of course. I can't help it, I wanna be a hobo (not really a hobo, but that's the best term I can think of). Great write.
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I don't really know what to say. You're right, this isn't fiction. As such, I don't really have anything to comment on, except that you've made a couple of spelling errors... Your free writing style is easy to read, though, and I guess I wish you luck in finding a calling.
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Awesomeness. I understand what you're talking about. My greatest ambition in life is to do everything, which hardly seems practical. I wanted to be a lawyer, a zoo keeper, a politician, an archer, a black smith, an artist...it didn't cross my mind until my senior year in high school that I wanted to write. Everything I ever strived for just seemed to be so...perfect for it.
As for your story, I like it. Stream of conscious stuff is amazing. I could really feel the uncertainty in it, and I think that is what makes it a good piece. I love that you listed compassion as a calling and not just an emotion. It's easy to overlook compassionate people, but compassionate people don't overlook anyone, so it's a tough job.
Good luck in the contest.
(Maybe you should be a musician, write your own music, and then use the money to help people all over the world.)
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thanks, I actually think this is a pretty relate-able piece in retrospect. thanks for the advice too
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