There are people in the world who were born with a great talent.
They can write, or act, or sing. They can paint, or carve, or dance. They can direct, or compose, or build, with whatever material suits them - film, food, metal, wood, paper. They can throw, or kick, or run. Whatever the area of endeavor, if the ability gets developed and used, if the person is supported and encouraged, the greatly talented leave the rest of us in the dust.
Aretha Franklin. Michael Phelps. Frank Gehry, architect extraordinaire. Itzhak Perlman.
Sometimes a person has more than one great talent, and then you have Michaelangelo, or Leonardo Da Vinci, or Isaac Newton.
There is another group of people, however. These are the people with some talent, in more than one area.
They can sing, kind of. Write a little. Draw somewhat. Maybe they are pretty smart.
These people are called generalists, and I am one of them.
Of course, being a generalist doesn't have anything to do with telling others what to do, at least in my case; I have never met another human being who would actually do what I told them. But it does mean that you have options open to you in more than one area.
Therein lies a dilemma. How to choose what to do, when you can do more than one thing?
They can write, or act, or sing. They can paint, or carve, or dance. They can direct, or compose, or build, with whatever material suits them - film, food, metal, wood, paper. They can throw, or kick, or run. Whatever the area of endeavor, if the ability gets developed and used, if the person is supported and encouraged, the greatly talented leave the rest of us in the dust.
Aretha Franklin. Michael Phelps. Frank Gehry, architect extraordinaire. Itzhak Perlman.
Sometimes a person has more than one great talent, and then you have Michaelangelo, or Leonardo Da Vinci, or Isaac Newton.
There is another group of people, however. These are the people with some talent, in more than one area.
They can sing, kind of. Write a little. Draw somewhat. Maybe they are pretty smart.
These people are called generalists, and I am one of them.
Of course, being a generalist doesn't have anything to do with telling others what to do, at least in my case; I have never met another human being who would actually do what I told them. But it does mean that you have options open to you in more than one area.
Therein lies a dilemma. How to choose what to do, when you can do more than one thing?
You like to draw, so you draw for a while. But, while you are not bad, you realize that you are no Michaelangelo, or even James Whistler, and you have no patience with yourself, so you put the pencil down. Or, you get distracted from drawing by the desire to sing. So, you do that for a while.
Then, the choir or group you sing with breaks up, or moves away, or you get laryngitis, or stage fright, whatever, and you realize that what you really want to do is write.
So, you write, and that's fun. But, things keep getting in the way - the need to make a living, or to raise children. You think, why am I sitting here writing when I need to get to the dentist, or fold clothes, or go to work?
If only I could focus, you think, and develop my abilities. Maybe I would be one of those talented people, and do great things.
But I am a member in good standing of the Dilettante's Club, so I pick up and drop these hobbies as the caprice strikes me.
There are also areas in which I, to put it colloquially, stink out loud. I tried ballet once, and was laughed out of the dance studio. I do not have a scintilla of athletic ability, as anyone who has ever watched me try to play volleyball can attest. My taste in decorating could most kindly be called eclectic. My organizational skills fall toward the haphazard end of the spectrum. And God help you if I try to take your picture; you will look like a thumb with legs.
For these inabilities I am grateful, lest I spin completely out of control. The small talents that I do have keep me more than busy, or so you would think.
And then, one day, a friend (let's call her Joan, since that's her name) emails me a link to a night school class about the "voiceover" field, wherein you use your voice to convince people to buy things, or you read books to them on CD, and I am intrigued, and touched by her interest. Hmmm, I think; yet another pursuit to take up and drop in a whimsical way. I'll do it!
And so, Gentle Readers, I embark on a new venture. I had my first vocal coaching session on Monday, over the phone; it was a voice evaluation, and apparently I managed to pass the test, filled as I was with the fear and loathing of putting myself out there on display, at least vocally, at a fairly ripe age.
I was also excited by the prospect of starting off in a completely new direction, and learning a new skill, which is one of the things, I suspect, that fuels the dilletante's need to change hobbies frequently.
That, plus a really low threshhold of boredom. And the fear of actually succeeding at something.
As I undertake the quest to become the next voice of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, I will continue to write, about this new enterprise as well as whatever else floats to the surface of my mental pond.
Then, the choir or group you sing with breaks up, or moves away, or you get laryngitis, or stage fright, whatever, and you realize that what you really want to do is write.
So, you write, and that's fun. But, things keep getting in the way - the need to make a living, or to raise children. You think, why am I sitting here writing when I need to get to the dentist, or fold clothes, or go to work?
If only I could focus, you think, and develop my abilities. Maybe I would be one of those talented people, and do great things.
But I am a member in good standing of the Dilettante's Club, so I pick up and drop these hobbies as the caprice strikes me.
There are also areas in which I, to put it colloquially, stink out loud. I tried ballet once, and was laughed out of the dance studio. I do not have a scintilla of athletic ability, as anyone who has ever watched me try to play volleyball can attest. My taste in decorating could most kindly be called eclectic. My organizational skills fall toward the haphazard end of the spectrum. And God help you if I try to take your picture; you will look like a thumb with legs.
For these inabilities I am grateful, lest I spin completely out of control. The small talents that I do have keep me more than busy, or so you would think.
And then, one day, a friend (let's call her Joan, since that's her name) emails me a link to a night school class about the "voiceover" field, wherein you use your voice to convince people to buy things, or you read books to them on CD, and I am intrigued, and touched by her interest. Hmmm, I think; yet another pursuit to take up and drop in a whimsical way. I'll do it!
And so, Gentle Readers, I embark on a new venture. I had my first vocal coaching session on Monday, over the phone; it was a voice evaluation, and apparently I managed to pass the test, filled as I was with the fear and loathing of putting myself out there on display, at least vocally, at a fairly ripe age.
I was also excited by the prospect of starting off in a completely new direction, and learning a new skill, which is one of the things, I suspect, that fuels the dilletante's need to change hobbies frequently.
That, plus a really low threshhold of boredom. And the fear of actually succeeding at something.
As I undertake the quest to become the next voice of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, I will continue to write, about this new enterprise as well as whatever else floats to the surface of my mental pond.
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