All morning… or at least for the first twenty to thirty minutes of it, I’ve had the Ben Folds song, “You Don’t Know Me,” stuck in my head. Self-knowledge and this ridiculous attempt we make to know others is something I frequently explore yet seldom have anything new to contribute. Meh – “the clueless chump that you think I am.”
Somewhat rudderless, I’ve been struggling to figure out where or how to direct my energy. The weather has gotten nicer and I feel the tug of the outdoors (yard work, longer dog walks, a few runs, time spent reading on the deck). This past weekend the farmers’ market returned (and I still don’t know where that apostrophe goes). I bought fresh bread and tomatoes. I also smoked ribs and made collards – summer traditions for me. I’m continuing to learn Spanish – I’m seventeen or eighteen days into it and the novelty hasn’t worn off… yet. The time on Spanish has replaced some of my social media scrolling – I see this as good thing. I still need a job. I still need to figure out where I’m living, when I’m moving, and how it will all come together. I’m also gradually letting up on the pressure I put on myself to have it figured out. The next thing, person, or place doesn’t have to be the best thing, person, place, or the permanent thing, person, place, it just has to be whatever comes next. Getting comfortable with ambiguity requires constant practice.
Even in terms of bigger picture things (what do I want to be when I grow up?), I’m trying to figure out how to apply my “talents.” I have yet to come across any job postings for bar stool philosopher or unlicensed therapist. As such, having interesting conversations over drinks or helping people see their problems from various perspectives seem to be unlikely paths to self-sustaining wages. I frequently wonder how I might apply those skills – if they can be considered skills. I remember reading a piece of advice that said if multiple people compliment you on the same thing, don’t brush it off… accept the praise as an indication of a unique skill or being good at something. Quite often, I’m told that I write and speak well and that I make people think differently about the world or that I seem to have unique perspectives. Disregarding the advice, I tend to brush those comments off. I don’t know what to do with them. And because we live in a society where if it can’t be monetized, it doesn’t have value, I devalue my perspectives by putting the word “skills” in quotation marks. I also can’t rule out that I enjoy doing those things precisely because they’re not my profession. Were I being paid to think, talk, advise, I might see it as a drag and want to pursue something else.
Which seems to come back to the refrain from Ben Folds. “You don’t know me at all.” Except the you in this case is me and I’m once again tripping over my multitudes.