tavie.com

Well, I needed that, let me tell you.

I am amused by your conviction that anyone can pick up a guitar and just start playing it. (My uncle, who also taught himself, has a similar attitude. Can genius never see itself?) It's not like drawing or singing, which anyone with a voice or a hand can do-- some with technical skill and some without, but all potentially equal degrees of creative expression. To actually express oneself on a musical instrument, some basic minimum degree of technical skill, obtained only by an exact and monotonous learning/practicing process, is required.

But I'm willing to give it a shot, indeed I am. If I can screech along on my violin while Andie MacDowell talks in a movie, I don't see why I can't strum tunelessly and painfully on a guitar to the same purpose.

Mike is such a kind and open human being. If only he had a little bit more self-confidence.

Which reminds me of some wisdom passed on yesterday by Steve to me yesterday; something I found quite profound, actually:

I understand that self deprecative trait, all too fucking well,

he says,

but it is possible to have it and know that it's clouding your judgment, not clarifying.

It actually made me think, that.

Damned if I know what to do about my crippling self-worth kaleidoscope, though.

Moving on... last night, I fell asleep at 8 pm, without taking my Gleemonex, and wrenched myself out of bed at approximately 8 am this morning. I'm not falling-down tired today, which is good, but I hope my mom taped The West Wing for me like she promised.

Today at work I was in on a conference call at which I was expected to speak-- HA!! Arnold took over for me-- and was expected to submit An Official Request Form without ANY supervision-- HA!! If all the computers in the building explode, don't brame meeeee!-- and now I'm being asked, on top of all this brand new Scary Responsibility, to give completion time estimates on my work. Turns out, Alex confided in me, that some people are looking for a scapegoat after not having done their jobs, and the blame-dust is being subtly blown in my direction. Alex, stout-hearted, wonderful undercover primatologist, is doing her best to protect me from this potential evilness by helping me create a paper trail of my productivity. This is good, because I was beginning to smell something that reeked of Office Politics in the air yesterday, whereupon I was Subtly Blamed for not doing something that had never been given to me to do in the first place (but was presented as if it had been.) Thank goodness Alex is looking out for me-- because, these people should know that I am a temp! And I can quit at lunch.

This Office Politics stuff is for the birds, lemme tell ya.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:53 AM | shower me with attention