add French to that list

Photo from Milwaukee Art Museum- can't remember the artist but look at that care in sculpting that back! Quite perfect, I hope some day to sculpt like that!!

My brother sent me this video today...

I have a tendency to pick things up, throw myself into them, and then let it fade away. Are any of you like that? Do you know what I mean? Perhaps the best example of this are my iPhone app obsessions- when I first got my phone I couldn't put down Angry Birds, then I got addicted to Plants vs Zombies (beat it twice), then TapZoo (didn't last long) then Pocket Frogs (completely pointless), then Cut the Rope, then Trade Nations, and now Words with Friends (I will win. I must win.). I got my phone in October of last year. I play these games incessantly for awhile (indeterminate) and then, get bored with them, and stop completely. Is this normal?

I think realizing this has helped me see that I do this in nearly every other area of my life as well. I've started learning guitar I can't remember how many times, I tried Russian for awhile, and flute, piano, triathlons, sculpture, painting, yoga, pilates, tried surfing, jewelry making, kayaking, track, gotten into history, medicine, ballet, religion, the classics, reading, programming, and now French. (again). Some things last for years. Some things last for days. Some things I come back to on and off. I am an expert of none of these things, but enjoy them all, still.

I'm trying to change that... for whatever reason. I enjoy picking up new things and getting a taste of them and then picking up another new thing- it's the newness that is appealing. And sure, I would like to dedicate all the time in the world to each skill, but it's just not realistic. I also like to do 1.2 million things at once. Multi-tasking? yes, please. In fact, it's the only way I operate. I don't prioritize. I like to try it all, at once. Bring it! More of it! I cannot be appeased!

But this leaves me frustrated that I don't improve at anything, frustrated that I have no time for anything, and frustrated that I have so many hobbies and so few skillz. I love to learn. But the discipline to sit and master something...

Ah well. This is who I am. I'm learning French now on the train and on my bike rides to work in Lake Bluff, where I can repeat adieu and bonjour and ca va tres bien, merci. Et toi? to myself outloud in a ridiculous French accent and no one is around to hear except for the squirrels and birds. I love it. I love learning a new language (again). I want, desperately, to master it. Will I? I hope so. I start every new thing that I learn with the naive hope that I will become an expert, that I will become a famous (or, at least, proficient) singer/songwriter/guitarplayer/artist/history buff/doctor/kayaker/ballerina/triathloner/etc, self-taught, in a few short weeks/months/years. I sincerely believe that I will be fluent(ish) in French by the time I'm 30 (1.5 years away). Otherwise, I wouldn't start at all.

Even though I realize, odds are, I won't ever get past a few words in French. I still try. I still throw myself into it, even if for a short while. I just can't live my life holding back, believing I will never master whatever I decide to start. Believing this relationship won't work out. Believing the next relationship won't work out. Believing I will never dominate at anything, or never grow past all my faults, never finish my research, or never read all of Tolstoy's works some day. I have the highest expectations for life, for everything, for everyone.

I just simply can't help it. I am brimming with hope (right now).

I think this applies somewhat to this post (although I didn't talk much about my overwhelming need to create things, along with learning things- although I feel the same about learning as I do about creating) and so I leave you with one of my favorite quotes:

"The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create -- so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating." Pearl S. Buck