Talentless, hopeless

Nothing I am able to do is talent. I have learned everything I know.
I play the vihuela and I play it well but I can't keep a tiempo for the life of me.
I play the keyboard, something that I learned while learning to read music.
It didn't just come to me, I had to learn it.
I cannot tune an instrument by ear nor can I play any song by ear.
I can play if I watch for chords, notes, and strumming patterns; if I study the player.
I can sing, but who can't?
In mariachi, everyone sang--even if you didn't.
My singing is rough and raw, hardly a talent.
All the Spanish I know is what I've learned from four years of schooling--I'm Mexican and Puerto Rican.
I cannot hum whilst whistling, that takes talent.
Something that I lack.
What I have are skills, the skills to get the job done.
And if I have a talent, I assume it's writing.
But my skills are like me, mediocre at best.
I can't even play Guitar Hero past meduim.
I'm creative, but that's more of a personality trait than a talent or skill.
But I'm told that I make people happy--is that a talent or a skill?
I'm easily liked because I know how to be myself--is that a talent or a skill?
But what talent do I possess?
I cannot think of a damn thing...

The Approaching Curve

"Our cracking voices became part of the music.
The car pressed on faster through the night. As our voices lowered,
The cadence again overtook the air.
Up ahead there was a curve approaching.
She made no indications of slowing."


     It's one of those days. I realize that I have a lot to do but I don't feel up to any of it at all. Instead of working on my solar system Powerpoint I'm here blogging about how I don't feel up to anything. Instead of doing further research with the Texas v. Cobb case, here I am blogging about how I'm not doing it. Instead of getting journalism work done, here I am blogging the same thing over and over again.
     This week is dragging on and I am dreading it. I feel as though I'm dragging along with it as well. It seems as though Friday will never come but what does that matter if Saturday and Sunday don't follow?


     I think my problem is that I am never the initiator--I am forever waiting for the river to flow but don't realize that I am standing at the foot of a large puddle. I am standing in the rain wondering why someone doesn't bring me an umbrella, when I am perfectly capable of doing it myself. I want everything to happen in a split second without me doing anything; which I recognize is near impossible.


     I can't keep myself happy and I wonder if it's a side effect the medicine I take. Or am I just this terrbily sad individual? And even if it is a side effect, what excuse is that to be sad? It seems like a pathetic one at that. (I just looked it up, depression and fatigue are side effects of said medication.) I don't know, I'm probably just overreacting about the whole thing. I just can't stop crying and I have no reason to be crying in the first place. I just want to hibernate or sleep so much that I die.

I know that's cynical but it is what I want right now.