things I suck at

Ending a sentence with a preposition isn’t one of them, obviously.

I’ve been told that I’m awesome way too much lately.  It’s true. 

I made this messenger bag and was told that I did such a good job I should make more and sell them.  How about that?

Zombie Hunter patch not included.

The leader of my writer’s group was, and I quote, “so consistently impressed by [my] writing and editorial suggestions” that he asked me to edit stories for the magazine he works for.  It’s unpaid, but could open doors for paid work doing what I love.  Hells yeah!

A member of my writer’s group liked my last story so much that he said he would “slap me” if I didn’t submit it for publication somewhere.  Compliments emphasized with violence are my favorite.  How did he know?

While unsolicited praise is as sweet and desirable as a chocolate cupcake delivered by Jason Statham (mmm, Jason Statham*), I have concerns.  Mainly, that I will become smug.  Like the color red and stirrup pants, I don’t look good in smug.  My wheelhouse is self-depreciation.  I’m at my best when I am laughing at myself.  How can I do that if I’m standing proud in my ivory tower, throwing stones at all you little people groveling in the mud below? 

See?  That wasn’t funny.  I apologize.

So, for your sake and mine, I will attempt to deflate my ego by listing a few things at which I am terrible: 

  • Walking and doing pretty much anything else at the same time.  I can trip over air, I’m that clumsy.
  • Whispering, or in any way talking or laughing quietly.  I’m loud.  Annoyingly so.
  • Being subtle (shocking, I know)
  • Penmanship.  My handwriting hasn’t improved since the third grade.
  • Chopping vegetables.  I cut myself every time I use a kitchen knife. Every. Damn. Time.
  • Driving at night.
  • Cleaning house.
  • Math.  Just, don’t.
  • Being nurturing.  If you’re sick I’ll bring you juice and soup, but don’t expect me to stay and rub your head or anything. 

There.  I feel better now that I’ve sufficiently knocked myself down a peg or two.  Besides, you guys are the awesome ones.  Stopping by here to read my clumsy attempts at self-therapization.  Give yourselves a hand.  I mean it!  You guys rock and I’d be nothing without you.   

Now, get out of here.  My bad self’s got some stories to edit.

*An acceptable substitution would be Adam Baldwin and a brownie.