Check out this wonderful London Skyline print that my friend painted on her coffee table. Whilst marvelling at her artistry and having one of my usual 'Oh I wish I could do something like that' moments, I realised that I probably wouldn't have even if I could. Why? Because I fall into a particular group that's incredibly large in number but despairingly low in usefulness: People That Just Don't Get Stuff Done (PTJDGSD - I'll gladly accept the award for Worst Acronym ever).
Perhaps it's just because I'm ill at the moment and as a typical man, am feeling very sorry for myself. As such I've been pondering my extensive list of failures in life (cue violins). I was suddenly struck by how many things I've started and made minimal progress with, let alone finish. To name a few:
- Guitar - I bought one 4-odd years ago to teach myself how to play. Everyone in the world somehow seems to be self-taught and continually proclaiming how easy it is. Psssshhhh, like hell it is. Urban Myth. Or at least that's the excuse for my failure. Not the fact that I haven't even picked mine up in over a year. But why would I? In 4 years, I've learned about 4 chords and can just about muster a ropey-to-the-point-of unrecognisable rendition of Brown Eyed Girl.
- Other instruments - Harmonica (way too hard), Violin (in my defence I stopped playing at age 10 when I realised that girls rarely if ever fancy the guy who plays the violin), Piano (I'm not terrible per se, but considering the fact I had lessons for 5 years... I'm... ok, fine... I'm terrible)
- Using a typewriter - I bought a vintage typewriter from Spitalfields Market about 3 years ago. I had romantic notions of holing myself away from the world and composing my life's great masterpiece in a constant alcohol and caffeine induced daze that would propogate my artistic wizardry. The empty whiskey bottles, cigar ends and cups of black coffee would be a testament to my dedication and endeavours to emulate the greats such as Hemingway, Poe and Hank Moody (David Duchovny in Californication, who I'll admit is the real reason that I bought a typewriter - he's just too cool. Yes i know that he's a character. And no I'm not a 13-year old fan boy.) Said typewriter has been sat on my table for those 3 years, in need of new tape and no closer to getting used than if I thrown it straight into a trash can.
- Drawing - Your average primary school kid can draw better than me.
- Creative writing - Lots of ideas and start them...never finished a story...not even one.
- Kick-boxing - Don't mind kicking people, not a fan of being kicked.
- Golf - Went for a couple of lesson with my dad at 15... never went back. Now if i step on to a driving range, I'm like Happy Gilmore but at least a hundred times less awesome.
- Poetry - At some point last year I decided to have a crack at poetry (I'm not kidding.) I was probably reading something profound and whole-heartedly moving, and it prompted a new-found passion for lyrical penmanship. Unlikely. Let's be in honest, most English undergrads probably do try their hand at poetry at some point, but it's most likely out of arrogance. Either you simply just think that you could do it better or you develop this wholly illogical idea that reading poetry (despite a most likely moderate-at-best level of understanding) somehow means that you might be able to write something half decent. Anyway, during one of these periods of inspiration I wrote a series, maybe 5 or 6 poems, and tried to group them under some profound category such as love, life and the ensuing pitfalls that the modern-man faces (stop laughing). Really they could have been (and in fact read as if they were) the musings of an adolescent schoolboy and his unrequited loves. The reason that they sucked however was down to the fact that every time I tried to write some poetry, I'd be interrupted by a strange voice in my head. It would either manifest as an American jock/football captain-type-character or a Jason Statham-type-hardman going 'Dude, this lame'.
Well it's none of this is really my fault is it? It's the damned PTJDGSD. Actually, I've only just realised how many of my failures involve creative things, mainly writing...and I consider myself a) creative b) a writer. Wow. In no way at all is this depressing *jumps out of window*
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