Anytime I see someone casually sketching away on a train or in the park, I want to strangle them and steal their talent.
How cool would it be to be able to draw? You could draw your crush in a sexy outfit, or your family as The Avengers. You could draw a pretty girl you see in a cafe and then coolly hand her the drawing with your phone number on it. You could sketch out comic books and comic strips and any wacky idea you had. People on Tumblr who can draw their favorite characters can make them do anything they want. Or invent their own creative darlings.
All you’d need is a piece of paper and pencil to keep you occupied and to impress people. You have built in free birthday and holiday presents. You could work as a sketch artist in the police department. You could become a famous artist! I am regularly jealous of people who can draw. It looks like magic.
If you’re shy, drawing can be a way to speak to people. It’s like awesome universal language of talent. At my high school, the kids who could draw would all sit together at lunch and share sketchbooks. Granted they were artsy outcasts but they had talent and they had each other. I really wish I could draw even a little bit.
As someone who obsessively watches American Idol, The Voice and X Factor, it’s incredibly depressing that I can’t sing even a little bit. Whenever someone at a party or wherever is like, “Oh I couldn’t possibly. I shouldn’t. No, oh…all right, if you insist!” and then they burst out into a glorious Broadway tune, I die a little with envy. Why can’t I belt like Lea Michele?
If I could sing, I could audition for one of those shows…or be on Glee…or become Youtube famous covering pop songs. Maybe all this really stems from watching The Little Mermaid as a girl and really, really wanting a pretty voice like Ariel’s. It just seems like people who can sing are revered in society for having a special gift. Oh Kelly Clarkson and Darren Criss, I worship at your altars.
The Olympics really gets one in the mood to exercise or participate in some kind of sporting activity. I feel similarly whenever I watch the NBA Slam Dunk contest. It’s like the human body is this magical, bendy thing without limits and we as a species have been put here to train and test it to its highest ability. It’s exciting and primal. What can we achieve?
So I wish I were even a little good at any kind of sport. While some athleticism is training, a lot of it is innate, natural talent. Some of it’s genetics (hello, Mannings or Williams’). I have none of these things.
I wish more than anything sometimes that I looked like one of those athletes in a Gatorade commercial, pushing my body to the edge, sweating colors, alone except for the blood pounding in my ears as I kick a goal or run that last mile. Sports means glory and immortality and being in control of your body. Athletes seem like gods. I want in.
Similarly to sports, how jaw-dropping is it when someone breaks down into a break dance? It’s like, did you even know the body could bend that way? Why, oh, why don’t I have the natural rhythm and form to be an incredible dancer? I’m not even talking someone who can boogie down at a wedding because I will dance at a party or bar mitzvah even if I’m no good. I’m talking about super talented dancers who perform in hip-hop shows or do ballet for 100 years.
I want Black Swan-level dancing talent where I’m just knocking b-tches down Showgirls-style. I know most of this is about commitment but some of it really is something you’re born with. You either have the right body for it, or you don’t. I definitely don’t.
One of my close friends just told me he knew he was going to be a rapper when he grew up when he was 11 years old and started writing rhymes. That’s real. (Especially because he grew up and is now actually a rapper for a living.) To know that young that you’re destined to do something seems crazy to me.
I’m jealous of him two-fold because I also wish I could rap. I once spent an entire Roots concert just marveling at Black Thought’s flow. How can he rap so fast without breathing?! It’s incredible. The best rappers have a mix of that insane flow (Twista, Busta, etc) and lyrical game that is above and beyond. Sadly, I have neither.
Okay, everyone watches Top Chef and thinks they can crank out a four-course meal, but it really, really bums me out that I really, really can’t. One time, I burnt soup. SOUP. How?!
Perhaps it’s because my mom’s idea of family dinner is Domino’s but I really never learned how to make anything beyond the laziest mac n’ cheese and PB&J. I am hopeless in the kitchen. When I add garlic to something I consider myself the friggin’ Iron Chef.
So when I see friends on Facebook posting Instagram photos of their pan-seared tuna with asparagus in white wine sauce, I want to die. My tummy wishes I had this skill too. Poor tummy.