Maybe talent isn’t everything; maybe sometimes it’s more about consistency. I wonder how many geniuses who could affect positive change on a large scale are holed up playing video games in their parents basement because they are continually struck by some new pang of curiosity.
Affection for myriad passions was what held my father back and it’s why my brothers and I grew up in a home of half built shelves, dismantled computers and a hoard of musical instruments and unrealized art projects. It’s why the home itself was ripped up and reassembled half way.
This endless pursuit of novelty may have been my father’s fatal flaw, but it is also part of what made him one of the most interesting people I’ve known. As I grow older I see more of Frank in me, and I’m not always sure how to proceed. On the one hand, I like the idea of being a Jill of all trades – it could come in handy for impending water wars, the age of automation and whatever else we have to look forward to in a post Trump era. It will certainly give me things to write about.
On the other hand, I want to move forward, I want to finish something, I want to carve out a space for myself and say, “I built that.”
I have no reason to believe anyone is reading this, save my brother, who has always been really good at supporting my passions despite their unlikely ability to generate income (thanks James!) but I keep writing. I certainly get overwhelmed by fears that I’m just participating in a futile egoic masturbation. All. The. Time. But I’m starting to think that everyone does, and that the voices that eventually break through are simply the ones that never stopped talking.
So, I guess where I’ve landed is that I’m going to keep building many shelves, but I’m also going to fill one of them someday.
What are you afraid of? Keep going. You’re enough.