Girl at Sink

There is this absolutely filthy sponge at work. This sponge sits at the office sink presumably so we can wash our coffee cups with it. Over time I have noticed its hue go from yellow (the original color) to beige, to deep tan, to brown.

Someone in this office is to blame for this sponge’s mutation from cleaning utensil to scum of the earth. Someone does something so naughty with this sponge– but I can’t identify what that naughty thing is. I can’t figure out how the sponge got so dirty if all we wash here are empty coffee cups. If all we have are mugs and spoons, and we constantly refill our cups and use the spoons only once, then all utensils that reach the sink are empty an minimally soiled. What exactly is it that this sponge is scraping up? Where is it coming from? WHO IS TO BLAME?

It doesn’t matter though. The sponge fits within my diabolical plan quite nicely. You see, under the sink there is a cabinet. In this cabinet there is a clean plastic container. Within this container there is a nice, clean, yellow sponge. This is the sponge that I use when I clean MY coffee cup and spoons. When I am done with it, I pat it on its spongy bottom and put it back in its safe place.

The reason I don’t throw away the filthy sponge is because it is a DECOY. It sits there, on the edge of the sink, all wet and grimy, for a reason. It is there to serve as a reminder that whoever uses it is gross and should reevaluate their choices in life. As long as it’s there and it continues to be used no one will look for another sponge to use and mine will remain safe. And clean.

Also, the decoy sponge serves as part of my sociological experiment. HOW LONG is it going to take before someone else becomes outraged at how dirty it is and demands a new sponge? I know no one else is using mine because it is always dry when I use it myself. That means people CONTINUE to wash their cups and spoons with that piece of trash. It amazes me. Don’t they know that the only thing that separates us from lesser beings are our clean sponges?

The day someone discovers my secret will be a day that lives in infamy.

Ain’t Nobody Here But Us Moody Chickens

Not only is this one of the images that popped up when I searched for “moody chicken” on Google images, it also happens to come from the Austin Chronicle. Makes sense.

I will not deny that I am moody. When I am in the mood to be silly, I am silly. And when I am in the mood to be quiet, I am quiet. When I feel like the correct mood is serious, I will be serious. When I feel free and happy, I am ready to party and you will know it. Sometimes, however, my brain becomes concerned with some topic or thought and I indulge to the point where all of my body betrays that I am deep in some sort of mental trench. This is when the world likes to call me moody.

I have taken offense to this term when it is applied to me– either directly or indirectly– for many reasons. The label “moody” has a negative connotation with which I am all too familiar. More often than not, the label is accompanied with a misunderstanding of my character and a misunderstanding of how I function.

This misunderstanding of my character and how I function is currently affecting me at work. I have been compared to two co-workers recently in what felt like a Goofus and Gallant page in Highlights Magazine. Gallant is reliable and predictable, always even-keeled. Goofus is smiley and ridiculous one minute, quiet and cold the next. Gallant wears his heart on his sleeve and is an open book for all to read. Goofus often broods at his desk and at times seems unapproachable. I am so tired of being Goofus.

It’s tricky. I know that in a professional setting, in a place where you have to work with others and get your job done no matter how you’re feeling, it is wise to always have a smile on your face and try hard to always seem approachable. When getting this kind of feedback from my co-workers, I try to read between the lines of what they are saying to me. In comparing me in such a way, they are saying, perhaps, that they don’t always feel like they can talk to me. Or that they aren’t always comfortable with me because they don’t know what they’re going to get when I walk through the door.

Fair enough. I can see how you would prefer Gallant’s singular setting to Goofus’ wild card nature.

However, I get the sense that I am being told to change. That people are trying to change an integral part of me so that they are more comfortable. I am being shown a more acceptable way of being and asked to consider switching. Moreover, I get the sense that these people, who spend more time with me than any other people in my life, don’t really get me at all. And that feels like bullshit.

Typically, when people call me moody they are really calling me temperamental. The problem is that the key factor in being temperamental is having unreasonable changes in mood. I take offense at the assumption that I am unreasonable. I am a rational person. I am sensitive to the reasons behind everything and I always try to have a sensible reason for everything I do. People who get me should know this about me.

Of course, just because I have a reason for being serious and grumpy doesn’t mean I am beyond reproach. It doesn’t mean that people can’t continue to prefer other people who are never grumpy and serious. I can see how dealing with someone who is reliably transparent and saccharine can take the guesswork out of friendships and relationships. But being the way I am– if you want to call it moody– doesn’t make me flawed. Believe me– there are plenty of other flaws we can talk about if we really want to get into that topic. It will always disappoint me that having a multi-faceted personality will remain the reason I get cast as Goofus instead of Gallant.

Get on the Squirrel

This picture is one of the results I got when entering “Am I a Bad Person?” into Google Images. I’ve decided I’m going to do that for every blog post– enter the theme into Google Images and see what I get. This can’t fail.

Imagine this scenario:
Due to mounting frustration, you vent about one of your co-workers to two other co-workers you’re somewhat close to. Against better judgment– because you know how tricky office politics are– you allow yourself to let them in on just how frustrated you are with that particular person. Pretty soon, the three of you start really getting into the different reasons why working with them is annoying. Then, one of your co-workers says “I just don’t think he’s a good person.”

“I just don’t think he’s a good person.”

The conversation has taken quite a different turn at that point. Beyond discussing annoying behavior and airing frustrations, stating that someone is not a good person is laying down quite a verdict about someone’s character. It makes me very uncomfortable. Especially being the person who started the whole thing– it makes me feel guilty. Immediately, of course, in that scenario, I had to switch gears from criticizing to defending. It made me uncomfortable to do that, but it would have made me feel worse to remain silent and allow such a judgement to remain.

I brought up the reasons why…the defendant, let’s call him…WAS indeed a good person. All the regular things you say at that point– that they have a good heart, that their intentions are good, that their only real offense is not really being aware of how their actions are interpreted.

And then I just felt like an ass. If I know these things are true about them, why do I start saying crap at all? Why even bother airing frustrations? Especially to fellow coworkers? I know better than that…I’ve known better than that for a long time.

The thing about someone not being a good person really stuck in my craw. If you asked me to name people I considered “not good people” a couple of faces do indeed come to mind. But I just wouldn’t be able to name their names out loud. I wouldn’t be able to commit to making that judgment. To me, saying that someone is not a good person means that you’ve decided that every single action that person takes has a bad intention attached to it. That they are, across the board, selfish. You negate their personal struggles and refuse to be empathetic towards them. As far as you’re concerned, they would steal candy from a baby, poison it, and then feed it to a dog just for kicks. They lurk behind doorways (real and figurative ones) waiting for an opportunity to inflict some sort of harm.

I don’t think I know ANYONE like that. Even the few people I truly dislike aren’t BAD people.

So I start to wonder about the coworker who made that judgment call. Maybe their requirements for what it takes to be a bad person aren’t as severe as mine. Maybe they spoke from a place of resentment and would easily change their minds. Maybe they saw our co-worker steal candy from a baby, poison it, and feed it to a dog just for kicks.

In any case, it makes me sad to think that I contributed in any way to any kind of character assassination, especially in the workplace where relationships are so fragile.

“Talent is…

“Talent is different from skill. Talent is something you’re born with. A skill is something you learn.”

These are words that my boss said to me today. As she was explaining the difference between talent and skills I began to wonder if I truly have the talent it takes to excel at my job.

She said that in our field, talent means an insatiable curiosity and hunger to know how everything works, a need to stay abreast of new information and new trends, an enthusiasm for engaging others.

As these words were coming out of her mouth I was creating a checklist in my head. This list was made up of two columns. One column was labeled Talent and it contained all the items she was listing. The other column was labeled Things I’d Rather Be Doing. For every item of talent in one column was an activity in the other column. For every thing that I should be doing to demonstrate talent, there was a thing I know I would do instead that required no talent at all.

In my mind I took a step back and sighed. This spot– this exact spot where I see things I should be doing juxtaposed with the things I know I’ll do instead– is where I’ve been what feels like all my life. As an adult, I’ve accomplished a good deal of things: I have a bachelor’s degree, an MBA, a good amount of varied work experience, a great job. I have a creative life outside of work that includes performing in sketch comedy shows, improv, and acting in comedy videos. But when it comes to this discussion about talent versus skills, none of that puts more in my talent column than it does in my skills column. I have learned that I have to do certain things to evolve in life, but I am born with an innate desire to sit still and do nothing at all. All of my energy is used up in fighting my desire to sit still while talent erodes on the sidelines.

Well, that’s what it feels like at least. I know it would be a great disservice to myself to say that I have absolutely no talent. I have tons of talent, actually. However, I spend such an exhausting amount of time investing in the skills I need to unleash that talent that I forget it’s there at all. For example, I have invested such a huge amount of time (and money, so much money) in my education to learn the skills I need to get the job I want in order to make a good career for myself. The skills I acquired in college and grad school enabled me to get jobs that exposed me to truly talented people who have helped me get ahead in life. Under the guidance of these people, I have been able to find and expose certain talents. I am very grateful for this. However, having met these truly talented people has given me insight as to how truly talented minds work. And, truth be told, my mind simply does not work in that way.

The things my boss was saying about having talent in our field (marketing and social media) goes for all fields. You must be hungry, you must be curious, you must stay abreast of new information, you must feel the need to learn new tools, you must feel the need to engage and evolve. Have I ever been truly hungry? Truly curious? Have I ever really cared to stay in-the-know? Have I ever really cared to learn new tools? To engage and evolve? The answer is…I don’t think so. Not all by myself, out of the goodness of my own heart, without motive and just because I couldn’t help myself.

I am missing that chip, that switch that opens the floodgates to a deluge of talent that forces you to move in a certain direction. There it is– I am missing the switch, not the talent. But the result is just the same. It is the reason why I never really truly learned how to play the guitar after years of lessons. The reason why I never got farther than using MS Paint to draw anything. The reason why I never write anymore. I stand at the dam that separates me from my talent and I stare helplessly at a spot where it trickles in. While I stand there, I have two options: acquire the skills to make up for the inaccesible talent, or complain about my situation. Well, it turns out I have the time and inclination to do both.