dream on, dreamer.

I think I classify myself as a "dreamer."

Others may classify me as a "lay-about" or "slacker."

But, maybe it sort of explains why I went to post secondary school for nearly seven years, and have nary a post-doc to show for it.

And, maybe it sort of explains why right now, I have no intention of "furthering my career."

In a related vein, I have always been, as my sister bluntly used to put it, "dense." I used to help her with book reports in school, and she'd always say, "How do you come up with stuff?"

I'm not sure, but my talent in Gratuitous Skills Not Needed In Any Practical Sense has really expanded my opportunities to die an accidental death, due to the fact that Gratuitous Skills Jamie seems to have sapped all the power from Practical Skills Jamie.

I remember when I was a kid, and we had those stupid math problems, which they called word problems. I didn't really care about when Mr. B. was going to meet up with Mr. Y if Mr. B's train is headed towards Mr. Y's car at 80 miles an hour, and Mr. Y is only traveling at 50 miles an hour.

But, I was always fascinated by the story behind these word problem characters. Like, why was Mr. B going to meet up with Mr. Y at some random point? And what's more, who cares? Does Mr. B. even know Mr. Y? What if Mr. Y. decides to stop a fireworks stand and stays for the porn display for a couple of hours? What if Mr. B.'s train derails, or Mr. Y's car crashes?

So, I'd be thinking about this stuff, composing a haiku about it, and meanwhile, everyone else would be solving the math problem and getting scholarships to MIT or whatever.

Okay, so mostly, I didn't like math because I wasn't good at it, and I'm in the habit of not doing things I'm not good at, like sports, for instance. I suck at sports. It requires like, hand-eye-coordination and strength. These two words make me chuckle, but I always wondered why they made me suffer through physical education. I was like, "Hey, assholes! I'm not fat, and I'm never gonna play touch football as an adult. I promise I will never go near a basketball court and annoy people with my complete and utter lack of height, or inability to hold any solid object in my hands for more than five seconds without dropping it. Can I just go read Beowulf or learn Greek, or something?"

But, I've realized "things that I"m not good at" involve mostly useful, marketable skills like math, and playing basketball.

And, even less advanced skills than that, there's every day "figuring out how to operate vertical blinds."

Okay. So, I have a confession to make.

When I got here to Seattle, I couldn't figure out how to make my vertical blinds work properly. So, when David came to visit, I told him I thought they were broken.

This was the ensuing conversation:

DAVID:
Uh, no they're not broken. You just do this [does something completely magical to the blinds, and they miraculously glide over to one side with nary a problem].

JAMIE:
[with sincere incredulity]
Really?! Oh, wow! That's so simple! I never knew that! I thought like, all the vertical blinds I ever in my life were like, the crappiest things ever, because I could never figure out how to do [that magical thing]. Seriously, they're not broken? That's all you have to do?

DAVID:
[bemused]
Uh, yeah.

Okay, so that's not the most embarrassing part. The most embarrassing part is, now that he's gone, I can't figure out/don't remember what it was I'm supposed to do to the blinds, exactly, and now they're are all fucked up again.

Like, I'm not even sure how I get through my day without electrocuting myself, falling down a well--yes, even in a city--or drowning myself in half an inch of water.

If I were born during Roman days, I would have been the kid who was abandoned on the floor shortly after birth, because it would have probably been clear at birth I was not going to be a good carpenter or centurion, and everybody hated those tax collectors who could read and write, any way.