Things I Am Not Good At

I try and mostly stumble

Photo by lil artsy: https://www.pexels.com/photo/woman-standing-near-wall-2827804/

I have tried a lot of things and failed at most of them -
In school we had jump rope, namely double dutch, in the south,
but my hops were too low and slow, my rhythm a joke

I was never any good on skates of any kind -
roller, ice, boards, they all laid me flat on the floor
my balance unsteady, my limbs on their own independent streaks

I was not good at running, or drawing,
I was never good at breathing, my asthmatic lungs a perpetual weight

I was not usually good at finishing what I started
I was not crafty, clean or clever in the ways that pay off,
I was never much good at not humiliating myself given half a chance -
I was never good at not caring too much when it was
no use, or of being
brave and bold when it matters
I was not good at letting go when my heart drew a red outline around
something or someone

I was less than good at trying my best for long enough
to claim victory or prosper,
I tried and tried but my trying always seemed to be an
awkward blob of discombobulated stuff -
I was never good at stopping before things went too far,
nor at resisting creating new scars to pick at later, and put in jars

I was never good at tempering expectations or
preventing impulsivity - which I was good at!
But only in precisely the wrong moment

I was never good at walking in a straight line,
at closing doors or folding sweaters in a tidy pile
I was never good at keeping track of whispers or real meaning when
false gods presented themselves

I was not good at singing or deep concentration,
at fortune telling before the bones fell on the floor,
nor pretending to be good at anything I yearned for

I was never good at having smooth hair or elusive eyes
or at forgetting to notice
every little detail that hustled my desire
A strong forearm, a twinkling eye, and poof
I died and came alive before finding out if it was truly any good.

I was never good at sealing the vaults tight enough to spare myself future pain,
my desire for sweetness and light landed me back in
mocking splatters of mess and dismay

I have never been much good at being anyone other than me,
even when I pretended or tried not to be,
at handling anxiety, or setting it free
instead it’s a quiet hum always driving me

I was never any good at many enviable, dazzling things
that’s the cold truth
nevertheless glossy moons fatten and slim and tease the eye on all sorts of
starry or unstarry nights
and you stare and stare and still they remain
bright, unbothered by your tears and trials so
Eventually it matters less that the only good is dark and hidden,
possibly inside you -
where it should stay
if it knows what’s good.

---

This was lightly inspired (ahem , “A strong forearm” 😉) by watching The Other Bennett Sister (BBC in the UK, coming out in America in May I believe, not sure about elsewhere sorry!) this week. (I still have three episodes left, (sort of) savoring it!)

Seeing the world of the Pride & Prejudice characters as told from awkward, annoying know it all (in P&P) sister Mary, has been a totally enjoyable delight. Here, Mary is the narrator and heart, and has been given a much rounder character: that of an outsider, a woman who didn’t fit in the boxes of society at the time.

Mary is made to feel like a failure for not being able to navigate society with the ease her sisters do. She lacks the guile, the feminine wiles, the tolerance for the exhaustion of being a woman in her era. I had not read the book which this is based on but I think it’s entirely genius and wonderful. Mary is a square peg in a round hole world, and who can’t relate to that on some level. I know I can!

There is a seriously lovely exchange between Mary and the traditionally toadily loathsome Mr. Collins (who is given an if not charming - human lease of life here) that I won’t spoil. But it has to do with happiness, and what it means to crave it as someone who never expected it.

They are both given room to be outsiders and have some of their character “flaws” explored for the less cartoonish, more likely possibility that they too were both seeking the same things everyone else is in life. Neither were afforded the opportunities to live the dream that others higher in station or appeal find so easily.

I think Jane Austen would have approved. Mary and Mr. Collins may have been necessary cannon fodder for the comedy support in her novel, but she arguably could not have written such memorable misfits had she not related to them deeply, as seems to be the likely option.

Thanks for reading!