NoJoMo 23:20 in NoJoMo 2023
- Nov. 20, 2023, 9:57 a.m.
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- Public
What are three things you do well?
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Writing. At least, I think I do it well. I want to be a paid writer, but I have no clue how you even get started as a freelancer, or how/if you can get hired full-time by any publication. But in any case, I’ve always been able to write my thoughts more clearly than I can speak them, and I ended up getting a degree in English and philosophy, graduating with a 3.4 GPA. I have most of the papers I wrote, so if they’re needed for a portfolio, I could get them together.
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Analysis. I don’t think this goes hand-in-hand with being a good writer, because we all know people who write just to write. Which isn’t a bad thing, especially when it comes to journaling; as the late, incomparable Carrie Fisher once said, “Better an empty house than an unhappy tenant.” That’s why I journal. But journal writing is worlds removed from analytical writing, and analysis is a skill that has to be taught, although I do think some people have raw talent for it. Maybe it’s a neurospicy thing; one of the strengths of ADHD is being able to detect patterns. Which also might explain why, when I started playing the Just Dance games in my early 30s, I was able to catch on quickly and score decently on Nintendo systems. (If I’d know that an Xbox One and Kinect was the way to play back in 2020, I’d have been unstoppable.)
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Cooking. Except beef stroganoff; I don’t know why. It’s not inedible, but it’s not something I’d keep making, unless I can figure out why it’s not as good as my mom’s. Or maybe it’s one of those things, your parent/grandparents make it and even when you follow their recipe to the letter, it’s just not the same. I’m sure there’s some explanation for this (probably nostalgia), but at the moment, my desperately mediocre beef stroganoff continues to mock me.
I have all my stuff packed, including contacts (I have dailies, plus my glasses, which I’m wearing right now because my sight is horrible and I literally can’t see two inches in front of my face), Smudge’s stuff except a litter box and litter, which I will pick up on our way to Albany, and ordered a pet car seat that came in this morning and was super-easy to set up. The one problem is that the leash in the car seat was pretty clearly meant for a dog’s harness, not a cat’s, so I took the carabiner off my car’s valet key and put it on Smudge’s harness. (The valet key lives in the glove compartment, so no worries about it; I’m going to lock the glove compartment when I get to the airport.)
And my house is as clean as I can reasonably expect: I’ve scooped the litter box, taken out the trash, the dishwasher is loaded and on a 16-hour delay, all the floors have been swept and mopped, and the laundry is as done as it ever gets.
If I don’t update for the next week, have a happy whatever you celebrate!
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