Just Odd Enough:
Elizabeth Reinking
Staff Writer
Whenever I witness something amazing, like watching Michael Phelps winning eight Olympic medals, or hearing Ben Folds play the piano, I am reminded of how spectacularly untalented I am at anything important. Were I to think about it rationally, I would realize that these people are so remarkable because the vast majority of us are dime-a-dozen, run-of-the-mill nobodies. Not to put it too bluntly, of course.
Now, don’t get all affronted because I just called you talentless. There’s no reason to be embarrassed by our mediocrity. On the contrary, I think we should embrace it. Because though we may not excel that those things which society values the most (which, judging from Paris Hilton’s popularity, is the ability to be both incredibly rich and incredibly classless at the same time), all of us have our own hidden talents.
Yeah, some of you are thinking right now, “Maybe you have a talent, but I — I am a complete blank.” This is actually kind of sad, and you might want to think about getting some therapy for that self-esteem problem.
I admit, at first I was at a loss trying to discover my own hidden talents — if I had any, they were extremely well hidden. Like that time my mom put my Easter basket in the washing machine. Once I found it, I was all, “Geez! That was so obvious.” But the four hours before that — not so much. So for inspiration purposes, here are my own hidden talents.
In the slightly-less-than-useless category, I rock at spelling. I’ll have you know that I finished eleventh place in my seventh-grade school-wide spelling bee. I would have won too, if not for that blasted second ‘e’ in “correspondence” and those 10 other people who were better spellers than me. I haven’t really done much to develop this talent, but there’s no denying it comes in handy. For example, how could I write a respectable paper without my spelling talent? Oh, wait — did Microsoft take care of that already? Well, anyway, a talent for spelling is also great for … um … shoot. OK, moving on.
Another equally-impressive secret talent of mine is my ability to consume unbelievable amounts of chocolate in a single sitting. This talent becomes less secret if you’ve ever seen me in front of a bowl of M&M’s. Maybe “impressive” doesn’t fit as well as another word, like “unsettling” or “appalling.” It’s a little like watching a five-year-old in front of a mountain of Halloween candy, because I will literally eat myself sick. Now that I think about it, this chocolate thing isn’t so much a talent as it is a vice. Guess I have to keep searching.
OK, here’s one. I am fully able to retain massive amounts of completely trivial celebrity gossip. No, it’s true. You want to know who’s dating who and what movie they’re currently filming? I am so the woman for the job. I could probably also tell you their favorite designer and where in Malibu they were most recently seen, if you wanted. Not that anyone really does. And I can’t get this function to turn off, either.
I may forget three months worth of humanities IDs within hours of the final, but the progression of Matt Damon’s girlfriends? It’s permanently embedded in my mind, along with entire scenes from various melodramatic teenage dramas that used to be on the WB. You see, while I may call Britney Spears “trailer trash” and openly despise her, I can’t seem to help knowing who her wedding planner is and what the name of her new perfume is called. This might be impressive were I recalling scientific theorems and famous works of philosophy, but somehow, I don’t see how my knowing what Orlando Bloom is filming right now can be anything but slightly pathetic and scorn inducing. But hey — it’s a talent, right? I’ll take it.
I could tell you doubted me when I told you about your hidden talents. But now that you’ve heard about mine, aren’t the ones you thought up for yourself so much cooler that you’re now feeling slightly sorry for me and slightly egotistical about yourself? That’s the thing about talents. They allow us to feel superior to everyone we know. And if that’s not worth a chocolate stomachache and the knowledge of the names of almost every Oscar winner for the past four years, I don’t know what is. Unless I could, you know, swim as fast as Michael Phelps or play piano like Ben Folds.
09-23-2004
