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To say I was a poor student when I was in school, would be an understatement. I’m certain now I had ADD. I was bored. I wasn’t interested in anything they were teaching. I couldn’t focus on any goal despite all the prizes and bribes my parents offered.

When my mother was here recently, we had some good chats. I don’t recall how this particular conversation came about, but we talked about how much I didn’t enjoy school. She said something about how I was always reading. My response was, I was reading what I wanted to read and not what I was being made to read.

There was never a question if I was going to college. It was implied, assumed, a given. There was no option, as there seems to be now. I went. I drank. I went to football games. I occassionally went to classes. I never studied. It wasn’t until my junior year I made some decent grades because I was finally taking classes that were interesting, not just mandatory to make me a well rounded human.

For years, I fumbled around professionally. What in the hell are you supposed to do with a liberal arts degree? English and art. Sure, I can carry on a conversation with a wall. Great! You’ve just been pigeon-holed into sales! I hate selling. No. Ok. But I will admit, because I have the gift of gab, I was kinda good at it.

It has only been in maybe… the last ten years or so, that I’ve discovered some things about myself. Evidently I’m quite analytical. I’m really good at research. I’m a good project manager because I’m task oriented. I had NO FUCKING IDEA!!! Really… The first time I friend of mine said he liked how I worked, I had no idea what he was talking about. Then when he explained, I was stunned. What are you talking about?! I am not organized. People are doing this just because I asked/told them to?! What?!

It’s amazing the things we learn about ourselves when we aren’t looking, aren’t being force fed the status quo.

I have a woman in my circle of friends. I won’t call her a friend despite the fact I have regular interactions with her. She really is a sweet woman. But holy moly, she is dumber than a box of rocks. In my day job, I teach kindergarten (not really… but sort of), and I will say the same thing to this woman 3 or 4 different ways and she still can’t figure out what I’m trying to communicate. This is where I step back. Take a deep breath. Analyze what I am saying. Try and figure out where the holes are. It’s always the same answer. Her.

To quote Meg, I have to learn where to put this bag of fertilizer, so as not to stink up the whole place. I have to learn how to cope with this situation. Learn one more skill. Find another tool in my toolbox.

Now where is that darn toolbox?

Today’s #writing101 assignment was to pick a tweet and run with it. What did it make us think of?  My last few posts have been more stream on consciousness. Just pulling a thread and seeing how it unravels.

I’d love to hear your thoughts, so please leave a few.

https://mobile.twitter.com/thisisEJKoh/status/420362403180597248

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