As I was laying in bed this morning, I pondered the number of times I have pretended to be better at something than I actually am. And then I quit counting because in my imaginary world, the numbers don't matter! I am achieving miracles daily, dang it! It's not that I want to be famous, but sometimes I would like to have the skill set that goes with fame, only use it on a very small scale!
Like when I ride my bike and my lungs are whining, I wish I could ride like Lance Armstrong. Of course, I can't but for a few moments, the lungs get distracted and I get another half mile out of them before stopping to medicate!
Sometimes in the kitchen, when I'm filleting onions with my mandolin, I'm convinced I might be Mario Batali. Except without the tummy and orange crocs. And not balding. And I can't say half the things he creates on Iron Chef, but other than that, I'm practically the same person. Right? Whipping up amazing dishes that dazzle the eyes and delight the senses. Or just getting dinner on the table on a week night!
And when I'm working on computers at work, I wonder if I'm a moronic version of Bill Gates. The kind of technician that understands the problems but isn't sure how to fix them sometimes! Nah... if I was Bill Gates, I would have never dreamed up Vista! But I would give buttloads of money away to charities!
I don't have a persona when I'm hiking. My big goal when out on the trail is not to become famous. I don't want to be that news story at 11PM... the klutz that slipped off the snow field and broke their leg... the asthmatic that had to be air lifted off the mountain... the direction-challenged hiker that uses her cell phone to call for help and says "I have no idea where we are, can't you find us?"
So when we were walking down on Saturday, I didn't have delusions of grandeur to keep me moving. I had fear of exposure! No one gets famous for hiking well. To be a good hiker is to be unknown, unheralded and uninjured! Well, two out of three isn't bad!
... or "how Asthmagirl's brain works"!
As I was laying in bed this morning, I pondered the number of times I have pretended to be better at something than I actually am. And then I quit counting because in my imaginary world, the numbers don't matter! I am achieving miracles daily, dang it! It's not that I want to be famous, but sometimes I would like to have the skill set that goes with fame, only use it on a very small scale!
Like when I ride my bike and my lungs are whining, I wish I could ride like Lance Armstrong. Of course, I can't but for a few moments, the lungs get distracted and I get another half mile out of them before stopping to medicate!
Sometimes in the kitchen, when I'm filleting onions with my mandolin, I'm convinced I might be Mario Batali. Except without the tummy and orange crocs. And not balding. And I can't say half the things he creates on Iron Chef, but other than that, I'm practically the same person. Right? Whipping up amazing dishes that dazzle the eyes and delight the senses. Or just getting dinner on the table on a week night!
And when I'm working on computers at work, I wonder if I'm a moronic version of Bill Gates. The kind of technician that understands the problems but isn't sure how to fix them sometimes! Nah... if I was Bill Gates, I would have never dreamed up Vista! But I would give buttloads of money away to charities!
I don't have a persona when I'm hiking. My big goal when out on the trail is not to become famous. I don't want to be that news story at 11PM... the klutz that slipped off the snow field and broke their leg... the asthmatic that had to be air lifted off the mountain... the direction-challenged hiker that uses her cell phone to call for help and says "I have no idea where we are, can't you find us?"
So when we were walking down on Saturday, I didn't have delusions of grandeur to keep me moving. I had fear of exposure! No one gets famous for hiking well. To be a good hiker is to be unknown, unheralded and uninjured! Well, two out of three isn't bad!
What do you want to be known for?