Good Enough?

As the date of our flamenco performance nears, it is becoming increasingly clear that

a career in flamenco simply is not laid out for me. I’m doing okayish, and truth be said I simply don’t have the energy to do better than that. Yesterday, I kept telling myself that was all right: we shouldn’t want to be good at everything we do. We should know what we’re good at, and simply enjoy doing anything else we’re lucky enough to have a shot at. Etc.

When the teacher assigned each of us our positions for the performance, she put me in the back row. I didn’t mind this at all as that way I could copy the others. And so when she put me there I joked around, jumped up and down like the donkey in Shrek (“pick me! pick me!”) which made everyone laugh. The only thing I worried about was whether or not my son would be able to see me. I felt sad thinking of how every Wednesday evening I’d frantically grab my clothes and rush out right before his dinner saying, “mommy has to dance.” Promising he could one day see me dance. Somehow, I can’t help but feel that when you do something at the cost of your loved ones, you better make sure you’re damn good at it. So now I ask you gentle reader: with this in mind, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what it feels like to be a writer do I?