poly-chotomy of the kateish spirit

I had to laugh at myself today. As someone wise once said-or should have said- The ability to laugh at oneself is a true sign of greatness.

I'd been to the consulate to pick up my post. I'd checked my e-mail, made an appointment for tomorrow with part of my agency's "Russian team", cleaned the catbox, ordered from Amazon and eaten dinner in front of an episode of Dateline sent to me by a forum friend. (Did you see this one? About the family who adopted three sets of twins from Russia? Wow.) It was only 8:30 and I had some time to kill before Sergei came (or didn't come) to fix my door at 10:00. What to do; what to do?

I made a cup of tea (really living the summertime life--caffeine after 6 p.m.) and wondered--X-Files or history of England?

That's what made me laugh. What a choice! And I was agonizing over it. Isn't it marvellous that we can have such disparate interests?

I take this for granted. I've always been encouraged to follow my interests and develop my talents (or to discover that my talents lie elsewhere!). I've had lessons in acting, singing, dance, painting, pottery, swimming, skiing, soccer, horseback riding, and a myriad of other things. Perhaps this has made me a dabbler rather than an expert. I prefer to consider myself a Renaissance woman.

This is not common amongst my Russian friends. When we were at a concert not long ago, I told my friend Marina that I thought, perhaps, I should learn to play the cello. She burst out laughing. She told me, "Katya, you are so wonderful. Who else would just say, 'I think I will learn to play the cello.'" You see, in her childhood, you specialized early and pursued that course and no other. The fact that someone over the age of 6--much less thirty years over the age of 6--would start learning the cello was novel to her.

I don't think we can blame the Soviets completely for this one. I'm often met in the US, the UK and all over the world, with expressions of, "Really? You____________?" when people learn that I horseback ride, enjoy watching the Broncos, type, tap, sew, coached undefeated soccer teams or do whatever. It's as if they think the world that they know me in--be it the theatre, the school or the church--is the only world I inhabit.

I, in turn, am surprised when people feel like they can do only ONE thing; that they've only pursued that one thing. To me, that seems like a small world. How can you only do one thing? Or, rather, how can you know that one thing is the one thing that you're best at; that it's the one thing that will make you happiest. (I'm going crazy with the semi-colons today.)

Maybe I just haven't grown up yet. When you ask a classroom of kindergartens who is a good artist, everyone raises their hands. The same response is met when you ask who is a fast runner, a good reader, a great dancer, a lovely singer, or can make the funniest face. By sixth grade, when you ask those questions, you often get a single hand raised for each role. Everyone has found their niche and, in the ways of the pre-teen, is not sure if they should venture out of it. If they leave their niche and someone else takes it, they'll be nicheless. (Thank you, Mr. Baltzer, for all those science classes.)

And you get to hear all this because I can't decide between Mulder & Scully and Lady Jane. (Interestingly, they both have very strong beliefs...hmm...)

Wishing you joy in your dabbling or your niche-ing this weekend. As for me, I think the truth is out there tonight. Though admiting that might cause me to lose my head later...