Of Marimbas, Poetry and World Domination

The thing with playing in the marimba band was that it spiraled me into one of my "why can't I be a swank superstar" pity fests*. Driving home, my inner dialogue ranted against the injustices of societal norms of attraction. Norms of appearance, yes, but also of ability. (This conversation primarily occurred because my marimba skills are mediocre at best. To circumvent despair, I'd been listing things I actually CAN do. This worked until I realized that my skills aren't exactly magazine features: "How to be more poetic," "Doodling your way into a man's heart," "The allure of risk taking"--mainstream just doesn't touch this stuff.)

BUT WAIT, what's this on the radio? NPR had begun describing a world leader who captivated followers with the poetry and prose of his language. Yes, there he was, a man who used poetry to enthrall the hearts and minds of his generation. He hadn't needed musicality, looks, athleticism. Indeed, lacking all three, he remains one of the most sought after people of our time. His name? Osama Bin Laden.

Sigh.

*yes, I realize that pity fests are irrational, selfish and ungrateful. I felt bad about all of those failures, too. Sigh x 3.