Drifting thoughts #1: You can’t fake the time you put in

I’ve actually been mulling over this for quite awhile, because I’m fond of complaining to anyone who will listen about how I’m not particularly great at any one thing. You know the saying, Jack of all trades, master of none. That’s me. Trader Jack. I openly envy you-know-who’s deep knowledge of software engineering and computer science, not to mention his equally deep knowledge of obscure topics like cheese and sushi and… fabric. (Am I the only one who has not heard of Dyneema? No? Good.)

I guess dabbling would be an apt word to describe how I approach most experiences, whether it’s exercise, watercolour, baking or writing. My attention flits from one pursuit to another like a butterfly on caffeine, and often when I’m trying to learn something new I come away frustrated and disappointed — like when my chocolate babka wouldn’t rise despite me leaping over NYT Cooking’s mighty paywall so that I could follow their recipe to a T. “I’m not good at anything,” I’ll lament. “I’ll never be a baker.”

Or an artist. Or a writer.

What I didn’t realise then, though, is that we learn from every experience, even failed ones. Especially failed ones. Progress can often be slow and difficult to quantify (though I suppose I could measure the height of my babka as a proxy), but if we keep our minds open and pay attention enough instead of sinking into despondence, it tends to be easier to notice. I realised this last week, when I was having a rather inane conversation about coffee with a friend. As we discussed the virtues of the Porlex Mini grinder and its ceramic burrs, and the fruity aromas of drip coffee versus the robust taste of espresso, it suddenly occurred to me that I was sounding a lot like you-know-who when he gets excited about the difference between cashmere and merino wool. I’ve accrued all my knowledge about coffee in what has seemed like dribs and drabs: obsessively watching James Hoffman on Youtube, skimming through his book, taking a one-day barista course run by Bettr Barista several years back. Until that day, I wasn’t aware that I had even retained any of it.

You can’t fake the time you put in. Time itself will tell you that. I don’t know anything about the stock market, because I haven’t spent any time reading about it. On the other hand, my watercolours have improved from disastrous to somewhat recognisable, as I’ve learnt to control the amount of water on the brush (and my urge to paint over while the previous coat is still wet). And when I stopped exercising so compulsively (in your face, ED), my strength and stamina did drop, but I also gained so much time to explore other interests — making chocolate pralines, learning how to ride a Lime e-scooter in San Francisco, browsing through coding courses on Coursera.

From now on, I’m going to try to approach each experience as a valuable learning opportunity, and be patient with myself even if I don’t feel like I’m “particularly great” at it. Rather than getting hung up on achieving an outcome that isn’t quite within my control — whether it’s a promotion at work or a fluffy babka — it’s probably wiser for me to be picky about what I’m spending my time on right now, in the present moment, which I can control.

And with that, I’m off to bake some bread. Wish me luck!