I’ve taken golf lessons, ballet lessons, lessons on how to play the guitar and drums, singing lessons, drawing lessons, and even swimming lessons.  And I’m terrible at all of them, though I probably did the best at the golf lessons if you call losing the clubs by losing your grip on the swings and sending them hurtling over the fence into the nearby woods any good.  It’s not my fault.  I’m just not athletic.  Yes, I was the guy picked last all the time in gym class.   I’m thin, awkward, gangly, and used to wear incredibly thick glasses.  No one should have ever expected me to any good at sports, but my awesome lack of grace seems to have caused me to become bad at the musical arts and illustration.  Not just bad, I should say, but completely and absolutely terrible.   My singing voice sounds like nails being scratched across a chalkboard.  And I think I must have snapped every string on that guitar I was handed.  The best I ever did in drawing was sketching stick figures.  Not that I’m bitter about any of this.  It’s just the way I am.  I see myself as a man of ideas rather than action anyway.  I write things down other people with their talents implement them.  I like that arrangement.