They range in nature from things most people can't do (brain surgery, rocket science) to more mundane things that almost everyone can do (drive a stick shift, bake a pie).
And that leaves a lot--a LOT--of stuff in the middle to silently erode my self esteem.
That was my thought when we had friends visiting from Wasilla this weekend. Between the two of them, they are a self-contained zombie apocalypse kit. Their competencies range from mass quiche production to generator-fixing, and when the end times come, if it's two things you need it's Crisco and power.
As I watched one of them hard at work at their craft, I said out loud, "Wow, I literally could not do that if my life depended on it." And then I thought to myself, no one will ever say that about me. I will never be doing anything that would prompt anyone to utter that sentence.
Which all goes to my main point: When the apocalypse comes, I'm pretty fucked. 'Cause no one's gonna need a navel-gazing, neurotic, narcissistic hobby blogging-lawyer. If anything, such a person is a liability, because they are always over-analyzing and questioning things, instead of acting quickly; and in all that time, the zombie army has been allowed to advance.
Then all of a sudden, it's BOOM! Game over.
Moral of the story: If I want to survive the end of humanity, I need to learn how to fix a generator, or at least drive a stick shift.
