“Meditation doesn’t work for everyone,” she said. “I can’t sit still for five minutes. If I tried to meditate, I’d lose my mind. I guess I’m just one of those people.”
“I know what you mean,” I said. “I’m one of those people who can’t fly a commercial aircraft. I’ll sit in the cockpit without any training or practice and have no idea what I’m doing. I’ll look at the buttons, wondering which one to press. No idea whatsoever. It’s my bad genes.
“I also can’t play Go, read Arabic or bench press 200 pounds. Not that I’ve ever tried to do any of those things. But because I don’t enjoy playing chess, and found it hard to learn Dutch, and hated gym class in school, I imagine I can’t do those things as well. Very bad genes.
“I so envy those people who were born able to play the violin or cook well or program in Python. They just popped out of the womb knowing everything. They never had to spend any time learning or working at anything. They didn’t need any feedback, nor had setbacks or frustrating days. It was all just smooth sailing.
“Speaking of which, people who can sail are the worst. Talk about lucky genes!”
She didn’t say anything for a long time. And then she did. She said, “You’re such an asshat.”
Originally written 6 October 2015. Previously unpublished.
Photo by Artem Verbo [CC0].