I am definitely not the first one to write about being shit at something. In some way, if a major piece of literature does not reflect what it’s like to be shit then it takes itself a little bit too seriously.
I am nearing the quarter of a century age and I can tell you that it took me exactly that long to be comfortable with being shit. Hell, if I live to be 108 it will take me that long to be comfortable with being shit. This post is about what that’s like, so here it is:
Being shit at something means that you are doing something with yourself. And it means that there is still someone who likes what you are doing. Not being shit at something means that you are not doing it.
(photo by Jon)