I think of these things because it's easier to consider a course of action than to realize that I'm completely helpless in the one area of my life that matters the most to me. It's awful to know that there are certain things I can't influence, regardless of how much I ache, and how desperately I want to act. So, instead, I imagine scenarios where I have some ability to affect the outcome.
I consider a case where the man I love needs rescuing in some foreign place. A gender-reversal, I realize. But it gives me comfort to do something, even if I'm confined to the space between my ears.
What do I know? What do I have? What action would I take? Somehow, if I do things right, I convince myself that I can create an alternate reality and have what I long for.
So, listing my skills, I realize how pathetic they are: 1) Analytical capability, 2) Ability to stay calm in a crisis, 3) Decent understanding of how processes and people work, 4) Ability to talk my way out of things. I suppose that's the sum total of my special skills. Not Laura Croft, by any means. Not remotely in the realm of superhero. When I add them up like this, they look pitiful. How did I get to this age and not learn how to street-fight? In the immortal words of Napoleon Dynamite: "You know, there's like a boat-load of gangs at this school. This one gang keeps wanting me to join because I'm pretty good with a bow staff."
Maybe, after all, it's a good thing that my future happiness doesn't rely on my skills with a bow staff. Not in my list of resources.
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