An important lesson to learn is what you're not good at. It's one of the harder lessons to learn - we're predisposed to think we're better at stuff we're bad at.
But sometimes reality just Lets You Know.
To this day I still think I'm a secret physical prodigy; my fantasies of "taking control" of situations often involve a level of kung fu I simply don't possess. Hell, I can't even touch my toes. But a bicycle kick in the grocery line, showing the inconsiderate bastard in front of me who's boss? My brain's completely plausible idea.
When I began to learn ice skating, my internal timeline was "I'll be skating backwards in a month or so." A month later I face plant on the ice WITH A DATE, and leave a tooth on the ice. Gravity, momentum, and puberty conspired to illustrate what the word klutz meant. The tooth is still dead, a living (dead) monument to my physical competence.
It makes me afraid of things I'm actually good at; where is my next figurative faceplant going to happen?
Maybe I'm a terrible programmer. I've written (or attempted to write) "Hello World" probably a thousand times. But I've never opened a socket.(tee hee hee)
I just hope I'm not missing the boat on my life's work. Is it writing? Is it the comedy I keep saying I don't want to do, yet seethe with envy at people who do?
Is it programming?
A perverse part of me wishes taking good shits was my life's work. I could get behind that. Ahem.