There are a few things that I’d struggle with talking to a small crowd about. I’d easily be able to hold my own in conversations about politics.

No bullshit, I’d probably be able to win over your parents with talks about my dreams and ambitions. It’d be fairly easy for me to quickly develop an idea of what my intentions are with you.

I could easily talk sports to your brothers, and if it ever got down to it, I would be able to convince them that Kobe is the greatest human being ever to touch a basketball.

I could talk to your sisters about how women are the greatest thing to walk this planet. I could talk about how the female body constantly proves that miracles exist.

I could make sure that you’re dog has a soft spot for me by figuring out where its favorite spot to scratch is, and he wouldn’t leave my side. If that didn’t work, I’d find ways to sneak over some treats because a small bribe never hurt anybody.

I would impress your boss with my conversation skills and business talks. I’d be able to talk through some community outreach activities and maybe even recruit some people to do charity work later on.

All of those things I consider myself to be good at.

So why do I stumble when someone asks me if I’m happy?