Make decisions 25% more nervy than you currently see yourself having the courage to pull off.
Also, develop some uniquely human skill for the time (you are likely to see) when ai/robotics does all productive tasks better, faster, and more efficiently than humans. (Think nursing, philosophy, sex work, cage fighting, etc.)
A Thousand and One Limericks by rosemary-gray
The man loved travel by locomotive.
It was all of the time in the throat of
tunnels, so dark and deep --
one couldn't see a peep.
He had night vision goggles... and motive.
The snail's friends and family were critics,
claiming -- despite being hermaphroditic:
so, with two ways to coit --
neither did it exploit,
but read books in its shell, strange & cryptic.
Venus in India or Love Adventures in Hindustan by Charles Devereaux
The Life of an Amorous Man: A Novel of Love and Desire in Old Japan by Ihara Saikaku
Kipling called prostitution
The world's oldest profession.
Now, I'm pretty sure that it
Will be the last, as well:
The last professional endeavor --
The last profitable activity --
That humans do better than
Machines.
Whores will be the last holdouts
To shift from being workers
To being Artists of Humanity. . .
Or - maybe - they will be
The first in that, as well.
I'm happy to be a free Yogi,
growing evermore into inner happiness.
I can have sex with many women
as it helps them find the path of liberation.
Outwardly I'm a fool
and inwardly I live a clear spiritual path.
Outwardly I enjoy wine and women
and inwardly I work for the benefit of all beings.
Outwardly I live for my pleasure
and inwardly I do everything in the right moment.
Outwardly I'm a ragged beggar
and inwardly a blissful Buddha.
This is the female form,
A divine nimbus exhales from it from head
to foot,
It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction,
I am drawn by its breath as if I were no
more than a helpless vapor, all falls aside
but myself and it,
Books, art, religion, time, the visible and
solid earth, and what was expected of
heaven or fear'd of hell, are now
consumed,
Mad filaments, ungovernable shoots play
out of it, the response likewise
ungovernable,
Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negligent
falling hands all diffused, mine too
diffused,
Ebb stung by the flow and flow stung by the
ebb, love-flesh swelling and deliciously
aching,
Limitless limpid jets of love hot and
enormous, quivering jelly of love, white-
blow and delirious juice,
Bridegroom night of love working surely
and softly into the prostrate dawn,
Undulating into the willing and yielding
day,
Lost in the cleave of the clasping and sweet-
flesh'd day.
This the nucleus -- after the child is born of
woman, man is born of woman,
This the bath of birth, this the merge of
small and large, and the outlet again.
Be not ashamed women, your privilege
encloses the rest, and is the exit of the
rest,
You are the gates of the body, and you are
the gates of the soul.
The female contains all qualities and
tempers them,
She is in her place and moves with perfect
balance,
She is all things duly veil'd, she is both
passive and active,
She is to conceive daughters as well as sons,
and sons as well as daughters.
As I see my soul reflected in Nature,
As I see through a mist, One with
inexpressible completeness, sanity, beauty,
See the bent head and arms folded over the
breast, the Female I see.
There once was a Shakespearean lover,
Who, in darkness, crawled under cover.
Much to his surprise,
Having no use of eyes,
He later learned 'tweren't his lover, but another.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 