04 Apr I look at the title of the book on the shelf.
I flip through the pages.
Not for me.
I put the book back on the shelf.
I see a book about math; college level. I flip through the pages.
One day, I tell myself as I look at the equations to try to understand them.
Life on a farm is hard, at times; it´s easy, other times; afternoons exploring the property; there´s a little creek running through the land. It´s a nice childhood for a kid to explore nature; exploring the outdoors is to find yourself.
“Keep a journal of your adventures”, he tells me, “that way you can look back and remember the things you´ve done.”
I write in my journal my adventures on that trip; hikes; and, biking; exploring.
He loves the iced tea that they sell at the local store; we go there often.
There´s no better adventure for a teenager then this.
The ham smells like it has gone bad; I make a sandwich anyways;
my stomache hurts now. He´s driving; I look out the window.
“Stop”, I tell him.
He pulls over to the shoulder of the road. I get out of the car. I throw up. I wait a second. I´m feeling a little bit better now. I stand up and take a deep breath; looking around at the hills here in West Virginia, I think how beautiful it is. I head back to the car; I get back in; shortly, I´m asleep. It´s a good bonding experience.
He drops off the books.
“For your birthday”, he tells me.
That summer, I would go through all the novels in my free time, and read them; there were nearly thirty. They would introduce me to a world of action-adventure that I never knew before. There would be one particular hero that really inspired me; his dazzling charm and penece to get out of situations with class. These books and the stories in them would entertain me for hours; late nights reading and Sunday afternoons deep in the pages of mysteries of places that I´ld never been to and things that I never knew. Every book, it seemed, would have one little bit of knowledge.
I turn off the videoprojector in the auditorium.
I turn on the lights from my kitchen.
“Any questions?”, I ask through the small microphone connected to my laptop.
One person looks nervous, I can see through the camera. The person looks around, stands up, and starts talking.
“Is this true?”, the person says.
I pause; consider what to say; lean back in my chair in my kitchen; look out the window. I look back at my laptop; closing the lid, it automatically turns off.
HR walks into the kitchen.
“Hey”, she tells me, “I´m famished. We got anything to eat?”
“There´s some leftover digitalpollo in the fridge”, I tell her.
“Hey”, I ask her as I turn my head back to her, “I thought you had class today?”
“Nah”, she replies, “it´s a holiday.”
Hmm… is this true?
I open up the lid on the laptop. It turns back on. I start typing.