One of my Horcruxes is hidden in the Cumberland County Public Library. My mom instilled a meta-love for reading, early on. Every Goosebump, Berenstein Bear, etc. makes me think of her. Do you guys know leaves? Imagine a collection of stacked leaves, wrapped in string. PDFs are a digital manifestation of what we used to call paper, which was stacked into smelly things called “books”. Phonebooks use to be like putting every possible search engine result.
My mom always took the time to make it to the library. Our house was stocked full of second-hand magazines. They would have peeling stickers from the waiting rooms of Doctor’s offices, a point of embarrassment for me at the time, but my curiosity always drove me past it. (thank god) Pre-smartphone, this was my smartphone, I would re-read the shit out of Reader’s Digest, pretending there was new content. I would pretend I didn’t remember exactly what I had just read. To this day, it doesn’t matter where I gram, I still bury myself in the libraries.
My father “imparted” a “love” for numeracy both actively through drills and passively through books lying around the house. He made me invincible to scary notation, which I would later discover is a blocker for many trying to get into it. “Ooga Booga” I would later get triggered when reading about Agassi’s dad making him hit tennis balls. I still make parallels to sportsmen to this day. My dad used to be the guy that would answer all of my incessant curiosity, like “What is CSPAN?” This made me realize that every question had an underlying curiosity… “You know what I meant, dad! Why does anyone watch CSPAN, it’s boring!”
His preachy sense of humor only flourishes through me now. Every exchange with my father had a lesson I needed to learn to unlock it and a sly smile that used to annoy the shit out of me. He couldn’t just give me $100 for my 10th birthday, 10 times more than my monthly allowance at the time, he had to infect my mind with “Why do you want more? To lord over others? You can do better than that.” I completely misinterpreted his lesson: I thought he was teaching me to infect minds.
A la spoken languages, once you learn the fundamentals (aka Fundos), it’s really easy to follow your passions. Also, similar to spoken languages, if you don’t lean in, you will always sound like a foreigner. If you can’t flirt with a spoken language you are not that good at it.
Capitalism rewards differentiation, scarcity of skill. Intersections of skill lead to fewer meetings, less degradation of vision, and incredible hair…
Pummel the salmon with waterfall until it becomes a bird.
I’m flying, Jack.