I remember my grandma telling me about why they bought the house they did, the one in the old cow town where I grew up. We were in the car driving away from her house, probably to church, and she told me “I wasn’t convinced that I wanted to live here, but your Tata said ‘Look up at those mountains.’ You could see the mountains right up there, it was so beautiful. He loved that we could see the mountains right from here.”
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One day my friend and I took adderall to study. We studied a bit, but ended up trapeezing instead- ribbon gymnastics.
I got detention for not doing an essay in second grade. It was on one of the presidents (Abraham Lincoln, I think…or maybe George Washington), and I just didn’t do it. I spent detention with three of my friends, silently writing our papers. I don’t really know how I got to college.
One day I was at work, sorting out dupes (copies) of cylinders that were all dusty and fragile. I took one out of it’s case so I could check the number and it literally crumbled in my hand. I sat there staring at it for, at least, one unbearable minute of silence. I called my boss over when I had gathered myself from the puddle of anxiety that I melted into on the floor.
“Hey Zak, can you help me with this?”
He came over and picked up the three broken pieces and gently put them back in their case, like a simple puzzle.
“It just fell apart in my hands” I managed to basically mumble.
“Oh, these things are old. It happens sometimes.” He replied with almost no expression, but it was somehow an endearing tone.
Then he just walked away and sat back down at his desk.
In high school I took a cooking class and we had to learn cake decorating. I don’t remember it too well but cake decorating was fun, and no matter how bad your cake looked you still got to eat it.
Once I walked into a bar and sat down right next to the guy checking IDs, but as I did this I waved at the owner of the bar and he walked over and asked me what I was drinking. We had met the night before; we were both having a late dinner at the restraunt where his wife is sous chef and my cousin runs the bar where they only serve beer and wine. His wife is a USCB alumni. Anyway, he made me a rum and coke himself, and the guy carding offered me some of the pizza that was just delivered to him. I ended up hanging out and getting drunk off the house shot, “Ass Juice.”