liek woah
Sometimes, I really boggle at how my brain works - how the subconscious links that it finds between past and present, fiction and real-life experience so often yield startling, if not terribly life-altering, discoveries I don't believe a more logical, fully-conscious thought sequence ever would lead me to.
I've been reading Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card, per the recommendation of donnagirl and zekejojo. This morning I jolted awake rather too early, probably because the brilliant sunlight, reflected off a snowy porch roof, was filtering through my window shades as if it were noon and not 7:15 am. But instead of rolling back over for another couple of hours, I decided to pick up the book again. And that caused me to recall a dream snippet, most likely from last night but I can't recall clearly now, about a kid I've forgotten about for years - I probably dreamed about him because something about Ender reminds me of him. (A lot.) A sweet, quiet, extremely intelligent and politically aware kid, with a soft southern accent, who was in my gifted section in junior high. He was only in my school for one year before moving away, and in 7th grade I was a sickly, emotionally scarred little dork caught up in my own woes, so I never had the chance to get to know him well. But I remembered his name, and that he was a military brat, and I recalled having the impression that he was one of the special ones, with the vision to go on and do Big Things.
So I googled that kid. And this is who I found. I recognized his mouth shape and squint at once - as I recall, he had very poor vision in junior high. And he confirms his identity with a casual comment in his blog last year.
Check out all his articles and conferences and appearances and stuff. I am in awe. I am surprised that I haven't run across his work before, in skimming my newslists and blog-clipping services and other media sources, although I am vaguely aware of the think-tank he's with. And also, frankly, I am feeling a little inadequate. Because I was supposed to be a Big Thing Doer too, according to the teachers and counselors and standardized tests and personal inventories.
Oh well. Instead I am a Small Thing Doer, but I do them pretty damn well.
I've been reading Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card, per the recommendation of donnagirl and zekejojo. This morning I jolted awake rather too early, probably because the brilliant sunlight, reflected off a snowy porch roof, was filtering through my window shades as if it were noon and not 7:15 am. But instead of rolling back over for another couple of hours, I decided to pick up the book again. And that caused me to recall a dream snippet, most likely from last night but I can't recall clearly now, about a kid I've forgotten about for years - I probably dreamed about him because something about Ender reminds me of him. (A lot.) A sweet, quiet, extremely intelligent and politically aware kid, with a soft southern accent, who was in my gifted section in junior high. He was only in my school for one year before moving away, and in 7th grade I was a sickly, emotionally scarred little dork caught up in my own woes, so I never had the chance to get to know him well. But I remembered his name, and that he was a military brat, and I recalled having the impression that he was one of the special ones, with the vision to go on and do Big Things.
So I googled that kid. And this is who I found. I recognized his mouth shape and squint at once - as I recall, he had very poor vision in junior high. And he confirms his identity with a casual comment in his blog last year.
Check out all his articles and conferences and appearances and stuff. I am in awe. I am surprised that I haven't run across his work before, in skimming my newslists and blog-clipping services and other media sources, although I am vaguely aware of the think-tank he's with. And also, frankly, I am feeling a little inadequate. Because I was supposed to be a Big Thing Doer too, according to the teachers and counselors and standardized tests and personal inventories.
Oh well. Instead I am a Small Thing Doer, but I do them pretty damn well.