Day 24 that's 324 but not 23 in the 312 or the 815.
Not long ago my son said "I've been seeing my favorite number everywhere!" His favorite number is 23. It made him feel like he was in the right place. He's lived in a lot of different cities in his short little 25 years. Not me. I have lived in the same state, a few different towns, but all close enough to be considered... close. I sometimes wished I had moved around more as a young unencumbered person. I am pretty comfortable here these days, but I know I could move if push came to shove. If I was young NOW though, I might do it differently.
When I graduated from high school in 1976 no one expected me to go to college. In comparison, it was ASSUMED my kids would go to college when they graduated twenty nine years (and more) later.
I attended a college fair my senior year of high school, and decided I wanted to go to a small college called Franconia in Franconia, New Hampshire. I had never been to New Hampshire. I just remember being positive this is where I wanted to go. Oh, it looked so cool. Beautiful mountains and fascinating sounding art classes. I longed to take classes called 'Studio in modernistic Art' and 'Ceramics'. 'Loom Building' Things like, 'The American reality and American thought' and 'Child Welfare, Rights and Advocacy'. A class called "Because it's there'. A class named ' Jack Kerouac, William Burroughs and Allen Ginsberg' ((come ON! what?)) It all just sounded amazing. My dream was abruptly ended when I learned that my father (holder of all the money) would not pay for this. He would agree to an in-state more traditional school, can we discuss this? Absolutely not.
For whatever reason, I had decided it was THIS school or none. I wasn't close to my father, in fact he didn't live with us.
So my attitude at 17 years old was.... whatever. Then I won't go. Unfortunately no one cared. But occasionally, I wonder what would have become of me, had I gone? I still have that Franconia College book somewhere. It will forever be a bittersweet reminder.
I love reading. One time, years ago some guy asked me 'so what do you DO? I mean, like, what do you like to do?' Godhelpme all I could think of to say was... I like to read. It's funny NOW but I remember agonizing over the fact that I could only think of READING as an answer. Now, of course, that would be an amazing answer.... But then. Not so much. I felt small.
I always associated reading with writing. How funny that I find myself so many years later in a WRITING GROUP with a bunch of amazingly talented writers. Life is strange, huh? also...Numbers always remind me of my fave scene from 8 Mile. x #500wordsaday