This is my first draft of a book I'm writing with an Egyptian friend of mine. Not sure what it's to be about, It's another way to create. It's not edited. Of course you know, I suck at grammar, even when edited.
Injecting The Entrepreneur Desire
Standing
with my lanky skinny eleven year old body in the south doorway of our
kitchen, I watched my dad struggle to open a bottle of pills. I do
not know what kind of medicine it was, but my father needed it.
He opened it, and announced “who ever invented putting cotton inside
the bottle made a million dollars” My forehead wrinkled in thought.
I stood there watching him, saying nothing to him, wondering, how can
someone make a million dollars putting cotton into a pill bottle?
I'm
eleven years old, and the meaning of money was not misunderstood to
me, as the lack of it was our daily living. It was 1972 and we were
living the middle class dream, well, sort of. I wouldn't say we were
the lower class poor, but we barely scratching by as middle class
Americans. We were a family with six children and two parents who
didn't go to college. Two parents who found what ever job they could
to support the family and my fathers drinking habit. We had our
secrets, and shame was the top of the list. My mother hid it best she
could.
So
this is the day that the dreaded 'American Dream' entered my body
though my ears with the wonderment of what my father had announced.
Someone had made millions of dollars by inventing the idea of putting
cotton into a bottle! Hallelujah!
Surly
I ran off to scream and play with the neighborhood kids carrying the
dream tucked into my mind to entice, drive and torment me throughout
my life.
Childhood
was fun, sometimes. Mostly it was painful for me. I was born
different as my mother had told me one day. She said “all the
children came along” as she slashed the air with her hand counting
each child, and then came me, and the slash stopped short. “You
were different”. What that meant to me was, that I was difficult. I
was a trouble for the family. I couldn't go along with their will's,
I had to follow mine. My almost twin brother Mark, suffered because
he witnessed my suffering. He hated himself the moment he had to turn
on me and bully me because he didn't want to go against the majority.
I'm almost positive his life’s destruction was because of the
messed up cruelty children do to each other. Children do not know how
to treat each other, or at least the ones who have no parents around.
