Water from My Heart Read Online Free

disposition. That said, I was rather competitive and competition did not scare me. In fact, I rather liked it. Solo feats like wrestling and running. Activities where the outcome resulted from me depending on me. This does not mean that I hunkered down and for the first time in my life learned to apply myself under the whistle-and-clipboard instruction of some guy in shorts pulled up to his armpits. Not at all. I rarely practiced, which drove them nuts, but I hated losing and seldom lost, so my coaches kept me on the team—which was interesting because I didn’t really care whether they did or not.
    Same was true for school. Homework seemed like a waste of time. My thinking was, You’ve told me what you want me to know, now give me the test and let me regurgitate it. I could remember most anything I saw or heard and scored well on tests so most of my progress reports read, “Charlie lacks work ethic but possesses great potential.” I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been called “exceedingly bright,” “lacking drive,” or my favorite, “bubbling with potential.”
    Whether it was two state wrestling championships, a sub four-minute, thirty-second mile, the death of both my parents before I was seventeen, or the fact that I was three questions shy of acing the SAT and had a guidance counselor who seemed rather keen on my actually attending college, I ended high school with excellent grades, multiple scholarships, and several higher learning options.
    My senior English teacher told me I should consider the Marine Corps. I chose Harvard.
    My graduating high school class voted me “Most Likely to Be Elected the First President with a Felony Record.” My English teacher was big on knowing where you’re going, what you’re doing, “Have a plan!” Our final senior project was just that. Our plan A followed by plans B and C. I always thought he needed to let his hair down. Loosen his tie. Stop drinking so much prune juice. The paper was supposed to be eight to twelve pages with multiple supporting points. My paper consisted of one very short paragraph: “My plan A is to not have one. Which, by logical deduction, means there can be no possible plans B and C. My future will be there waiting on me when I get there.” I failed that essay and he was incredulous at my choice of college—no, he was downright angry, saying I didn’t deserve such an opportunity. He grew even angrier when he found out I’d be attending for free.
    When I walked across the stage and he handed me my diploma, “With Superior Achievement,” he mumbled something under his breath. I shook his hand, smiled widely, and said, “Does that toupee itch as much as it looks like it does?” His eyes darted left and right, and he smoothed his hair with his right hand. “It looks itchy.”
    My college decision process was simple. Harvard was expensive and an education there was “worth” a good bit. Again, if they were going to be stupid enough to give it to me, then I was going to be smart enough to take it. And I was smart enough to know that I’d never make it in the Marines with people blowing whistles in my face and screaming at me. Leavenworth did not appeal to me.
    Besides, I’d never been to Boston.
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    I survived college in the same way I survived high school. I did just enough to get by without getting too caught up in any one thing. I’d always been good with numbers so when I declared a major, something in the world of finance sounded like a good idea.
    By the middle of my sophomore year, I had grown tired of the track coach and his incessant need for me to train on his schedule, so following my four-minute, seven-second mile, I told him to take his clipboard and shove it in the same place I told him to put his stopwatch.
    While my scholarship at Harvard paid for my tuition, room, and board, my stipend didn’t go very far. Add to that the fact that I had never really enjoyed studying, and it’s not too difficult to