A week ago, Charlie told me to find three yearlings and give them advice--and then write him an essay on whether I should have given them advice or not. Honestly, the assignment kind of bends my brain, because obviously the point is for me to realize I shouldn't have given them the advice...so why set me up? Why make me do something I shouldn't do? Don't I make enough mistakes on my own?
But I wanted to do what Charlie told me to do. Maybe there was something to the assignment I hadn't thought of. There usually is. I trust Charlie, and, more than that, doing what he tells me is kinda what I do. It's how we connect. I don't want to lose that. Sounds strange, I know, but true.
So, I decided to focus on the first part of the assignment, take it one step at a time, and find somebody to advise.
And I couldn't find anybody. It's actually not that unusual for me to help people out, especially yearlings. People talk to me. Sometimes I give information, or suggest a course of action, though more usually I just listen and they figure it out on their own, but it's not like I've never occupied that role before. But I don't approach them. They approach me. And this past week, nobody has. Not for the whole week.
I told Charlie.
"So? I didn't give you a time limit," he said.
"But what if nobody does? What if nobody needs my advice? Ever?"
"And what if snakes fly out of my ears? People need advice. Find them. 'What if' is not my problem. Or yours, Daniel."
I had no response to that. I hadn't a clue how to do what he was asking. That's never stopped me from doing it before, but....
"You don't want to do this one, do you?"
I didn't answer.
"Are you going to give this one a shot or not?"
"Yes, of course I will, Charlie," I told him. Because of course I do everything he tells me to do.
He stared at me for a few seconds.
"Oh, no," he said, after a bit, "Oh, no. Don't you start blowing smoke up my ass now."
"What?"
"You're lying to me. You're going to try to weasel out of this one. You think it's impossible."
"What? No, I...." I didn't know how to respond. I'd seen Charlie growl before, I'd even seen him yell, but I had never really believed he was angry. Like, it was all just a show he put on for educational purposes. But now he was angry, actually angry. I had no idea what I was supposed to do.
"You have no right," he breathed, "to treat me like a father who doesn't love you."
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