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The magic of learning

There is something magical about teaching yourself something new. It feels like an obsession, almost akin to being a teenager with a crush. I have a crush on circuits, and microcontrollers and robots.

One evening I came home and opened up my paper and it started talking to me. Not figuratively, literally. This wasn’t someones overtly powerful op-ed column stirring my soul and rattling in my head. There was an actual voice. A real and proper person talking. I jumped, slammed it shut, chucked it on the coffee table and then opened it again.

A curious little black box it was. An advertisement for a new car. “Best in class…” it started. I put my thumb over a small white spot, and it stopped. I took it off, “Best in class…” popped up this strange German sounding voice.

[By the way, I am writing with my brand new fountain pen and must admit I have a side crush on it. Shh]

I ripped the little black box off the paper, tore off the back and stared at it, careful to keep my finger on the tiny white spot. It was magical, a diminutive green printed circuit board with a photo receptor. When the light hits it, the strange man starts talking. I had figured it out, and it was positively thrilling. I was quite self congratulatory that night.

I wonder if the guy who came up with this whole shindig, stood up, dramatically raised his hands up above his head, and proclaimed. “Let there be light.” Pobably not, but I am going to pretend like he did.

This little environmentally detrimental piece of genius marketing has me tossing and turning at night. I can’t sleep right now, because I can’t wait to figure it out. It really is like that feeling I used to get waiting by my phone for that call for a special someone. I’m stalking it online, writing about in my journal, and talking about it non-stop with my friends, who don’t really care.

This is just too much fun. I am going to scour the internet for resources.

In the mean time, here are some evolutionary reasons why this feels so damned good

Brain = Rebooted.

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