The Bart Parable

This is a fictional story. The goal of this short story is to help you with some listening practice. There will be subtitles and some highlighted words there. If you find any that you don’t know, make sure to write it down for further review!

Bart was a man of routine, of mannerisms, of idiosyncrasies. If there was a systematic person in this world, it was Bart. He would get up every day around the same hour, do the same things, and follow his to-do list thoroughly.

One day, after work and after the gym, Bart got home, all sweaty from a heavy training session, to a smiling wife. She stood there, looking at him, with a big smile on her face. With that, he knew. Bart knew his life wasn’t going to be the same anymore. From that point forward, he’d prepare himself, now more than ever, to take care of a little version of himself. Granted, that’d be only eight months away at least, but time would pass.

Bart was a man of routine. What he didn’t know, however, was that deep down inside he wasn’t sure if he was ready to be a father. Hell, he barely knew if he wanted to be a father. Up to that point, he had convinced himself that having children wasn’t for him and therefore he wouldn’t be able to help his wife bear one of them. Needless to say, he was wrong.

Getting up in the morning wasn’t the same anymore. Talking to other people, which was the whole premise of his work, wasn’t the same anymore. Now his responsibilities would be vaster, his worries would broaden and his world would tighten. Bart didn’t quite know what to make of the situation. So, for a whole night, he just sat there, at his desk, looking at his computer screen, motionless. He couldn’t bring himself to move. It’s possible that he wasn’t even thinking. He was just… there.

The funny thing about life is that it changes regardless of how you want it. Most of the time, things don’t go according to plan and, for whatever reason, when they do, it isn’t how you anticipated. Our protagonist made no mention of backing out from any of the procedures involved in knocking a woman up. No effort was made, not even a word was pronounced out loud in protest of what was happening for over twelve months. Ergo, the predictable happened.

Work wasn’t the same, but it wasn’t just work. The gym, even the gym, wasn’t the same anymore. See, Bart would never dream of cheating on his wife, not even in his wildest dreams. Well, maybe in the wildest. Not anymore, though. That night at the gym, he couldn’t even look at a fellow practitioner training beside him in the eyes. He averted himself … He was ashamed. How could he be a father and flirt around? He couldn’t, he was a man of principle.

A man of principle and values is a man of restraint. That, anyhow, wasn’t his forte. His strong suit was rather pretending, to show fake strength, to put on a brave face. The reality of the matter was that Bart was weak. He had been thinking about fantasy scenarios where he would run away. Run to other countries, to and with other people. Hell, he did have some suitors.

What he didn’t have, however, were ideas. Hell, he was clueless. Not one popped into his head. It was just a big blank.

Books that were unwritten. Articles that were unread or unpublished. Videos that were never edited and, if they were, they never came to be published. He was a hollow husk of empty actions, which now contained a vaster emptiness of no ideas.

When we sit down and start writing, drawing, talking, recording, painting, well, anything really, there’s usually an outcome. Bart would get one of those most of the time despite his frequent depression. Today, he sat down, his hand on the keyboard, and nothing would come out of it.

He went for a walk to clear his head. His future child would depend on his creativity, he couldn’t falter now.

Bart lived near the beach, a rather beautiful and neglected scenario on his part. In spite of being in a violent country, his neighborhood was ok. People could come and go as they pleased, pretty much, without much risk. And so he did.

As he walked on the shores near his house, he’d look at the ocean, at the motion of the waves. He’d feel the breeze against his cheek and smell the sea air like he hasn’t in a while. For some strange reason, the news had an almost immediate effect on him. He felt like paying attention to stuff he wouldn’t before. Things, maybe good things, were now being perceived.

Noticing people around, happy, with their families. Couples, kids, pets; laughter, loud music, conversation; all buzzing around and making a nice cocktail of sounds together with the waves and the wind. The meaning of life was in his fingertips, in his nostrils, in his corneas, but he couldn’t feel it, nor smell it, let alone see it.

Some people live their whole lives doing what they hate because they have to. Others get to just do exactly what they feel like doing without repercussions. In-between we have people like Bart. People are full of unlived dreams and desires, unfulfilled notions of personal growth and gain.

Don’t get me wrong. These people in-between compose the majority, together with those unlucky few mentioned in the aforehand. Additionally, having unfilled dreams is just a given of life. Every choice we make is something else we leave behind. Hindering future decisions by pondering around past ones is ultimately worthless. Bart knew this last part.

He got back home. Something was realized during his little stroll. Whatever choice he had before has now changed. Even though nothing is permanent, it is unlike him to let people down and come back to his word.

He sat and typed and wrote and wept and then he lived on (as life would suggest it).