Friday, February 24, 2012

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 4 Issue 7

So I think I’m going to go ahead and start out this post with a few things that you may not know about me (they’re all fairly clean; get your head out of the gutter…but thanks for thinking of me in that way).

1.) Whenever I get a good idea to write about I’m usually driving and I usually get so excited I scream and yell in joy something like this: “AAAAAAAAHHHH FUCK YEAH THAT’S A GOOD IDEA!!”

2.) Whenever I’m “checking out” a young lady for the first time my evaluation goes something like this: Smile, Eyes, then Ass.

3.) Finally despite the fact I’m like a thirteenth generation farmer in my family my knowledge and understanding of agriculture goes something like this: I have a ton of difficulty differentiating between a cultivator, disc, and plow and I have no idea how much a combine cost.

Being the oldest grandson in this hearty heritage of agriculture one can imagine the disappointment I’m sure my family felt when I wanted nothing to do with the farm. This was also particularly troubling for me as well as I grew up. At family functions I was always out of the conversation as I couldn’t follow what the hell everyone was talking about it. I didn’t really try that hard though either, most of the times I would just sit to the side and day dream about smiles, eyes and asses.

That’s not to say I didn’t wonder why my brothers, cousins, uncles, aunts and the entire family basically understood and enjoyed farming and I flat out didn’t get it. I should let everyone know I didn’t just give up without a fight either, I tried to get into agriculture and the talks my family has but it was with no avail. I’d make it about a few sentences into the conversation and then be completely lost. It always kind of perplexed me, why I seemed to not be able to get into farming.

I think at first I just believed I was too bored with farming to enjoy it. There were times I can recall as I kid when I would be looking out into the cornfields surrounding me and I would think to myself; I really don’t want anything to do with that, I get bored just looking at it. I didn’t get why everyone around me had a natural knack for farming, that even all our friends were farmers and loved it while I just didn’t get it. It’s troublesome when considering that since our family first fell off the Mayflower (another tidbit you might not know about me is that according to the genealogy work my G’ma has conducted our ancestor was the one who fell off the Mayflower in Charlie Brown’s Thanksgiving Special; I’m not 100% if it’s true or not but it’s a good conversation starter) we have been farmers and I totally suck at it.

While I always knew farming wasn’t who I was I felt kind of bad that I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand how my brothers and cousins and friends could pick it up so easily and I struggled on knowing the difference between a ratchet and wrench (and the whole sizes thing was a real pain in my ass too; screw you 5/16th’s) growing up. I don’t think I ever really had a problem with being different in this aspect but I always wondered why.

The other day I was driving (because I do a shit ton of driving now that I live in the country) when I came up with an idea to write about (and of course screamed like I had just scored a game winning goal on a diving header in a tournament game in high school soccer, yeah that’s another thing you didn’t know about me) in regards to why I was different from my fam; maybe it was the BMD. I did have some symptoms when I was kid that are coming back to me slowly (dude repressed memories are wicked, they flash back so randomly and just unexpectedly; just another element of the ride I suppose) which would make a little sense. If I was fighting this BMD since I was a kid I’m sure that would have an effect on who the hell I am. I mean I can’t be worrying about yields, soil, or whatever other farming term when I’m dealing with madness. Come to think about it I’m probably pretty lucky to still have all my appendages after being a little crazy around all that heavy equipment.

Since many of my manic experiences involve music I’ve decided to add random music videos to the blog for my enjoyment and your inconvenience. Enjoy!

Coming Correct,

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