keep or trash?

I think I will keep my blog. I wonder if anyone else will too? For me its like this mysterious answer that will never get answered and that is will people in this class years from now still look at my blog or read any of my posts? If students keep their blog I don't know if I will check them or read what they post. I might I just have to see. I like the idea of keeping it because I think it will be like my escape writing place. What I mean, is when I'm bored on my computer I might just just off the old Browning Boy Blog and through up a new thought or occurrence. This might even turn into a little personal E-journal for me. But, I think it all depends on my grade. If I receive a really shitty grade for this class I might in pure anger delete it so I don't have to keep that memory of bad work. Maybe I might keep this blog just so I can post really ridiculous and weird stuff or fun facts and see if I get any readers to respond. Or maybe if I want I can be a creep and see if I can reel in a person from around the world and creep on them or comment on their blog. hahahaha oh! the weird things I can do with this bitch. So psyched.  

what are we typing?!?

I have wanted to write about this forever now...What in the world are the words we type in for writing a comment and posting it on someone's blog? I have been wondering, are they all words? They are just random letters put together right? Are any of them words? If they aren't words, why not? Is it someone's job to sit there and think of the crazy word or letter combinations? Has anyone ever got the same word before? I don't think have ever gotten the same code/word to type in. Is that what it is? A code? Why a combination of letters and not numbers? Do some of the other ones out there have letters and numbers? why is the shape so messed up? IT DRIVES ME NUTS!

Portrait of an Addict as a Young Man by Bill Clegg (Book Review)

If you want to learn how to be a perfect crack addict/alcoholic and be bored doing so, this book is without a doubt for you. I began reading this book with a really open mind because of three things. 1^st I am not gay and this book is centered on a character that is gay and expresses the definition multiple times. 2^nd I am in no way a crack addict or any type of drug addict so this book I knew would be a eye opener. 3^rd I am not an alcoholic so I can’t imagine how a person functions when they are always under the influence.

So what’s interesting about this book? The tone that Clegg writes in fits the content of the book perfectly. Every sentence from the beginning of the story to the end is short and very matter of fact with little to no excitement or change in pace. Clegg’s character does exactly that. There is no real thought process in any of the actions of the narrator. As I would expect a junky to be, the only process that exists is execute then reflect. That seems to be the theme of this book. Clegg does a great job with reflecting this personality in his writing and I would give him an award for that.

What is this book really about? The book is about a single character “Billy” who speaks in multiple points of view. He speaks in first person and third person only. When he speaks in 1^st person, we most of the time see him in the present going through day-by-day of his life as a crack addict. When he speaks in 3^rd person, we are rushed back to when he was younger growing up as a kid and slowly becoming a crack addict. The most interesting thing about the switching between first and third person, besides the rush we get going back in time, is the development of why he has gotten to where he is in first person. Clegg does a great job of confusing the reader at first making them think “why do we keep going back in time to when this crack addict was younger” Later, we see Clegg move the plot of speaking in 3^rd person to revolutionize his building of a crack addict.

Does the book entertain the reader? At the beginning I was hooked, I couldn’t wait to see the big crash of a crack addict burning (no pun intended) through all of his money and his savings and I couldn’t wait to get to this end result of a big crash and burn or maybe even a poetic crack addict death. But, halfway through the book the day-by-day play of a crack addict was less then thrilling. Clegg went too long stringing the reader along with a crack addict. I quickly lost interest in the constant repetition of meeting new people (too many new names that only lasted for a paragraph), scoring crack, having sex with strangers, the “pulls” of each hit, the constant glass tube, and glasses of vodka. It was so over abused and all the images became less and less fresh from the first introduction. I think Clegg could cut this book in half and still get the exact same reaction out of the reader.

After the first few chapters even the voice got so dull and boring. I understand that in a book describing a crack addict you need to constantly show the abuse of drugs but even the poetic language we get in the beginning is lost. We no longer get fresh ideas like the JCPenny guys (who are supposed to be cops undercover), or “we were like two weeds swaying to the same current in the ocean” this is beautiful, fresh entertaining, but the further we get into the book, we see less and less.

What would help make this book more entertaining? Different types of drama. Yes, We have the drama of this character spinning out of control spending thousands on crack each and every day, but that’s it. I think after those images are killed and beaten into the reader spice up story line. I want to see a crack addict who can’t get his fix, who struggles to meet the needs of his addiction and do something rational. Something like stab a dealer for refusing to provide, or mug another crack addict for his goodies. Maybe even see the crack addict steal from his family and ruin that concrete relationship. I want some violence, yelling, but I don’t even get my fix.

The deeper into the book I got, I found myself doubting the authenticity of the speaker. The easiness of scoring boyfriends and crack begins to seem way too easy. After the first few chapters we see our speaker get paranoid about getting arrested by the JCPennys which I assume to be normal but then the issue is dropped. For some reason the book continues and our character scores crack easier then breathing air. It never becomes a problem and I highly doubt you can score thousands of dollars of crack each day without some type of difficulty. Also, on that note it seems like our character can find a mate to have sex with, with the snap of a finger. It seems like any conversation he has with strangers’ ends with them on his hotel room bed or some sexual scene. It doesn’t seem real to be able to simply ask a stranger “do you party? With what” instead of a hello.          

You Must Wedding Crash

My favorite movie of all time is Wedding Crashers. Everyone has a movie that they will watch over and over again and never get sick of it and for me this is the movie. I can honestly say, sometimes I live for that movie. After a terrible day where things are only going to get worse the next day, I'll walk over to the DVD collection pull out wedding crashers and disappear into a life of pure joy.
        If you really think about weddings, they really work out for the guests. Free food, drink (hopefully open bar...don't be cheap folks you know you always RSVP when you know its an open bar) smiles, pictures, friends, music, dance. Even if you really hate the bride or maybe the groom or some family member who cares! Ignore them or just cut them down as you stick a piece of free medium rare strip steak down your throat and wash it down with your favorite free bar drink! what's not to love? And do I even need to preach to all the single guys and girls out there looking to get a little crazy with some strange ass? What is a better atmosphere then a wedding to find hot man or women usually dressed extremely well that is surrounded by joy and laughter? Its like fishing with grenades! Knock back a few shots at the bar wait for a song where dancing is a subconscious thought and pull the trigger on that man or women you have been "eye fucking the shit out of" all night. As Vince Vaughn would say it "Grab that net and catch that beautiful butterfly! It's Wedding Season!" Not really, is fall but its something to
look forward to!

Rule #76: No excuses. Play like a champion!






Just the Tip.

New Residency (workshop essay) REVISION!!!

I walked away from my first job interview and nailed it. I knew every question they could throw at me and paired it with a stunning answer. Ok, so what if my sister was the manager, and so what if she prepped me with the entire interview questions ahead of time. I was only 15 and I was hungry for some cash in my pocket. If I got hired I would be working in a dining room within a retirement home. It was the perfect job for a high school student with short shifts each day right after class.

Turns out I did get the job. It was a perfect job, for someone looking to meet some special individuals. The people I met and the things we did will stick with me forever. I remember walking into the dining room, first day on the job, I opened the door and was greeted by a short lumpy looking black man that gave me a warm welcome saying, “Are you the new kid? You want to work here? You suck!” This was my very first interaction with any of the co-workers besides my sister of course. To say they least, everyone who I worked with had quite the personality.

At first I hated this job because of the employees. Every single one of them were dicks. Completely serious, any question I asked boy, girl manager, didn’t matter they all had a tone of “hey kid go find a cliff and jump off it” with every answer. I couldn’t figure out why they all hated me, was it because my sister got me the job and then quite cause she moved? Because I was a few years younger then them? Did I just suck at serving? Didnt like my braces? Too skinny? It was tough at first no doubt, they had a little click going, that involved hanging with each other outside of work and having personal conversations about each other. I just showed up put my time in and left with minimal conversation.

It was about one year later when I started to really become close with these whack jobs. I don’t know what it was that finally made them except me, maybe just time but once they did, it was like someone said, “let the fun begin”

I got to know my boss a little better. Her name was Caitlin a short girl/lady she was about 27 years old, always wore her hair slicked back like the chick from the Matrix. She was a very laid back boss and I always thought of her to be on the same level of employment as myself. No one ever wanted to eat near her because she always had this weird orgasmic moan of satisfaction when she ate; disturbing, but extremely funny to imitate

Then there was Tristan a fellow server who was a white tall skinny guy like myself. Tristan was all about pushing the envelope with how much he could get away with. If you have ever seen the movie Super Troopers, they play a game to see how many times you can say meow to a stranger. Well, to say the least, Tristan was the kind of kid that would play this game at work as he went around to his tables and took orders “Ma’am would you like your soup right meow? Or after your salad?”. Tristan was also the kind of person who would make a bloody marry for a resident and each day he would pour more and more hot sauce into it to see how bad her taste buds really were. Many of my other server friends did the same type of stuff always playing somewhat harmless jokes on the residents.        

But Caitlin (my boss) was the one that taught me all the residents’ names. You’re probably thinking their actual birth names, but no, were talking food service nicknames, like ketchup lady. The lady that wont eat a meal without a full unhealthy slathering of pure ketchup on everything. From mashed potatoes, to a cup of coffee in went the lump of ketchup. Whip cream lady was another similar one. She was a little lower key and had a few of her marbles left but her taste buds were shot to hell. Whip cream lady always made us servers put an absolute mountain of whip cream on any desert she got. This ranged from ice cream (normal) to apples, oranges, cookies, and any type of cake. Being the young little shit head assholes that we were, we decided that we would play a little trick on whip cream lady. Some people may consider this old people abuse and it probably was but whatever I’m over it. One day we took two scoops of mashed potatoes at placed them in an ice-cream dish. Now I will admit the mashed potatoes really looked like ice cream, and when a 7-inch mountain of whip cream was swirled on top it was a beautiful masterpiece. So out went the mashed potatoes with a big pile of whip cream on the top. Her face just lit up and she immediately started to clap and laugh out-loud in joy and happiness. In tears and beat red faces after laughing for 15 minutes straight we finished watching her eat every last bite without even noticing it was mashed potatoes and not ice cream.

Every day I went into work it didn’t seem like work. It seemed like playtime. Yes, we did work up a sweat and get really stressed with all the things to do and at times we got yelled at by higher up managers for screwing up an order or not keeping something clean or leaving something out to spoil or get cold. And, one of the worst days to go into work is when one of our loved residents died the previous night. Even though we played jokes on the residents, it was all of our entertainment, both theirs and ours, and when one passed away the day was usually dull and quiet. To me, every day seemed like it was a new day to figure out something stupid to do to get laughs out of everyone and make the workplace seem fun.         

Treestand Time.

Folks its hunting season. I'm going to come right out and say it I am a hunter. I really hesitate telling people that unfortunately, but its something I love to do. I’m in love with nature. I can’t ever get enough of the outdoors and I know more about the woods, animals, plants and outdoors in general then most people In general.

I have found my love for nature from hunting. Ever since I was a little kid about the age of 5 or 6 I began hunting (not actually hunting but going along for the experience) with my father and both my grandfathers. The more time in the woods, the happier I was. I kill deer for one reason, the meat. I love venison but I also hunt to control the population and donate deer to family and the poor. Aside from the taste of venison and giving free meat to people who need it, I enjoy being in the outdoors the most. This past weekend I was sitting in my treestand, which if you don’t know what one is it is basically a platform to stand on high up in a tree with a seat attached to it. So I was sitting in the tree really early in the morning when its still pitch black out waiting for the sun to come up so I could begin to watch for deer. As it began to get lighter the silence of the woods began to break with the ruffling of fall leaves from squirrels waking up. Honestly, being out in the woods when the sun is coming up is probably the most peaceful experience I will ever come across (that is till I kick the bucket). In the fall it gets really cold at nights as you all know and a hard frost attaches itself to everything, leaves, branches, grass, and dirt.

To me, it’s so interesting to see nature wake up in the morning. The squirrels aside from the deer are the first ones awake. They climb down from their tree and begin their travels looking for nuts they have buried and eating nuts and seeds still exposed. The chipmunks are also zipping around in and out of rotted logs but they are mostly chasing each other and playing around. The birds start to come airborne when every branch and twig is now visible with the sun. The chickadee’s start to work up and down every tree looking for bugs and spiders trying to hide and blend into the bark. Before the sun comes up on a really calm morning with crunchy leaves you can even hear mice traveling underneath the leaves. Nature truly is beautiful and when you sit in the woods for hours and hours in the same spot you being to have such a close connection with it.

Animals are so curious, I have had numerous squirrels climb up a tree next to me only about a foot away at eye level look at me and try to figure out what I was. Now, I hunt in the southern tier of New York on my farm and out there most squirrels have no idea what I am or have never even seen a person before. So to me it’s interesting when they spot me in a tree and investigate. I have also had a number of birds land right on my knee before when sitting and not even realize I was a human. Well, to be honest when your sitting in the woods for hours and all the sudden a bird lands on your leg you jump pretty quick not understand what that sudden feeling was.

Aside from the nature and the love for all natural pure meat, I love spending time with my father and grandfathers. Hunting has been a sport (if that’s what you want to call it) in my family for generations. My ancestors were actually Native American so my grandfather says “you have that blood in you that likes to hunt because your Native American” I wont disagree with him. To complete three generations and spend time doing it in the woods and bond with my father and grandfather makes me love hunting all that much more. I see them every weekend and we share stories about different deer we have shot and different tactics and places to sit in order to see more deer. After all the woods time we share meals together and just strike up general conversation about our general lives. After a successful hunt sometimes we will cook up a nice meal of deer liver and onions along with deer heart, a true family tradition.

 

p.s. I will try and share pictures of me in a treestand if I figure out how to upload a picture.

Who wants some figs and honey?

smell your past!

Our classroom exercise was great. It worked exactly how I wanted it to go. I think it worked because of all the crazy different smells people tried to guess and all the feelings people wrote down for each smell. The smells were intended to strike a nerve that was embedded in the students brain and to bring that thought and feeling to the attention and expand on it. It worked because everyone connected to the smells differently and really came up with a creative way to tie their past feelings to the smell.

If I was to do the exercise again I would probably mix up the smells a little bit and be a little more clear on how the students were to connect their two emotions with writing. I would probably write down my instructions clearly on a piece of paper so there wouldn't be any confusion. Also, I would use the empty cup again but weight it down with something to simulate the existence of a smell and see what students come up with...but this would just be for my entertainment.

I think this exercise taught the students how smells have so much material and thought behind them. I think smells are one of the most important aspects to a memory and even feeling and they should be mentioned almost every time. To go even further, I would stress mentioning more then one smell within the memory or feeling.

Killing two birds with one big brick (workshop essay)

So here we go.

            I’m actually writing this in another class of mine because I am so bored (I’m actually writing this in my notebook to be later recorded online in my blog). I wont name the class because I don’t want to be disrespectful to the teachers and others who actually enjoy the class. But I started writing this because I have 3 hours until I’m free to go and all I can think about is how much time and money is being wasted during this class where I’m supposed to be learning. I have figured, that all students and even teachers (because they were students once too) have been in this position before and with all this expensive class time that I am paying for, I will at least get my monies worth out right now by killing two birds with one big brick (my favorite elementary teacher used to say that and I really enjoy repeating it). What I mean is I will be present in this current class, but also get an assignment done for my other class.

           So I decided to write a blog for this class. I figured right now my teacher is making absolutely no sense to me and everything that is being said is going in one ear and out the other. So how much am I paying to sit in this blue plastic chair right now? Well, I actually have time to figure that out so lets step through the math real quick. I don’t live on campus and I’m taking about 12 credits or 4 classes this semester so my tuition is about $3200. Now if you just take the raw total and divide it by 4 (classes) you end up with 800 greenbacks a class (I wont even get into miscellaneous expenses like gas, food, housing, wear and tear on my car, car insurance, parking pass, books, paper, ink, pens… ok never mind I kind of did get into “other expenses”) so basically I’m paying 800 bucks for each class.

Now lets get real deep, deeper then that scratch the top of your head stuff. Lets get to the “I want to rip my eyes out of my sockets deep” (because that’s what I want to do while I listen to my teacher lecture his knowledge away into the dull, stale air of this classroom) Lets figure out how much THIS class is costing me right now. At $800 a class and I have 1,2,3,4…16 classes that equals about 50 bucks a class. I’m sitting here for three hours and paying $50 to HATE MY LIFE. What could I be doing with $50 and three hours of just me time? I could go buy all the greatest junk food like hot fries, little Debbie everything, cookies, soda, Icee’s (blueberry only) Doritos (sweet and spicy chili flavor), Rold Gold pretzels sticks (just so I could lick the salt off them and not actually eat them), Butterfinger’s, and I might even go out of my way to find yes, you guessed it, WARHEADS. I could easily do that every week for three hours and totally love my life. Now, the question is: will I gain anything from doing that compared to doing this? Yup, I will have most likely gained weight and for three hours a week I can honestly say I was extremely happy with me time. Unfortunately, if you think about it, if I do this (write blogs) every week this class will end up being really productive.  

You maybe be questioning me and saying to yourself “it doesn’t really seem like you have really tried to put yourself into the class to try and pull knowledge out” BUT I HAVE! I was really into the class for two classes. I did all my homework, I read and reread all the material for the upcoming class and I even asked copious amounts of questions that pertained to the material and then I hit a wall or a mental state of hate. I think I withdrew mentally from the class when I did reading homework for about four hours and none of the reading was even mentioned in class. How can a teacher think I’m going to care about what they have to say after they make me read for hours and turns out it was all for nothing. I didn’t sign up for this class to play “what homework is actually homework” I wanted to learn knowledge that I could take home and use for my career in the future. Now, this may seem harsh and you may be thinking, “You just hate on teachers” the truth is I’m in this classroom right now because I plan on becoming a teacher.

Actually, the deeper I think, and the further I write this blog post I’m realizing I am learning something. I’m learning how not to teach and how to loose your students as a teacher. The Education program could probably really teacher their students a handful of knowledge if they have them sit in the class and evaluate the negative energy. To be more specific I’m sitting in class evaluating this teacher’s skill. Now, don’t get me wrong, my teacher is absolutely brilliant and has more knowledge on the teaching subject than anyone I know, but the way he communicates it to me is rather poor. There are no diagrams, there are no references, there is no communication between students, there are no activities, and there certainly is no fun. It’s just lecture, lecture, and more lecture, and every now and then questions.

Turns out I am learning something after all. I can certainly tell you that it isn’t what the teacher is talking about up in front of the classroom as I write this.

A list of what I learned:

1. Never sign up for a class with this teacher

2. It cost $50+ to sit here in this chair

3. I really like junk food

4. How not to teach.

The Digestion. Part II

            I fear the future, the change, the loss, and even the gains. I have become comfortable right here where I am at 107 L berry Lane. At the age of 21 years, I feel like I am supposed to be building this great large foundation for the ladder part of my life. Why? I am happy. Who made the rule to work hard and then play later? How far is later? Like later in life? Or later in the day? For me, now is later in the day, and maybe sometimes later in the week. How come I feel this pressure like I’m in a sack being eaten up by the future? I’m slowly getting withered away every day that progresses.

            I fear the loss of family and friends in the future. Every day I get older, every day they get older but… they are already older. This fear has consumed me because I want to put every minute and every second in a jar and hold it in my hand till I’m ready to let go. Cheesy, I know but do I fear the future because I am so happy with the present? Do you fear the future because of the present is so good to you?

            Maybe some day I will hate my present life and will embrace and wish for the future. Take that as an example, some day…that’s the future… that’s not now. Then I have to ask the question, because I’m so happy now, will I wish for the past when I’m in the future? Have I set my happy bar too high? 

What's in your crop?

A Turkeys crop: A stomach that contains pebbles and food. It uses the stomach muscle to grind the pebbles picked up during feeding to digest food and break down large food matter such as bugs, seeds, and nuts.

This week, I put too much in my crop. Some things just need to be thrown in a little sack and ground to pulp and forgot about. Unfortunately this week it was the present. I lived in the future this week and forgot about my daily life. All my spare time was spent with questions like, Where will I be in 20 years? Will I ever get married? Will I be happy? Why do I attend school? All this money and I have nothing to show besides a bunch of loan statements. This future is consuming my life. People keep telling me "don't worry about the future, focus on the present and the future will come" Really? so I just take it one step at a time? I think its a bunch of crap. I've been working through the week like a machine, going from point A to B doing what I'm told. Everything in the present just gets thrown into the crop to get digested till later. 

        What will I be like when I'm old? Will I be regurgitating all this matter thats being broken down? Will I be living in the past? Even though I've been living in the future I don't want to be there. I know everyone worries about the future at some point, but this week is getting to me. How can I escape this world? I cant stand my crop eating away at my real life. 

Dream Running

I was in a dream and I couldn't run fast. I focused on my legs, watching them move
at a slow pace wondering, why can't I move faster, I'm trying so hard. The worst part isn't looking at your legs, its looking where you want to go. Its that certain feeling that is seated into your spine and shoots out your eyes wishing you could get there faster. Its like being handed a check with one million dollars written on it, you have it but you cant spend it. Why is it that I have dreams that don't let me run fast? I'm still waiting for the dream where all I can do is run fast everywhere. Its stressful and terrible knowing you got what it takes but no way to unleash the fiery. To make the whole running slow thing worse, its like I'm always being chased by something much faster then me. Although, whatever it is that is chasing me it never catches up, it keeps that distance that is so close to get me, but never does. This actually makes it worse cause its at that point when I'm giving it my all trying to run faster. But nope, I look down and my feet just keep going the same pace.  

Frograss

A mixture of frogs and grass with a lawn mower blade spinning at 1500 RPM makes for some splatter matter. As I mowed the lawn I couldn't help but notice the frogs and toads leaping in every direction. Notice I said every direction, not away from the mower. In most cases sadly it was toward, this was followed by a hollow "thunk" which was the mower blade making contact. Unfortunately on this early fall day I was bagging the grass. There is nothing like smelling fresh cut grass on a fall day, along with juicy frog matter pilled into a bag. I felt guilty, but the longer I sat on the mower I realized nature is just taking its course. If the frogs really don't understand a big loud mower is coming at them, maybe they do need to be fed to the small critters, bugs and birds. Then again, a mower isn't exactly part of nature, or is it?

New Residency (workshop essay)

I walked away from my first job interview and nailed it. I knew every question they could throw at me and paired it with a stunning answer. Ok, so what if my sister was the manager, and so what if she prepped me with all of the interview questions ahead of time. I was only 15 and I was hungry for some cash in my pocket. If I got hired I would be working in a dinning room within a retirement home. It was the perfect job for a high school student with short shifts each day right after class.    

Turns out a week later I got the job and I was ready for orientation. It wasn’t a big surprise when I got the phone call from my boss saying I got the job because my sister already told me I would get hired. But I can without a doubt replay the moment in my life when I was informed I earned my first job. I remember the conversation, the clothes I was wearing, the weather outside, and even the time I took the call. At the time, I had so much rifling through my head. What was I going to buy first, with my first big paycheck? I always wanted a mini fridge in my room. At the time it seemed really cool, I could buy my own soda and keep it in there along with, well, more soda. It seemed cool till I got it, then my parents had to ruin my proud purchase by telling me I could have always used the family fridge. Next I was thinking, this is it, my first job; this is the job I’m going to tell my kids about someday. After that I couldn’t help but to brag to all of my friends about how much money I was going to be making and all of the things I could do because of this endless cash flow.

I was ready to enter the world of business. I arrived at my first day of work 15 minutes early just like my father told me. Turns out, I had no idea what door to go in or even what parking lot to park in. The building was huge. I wasn’t sure if I just park at the main entrance and walk through the lobby like the rest of the old folks or if I use some special side door. I was totally clueless, so I went with the main entrance. I walked in and took in the smell, look, sound and feeling of the retirement home.

It smelled like stale air mixed with a turkey roast and some old lady perfume. I will never forget that smell ever. The lobby looked beautiful, rich, classy, and bright. Two curving staircases that meet at the top of the 2^nd floor that was made out of detailed wood was the first to compliment your eye after walking through the door. Then the beautiful dark glossy Yamaha piano that stood at the center of everything was something that seemed so valuable in a retirement home. The piano seemed like it was in the center because it was their prize that they wanted everyone to see. Hanging above the piano was a striking crystal chandelier that acted as the focal point bringing everything together. Even the carpet and picture frames had this ornate detail that couldn’t go unseen. The sound of the place was quiet, very quiet. I walked through and could hear my shoelaces smack the slip resistant shoes I was wearing. It didn’t seem eerie, just calm because I knew there were a few hundred residents living in the building. I got this fragile feeling as I proceeded to do dinning room like the place was almost precious.

Once I opened the door to the dinning room where I would be working, it was, well, fun. The server station in the corner of the dinning room was littered with pictures of old fun memories. The waiters were all similar with age except the manger but even he was only ten years older then the average. I was greeted with a friendly “hey it’s the new kid!” which I found funny cause I would do the same. I meet my trainer Sarah that was going to be basically my teacher for the next few weeks. We immediately dove into a thick pile of papers filled with highlighted “sign here” lines and lame training manuals. After the paper work was done my brain was flooded with the kitchen scene. “This is the rack where you only put this, that is where this belongs, over here you will find these but If you want those you have to go back to here, remember not to put this here because we will hate you for it, every new kid does this, make sure that’s not you, remember when this runs out you have to go back to here and open this and find a new one.” It was only a 4-hour shift and my brain was imploded with kitchen and serving information.

It was my first job and I think still the best. I had my sister to work with and made new friends who showed me a whole new world. My parents told me work corrupted me but I say it showed me the real world. My job was all about getting work done and having the most fun possible while doing it. We without a doubt had the most fun. I met a lot of really fun residents and also said goodbye to some truly close ones. I was given many nicknames as a new kid; “Brace face” was one that will always stick because of my smile full of metal when I had braces. I also earned a reputation to torture and question new kids and to open them up from being shy. In the beginning when I got the call and accepted a job offer as a server, it was actually accepting a whole new life on top of a life I already had.

9/11/11

I love my country. God Bless America.

The Evening Fawn

I walked down into the southern most field of the 300-acre farm wearing tractor grease stained blue jeans, my dirt shirt, and my brown leather boots holding my .300 caliber rifle. The sun was going to set soon and I knew it was the perfect evening to pop a coyote or two. Mother Nature’s breath was calm, the dew was beginning to nestle its way into the cottons of my clothes and the thunderhead rolling over the hills south of me, was beginning to move away. The heat of the day was beginning to dissipate in the deepest valleys and the hay field mixed with Clover and Brassica was now in the shadow of the glowing sun.

            I take a quick second to glass the field to make sure my prey isn’t already there. I gently walk along the upper end of the field looking for a good place to post for the evening. After finding an 80-100 year old oak tree with good ground cover, I decide my silhouette will be broken up enough to spot my prey before it spots me.

            As the dew sets heavier, a yearling fawn appears by the woods line. Not a coyote, but perfect coyote bait. As I watch this fawn feed in this 30-acre field, I begin wonder what I’m doing with this rifle, perched up on my legs, overlooking the vulnerable animal. Am I hunting coyotes for sport? Or am I protecting this falls harvest of venison?

            My vision is now minimal, and my clear view of the yearling is blurred at best. Its adorable white spots are now smeared in with its innocent golden fur coat. The shuttering sound of an alpha-male coyote howl intimidates me to tighten my grip on the rifles stock. The rolling hills and valleys of the southern tier are now filled with pup yips and barks. Tonight I am the protector and the hunter.