A year ago I sit at a table. I am in the study lounge in my dorm. I’m reading Rousseau’s Social Contract and when I say reading I mean I am holding the book open and alternating between picking mnms off the table, sorting those same mnms into grids, looking at the spark-notes version of the same chapter I was on, checking Facebook on occasion and shooting amorous looks at my friend Al, who was avoiding reading their own book. I read and re-read the line “But it is clear that this supposed right to kill the conquered is by no means deductible from the state of war” and at that instant I had a moment looking at myself from the outside and I heard, clear as day Fuck this! I’m going to be a farmer.
So last Friday I was in the field. I was pulling plastic. There were only two of us in the work crew and it was bitterly cold and raining. The plastic acts as mulch when the plants are growing but the weeds grow through the plastic and it’s hours of standing up, bent over, pulling tangles of weeds out of the ground with all my strength and I had the same moment of self awareness and I heard, Fuck this! I’m going to be a lawyer.
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