Because I can do what I want, I will.
That's sort of the essence of free will. If I feel like stopping at the edge of a steep hill in my car, throwing the green monster in neutral, climbing out and pushing the bucket of bolts over the edge and laughing maniacally as I watch it careen down the side of the hill all the while hitting rocks and trees as I wait for movie special effects to take over and waiting for to it burst into flames because if it happens in movies it must happen real life just because I can, that's my choice. Sure there are repercussions with any action but if I do it I must be willing to accept those repercussions.
It's just like writing a profanity in gas on the sidewalk in front of your house, lighting it on fire and noticing a police car coming around the corner. You had better act fast or chances are you'll be spending some time explaining why the word "fuck" is burning on your sidewalk. Stomp swiftly or pay the price.
Of course my ultimate dilemma today is whether or not to climb my desk and take a nap. A siesta sounds rather tempting today as I am being beaten down with a cold which has lingered for a week and was awake at 4:59 AM (I saw my alarm clock's display) after finally crawling in to bed around 11:30 PM. The baby's internal clock seems to be broken.
I already know the answer to my dilemma but what would you do? Soldier on or grab your blankie and catch some Zzzzzs?
MinnPics doesn't take sick days. As reliable as the sun rising in the east, Minnesota's hand-picked gallery of the finest photos from the Northstar state works like a steel-driving man.
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Monday, March 10, 2008
How to grow up Minnesota style
Once upon a time there was a young boy who was bored and wanted to do something with his time. He lived an isolated life and despite not having many opportunities to spend money in fancy, big city stores, he still had the drive to do something to generate some funds.
One spring day he carved out a plot in a far-flung corner of the family garden and planted some sweet corn. He actually did it as it was the normal country thing to do but went a bit overboard and when early summer rolled around there was just too much damn sweet corn. What better way to dispose of it and earn some of that lucrative cash than to sell it.
And that's exactly what the boy did. He sold all of the excess sweet corn that first summer and the people who bought it came back wanting more. Not wanting to disappoint, the boy took their names and phone numbers and promised to call the following year when the crop was ready.
This continued and word of mouth grew. More people streamed down that dusty gravel road each year. The boy's mom saw all of these people and decided to sell some grocery bags of apples from her miniature orchard as the sweet corn season drew to a close.
By this time the plot of sweet corn had moved into a hard-to-farm nook adjacent to the family's yard. The addition of fall goods such as squash and pumpkins was added and the money made from the town-folk who drove to this farm was stuffed in to a savings account.
In short, if you hadn't figured it out yet, that boy was me. I made money that way (and a fair amount honestly) until I was 15 years old. If I could squeeze it in to that two acre plot, I would try to sell it. All told, I think I pulled out that routine for seven years. It financed the farm toy addiction I wrote about yesterday, it bought my first car, it bought clothes which my parents deemed too expensive and it started me on the long road to being a music consumer. And if I had two acres near my house I would do it again because even though it's back-breaking work it's fun and the money ain't half bad.
So, if you stuck around through that tale from the past, what sort of weird entrepreneurial endeavors did you undertake as a kid? Will I be forever viewed as a Osh Kosh B'Gosh-sporting country bumpkin after the past two posts?
One spring day he carved out a plot in a far-flung corner of the family garden and planted some sweet corn. He actually did it as it was the normal country thing to do but went a bit overboard and when early summer rolled around there was just too much damn sweet corn. What better way to dispose of it and earn some of that lucrative cash than to sell it.
And that's exactly what the boy did. He sold all of the excess sweet corn that first summer and the people who bought it came back wanting more. Not wanting to disappoint, the boy took their names and phone numbers and promised to call the following year when the crop was ready.
This continued and word of mouth grew. More people streamed down that dusty gravel road each year. The boy's mom saw all of these people and decided to sell some grocery bags of apples from her miniature orchard as the sweet corn season drew to a close.
By this time the plot of sweet corn had moved into a hard-to-farm nook adjacent to the family's yard. The addition of fall goods such as squash and pumpkins was added and the money made from the town-folk who drove to this farm was stuffed in to a savings account.
In short, if you hadn't figured it out yet, that boy was me. I made money that way (and a fair amount honestly) until I was 15 years old. If I could squeeze it in to that two acre plot, I would try to sell it. All told, I think I pulled out that routine for seven years. It financed the farm toy addiction I wrote about yesterday, it bought my first car, it bought clothes which my parents deemed too expensive and it started me on the long road to being a music consumer. And if I had two acres near my house I would do it again because even though it's back-breaking work it's fun and the money ain't half bad.
So, if you stuck around through that tale from the past, what sort of weird entrepreneurial endeavors did you undertake as a kid? Will I be forever viewed as a Osh Kosh B'Gosh-sporting country bumpkin after the past two posts?
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