One of the hardes things for me is having a full plate in my life of obligations when I would love nothing better than to just work on what I'd like to work on..which are two things. Reading. And Writing.
I've been better at both this week.
I started the classic book The Jungle. For someone who works in the meat food industry, this is a risky proposition. I understand that the social commentary is aimed at the plight of the poor as much as the conditions of, specifically, the stockyards/packinghouse of Chicago in Nineteen Ought, but I can't help but pull parallels with the debates going on yet today on food animal treatment. I'm certainly not going to get through it very fast however, which really irritates my need to rack up numbers on my read list. (which is a stupid need, I know)
The other is my writing. I've really latched onto a project I'm excited about and I don't want to let that excitement fade away. I feel like if I keep both feet in it, then the excitement will stay. I have some things I need to run by an expert though so if anyone out there is an economist, please, leave me a comment! I've got a couple questions.
Here's an excerpt...sorry about the swearing... please remember it's just a draft :)
She took the armful of weeds and trimmings to her yard cart, she tossed them in on top of her kitchen scraps, egg shells, coffee grounds, carrot ends and potato peels, and wheeled it squeakily toward the back of her property to her compost pile, out behind her garden shed, by the alley. it was the 'by the alley' part that caused problems. And today was the worst so far. She heard the boys giggling before she rounded the shed, and she would have caught them but her squeaky cart gave her away.
"Oh shit she's coming!!" she heard one of the raspy, breaking preteen voices say "Run!!"
"Fuck I can't stop!!" another said, to laughter and the sound of scrambling from others.
Dawn had left the cart and took off running towards the shed. "HEY!" She shouted
"FUCK!" she heard again. That and the sound of running feet on alley gravel
She rounded the corner just in time to see 3 backs high tailing down the narrow alley road.
Tyson Cover!! I know that's you!!!" she shouts in their direction as she checks up.
The smell of fresh urine hit her like a wall.
They'd stood back there and pissed on her compost pile. They had stood. back there. and pissed. on. her. compost pile!! Those vile, awful, redneck, arrogant, ignorant ignorant jerks!
Hands on her hips she shook her head and sighed. She went back to her cart and brought it around to the edge of the pile and, trying to ignore that acrid odor, dumped the contents in. She went to her shed and took her pitchfork out of the hands of her decorative, makeshift, grant woods american gothic scene she'd made there with sticks, twigs, twine, etc. and went back to the pile.
She turned the new matter up and into the old matter, mixing it evenly with the urine the boys so vandalistically added. Sad. Sad as it was that they didn't know that it actually was a huge aid and that human urine contained LOTS of goodies, especially nitrogen, that the pile needed to break down and become soil once again.
"Thanks boys." she muttered as she worked. "you dumb little assholes." She still planned to act incensed when she went to Tyson's parents to report his disrespectful and 'damaging' behavior. Lift and fold, fold, poke poke poke. fold, fold, poke poke poke poke. The smell was dissipating. She wondered which boy ended up pissing down his own leg as they scattered and ran. She wished it was all of them.
I've had so much fun with this. Dawn is one of my favorite characters. And probably the least autobiographical because she actually knows how to do a lot of stuff!!! BUT it's stuff I wish I knew how to do, so she's the me I wish I could be.