I believe in the future of farming, with a faith born not of words, but of deeds.
Thus began a creed recited quite a few times during my brief stint in the FFA (Future Farmers of America).
The rest of that time was spent studying breasts.
Studying breasts is boring. Very boring. Udderly boring. Thus my terrible performances at the dairy judging events.
Er…there was a point to this post…oh yes! Another great link from the Blogfather:
Okay, that’s callous. But there’s a reason folks will buy someone else’s pig then sell that very same person their own, roughly equivalent pig. People get attached.
The acceptance that animal companions will be slaughtered and consumed is a big difference between county folk and city folk. Ms. Trunk, the writer of this beautiful piece, surely understands both types. And what prose! She’s an amazing writer. Simple statements are woven to evoke complex reactions.
And now I wonder where on the autism spectrum your poor little wormme falls. Why? In the competitions she describes, it’s very important to make eye contact with the judges. Ms. Trunk’s son has Asperger’s, as evidently Ms. Trunk does herself. And,
For someone with Asperger’s, eye contact is awkward, overwhelming, and extremely tiring.
Yes. It’s the best description I’ve seen for what it feels like to lock gazes with another person past a split second. Don’t you folks realize you’re staring into another soul?
Now, I won more staring contests than I lost, back in the day. But ocular combat allows me to dismiss your humanity. And then the spot of your eye matters no more than a spot on the wall.
(As far as staring down animals, my single defeat will bug me forever. Never get drawn in if you have plans for the immediate future. Because Buck don’t care.)
But in all normal, human instances? If anything, Ms. Trunk fails to convey the staggering weight and power of eye contact. It is exhausting, overwhelming.
It provokes an Olympian “fight-or-flight” response.
It doesn’t just feel like a positive feedback loop. It is a freakin’ positive feedback loop. How often do you grab an electric fence with both hands? That’s about how often I sustain eye contact.
That’s my symptom, so what’s the prognosis: will I ever be able to play the piano again?
But seriously, on my list of crippling social handicaps, “shy eye” is a big one. You’ll judge that I’m furtive, or arrogant, or uncaring and distant, not that I have a major and all-but-uncontrollable reaction to looking you in the eye.
It is a terrible, terrible social handicap. But I wonder whether it’s all the eye-gazers who are really the afflicted. Perhaps us Asperger sufferers, or whatever the heck I am, merely see things the way they are. I view the physical universe with great appreciation. I marvel at the myriad beauties of our world and the immense grandeur of star and galaxy. On occasion or two have even felt mild awe.
Then I look you in the eye and am profoundly shaken.
Part of me screams that I behold a Prince or Princess of the Universe. A Being of ineffable scope and dimension. An Entity whose power and potential eclipses sun and quasar and supernova and all the material realm.
I see a Person.
Don’t know what the heck you guys are seeing.