Do not say the words "statement of purpose" to me.
Because I will cry. I will embarrass you when fat, exhausted tears work their way over my lower lids and fall to the floor in between us. I will make you uncomfortable when I sink to that floor and curl into the fetal position, rocking back and forth to remind myself that there's still a little bit of soul within me.
In fact, do not even be suggestive. Don't say "State... of the Union address" or "State marriage license". I could still burst into flames upon hearing it.
With all of the crap one must produce and consume to "succeed" in society, I can understand how one would give it all up and become a farmer.
That's right, a farmer. A Christian Evangelical Organic Sustainable-Practices Farmer. I want to herd some sheep. I want to grow a tomato. Just like the Lamb of God people, who came to my Religion and Environment class and talked about their organic, sustainable ways. It's all a part of the bigger Christian agrarian movement, in which the whole Biblical thing where God calls us to be "good stewards" is taken quite seriously.
So I'm not a Christian. I can still grow a tomato and lead some sheep and get closer to God. God being the universe. God being everything.
I'm only about 20% kidding, by the way. I really do kind of want to farm something. And tend a flock of sheep.
But for now a cat or a dog would do. Where are the pets when you need some serious soft, warm fluffiness following soul-wrenching application grind-work?
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