Cornfuzzled Wandering Wonderment

Who knows where I'm headed or where I'll end up.

I started cowboyin' when I was 14. Did a hitch in the Army. Came home and went back to Wranglin' and Cowboyin'... Did a few years pushin' a 150 ton copper mine haul truck.

Rodeoed, framed houses, drove truck, trained horses, rustled a few, traded horses, traded hay, sold firewood and even raised sheep.

Since I liked things that go BANG! and the army had foolishly schooled me on their use... I did demolitions for a bit... But my adventurous ways didn't sit well with those boys. :)

I've made a lot of circles. I've cleaned carpets, sold hardware, took tickets at a high dollar mini formula one track for a short while. I've traded horses and stole one. I've been a night watchman, delivery driver for a plumbing supply house, and being learning disabled signed on for a second hitch as a soldier.

One time I built up to over a dozen head of horses in an attempt to build a decent brood mare band.

I've done custom leather and made fancy knives. I've even sewn shirts, breeches and one fancy Frock coat.

Maybe I possess a restless and unending curiosity... Or maybe... I'm just afflicted with a severe case of cowboy attention deficit disorder combined with a remarkable ability to time the markets that enables me to buy high and sell low.

Some folks say the way of it is you pick a career... You get a degree and then that's what you do. Period. You stick with that through the wind and the corporate downsizing. You picked it so That is what you are.

Me, I hold to the "I'll just follow my nose" philosophy. The idea that you stick with a choice you made even when you come to realize it's suckin' the juice out of you... Or even if something else tickles your imagination... Or you come to think maybe you took a wrong turn... And all Only, because it's a choice you once made... Is a thinkin' that just don't work for me.

There's them that tell me; Maybe, if you were thinkin'... You wouldn't find yourself in the jackpots you do.

"They" say; You're too old to be changin' horses now. Too old to go after anything new... I say; I'll have plenty of time to be old when they stuff my carcass in a box and throw dirt in my face. As far as that thinkin' is concerned, who knows? Maybe!

It's a curious thing... No matter where I've gone, no matter what I did... I always seem to circle back to something cowboy. Something that to me is real.

Now, things have me circling again.

That's one thing I can claim... When the stuff hits the air circulation device... I may grouse and growl, but then I adjust fire and get 'er done. That's one benefit of bein' army and cowboy; there ain't a lot that hasn't been done to a fella once or twice already.

Times are changing for lots of folks. But me bein' in a place of cornfuzzled wonderment I can't claim it's a terrible cattywompass blowapart. It just is what it is. There's those that are considerable worse off... Me... I'm just wanderin' in confusion.

What I see around me in the world is largely smoke and mirrors, twisted physics bull feces.

Politicians lie faster and bolder than ever. Folks sit at the table shovelin' their bellies full of those bald faced lies as fast as they can choke 'em down... Knowing... They're being lied to... But then complaining that the plate full of manure gave 'em the jiggly quivers and put 'em on the street... Having only their ownselves to blame.

Fellas with masters degrees in psychology are hawkin' coffee at 7/11.

How it was is not how it is. You change with what comes along or you get run over by it.
You stand on what you believe... Or you stand on nothin'.

You chase what your heart tells you to Chase... Or you're used to chase what "They" choose to set you to chasing.

Yep. The times they are a changin'...
Brian