oftentimes these days i feel that my shit does not amount to much; is rabbit shit. this line of thought is typically countered with a classic piece of brady family-style psychology: but i Haven't really Tried yet.
that this sniffling profundity is true does not make it less threadbare; which is to say that my tried-and-occasionally-true method of putting things off in favor of preserving an abstract notion of my Potential has been wavering, lately. recently, the way that waveriness manifests is for me to decide, on a whim, to take some sort of stock of the aforementioned shit; which soon gives way to a blank-eyed, drymouthed and rather crunchy state. sometimes, though--
--sometimes other people do my rationalizing for me. like just now. i was researching a doctor's past work and was gifted with a sliver of perspective: i could really try, could spend 4-5 years f'ing throwing myself at my field of study, really stretching my limits, and come out the other side with a 550 page tome -
Two Patterns of Wife Influence on Farm Innovation in a Midwestern Dairy State.
and, dude: No Soup for You.
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