I was 15 years old. First year in speech team and I had placed in the finals for Radio Commentary in regionals. This was big—I had never competed in the event before.
My topic? Neil Armstrong had recently released a statement on the state of NASA’s space exploration. Rest in Peace, Neil. You started a career for me.
Do you ever feel lost?
When I first got out of college, all I wanted to do was work in radio. I’ve done that. I wanted to be a producer. I’ve done that. Every challenge I’ve been met with (and like most lives, there’s been many challenges) I’ve conquered with an iron fist.
But I don’t know if it’s the economy, or if I’ve become jaded. I don’t know if my core has been changed— my very essence. I just know that I don’t really know what my goals are. I’m trying to reinvent myself, because honestly, the person I was isn’t the person that I am anymore.
I left a lot of the negative attributes I had behind when I changed certain things about my past. I don’t drink even a quarter as much. I eat healthier. I’m more responsible. I don’t find excuses. I don’t cry as much as I used to (albeit, I don’t get berated as much as I used to, either.)
But I felt like I was proving something to someone back then. There were people in my life that would actively tell me that I would fail—so I had the drive and ambition to prove them wrong, mostly because I thought that family and the other half of a relationship shouldn’t say those things..
…But since they did, I told them to suck it. I proved them wrong. Some of them wanted a piece of that and tried to tread all over it as much as possible— and then got pissed when I told them to get bent. I did what I wanted to do. I fought the good fight…and for the most part, I loved it.
But what’s next? I’m a tenacious goal setter. I want to figure this out, I want to move up…and the economy tried to put a big fat brick wall in front of me. I kicked it down and told it to sod off.
I know I can do this. I just don’t know what ‘this’ is right now. I have a general idea…and I think that’s what’s killing me.
I just don’t know what I’m driving towards.
I don’t think the pictures I’ve been showing properly convey how massively into gardening I’ve gotten. I’ve been relatively successful, but it’s buried deep in my Viking Roots to be able to make dirt into something useful.
Well, besides mud.
I kinda love it. The smell of good dirt is incredible. Some of you like the smell of gas, and I think *that* is disgusting.
Now, for the craziness that is growing at my apartment. All of which I’ve grown from babes:
Fuchsias.

The massive broccoli.

Veggie of mah labor.

Milliooooooons of tomatoes. Millions.

Limón

TomatilloJalepeno.
The Strawberries taste like strawberries

Youngins these days…

Clusters.

And finally, the sweetest of all tubers, the sweet potato.

All Heirloom plants, which means that all of them have been traced back to genus varities before the 1950’s. Before the mass production of food, and factory farms. Before Genetically Modified plants. Before copyrights on seeds and Monsanto suing farmers for legalities that don’t exist just so they can eliminate the competition. I’m doing it the way that it should be done. The way that my ancestors did it in Trondheim…and the way that we grew food when we were a stronger nation.