I Ain't Afraid of No Daleks

So, I've deleted my last post--too depressing. Well, that, and I just was rung up by my supervisor a bit ago, and told she can put me on nights and Sauturdays for the interm, until day work resumes.

And in light of that--and, to lighten the mood a bit, I thought I'd do something...well---different.

I adore the American version of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. So, thought I'd do my own version. Old Maid's Eye for the Yuppie Guy.

Assuming some yuppie is stupid enough to move to a small blue collar ("Chav" if you're British) redneck town in the Adirondacks, we'd just have to get him into the programme, wouldn't we? I mean, he just simply wouldn't fit in, otherwise.

Here's our Yuppie as his is, now:

Yeck. Not gonna' work--he'd stand out like a sore thumb in this town:

Okay, it doesn't really look like this anymore--that was in 1901--but trust me, it hasn't changed all that much.

First, let's start with the hair. We gave our yuppie guy a genuine redneck haircut, so anyone walking down the street of Corinth, NY USA, could just look at that do, and say, "Hey, isn't that your cousin--the one that's married to your other cousin?"

Of course, now he has to have the right clothes--cheap jeans from WalMart and Sears, some tan canvas work pants, plaid flannel shirts, a denim chore coat and a carrhart jacket--and let's not forget the work boots.

And let's not forget the piece de resistance, the baseball cap!
These guys up here adore NASCAR racing, so we'll get our yuppie guy a nice racing themed baseball cap to complete the look:

And here's our yuppie guy in his new duds:

There. Now his Ivy League friends from Harvard would never reckognize him--but he'd have loads of new friends that he met at the local gin mills (bars/pubs).

When I was much younger, as I've mentioned before, I adored spending time in the woods and fields surrounding my childhood home. While much of my time was spend observing and becoming a part of the very landscape around me--there was also another joy that I experienced, as well. I loved to explore.

Everyday outdoors, is truly a brand new day. Nature is not a constant, and neither is the landscape. Oh, I know some folks talk about the "unchanging landscape," but that's really just a lot of hooey. There's no such thing. As nature wears a different appearence every day--sometimes every hour, so too, does the landscape. A tree is uprooted by a storm, and leaves a hole in the ground. A new tree--just a wee little thing, takes it's place within weeks, if the season is right. Every day, every moment, nature is changing, she never stays still--even when to the casual eye, it may look the same as yesterday--it isn't. A tree grows taller, a path is worn by the tread of many feet, an abandoned farm field turns into a woodlot again.

And that's what I love. Everyday I walked the woods, I knew I just might see something, I'd never seen before. But, you have to look. It won't come to you. You have to open your eyes, your ears, all of your senses and be open to it. The colours, the textures, the contrasts, the sights and sounds and smells--all merging into this lovely tapestry of God's making.

And for some of the same reasons--I love an open road. Whether it's a country road like the one pictured above (which I've actually driven down, by the way), or a long abandoned farm road, that I must explore on foot, it's like a little adventure for me.

I love old gates. Can't say exactly why, just do. I think it's a bit of the romantic in me--not that I'm the romantic sort--but it's the idea, the question, "where did this lead to?" I think, that just makes me want to open it and go on. Even the old gates themselves are enoyable to me. They can be beautiful, in their way. The way the elements and time and man has shaped them, left them sagging and worn, but with a certain character, about them--the colours of the wood or metal, the way nature has tested the workmanship of the farmer...I don't know. I just like to see them.

And when I used to go for a drive in the country--in every season, there's always beauty all around. The patchwork of woodlot and hay or corn fields, that one can't always see as well, in summer, become stark, yet lovely, in the late autumn and winter. Shadows and sunlight, trees and hills and fields, blue skies and angry clouds, all a living, continually changing work of art, that rolls by my windscreen as I drive down the backroads and by-ways. And it just feels so free and so lovely. I can be anything when I'm out there--whether I'm beind the wheel with some great tunes playing, or hiking in relative silence---I'm free to dream, to wonder, to just be myself. To love the land and cherish the things that I see around me. To dream my dreams...yes, of someday owning a piece of the beauty that I love--tho' of course, that's just a pipe dream now--but still, even as a kid, I always loved a ride in the country--and tho' I'm car-less now, and live in the city--still, I think I always will have those feelings inside of me. And I wouldn't change that for anything in the world.