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September 18, 2012

When I was a kid Iowa turned my stomach rotten.  Not unlike what the corn here has looked like. My poor mother used to have pack three kids up in a car to go eight hours west to Omaha and she really didn’t even trust the car ten minutes down the road.  Somewhere past the Wisconsin state limits, past the river, mid Iowa, I would start to get that dizzy feeling like I had been dancing in circles.  But instead of dancing I had been staring out the window between my sisters arms at the miles of endless rows of corn and the fence rows (that apparently had to keep the corn from escaping).  Amongst a floor full of Barbie shoes and coloring books I would lose my breakfast.  I still remember the sad afternoon when I just about ruined the Donny and Marie dolls.  Iowa was fun for no one.

But for me, Iowa is different now.  Being by the river helps, the actual topography is much more varied, filled with narrow roads that twist along forested strips between the railroad tracks and the river, a person could actually pretend they were somewhere else for a bit.  I had to venture further west into Iowa the other day, though, and I almost hit my limit.  It was only an hour and a half west of where I am now and I had thought I plotted it on the map the best way possible, but I didn’t.  I hit a stretch that was one long continuous road of corn and fencing and I started to feel the crummies bubble up and my heart rate quicken.  The real feeling of no-man’s land starting to set in.  Good thing I could press further on the gas peddle and just try to mechanically outrun being lost in the corn.

This year the corn looks sick, for the most part.  It’s getting to be harvest time so the corn is going to look brown anyways, but mid August it was rough.  Meetings for the farmer’s to discuss help have been packed.  I was really wondering when the hordes of locusts were going to come down and eat everything.  Just like the ants in Africa that can eat a whole village in one night.

School is taking my time.  Job hunting is taking my time.  I question my ability at succeeding and then I diligently repeat my motto that negative thinking will only bring negative things.  The rain did show up in August, and the cool weather is here.  I’m going to hang in a beautiful stone barn ten miles down the road on my Birthday and watch the locals make sorghum, and the corn is going to come down and then the season will just be done and we can all forget about it.  Everything’s going to be just fine out here in no man’s land, as long as I don’t venture too far out I guess.

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