Okay, smarty, go to a party.

Okay, smarty, go to a party.


Never been to a rodeo before. So, of course, I decided to go in flip flops. While walking around, weaving between mobile horse stables after the rain had softened the already chopped up ground from parked trucks and my right flip flop stuck to the mud for the umpteenth time, I looked up at a girl in a cowboy hat laughing with a guy shaking his head.


“Never been?” the woman asked.


“...” was my answer.


“Just give up and walk barefoot,” said the guy.


I turned to him and said, “...”


I wasn’t bitter (not entirely, maybe a smidge salty), but out of my element. The strange thing is that, after a while of being this city guy getting broken into the rural life, being out of my element is sort of my element. The rural is beginning to become commonplace. I didn’t have much to say because I was working, but I was surprised at how little I was annoyed by everything. With mud from my shin bone down, I just trudged on. I’d pass a horse as it saw me and neighed loudly or stomped its hooves around and flinch because it was an animal with enough muscle in one leg, in one kick, to erase me, but I expected to flinch. It’s one of the many reasons it’s always healthy to leave your comfort zone – being in anticipation of the unexpected, the unknown, maybe even the (personally) disagreeable, leaves out a lot of anxiety.  


The animal thing, I must admit, I was still a little disconcerted by. I want to sound tough, but the only thing going through my mind when someone was trying to hold onto a bucking anything was please don’t die, please don’t break anything, it looks like you’re trying to break everything in your body.

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