competition success magazine

competition success magazine

competition success magazine Published this article page no  04 The secret to a successful relocation is knowing what to honestly expect so you can laugh cathartically when the inevitable bizarre scenarios emerge. Sudden disillusionment is rarely a knee-slapper. Nonetheless, once adjusted, country life is closer to Nirvana than most get here on Earth. Thus, while everyone else pumps pure country sunshine straight up your knickers, I consider it my obligation to provide balance to the Universe. Almost daily I question my reasons for living in the hinterland. For these moments of apprehension, I maintain lists in my mind. My lists remind me both what drove me out of California and why I cannot abandon country life. A hardy dose of big city burn out definitely came into play. For starters, I realized I was so sick of commuting I‘d rather endure seven months per year in an icebox with no sunlight than sit in another traffic jam. With that thought alone I was ready to pull up my roots. I also decided to move. In fact, developing a loathing of the Urban Jungle was vital to my eventual ‘success’ in relocating. In retrospect, my twig was definitely about to snap. Of course, so many city folk run around with fully bent twigs, we never realize the contorted conditions of our existence. That many people living in close proximity, under the confines of excessive regulations, is the proverbial pressure cooker. Urbanites and recent country converts wondering if your view on life may be intensely contorted are welcome refer to my lists. They provide perspective. For example: Signs of how ‘screwed-up’ you may be would include the following. You’re having your morning coffee, a cow walks through the front yard. You don’t own a cow. You freak out, hit 911 and sue the Meat Packers of America. You believe shoes matching your nail polish is in any way a daily priority. You don’t recognize that it is morally bankrupt to apply for a permit from a homeowners association to put out a lawn ornament. You carry more electronic gadgets on your person than Radio Shack inventories. You drive to work past ‘that same old group of homeless people.’ You smile and say, “Hi,” to strangers only because you know it screws with their minds. Your horse board expenses equal the Gross National Product of Guatemala You’re convinced you are invisible and need two years of plastic surgery just so city gentlemen won’t let the C-Store door spring back in your face competition success review buy. 

competition success magazine