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farming in the dead of winter; [OTA]
Who: Jimmy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thishurts) & YOU
What: Jimmy setting up his little farm
When: Early-Mid December
Where: Library, Around Town and in the Farmlands, and at his own Farm
Warning(s): dyslexia frustrations and depression mentions
[I've got problems; Not just the ones that are little]
Jimmy’s never been much for reading.
But getting an AI to read him websites out loud really isn’t much of an option anymore. And if he wants to pull any of this off he’s going to have to do this the hard way.
And he hates that, he really does.
He’s in the library. Gritting his teeth. He’s tried to pick out the easiest books he’s been able to find on animal husbandry. He really has. He even has a small notebook next to him, trying to take notes on the important bit like he’s in high school again, like he’s going to be tested on it.
Jimmy can’t even remember the last time he actually applied himself, put in effort into something he wanted to do, and now that he’s actually trying? It’s fucking hard. And discouraging.
The words on the page muddle together like fucking soup and his eyes are exhausted. He sighs. Slams the book shut. Resists the urge to throw the damn thing. He rests his hands in his forehead.
Later he’ll end up checking out a few of these books. For now, he’ll continue to struggle a bit longer.
[It's those people problems; That's something to consider]
You may see Jimmy in various parts of town around the Winter acquiring different things. Mostly purchasing livestock, from the looks of it. Not the whole Noah’s Ark by any means, but certainly enough. Though unless you know Jimmy, you’re unlikely to notice the trend, and honestly, it’s not as if the man stands out by any means.
Or really has any friends to speak of.
Because he doesn’t.
Not many, anyway.
He purchases goats, a few hens, and two bunnies over the course of two weeks, arranging transportation for said animals in the process. You’ll find Jimmy walking across town, one end to the other, carrying individual hens in his arms trying to make sure they don't just fly away, rabbits tucked into his winter coat with their heads sticking out, and at one point pulling the goats behind himself on leads fashioned out of rope.
It’s all going about as well as it sounds it would.
[When you come for dinner at my place]
It wasn’t exactly Jimmy’s brightest idea to set up a new farm in the dead of winter. He’s realizing this now as he’s in his front lawn, trying to fix up the fence around his property. His animals are presumably inside his own home as he’s out with a hammer and nails in hand, a few boards at his feet, hammering away.
His hands are numb and aching. It’s so damn cold out. But surprisingly, this feels, good? He feels good. It feels good to do something with his own hands. His fence looks like fucking shit, frankly, and he knows it, but he doesn’t care. He’s fixing it with his own two hands. It’s tangible results that he can see, in real time, and honestly, he’s impressed with how good it actually feels to be doing something with himself.
It beats the hell out of any job he’s done so far. And it certainly beats the hell out of sitting around in the Oak & Iron, staring at the ceiling, doing nothing, napping the days away.
This feels good. It feels important. Right. If you would have told him a few months ago that he’d be content working on a farm, Jimmy would have laughed. But now. Now? It was starting to feel like an actual real possibility that he might enjoy this kind of work.
thishurts) & YOUWhat: Jimmy setting up his little farm
When: Early-Mid December
Where: Library, Around Town and in the Farmlands, and at his own Farm
Warning(s): dyslexia frustrations and depression mentions
[I've got problems; Not just the ones that are little]
Jimmy’s never been much for reading.
But getting an AI to read him websites out loud really isn’t much of an option anymore. And if he wants to pull any of this off he’s going to have to do this the hard way.
And he hates that, he really does.
He’s in the library. Gritting his teeth. He’s tried to pick out the easiest books he’s been able to find on animal husbandry. He really has. He even has a small notebook next to him, trying to take notes on the important bit like he’s in high school again, like he’s going to be tested on it.
Jimmy can’t even remember the last time he actually applied himself, put in effort into something he wanted to do, and now that he’s actually trying? It’s fucking hard. And discouraging.
The words on the page muddle together like fucking soup and his eyes are exhausted. He sighs. Slams the book shut. Resists the urge to throw the damn thing. He rests his hands in his forehead.
Later he’ll end up checking out a few of these books. For now, he’ll continue to struggle a bit longer.
[It's those people problems; That's something to consider]
You may see Jimmy in various parts of town around the Winter acquiring different things. Mostly purchasing livestock, from the looks of it. Not the whole Noah’s Ark by any means, but certainly enough. Though unless you know Jimmy, you’re unlikely to notice the trend, and honestly, it’s not as if the man stands out by any means.
Or really has any friends to speak of.
Because he doesn’t.
Not many, anyway.
He purchases goats, a few hens, and two bunnies over the course of two weeks, arranging transportation for said animals in the process. You’ll find Jimmy walking across town, one end to the other, carrying individual hens in his arms trying to make sure they don't just fly away, rabbits tucked into his winter coat with their heads sticking out, and at one point pulling the goats behind himself on leads fashioned out of rope.
It’s all going about as well as it sounds it would.
[When you come for dinner at my place]
It wasn’t exactly Jimmy’s brightest idea to set up a new farm in the dead of winter. He’s realizing this now as he’s in his front lawn, trying to fix up the fence around his property. His animals are presumably inside his own home as he’s out with a hammer and nails in hand, a few boards at his feet, hammering away.
His hands are numb and aching. It’s so damn cold out. But surprisingly, this feels, good? He feels good. It feels good to do something with his own hands. His fence looks like fucking shit, frankly, and he knows it, but he doesn’t care. He’s fixing it with his own two hands. It’s tangible results that he can see, in real time, and honestly, he’s impressed with how good it actually feels to be doing something with himself.
It beats the hell out of any job he’s done so far. And it certainly beats the hell out of sitting around in the Oak & Iron, staring at the ceiling, doing nothing, napping the days away.
This feels good. It feels important. Right. If you would have told him a few months ago that he’d be content working on a farm, Jimmy would have laughed. But now. Now? It was starting to feel like an actual real possibility that he might enjoy this kind of work.
Library
"Is the plot that bad?"
She can see it isn't a fiction book he's angry at, but maybe the joke will lighten the mood.
no subject
He realizes he's snapping, he tries to calm down. Takes a few deep breaths like Neil told him to.
It's sort of successful.
"It's a frustrating book." Jimmy dodges the question, shrugging noncommittally.
no subject
"Animal husbandry?"
Must be a farmer.
"John Rambo might be able to help. He has a farm and breeds horses."
no subject
no subject
Patience is a virtue she is trying to have.
no subject
He gives a small sigh, hanging his head over the book.
"Maybe goats? I think goats are the biggest I'd want to go. Goat milk would be nice. I think you can make cheese with that."
no subject
Because he doesn't know about goat cheese. Being afraid of horses is at least reasonable.
no subject
no subject
"What made you decide to be a farmer?"
no subject
Yes, he really is that bitter about fucking mouthwash. But more importantly, he wanted to do something that matters. Raising animals? Planting crops? Doing tangeble things that you can actually see the results of? It fucking matters. Not mouthwash, a luxury product that no one actually needs. Just use a goddamned toothbrush.
no subject
"It seems you want to turn your life around and do something meaningful, Being a farmer will accomplish that. Have you chosen a plot yet?"
no subject
He says this with all the confidence of a wet paper towel roll. But he is right about her. He does want his life to mean something, even if it's just meaningful to himself.
no subject
"And how is the research going?"
Because from what she sees and feels, it doesn't appear to be going well at all.
no subject
"Not. That well. Maybe if I check them out and try to read a bit at home..."
Probably won't help that much. Maybe he's just delaying the pain of dyslexia.
no subject
"Why don't I introduce you to John Rambo and Cesar Salizar, they are both friends who are farmers and may be able to help you get started."
no subject
no subject
"If you are from space, then you might find a friend in a man named Crichton as well."
no subject
Yes, he really feels that strongly about it. Space bad.
no subject
"Well, I don't actually know where he currently stands on spaceships, but he once loved space very much."
no subject
"We don't agree on that." Jimmy says, frown deepening as he does, "I'm very happy to be firmly planted on earth. I don't think you could pay me enough to get back on another spaceship for as long as I live."
no subject
no subject
"No, I didn't really ask for help to begin with." He says, his own arrogance, his need to defend himself getting in the way again. What is he going to ask for, someone to read to him?
Over his dead body.
no subject
Valdis sighs patiently.
"That was an offer, not an answer, but I suppose I'm not surprised you don't know the difference."
He's been borderline hostile this entire time after all.
no subject
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)