planting rye.

“Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around - nobody big, I mean - except me. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff - I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I'd do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be.” 
-Holden Caulfield, The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)

Holden Caulfield may be an angsty teenager with the mouth of a sailor, but behind that entirely relateable and rather endearing facade of youthful apathy and vehemence, he's got this dream, this crazy dream. Goodness, I love that about Holden. I love it. 

I wish more people would just own up to wanting to be the freaking catcher in the rye. Admit that they've got some crazy dream, but heck. They want to do it anyways. I wish they'd do it. 

Anyways, the first month of the last year of my undergrad is just about over, so it's about time I figure out what it is I'd really like to be. Some people tell me to be the Catcher in the Rye, and others figuratively pat me on the head and say, "Darling, there are no little kids to catch. Look, there isn't even a field of rye."

Darling, please. I'm good at planting rye.