Colm Arland
basics
NAME: Colm Arland
AGE: 23 years
BIRTHPLACE: Tennessee
CURRENT RESIDENCE: Arkansas
OCCUPATION: Student / dairy farmer
ORIENTATION: Straight
physical
ETHNICITY: Caucasian--German
HEIGHT: 5'10"
WEIGHT: 132 lbs.
BUILD: Tall, thin, sturdy. He doesn’t look like much, but he has more strength than he looks like he should have, being so thin. He has to, having lived on a farm all his life – when he lived with the rest of his family and even now that he’s on his own.
HAIR COLOR: Dark brown, short.
EYE COLOR: Blue.
SKIN TONE: Pale by nature, but he tans very well, especially in the summer.
I grew up on a farm. When I was way younger, my pa used to take me out to the barn and tell me all about the different kinds of farm animals we had out there. I loved it, because I’ve always been a real big animal lover. The goats were my favorite. I named every single one of them, as well as half the chickens and most of the cows. I remembered all their names, too. It’s easy to tell them apart – mostly by their spots, or lack thereof.
When one of our animals died, I’d have a memorial service for them. All the other animals would be invited, or at least the ones that would stay put long enough to count as an audience. And if you went to my dad’s farm now, out behind the barn you’d find a very large expanse of land just covered with all sorts of different “grave markers.” There wasn’t a body beneath the soil, of course; unless the animal was small enough to bury, which most of the cows and goats were not. But if you counted them, you’d lose track before you even started. That’s how many animals we’ve had.
I used to help my dad on the farm all the time. He grew vegetables sometimes, but was also a produce farmer, meaning he collected eggs from his hens, drew milk from the cows and goats, and occasionally he’d sheer the sheep to make wool for clothing. Needless to say, we had a lot of land. Little lake out in front of the house, a barn, the house itself – and the rest was land used to grow vegetables or with fenced-in areas for the animals. Farming has been my life for twenty-three straight years. I have never hated it, and never will.
I live on my own now, though. After I graduated from high school, I moved up to Arkansas, where my dad’s brother lived, who was another farmer in our family. He raised cows for the meat, though. He slaughtered them. I hated that. But he had this little house out in the middle of nowhere that he’d been offering up to me for years, always promising me that if I graduated he would give me his farm. He was older than dad, almost in his seventies. He was ready to settle down.
I graduated, though. Praise the lord, right? I was a successful young man for that accomplishment alone, but to maintain the farm, he requested I go to college as well. I did. I’d been thinking of it anyway, but I still went mostly for him, so I could get this farm and keep it too. The house was entirely paid off; the bills were covered by my uncle. Everything was perfect. All I had to do was make a living, keep a job, and I could do with the animals whatever I wanted.
So I became a dairy farmer, but also a part-time student. I’m in my second year of college, working on a degree in science. I want to be a teacher, the kind of teacher who tells kids all about the universe, the planets, the stars, and how it all works together. I like astronomy and space. I’ve always wanted to go out to space, but I doubt I’ll ever get the chance. It’d be neat, though. Don’t you think?
I also like flying and fishing. I don’t hunt. I don’t like to kill the animals. If I ever have to, I get someone else to do it. Even with fishing, I usually throw them back into the water after I’m done. But I love fishing because it’s just so peaceful, you know? It’s just the water and the line and the sun beating down on your back, an entirely stress-free environment. Flying is the same way, I’m sure. I went on a plane one, when I was little. It was great. I’ll always remember that experience for the rest of my life.
I’m a pretty positive guy, if you couldn’t tell. I don’t like to focus on the negative, or dwell on the past. I don’t like foul emotions, so I can usually push them away when I feel I’m starting to get that way. There’s probably a stereotype on us farmer types, some bullshit that we’re all stupid and mean and don’t care about nature or animals and we’re all fucking our cousins and sisters and daughters.
We’re not all stupid hicks. Most of them are, yeah, but I for one am the complete opposite. My dad’s not like that, and neither is my uncle. And if you gave me a chance, you’d see that. I’m a nice guy, really I am. But if you don’t like me, I’m not going to whine and cry about it. It’s not my problem, and I don’t need anyone’s approval.