So I’ve been posting all these lovely articles I wrote so long ago that still apply. Now we’re going to get nitty. We’re going to get gritty. It could be a ruckus by the time I’m done emoting.
Today I am looking for a farm house to rent.
I will call realtors and pretend that I’m not a loser on Section 8 first. I’ve actually had a realtors turn his back to me as soon as the words “section 8” fell from my perfect pink pout. Ah well. None of that. Today I have been repeating a mantra. The “fear speech” from Dune. It’s a bad-ass mantra. So I’m not afraid of realtors.
And I have to call Ambrose’s school. I had talking to authority figures. Even when they don’t have authority over me, I still feel condescended and intimidated in conversation. Remember, Fear is the little death. Fear is the mind-killer. I will remain…
I will find a farm house out in the country. I will grow my own food. We are going to build a windmill turbine and have our own electricity. We are saving up for a solar powered generator. I don’t want to keep up with the Capitalist Shuffle. They say life is a rat race, but I’m not a rat. “I am a cat, made out from a bird”, remember? I am something else. I will clutch my Mortal Coil with both hands! But I am the winding tendril that lops behind the ear on the head of the beast. I am a lone ringlet amongst tightly gelled hairs of conformity.
It’s like Jon Lennon said, “But I’m not the only one.” Let us buy land, freaks. Buy, buy, buy. I will find a way. I can use my section 8 allowance towards a mortgage payment. I just have to find a landlord, and talk them into registering with MSHDA.
Until then, a miracle caused my car to get fixed. The high school called the elementary school who called me about an oil change. I told them that was great. Too bad my car was broken. So she called the High School, and the High School talked to my mechanic-guy, and the High School kids are fixing my car- FOR FREE! The parts are donated by a local car parts store, Car Quest and the United Way.
Yea I pray. duh! It’s good to finally be a Daddy’s girl. It works for me. Jesus is my hero. So?
Here I go. Off to complete another day. Maybe I’ll donate some of myself to that awesome guy in the next room who helps to make all me possible. Yea. Sounds good.
Here is to happy farm hunting!