August 3rd and I still cannot tell if what I'm feeling is the Universe going to hell in a hand-basket or if I am personally feeling (insert narcissistic BS here).
I don't like writing as it creates a permanence to energy that isn't in need of manifesting but without expression, I will probably go half-cocked into destroying all my relationships just for something else to focus on. I can be an asshole like that.
Actually, its out of fear and boredom. I get bored with people quite easily and when I don't have enough to occupy my brain, I tend to go negative in my mirroring of others. Its me who has the problem but I will interpret their actions with the ME-filter that is very oppressive.
A great deal has happened since I last posted anything. What was the backstory until now? Well, we can start by leaving the home I shared with my husband in Marysville, WA to a /60 sq ft tent in a friend's b ack yard to begin homesteading. The goal was to save enough money to have a down payment on a home. Getting out of the house was the first stage and quite liberating.
We did that for 22 months and then moved to California. I have been here for another 22 months (that is probably a clue to something). Things seem stable comparatively but if you know its 2020, then you know that we are on the knifes edge of unimaginable chaos.
So, since I am very out of my element, doing what I believe is the right things, I am bursting with words that my husband has quite politely asked me to get rid of as he has very little room for all my words when he gets home from work. I cannot blame him and as my mouth runs at more than he can handle, there is so little feedback it seems like a tirade instead of communication. He is a very good listener, and he is legitimately overwhelmed.
This blog is now going to be where I put all those extra words.
Some things I have noticed which seem to indicate this is correct thinking. Last year, my typing speed and accuracy was so bad it was like I'd never learned to type at age 14 on the beloved IBM Selectric II. Today, I'm not having any trouble with typos and the words are flowing well. Secondly, I don't give a damn if nobody or anybody reads this. HA! You are an open book written for very dumb children. I like that line. Thanks Umbrella Academy.
I have also found TV is boring. News is boring. People are totally boring unless they are telling me why I should bunker myself and grow my own food. THAT I am interested hearing. I cannot tell you how much of what makes others happy, isn't for my peace.
And what makes me at peace? Oh, Lord. Such subjects are so ingrained in me that I will have to go way far back.
My mother was a tough person who weathered being divorced in the 1970s like a lot of single moms did. They worked, came home to kids at the sitters, hoped they were gonna be OK, and tried to date, partied, and wanted desperately to be stable. As children, my brother and I were asked to go outside so Mom could do art, homework and all the other things one does to stay sane. I was an outdoor kid.
My house was also full of tensions I did and didn't understand. My father caused some of those problems and other family members caused others. Oh my mother, and the neighbors weren't any help whatsoever.
So what does this have to do with my bunker fetish? Its more on the flavor of being secure, having a place of my own, sanctuary and solitude. All ridiculously, nauseatingly normal and predictable. And like all dreams very difficult to achieve if you aren't wealthy. We are not even now and my thoughts on wealth is significantly similar to my childhood perspective. My needs are simple if I have my people around me; food, shelter, Love. What more is there?
Much like cleaning a closet, how do you get rid of good shoes you won't use unless another time comes when they will be useful? I have always had the sense I needed to know what to do if something went wrong and I was alone. When my brother and I were at home alone, we at times enjoyed it and others we contemplated what alone really was. Or I did. My first thought was always to figure out a way to fix the alone part. It went like this; where is the address book with the phone numbers? Do we have long distance to call Aunt Gloria or Aunt Sue? Will they meet us at the ferry? Can we take a bus to the ferry? Where is the bus money jar? Is there enough coins in there to get to the ferry? If all those answers were good, I worried less. I never worried about asking people for food, water, etc. but I never trusted strangers not to try to kidnap us. I had enough experiences to know that humans were not reliable in that way due to creeps following me from school, lots of stories of missing kids on milk cartons and on the news.
And like the rest of you, my "alternate states" is the republic I love right now. Coping, coping, coping with the confusion.
