WHAT’S HAPPENING?

11/11/2016

Dear Brooklyn,

I’m afraid…I had no idea where I would be a few weeks ago. My original plan was to go to Florida and work at a B&B because I know I need the experience. What I really want is a place of my own. I know it will never happen because I don’t have an education. I know how different I am in this world. I’m an altruistic chameleon who only wants to help people heal, pretty big job for someone as insignificant as me…. I didn’t send it.

This morning I’m sitting in my bed, not wanting to get out. It’s chilly and raining on the farm…I’m contemplating my escape. Tomorrow evening I’ll be in Florida 5 Miles to White Sand! Safe and Cozy, but is it really? The woman appeared nice. I asked if the private room had a bathtub, her affirmative reply was that she even had bath salts if I needed them.  Hopefully my vision of the next place I land on the 8th will be more fruitful.

Just a few weeks ago…I don’t even remember how long it’s been, but it feels like an eternity…in my mind, I’ve been building castles. Taking my ideas and placing a page on each plot of abandoned land on this farm. 175 acres that have been organically farmed for over 30 years; outside my window is almost a quarter acre with structures just waiting to be updated and landscaped to be a chicken community…when I first arrived he bitched because no one would pay $10, with my design people will pay $20 a dozen just to see my creation…but then that would include a small community of people to help create it, I am only one human.

He told me that growing food doesn’t pay the bills because organic growers are not subsidized; yet his focus is getting the farm store open to sell food.

All I see here is an experience. Before I came here I was told of grand plans; firepits for the campers and RVer’s. Since I came here I’ve seen at least 7 unused porcelain bathtubs, I told him about my bath shack idea but of course it falls on deaf ears. The other day I found an abandoned playhouse in the vacant field beyond the lake; perfect place to have a zip line and an obstacle course. Then there’s the fairy garden, selling magic dust, and Magic Moon & Star seeds. What about the tiny house above the sheep stable in the middle of the field? What about the porch he told me that he wanted to look like Martha Stewart was there? What, WHAT, WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?

My time here has been cleaning house after house of dirt, filth and debris, seeing the excess of crap that once had value; the gluttony, the give a shit attitude for what you have and complaining because you don’t have. I’m tired of dealing with the constant conflict of values and beliefs people have. I’m tired of living in the boxes of everyone else. If I’m supposed to survive on this planet, I want my own. Right here, right now! After almost 6 year of traveling, Arizona was the only place that felt like home…at least at one time it did, all I’m asking for energy similar to Brooklyn’s energy to show up in my life.

My last act of dealing with the farmers shit was taking my beautiful new friend to the Dallas bus station an hour away. Some of her last words to him was calling him a twat. Too much drama to even try to process let alone try to write about…the past few weeks have been exhausting, even writing 4 letters asking for help has fell on deaf ears. Maybe this journey will end somewhere on the interstate between Celeste and Gulf Breeze…or maybe someplace offshore while floating in the Gulf of Mexico; maybe I’ll get eaten by sharks, please don’t let it hurt. There are no more signs and there is no end in sight.

Tomorrow evening I hope to be soaking in a tub of bath salts after my 10 hour drive; then I’ll sit outside under a hopefully starlight night…what more could a girl ask for?

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