Not Meant To be Pent-up!

I’m happy with my boyfriend and four cats and one dog. But we are not meant to be in an apartment paying rent and working for the bills and not a better health-life centered purpose. My dream and current self-sustainable/off-grid lifestyle research self-inflicted project is getting me through each day. I’m not debt free. I have so-so credit. I’m living to work not working to live. I’m ready and willing and watching out for a land owner somewhere who is into living off the land and wants land-dwellers to love and live, cultivate and appreciate his/her land.
I reside in NJ. But am not attached to the area emotionally or mentally. We have families but are the scapegoat and outcast of them so nothing is really keeping us here.
I am looking to get an arrangement with a land owner to start building a mobile tiny house that I will live in during and after the build is completely done.
I wish to travel with the tiny house once it is self-sustainable and modified completely to my little families needs.
This is where I am and what I am searching for.
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Partial Book Review: The Girl I Used To Be

I’m now on Chapter 3 “Twisted Love” of The Girl I Used To Be by April Henry. After reading far too much of the other book (cough cough), I sort of just fell into this one at the speed of a penny flying toward earth, and hopefully not killing anyone in the way!

All my life, I’ve known what I am. The daughter of a victim and a killer. When I looked in the mirror, sometimes I thought I could see them both—the cowering and the rage.

Part of my dad was in me, and that meant I could grow up to be like him. Every time I lost my temper, I felt it pulse deep inside. The knowledge that I could do something as crazy as he did, stab someone I was supposed to love and leave them with only the cold stars as witnesses.

But now what am I? What was my father?

And there’s something else.

If my dad didn’t kill my mom, if his body has always been in the forest—then who drove me to the Walmart three hours away?

I imagine the three-year-old me. I’ve thought about that girl so much, what she might have seen…. I don’t remember ever being that girl. Not what happened that day or before. Is not remembering a gift or a curse?

And now everything has been turned on it’s head.

When everyone thought my dad had killed my mom, it made sense that he hadn’t killed me. I was his daughter, his own blood.
“But why not?” I manage to ask. “If the killer had already murdered my parents, why didn’t he kill me?”

Much better than that other book. Much.

Ok, so here’s my thoughts so far. Woah! Imagine being stuck at Walmart until authorities arrived at the tender age of 3 years old. Something I probably would never have forgotten because Walmart is a CRAZY place in these parts, but nonetheless… Stuck at a Walmart and then you are told the rest of your life that your mother was killed by your father and he then skipped town. We are changing your name and your life and you are emansipated at lets say 16 or 17. You are seventeen now and your case managers (aka cops) show up and over turn your whole life. Again.fourteen years later.

Wow.

[To be continued…]

Book Rant: Where The Water Meets The Sand

A review Book Rant for Where the Water Meets the Sand by Tyra Manning

9:32 pm 5/18/2016

I wanted to stay in bed, but time refused to stop no matter how hard I willed it.

Does everyone feel this way at one time or another, as if they themselves should be, could be, powerful enough to make time itself stand still. AS if we were, alone, that powerful. HA!

“Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain” played on the radio. I wondered if it was a warning of things to come.

I know this is a book, but this synchronicity shit is bothering the crap out of me already.

When we kissed goodbye and parted
I knew we’d never meet a-gain

Click here for More ‘Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain’ Lyrics

Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain – Willie Nelson

The gloom of the narrator character is so annoying already, but it is there for a reason. Because the husband is going to Vietnam and will die—better die because this phony foreshadowing is pissing me off. Yeah I get it she’s depressed. But if you ever had someone leave you aren’t really THINKING Logically, or even literally. Oh well, I’ll keep reading until it changes pace or I get sick of reading it.

(if all goes shitward, at least i found this great Willie song…)

“We’ll say our goodbyes now.”… “Don’t look back.”  

What the fuck? He’s a militant mother fucker, ain’t he? People don’t talk like that, normal ones rather. Not even military people. That or he’s a controlling S.O.B.

In a burst of magical thinking, I hoped that executing his departure just as he’d asked would somehow protect us.

From WHAT?! He’s going off to war, you are comfy dumpy in a nice home. With emergency funds! Shit, you my friend have R&R time RIGHT NOW!

I drove away from the airport. She watched me… her blue eyes resembled her father’s so much that at times it was painful for me to look at her.

What are you DOING looking over so dang much at her anyway while behind the wheel, you could crash and die and then you won’t have to worry about ever seeing your precious husband again. And won’t that be a great way to care for yourself in the absence of your controlling husband!!

… Larry purchased the trailer house on credit, along with insurance to pay it off if he didn’t return. We’d just spend our last three days together moving into it.

Well ain’t that some last minute planning. Controlling and stupid. Winning combo there. Oh man, girl you really nailed it with this guy! Straight shooter, wait, is he even really straight? Maybe he won’t get killed off, but maybe he will find himself a replacement husband! HA!

Back to the house, I don’t think that buying something on credit is smart. Getting a mortgage is one thing, but on credit? You MUST be dumb, son!

I’d experienced a lifetime’s worth of loss by the time by the time I met Larry. My childhood had been filled with the deaths of several family members, including my father’s. I had started drinking at age fourteen to manage my anxiety and quell a lingering sense of dread left in the wake of Daddy’s death. I didn’t need to drank when Larry and I were together. He told me not to worry, that he loved me and we could do anything we made our minds up to do, and I believed him.

No matter how much I might have wished it, Larry wouldn’t be coming home that night. I had learned my childhood lessons well. I could not count on him, no matter how much he promised to always love me. The only person I could count on was myself.

I got it. I know why I am so fucking pissed off at this storytelling ordeal here. This is a whole shit ton of telling and little story building/world building/character making…. It reads like a white trash party from the point of view of a wallflower virgin with no pubic hair. I am sorry, but this … part here has got me so peeved that I must stop. Not a good way to start reading a book by already hating the voice and the main character to boot.

I think this ends this one.

Here’s hoping the next read is more bearable!