Dreaming of a Different Life

I’ve only ever had panic attack’s when I’ve felt suffocated by too many people. Malls at Christmas, big holiday crowds. I was watching Californication* tonight, and there was a ‘fake’ scene of a man and wife playing the 50’s life. Wake up, wife serves you breakfast and hands you your brief case and off you go to your 9-5 job. You come home to a wholesome dinner and your daughter sitting at the table doing her homework. Perfect. I almost gagged. I actually was on the onset of a panic attack. That shit freaks me out. The perfect life. What does that even mean?

I hate the societal institutions that are forced upon us. I hate that we have to rely on everyone else to get what we need in life. A job to make money so we can buy a house, groceries, a car.

Did you know that with the right information, you could grow all your own food, including meat? You could grow enough to last you through the winter. People think it’s too much work, but really, what’s more work? Growing something for yourself, enjoying the real fruits and vegetables of your labour, or working at a job that you despise (or at best find mediocre) wondering where you went wrong with your life?

Ugh.

This is where I go into my depression rant. People living lies, people selling their souls to ‘the man’ for wages and the price of security. What’s your soul worth?

Right now I’m privileged enough to be a stay-at-home mom (with a lovely little part time job at Ye Olde Sex Shoppe that gets me out of the house and puts a couple of pennies in my purse.)

What would I do if I actually had to support myself?

I’ll tell you what I’d do. I’d buy some land (with the magical money that I’ll pull out of my ass) and build a nice cob house. Solar and wind powered, with a compost toilet.

I’d plant not just a garden, but a whole food forest, a self sustaining completely edible forest. I would work on the land, have lots of time to enjoy and relax, and can/preserve for the winter. It’s call permaculture, in case anyone is interested in learning more about it.

I don’t consider it work if you truly enjoy what you’re doing. When it’s not actually work. I want this life. I desire it. I have no idea how to make it happen. I maintain hope that some day, I will make this happen for myself. I will find a way to get the money, to move across the country and buy myself a little parcel of land. I really hope my husband will join me on this, but part of thinks he would never give it a chance.

He who is so stuck in the trap of the moment, afraid to even consider that there could be a better life out there. He even told me that he doesn’t want to move that far away from home because he feels I would disappoint him. Whatever that means.

So I sit here, hoping and dreaming of what I truly consider a better life, and have to make it happen little by little. Paycheque by meagre paycheque, literally by dollars, I’m saving to get the life I want. I’ll be goddamned if anything gets in my way.

I seriously don’t understand why people stay ‘stuck’ in jobs that they hate! Lame.

I’m of the opinion that if you don’t like something, change it. It really is that simple.

I’m changing mine, as slow as it’s coming. Dollar by dollar. Penny by penny. I will scrape it together until I get what I want. I will have the life I want. Eventually.

 

* If you haven’t watched this, you are missing out. I think Hank Moody is one of my all-time favourite characters. He’s the most loveable asshole, I wonder if everyone could appreciate him like I do.
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