Am I? I might be. I think I am. I’m not floating. I’m not up above all of the day-to-day petty bullshit stress that used to just pass me by. I used to hear about people worrying about their bills. Rent. Electric. Internet? Not necessary. It’s not that I never had bills, but I was never 100% responsible for them. My rent was on time, I paid my part on time. Always. But, I always knew, it wasn’t me. It wasn’t all on me. Every single bill. For more than just me. You know what I mean? Even if it was on me, it was my shit. Not someone elses. Does that make sense? If I went with-out, well too bad. I will survive. But what if I’m the reason someone else goes without, someone who’s depending on me to be the responsible one.
It’s like, do you even know me? Do you see me? You think I’m responsible? I don’t care about my credit score. I don’t have a car payment. I don’t have credit cards that need to be paid monthly. If I don’t put money on my cell phone (Yes, I’m pre-paid because I don’t want a contract) then I just don’t have a phone. I’m ok with this. It doesn’t bother me. I sleep just fine at night knowing that someone might want to get a hold of me. It doesn’t effect me.
I miss Santa Cruz. I miss a simpler time. I miss living with my Dad. Why? Because he’s like me. Living mostly off the grid. I had a job so I had spending money and food. No rent, no electric bill, no internet bill. He didn’t have one either. I didn’t mooch off him. We had a fantastic partner ship. We lived well together. He worked on the farm we lived on and that paid our bills. He did his projects because he’s retired and enjoyed spending his time doing it. I lived with him because he didn’t like living alone. Does that make me a mooch? Maybe it does and I’m not realizing it.
I don’t think it does. He asked me to be there. I liked knowing my Father wasn’t living alone on some hill top.
Maybe my whole perception of reality has been horribly skewed because of the fact that I got to enjoy that time. Years of that.
I’m trying to get back to that. I just want a trailer in the woods on some property. Running water, a little electric, these things I can afford without being a slave. Another cog in the machine that doesn’t have an identity. I don’t have an identity. I got jury duty. Just another fucking number.
People have mid-life crisis’s. I’m 28. I’m too fucking young for this shit. I would rather be poor and happy. Happy and living a fulfilling life. Even if it’s poor, and I don’t have extra spending money, as long as I can get by and be happy it’s worth it. What’s the point of having a pocket full of cash if you never have time to spend it?
Retirement? Pensions? I’m the wrong generation for that.
I think I need to just get off the grid a while. Be the crazy lady with my garden and my cats, and dogs, and peacocks, and just dig in.
Yes, I think that’s what I’m going to do.