Left Out

It’s this crazy thing I do every day that somehow now feels somewhat normal. Although, I can’t say I’m 100% completely feeling like this is where I’ve always wanted to be and that I’m doing what I’ve always wanted to do- but for now it works. Somewhat.

I live in someone else’s barn for crying out loud. Wash my clothes in their washing machine. Work 8-9 hours a day helping them live out their dream. I’m a farmhand pretty much. I’m hired help. The crew. I work here. I do what I’m ask, what I’m told in a timely manner to the best of my ability, but at the end of the day- my opinion holds no weight. I can’t change things, make decisions, or suggestions (not that I know very much about very much...)

And sometimes, I just want what everyone else wants- what everyone else HAS, or so it seems. Nice jobs. Respectable jobs. Cars. Babies. Summer vacations. A space of their own.  Houses and yards and weekends off. Friends and permanent addresses. I do realize that all of this comes with a price, no less.

More than anything else I long for a place, a space, of my own. That could mean land, or a house, or a rental. Something lasting. Something with some staying power.

Nesting. There I said it. I’m 32 and I want to settle down.

Living here and working here, I feel old. I feel like I should have had this experience ten years ago. I feel like at this point in my life I should be starting my own farm- not working on one for $1,500 a month plus room and board. (And all the fresh veggies you can eat. Which isn’t so bad at all.) I feel like I’m better than this job sometimes. Like it’s not challenging enough. Physically yes. Otherwise, I’m dieing! (or maybe I just miss feeling a part of community…)