If I was going to live in a tiny house it would be a shack of my own construction with a compost outhouse. I could shower at truck stops. I could be a squatter on my grandpa's abundant land.
Oliver would shit a fucking BRICK.
Ok, that fantasy was a little extreme. But I need to definitely look at the merits of building my own house when that time comes (although land is so expensive that it might be NEVER). I wonder if a person could successfully build a house using colonial building techniques but incorporate modern plumbing and wiring.
Ah goody. More fodder for my already wild imagination. I read this about Virgos today:
"Virgo is the sixth sign of the zodiac. It is a feminine sign ruled by Mercury. People born under the sign of Virgo are often idealists. They are intellectual and many are perfectionists. Although Virgos are often shy they have a good sense of humor that endears them to those who love them. Virgos are often athletic and talented in the area of sports. Virgos often have a skeptical and even cynical nature that may leave them prone to depression."
Sigh. Every instance of that paragraph is true about me, including that part about cynicism and depression. I always knew I was a child of Hermes (definitely NOT in any Percy Jackson sense....):
So what would Hermes do? He'd make his own opportunities--make something out of nothing. I'm about to pull some Elizabeth Bennett shit up in here--to hell with Fanny Price apathy.
I don't know where that burst of industry came from. I read a quote the other day, "how we spend our days, of course, is how we spend our lives."--Annie Dillard. I realized that I spend waaaaay too much time spacing out in front of the television in complete absence of thought or responsibility. So I've made a solemn pact to cut out almost all TV watching. This has freed up a tremendous amount of time for me to read, think, write, craft, go on walks and what have you.
This morning in the absence of TV I sat on my porch with a cuppa Earl Grey and read some of Thoreau's Walden. I find Thoreau's sentiments all too parallel with my own, but I can't help but wonder if part of the reason he seems so morally opposed to opulence is because he could not afford those finer things and instead sought to content himself in a zealous rejection of them to make himself feel better about not having them.
I wonder the same thing about myself. At this particular point in my life I have come to idolize simplicity in living--I would GLADLY take to wrap myself in a shack by a lake and make pert observations all day. I wonder if I would feel the same way if I could afford a nice house. Would I feel the same yearning for the pleasures of working hard with my hands and muscles and sinews if I actually enjoyed my job and the former would be less of an escape and more of an exile.
Wow, long post. Probably convoluted and nonsensical. The crux is that I need to figure out what I really want instead of tempering those true desires with sad resignations about what I think I can easily achieve or am expected by society to achieve. Is it wrong to dream big, after all?
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