Tinhuviel Artanis

Something alarming occurred the other day, with which I am only now coming to grips.  I’m still uncertain of how I feel about it, so of course, I have come to the Cliffs to process.  

 

Here’s the thing:  When Cameron and I went up to Asheville on Thursday, I felt at home, but I also experienced some unease.  It did not feel like when I arrived in Duncan.  Asheville felt like my heart, my origins, but Duncan felt like family.  And family is what I desperately need right now.  Also, most of my non-Internet Tribe reside in the Greenville-Spartanburg area, which encircles Duncan.

 

If I went to Asheville, I would be on my own.  Completely.  And I’m not sure I want to do that anymore.  In San Diego, I discovered that I was on my own pretty quickly and, even though I was technically with family, I maintained an undercurrent of discomfiture and disconnection for almost the entire four years I was out there.

 

Given my seizures and other health problems, do I really want to risk total seclusion?  In all honesty, I’m not sure.

 

Janice is letting me stay with her for a trial month.  It will be a financial boon as I look for a place, but I’m not currently comfortable landing in a place where I no longer know anyone, have no family, and no way to get to a doctor if I had an emergency.  It may not be the wisest move for me to make, and I’m doing my best to make wiser choices, considering the disaster that was the move West.

 

The grass is not necessarily always greener and, even though the Upstate is the Armpit of Hell, it’s not the Taint, which would be Linda Vista, the neighbourhood in SD in which I lived.  That said, the reasons for each infernal designation are radically different.  The Upstate is the Armpit because of the political and spiritual climate out here.  Even though a good chunk of the population is fraught with narrow-mindedness and ignorance, they’re decent folk, and they understand so much more clearly the importance of family and friendship.  People in San Diego do, too, but the ones I had the most contact with were not among them, so my living environment out there is what makes Linda Vista the Taint of Hell.  It’s no shade on the city of San Diego itself.

 

The rent here is cheaper, too, which would be a serious blessing for the duration I get settled back in, and discover the things I need to purchase to properly do so.  Asheville still isn’t out of the question.  I still dream of living in the place I was at my happiest, but perhaps it’s time for me to simply be content. Besides, my work in activism would be better served in an area that needs it.  I don’t want to preach to the choir, I want to reach people who have no idea they are living in bondage, a bondage of the mind and spirit.  San Diego is woke as fuck, and Asheville is deeply aware, but the Upstate is caught up in the machinations of Aggressive Stupidity, and many people being carried along in that wave don’t know they have options.  

 

So, yeah, I’ve got a lot to think, pray, and write about these next few days.  In the meantime, I’m keeping all options open, and I’m waiting for the place I need to be, to be revealed.  I’ll know it when it happens.

About two hours ago, we got a call from my aunt, Janice, alerting us that there had been a water main break at the head of the main road off which we dwell. The break is so bad that the road itself was bowed up from the amount of water and pressure. I filled the tub up with water and filled as many jugs and jars as I could lay my hand on. Aunt Tudi also filled our Brita and we filled up the animals' water containers. Who knows when we'll get our water back, if we get it back at all tonight? Here's the news story and actual footage. The footage is from about a half a mile from my house. It's not as if this place was enough of a swamp as is...now, it's like we're living in the Charlie Daniels Band's "Legend of Woolly Swamp!" It wouldn't surprise me to witness an alligator float by.

In the meantime, we're trying to refrain from using the bathroom and I'm attempting to quell my thirst. The minute we lost water, I became parched. My mind is way too open to suggestion. It's never a dull day in Duncan!

If you zone in on the aerial map, the road next to Harrison, Pauls Drive, is my road. You can see my house from outer space!