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Life storytelling from Tinia of Lucas Farm, a former Vegetarian Homesteader

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Fresh from the farm blizzard

Posted by Tinia on January 25, 2014

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Painkiller: It's more than a TV series

After 3+ years without anything published here, I'm watching Painkiller, the Netflix short series that came out on August 10th. I'm into the third episode. Watching it brings about PTSD like feelings. Heck, why do I say "like". . . It is actual Post Traumatic Stress from growing up in the late 1990s and early 2000s here in West Virginia watching oxycontin flood this area and leave a level of destruction behind no film can accurately capture. I don't think I can number people I know who have died, been addicted, recovered from, or been hurt by, that pill. Beyond that, it's taken over two decades for some muted version of the truth about how planned this was by a part of big pharma, how intentional it all was, and I can remember being 22, with a life already on the cusp of being ravaged because of that pill and what it did to so many I cared about, and already absolutely certain about exactly what was taking place. There are doctors, pharmacists, legislative mem

The Dance: I sometimes wish, knowing what I do now, that I could appreciate wonder.

Maybe it IS good we don't know how it will go. Anything. I hate to think that could be true. But it must be. Here is a momentary backstory: I used to read voraciously. I don't now. Most of my life, I read and read. It was consuming. But I never wanted to wonder about what would happen in the end. I would skip to the few last pages, see how it went, then I'd read the whole book. Happy to just know the end. I still wanted to experience the tale; I just wanted to know to ending before the trip. Movies: I rarely watch them these days. I've always, without fail, wanted to view them with someone else who could tell me how it all ends. I said to my mom not long ago (. . .when I saw a list of traits of successful people. It said you should not lose a sense of wonder) "I don't feel or like "wonder,'" and it was no news to her. I mean that in all forms it presents its self. Most folks fi

This is my last story here. . .

This is my last story here. . . Well, of this kind. Even as I write it. . .I want to delete saying it. It isn't how I want to work. I just want to write snippets here and there, as I think of them. But that is easy. And it leaves a lot of nothing behind. And as some have told me, If continued, one day, I will find the value of my story has left. It is, I suppose, time that I put it all somewhere else - instead of retaining it in my head and then sharing randomly in posts and blogs with abandon. I think it must be time I go back and get everything I threw out there. . . gather it in, build on it, tell the "rest" and admit how hard that will be. . . I'm not inclined to being scared - but saying this is kind of that scary. I say it so I cannot back out and turn out and drop it. If I say this, I will never do those things. I've only decided to do a small number of things in my life. I have only wanted the same, so that has been easy enough to keep u

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Fresh from the farm blizzard

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