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Saturday Afternoon Ramblings

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Here’s why I find myself growing angry and bitter.  By the terms of my divorce, based on Tennessee law, my child support is based on a ratio between my income and solely the mother’s, and the time we each have the boys.  Because she doesn’t work, I’m required to pay roughly 30% of my take home income, regardless of what her household income is.  Financially, that’s crippling and affects my ability to spend time with my sons.  Furthermore, I have no oversight on how that money is spent.  None.  In addition to that, I get no tax break on that money.  My taxes are based on gross income, so some years I actually owe money at the end of the year, despite living well below the poverty line.

If I don’t pay child support, I can face jail time for contempt of court.  If I don’t pay it, even though I have no way of ensuring that money is spent on my children, I’m labeled a deadbeat dad, not just by the law but also by society.  Don’t get me wrong, I have no issue with supporting my children.  I would do anything for them.  What I have a problem with is the imbalance of the laws that have crippled me financially for at least twelve more years, offer me no safeguards that the money is used for its intended purpose, and in effect enslave me to that obligation, regardless of whether or not she actually needs the money.

So I work, pay the money, and scrape by on what’s left.

My profession is education.  Aside from writing, that’s what I’m best at doing.  Today, because our society so undervalues education, during the school year, I work 60-70 hours a week.  Last night, I graded until 8:00 PM, on Friday night.  I woke up this morning and spent three more hours grading, recording, and uploading files.  As soon as I finish this post, I’ll spend at least five to six more hours doing the same.  Tomorrow, I’ll spend all day grading.  From mid-August to mid-December, I get maybe three or four full days off.  Anyone who has ever taught can attest that being in the classroom teaching is exhausting work in and of itself.  I’ve worked other jobs and have often said that one hour in class equates to about two hours at another job.  During the school year, I and every other teacher I know live in a constant state of exhaustion.

Because I have to work so many long hours with so little time off, I have no time or energy left over for loved ones.  Just talking to my children for an hour four nights a week is taxing.  Forget about date nights (not that I have any money for one) or spending quality time with friends and family.  Forget about writing or doing the things I need to do for the farm.  By the time I accomplish everything I have to do for school, I’m utterly spent, and it’s Monday morning and time to start over again.  Forget about promoting my books the way I need to.  Forget about nurturing a relationship.  Forget about having any kind of a normal life.

I’ve had well-intending people tell me to find another profession, as if the answer is so simple.  I’m trained to teach and write.  I’ve yet to find an employer out there that values my skills or equates them to their needs.  Not that there are any decent jobs out there right now.  I feel trapped by circumstances with no foreseeable end to the cycle.  I’ve all but lost hope on my books ever being “successful” financially.  I’ve all but lost hope on ever getting the farm off the ground, even though I’ve proven my hydro design works.  I simply don’t have the funds to make it happen.

So each day, I feel a little more bitter, a little more angry.  I feel like our system has failed me at each and every turn.  I’m trying desperately to find something to give me a glimmer of hope, a flicker of optimism that somehow things will get better, but each day I feel more trapped, more alone, more forsaken, more disenfranchised.  That’s my reality.  That’s where I am right now.

General Posts

Saturday Morning Ramblings

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Two and a half years ago, I was a shell of a man, struggling to get to my feet and find my bearings after my divorce.  I was broke and broken. I lived in my best friend’s spare bedroom and didn’t have my own car.  I made it to and from work by bumming rides from family and friends.  Each day was a challenge to find the motivation to get out of bed and force myself to trudge onward.  Because of the terms of my divorce, I get to keep roughly $.51 on every $1.00 I earn.  After taxes, child support, and insurance for my kids, my take home pay is barely above minimum wage.  Those factors severely limit how often I get to see my children, and for anyone who knows me, you know how deeply that affects me.

Two and a half years ago, I faced tough choices.  I could lay down and give up, and quite frankly, that option was pretty appealing.  I could move somewhere else, closer to my kids, and start a new life.  I went so far as to apply for jobs in South Georgia and North Florida.  Then, one day, as I worked on cleaning up my motor home to get it livable, an idea came to me.  I looked out at my family’s 27 acres and realized that one of the passions I’ve always wanted to pursue is growing vegetables.

I started researching what it would take to launch a farm.  The more I learned, the more I realized that the future of farming is indoor growing, so I launched myself into studying as much as I could about aeroponics and hydroponics.  At first, I leaned towards an aeroponic system because of the efficiency, and I built a functional prototype.  However, the more I learned, the more I saw that those units, while efficient, are highly unstable.

So I went back to the drawing board and designed an ebb and flow hydroponic unit.  In August of this year, I finally had enough money to buy all of the components necessary to build and launch the system.  Today, I’m a couple of weeks away from the first harvest.  From this experience, I’ve learned some valuable lessons, most notably that because of the grow rates of various plants, it’s important to have multiple systems to maintain proper nutrient cycles for each.  To that end, I want to build our second unit that I can dedicate to one specific vegetable.

But like I said, I’m severely limited in my financial resources, so quite honestly, I need help.  I’m currently running an IndieGoGo campaign to raise funds for this second unit.  If I didn’t need this money to get the unit up and running soon, I wouldn’t be asking, but I know, based on my take home income, it will be mid-summer before I can have enough money to put into it.  If I can get this system going now, I could effectively have three harvests in that time frame.

Recently, I’ve watched three specific fundraisers have tremendous success.  A friend of mine raised money for a rock video.  Within 48 hours, he had surpassed his goal.  An acquaintance raised money for an independent film and received enough to cover production costs.  Most recently, my publisher ran a campaign for a new book project and raised nearly 250% of their goal.  I don’t resent the successes of these fund raisers.  In fact, I supported each one, sharing links and writing blogs about them, but I am bothered by the lack of interest in supporting my project.

I’m trying to build a farm that will have a long-lasting impact on the lives of people in this region.  We need more fresh, organic vegetables in this area.  We need more sustainable agricultural practices.  That’s not political either.  It’s just a fact.  Weather patterns are changing.  During the grow season, we have extended periods of drought followed by intense storms.  That’s not conducive to efficient farming.  The future will have to be focused on developing indoor growing environments that are year round and efficient.  I’m not even going to get into the effects of rising fuel prices on traditional farming, but our current model isn’t financially sustainable long-term.

So I’m asking for your help.  If you can, please, contribute, even $1.  If you can’t, please share the link, especially with people you know who might be interested.  This farm has the opportunity to change lives, not just mine but those in my community, too.  I believe that with all my heart.  I have the plan, the design, and the ability to make it happen.  What I don’t have are the financial resources.  Please, help me make this a reality.

 

General Posts

Late Night Ramblings

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I’m laying here in bed, thinking of my life and the lives of my friends. This isn’t the America we were taught about. This isn’t the country we grew up in just thirty years ago. Where did we go so wrong? Is the Great Experiment dead? Will freedom and democracy be nothing more than a blip in human history? We certainly don’t live in a representative democracy right now. I don’t know a single person who feels as if any level of government represents them or their interests today.

The optimist in me wants to believe that humanity can overcome where we are at this point in history. People have faced darker days and worse obstacles. My papaws both fought in wars, one in WWII, the other in Korea. They both shed blood for this country, and I want to believe they didn’t do so in vain. I want to feel hope for tomorrow.

But the realist in me sees darker days before the light. Our system is rigged against the average person. Some want you to believe the problem is that half the country lives on welfare, expecting the rest to care for them. You’ve seen the propaganda, but the facts don’t support that. Take a minute of your time and research the actual numbers of who receives government assistance and what percentage of that money makes up the overall federal budget. It’s a small amount.

What I see, what scares the hell out of me, is a growing shift in this country of a new form of slavery. Working people who toil their entire lives making fortunes for the corporate masters without livable wages, without adequate healthcare, without suitable education, without any possibility of upward mobility or leaving a better life for their children. I call it the New Dark Ages.

People are regressing. Civility and decency are receding. Look around in public. Look at how dumb and ignorant people have become. Look at how rude and aggressive people are on the roads. Look at how many people go through their days like mindless drones. Look at what’s popular on TV. We’re hardly more than savages.

At this point, I have no answers. I can’t see a way out of this downward slope into a plutocracy of the unfathomable haves and the great mass of working slaves. Every time I hear a conservative rail against redistribution of wealth, I want to scream we already have it. For the last thirty or forty years all our wealth has redistributed upwards. All the laws, all the regulations, have been rigged to favor big business and those who already have. As a person who gets up everyday, trudges to work, sacrifices my health for scraps, and coasts through the last week of each month on loose change, I feel no hope for my future. I know I’m not alone. I know most of us feel something similar.

I want to believe again in my country, in our Constitution and Bill of Rights, but right now, I truly don’t feel free. I don’t feel like a person who has any say so in my own future. The people who make decisions about my life are so disconnected from my reality they can’t comprehend how their decisions affect my daily life, and what’s worse, they don’t listen or even seem to care. That’s not how a democracy is supposed to function.

Tomorrow, I’ll get up, go to work, trudge through another day, work on book four, and maybe fantasize about big sales, but in my heart, I’ll feel trapped in a broken system, in a dying democracy, in a once beautiful dream that’s dissolved into a nightmare.

This isn’t the country I grew up in.