Another New Beginning To the Dystopian Dream

Turns out it is very difficult—for me, anyway—to keep up with the daily grind of teaching, trying to remodel Serenity into a writing retreat, keeping up with my house and yard, and finding time to write. So here I am, starting over. Again.

It has been hotter than blue blazes while I’ve been out working in the yard, thinking about my dystopian character—or my dystopian self. So here I go again. I will try to live my dystopian character’s life.

In my mind, this dystopian world is one where conventional society has collapsed. You know, the kind you see in movies—the kind of world where there are no grocery stores, Targets, Walmarts, or Amazon. Yet it is a world where people somehow still have electricity, cars, and gasoline, but live in whatever kind of dwelling they can muster or protect from someone else taking it. The kind of world where you trade for goods and services. Goods are bought at street markets through bartering or some type of odd monetary system that people don’t really trust but use sometimes.

This is the imaginary dystopian world I have placed myself in. But in my case, the street markets are thrift stores. Thrift stores are a good substitute for street markets because, like dystopian street markets, they always have stuff to sell, but they don’t always have what you are looking for. I’ll throw in pick-your-own farms and call it foraging. Anything else I’ll need, I’ll have to barter for or get for free from somewhere. I will need to learn to be resourceful!

This is the beginning. Again. New beginnings are always fun, even when you have one every few months. This one starts in my yard where, for the last two years, I have done nothing more than cut the grass. Everything else is an overgrown mess. It is the perfect setting to begin living the dystopian dream.

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