The Rules of my Storytelling

I’m going to write this story on no particular timeline.

If I try to get this all out on a timeline it will never get done because I’d be so hyper focused on just telling you stories to highlight the synchronicities. Like remembering things that have happened at various parts of my life that all point to farm building.

Sure I can start with the summers I spent in Charleston as a kid and how my cousin left in my grandmother’s sugarcane field that felt like million miles wide and long. And how I cried for help begging to be found when in reality the grown-ups looked at me like I was crazy because “the field” was really just a small plot in her backyard.

Yeah I could tell that story.

Or I could tell the story of the crazy whim I had to get a second Bachelors degree in…wait for it… food politics and foolishly took out a second student load after paying off my teeny tiny first loan I had from my 1st degree from the City University of NY. And the only reason I took out that 1st loan was because I wanted Gloria Vanderbuilt jeans and a black leather bomber jacket..oh yeah and an expensive perm that would have my hair swinging.

I could tell that one.

But these stories ain’t gonna be in no kinda order.

Sorry but I wanna just get y’all to see how shit works in life.

This puzzle will be built from the inside out. The edges will reveal themselves when this story ends; which I trust will not happen until God deems it so.