Love and Taxes

I --well Playfulmind--began this blog for me with the intention of chronicling the adventure of the co-operative movement in the South. Mainly, how this western education and indoctrinated hippie would be received and hopefully reproduced in the muggy southern heat of New Orleans.

Adventure has certainly ensued as well as the unavoidable human drama. Alas not much, in total, was actually chronicled and that which was, was the more personal of mortal tales.

Today, I type using the free New Orleans wireless blanket, outside the Kaplan center awaiting my free sample LSAT class. Much to the delight of my father, I have made the frightening decision to attempt re-entrance in to the hallowed halls of higher education. This time pursuing a post-graduate degree in Environmental Law. The plan is Lewis & Clark in Portland in Fall '08 where I can share a city once again with the glorious Emma Chandler Jenrette...or...I might got to UGA and share more than just a city with a dirty punk screenprinter.

I got my degree in Economics, sort of. There is an economic notion of the free rider; the guy that sneaks into the show that everyone else paid to get in, the homemaker wife that enjoys the achievements of the women's liberation movement, the student that takes all the free courses offered to try to sell programs to those that by into the capitalistic education in this country. I am the latter. Every free course, test, etc. that Kaplan offers, I sign up for, but I'll most likely never pay for the class. That's my hustle.

Today has been a long day. In my own insecurities and have found and voraciously consumed all of the journals of my currents most recent ex. In comparison, I feel uncreative, square, and mainstream. My partner gave me a pair of earrings early in our relationship, the first time I have ever gotten jewelry from a partner (not countering Jen). I lost one within an hour of the giving of the gift, it was promptly made into a necklace which I have not taken off until today when it broke. Should I take this as a sign? I'm afraid to go home and confront my fears.

So, with that ends the personal interweaving of the Cooperative Adventures of Treehuggress in America. From Now on it's only business and co-op connections!

Punk Drunk Love

I'm a jealous woman.
I always have been.

My bedfellow has another ladyfriend.
I've come to realize that I can't handle it and instead of riding it out till the blissful end, I preferred throw a wrench in it.

Today, I asked David to leave. Leave my house and no longer see me. Then we parted ways and I talked to Heidi. Then, after a two gin and tonics at 13, I came home. Drunk. I finished his booze therefore instigating a fight. Now I don't know what do to. I have feelings I wish didn't exist. In a sober state, I wouldn't write such nonsense. Through the depths of tears, gin and whiskey I've come to terms with my life and whatever it may bring. I spoke with my ex today, after several texts, I heard his voice after a year and then some. He told me he had loved me. I shouldn't be in the situation I'm in. I shouldn't subject myself to a relationship I don't want to be in. So I gave David the boot.
"I think you should leave"
"From where?"
"My house."
"Are you still going to see me"
"No."
The truth is I'm scared. I'm terrified. I afraid of feeling. I'm afraid of pain. Although, it's rather too late for both. I'm drunk on gin and whiskey and eventually...sooner that later we'll have to talk and reconcile whatever that may bring. Ten million feelings are ricocheting off each other in my head.

I'm the interim girl....

Punchdrunk Love

Just the other day I was thinking to myself, alud and to others how the quality of gentleman that I've dated recently has vastly improved since, the dumb "cajun."

Just yesterday I was talking to my mother about the two I find myself between now. She asked the typical mom questions including (which surprised me) about marriage. Fuck! I responded with I don't plan on getting married if ever really and definitely not now, but I guess 1 is more the "marrying type." Her resonds was well then you fucked up.

And tonight in a state of not knowing your own strength, 2 punched me, hard in the back between my shoulder blades. It still hurts as I type this. Sure, we we wrastling earlier and there were bites and indian burns involved which was totally acceptible. And, tonight I did egg him on by headbutting him in the chest, but I was just playing around and I'm a good 8 inches shorter and at least 50 pounds lighter with hardly any upper body strength. It was uncalled for and I let him know. Tonight, he has been banished from my bed. I don't like it. I prefer the sober gentleman that runs my errands during the day and makes me dinner. The drunk who punches me is less than hot. It makes me think of the many guys I've dated in the past who as much as I could have and did provoke them would never raise a hand to me; Tall Hairy Boy, The Dirty Cajun, even The Ex and of course not my dear Bachelor #1. I doubt it's much to worry about or that it will happen again, but something to note and keep track of none the less.

Speaking of drunkedness. My roommate, The Banker, was being beligerent today as we are kinda used to. However, today he got violent and attacked The Clown. Words were exchanged and possible a few blows. My housemates acted quickly and broke it up. May I say for the record, that I love Nick. He's a decent guy, a wonderful housemate and great nonviolent bouncer!

May I also state for the record that I love Al Gore!!!! He who should have been our president winning an Oscar! Congratulations, Albert.

Out on the town

I got dressed today...and no, I mean I was dressed by another person. Forced off the couch and out of my t-shirt and jeans. In a half sleeping state I was put into a silly little short number, a wool bolero and red heels. We strolled along the french quarter i.e. Bourbon Street in search of unattended drinks. When the prospects proved unfruitful we headed home discussing our favorites along the way. Some commonalities:
unions
diy
concerts
puppies
among others i can't remember now.

Today, I took my practice LSAT, it went pretty putrid. Then I went shopping at the infamous Dented Can Store with Max and Nick then to a thrift store where I tried on the perfect Oscar Party glam dress, alas, I left my wallet at home and current borrow money for such silliness.

Clementine fell in a well last week...long story.

FIRE

Co-ops love fire. Yesterday my house almost burnt down. We smelt fire and saw nothing. We saw smoke but no flame. After very quick sleuthing Max and I discovered the culprit, IN the wall. The bargeboard was smoldering and burning slowly hidden between two layers of sheetrock. I had to tear open my bedroom wall (even more) to get access to the embers to put the fire out. Scary shit. I could have lost everything, although I do have insurance.

On another fiery note, I caught fire only a few days prior to the same event. This one much more humorous in the events proceeding the enlightened clothing than the blazen studs. So I was having dinner with my housemates slightly too close to the heater, a heater that would be illegal in Charleston. Suddenly I feel this flash of warm, mmmmmm. I casually glanze backward to see flame coming not from my heater but my skirt! In a panic, Nick starts slappin' my ass and general rear to put out the flame. I think that the best way to save myself is to take the skirt off and quickly as possible of course as I'm doing this my panties get mixed up in the confusion and end up below my buttocks exposing my posterior to poor Chandler who was just walking into the dining room. I somehow maneuvered my panites back up and my skirt fully off whence myself and Nick began stomping out the fire...then it hits me. I'm standing in my underwear in front of my entire house.... Sure, I used to run around my old co-op naked before the eyes of some 50 odd undergrads, but hell that was college! Adults, normal people don't go around exposing themselves in front of their housemates. And in those few minutes I had managed to do it in a blaze of flame.

On an earthier note, we got a puppy yester. We've named her Clementine and I getting her health insurance online as we speak, er, type.

More Coffee Please

Honestly how many coffee shops can you cram into a small post apocolyptic city. Whatever the number it is currently at and increasing to, I may have found my new favorite. Coffea on Dauphine in the Bywater has great ambiance and mismatched furniture and even an old school fridge for cold drinks. I went to the bank today, then strolled around the Habitat for Humanity ReStore and chatted it up with an adorable boy from Detroit then a quick ride down dauphine with Flo placed me here at what may very well be my only coffee shop.

I would ride 100 miles and yes I would ride 100 more

With Florence steadily between my legs and male companionship for protection we ride. I might up with a fellow USCA co-oper yesterday and I state on heavy intoxication by gin and grand marnier I agreed we should visit the parents' farm in MS only I convinced these two fools that we should ride our bikes there. Tomorrow I ride 40 miles around the perimeter of New Orleans to see if I'm up to it.

Here goes nothing...