In 2002, again finding myself with a worthless degree and fuck-all to do with myself, I flirted with the idea of moving to a somewhat famous "intentional community" (read: hippie commune) in rural Virginia. Via the Dirt St. Co-op, I had found emotional prosperity in communal living. I liked the energy, even if the community was full of Texas-flavored fratboy douchenozzles and bikini-clad British chicks with average tits. I liked the community, even if it meant making out with guys who were more like brothers to you than lovers, eating uncooked rice, enjoying beverages with mildew-enhanced ice cubes, and sharing space with a convicted rapist and a 40-year-old drug casualty who may or may not have been dangerous, depending on what he had had that day. The big group-house mentality really worked for me, and as long as I had the daily diversion of a hundred really nice people who could teach me how to make tofu and fix cars, then my life would be grand.
I made the mistake of sharing my plan to spend a few months with these people with my mother, who immediately kiboshed it. I had filled out the application, checking the box next to "tofu intern" (you can go to this place and be an intern in their tofu factory--no shit). She had an absolute shit fit. The fact that I was turning my back on "normality"--holing myself up in some apartment, working 9-5 at some boring, musty job I knew I'd be going in hating, going on bad dates with fuckwits who can't appreciate a 5'11" woman with a 180 IQ and a low tolerance for bullshit--mortally offended her and her sensibilities. I would be "throwing away my potential" by learning the craft of coagulating soymilk and forming it into neat little cubes. My living in a wooded area, having dinner communally with other potential-throwers, and contributing to a non-monetary economy drove her absolutely bugshit. So I instead returned to Austin to live with my gay boys, which turned into living with Lyd, which turned into living with Bob, and here I am today. Normal as ever.
Part of me will never be okay with this, this normal thing. Living in a house, working the same job, why do it when there is skydiving and Paris, and yes, a commune in Virginia with an on-site tofu factory? Why live a fraction of life when you can have several helpings?
OMG, I could know how to make tofu and I don't.
Sad.
Posted by Zerd at June 19, 2008 12:34 AMSeveral people from my college ended up at this somewhat famous intentional community in my home state--and they were all asshats. So there's that, anyway.
Posted by: c.m. at June 25, 2008 05:27 AM