Black in College

“No offense, but you are not my brother’s father–and you’re definitely not mine. At best, I’ll regard you as a friendly stranger.”

That’s what I felt like saying to Michael (my mother’s boyfriend) after my mother came home from work during her lunch break to call a house meeting. Then, I had to realize, it’s not him I’m annoyed with–it’s her. No matter what I try to talk to her about, it always goes back to Michael. She just can’t help herself. I’m glad she’s happy with him, and based on all of the things she says about him, it seems like he does indeed deserve a lot of praise. But when I want to talk with her–to bond with her by asking for advice about the boyfriend or something of the sort, she always manages to bring it back to Michael. I find myself angry and annoyed with/by him, but he hasn’t done anything wrong.

But the meeting: My mother wanted to call a meeting to make sure we all understood that their new place should be kept nice until they can afford to move into a nice, big, (no doubt) perfect house. She wanted to assure us that if Michael says something, it might as well be coming from her mouth, because they feel the same way about maintaining the new apartment, etc. After she finished her tirade, Michael went on an even bigger one. In a nutshell, he said he can never seem to catch a break. Any time he thinks he’s getting enough money to get his life back together, his ex-wife, his trifling sister, or some other idiot decide they want to take it away from him. Otherwise, he would be much more successful man, I’m sure.

In an attempt to set up good habits, they want to make sure all of us kids understand the rules of the new apartment. This is understandable–they want to keep their place clean so they can feel like they’re progressing to something better. But when you’re threatening my younger brother for accidentally dropping a pillow on the floor, then perhaps you’re being a bit of a stickler. And I don’t care how much my mother loves this man, he’s not putting his damn hands on my brother–he can get that idea right out of his head. (This depends, of course, on what the threat actually is. If it’s just threatening to take his toys away for a day, then fine.)

So, later today, after my mother gets out of work and possibly takes me to Kohl’s to buy some bras and panties, we’re all going to go to church for New Years’. I agreed just for the sake of making her feel good about the holidays. For whatever reason, she feels good after getting out of church, and she’d like us all to go. She thinks that will solidify out bond somehow–or create a bond in the first place. I’m not going to enjoy it. I’m going to hate being there, I’ll be bored, I’m not going to know anyone, and I’m going to feel somehow saturated by the incident. I hate being in church and having to deal with religious people. But I’ll go, because it will make her feel better about… whatever. It will make her feel content for at least a couple hours.

I’ll endure church in the same way that I’ve endured her boyfriends and their annoying families, like, I’ve endured her needy girlfriends, like I’ve endured cleaning up after her after she gives me a speech about self-sufficiency, like I’ve endured adapting through all the changes. But if things don’t work out with Michael, then I’m not meeting any more of her boyfriends/girlfriends, should she have any. I’m tired of being adaptable and understanding.

A couple days ago, my sister, brother, cousin, and I went to the movies to see The Day the Earth Stood Still. I thought Keanu Reeves was decent as Klaatu, and the 21st century version of the landing of the space craft was more in depth than the original. However, the special effects were unnecessary and overdone, which kind of ruined the experience. As with most things, the original was better.

After the movie, my cousin told me she was looking to turn over a new leaf. She wants to get a makeover and start anew. We went to a couple youth clothing stores, but she didn’t see anything she liked–and I definitely didn’t see anything I liked, although I’m only vaguely aware of what my style is. Usually, I try to dress for comfort, and ease, but I think I should try to be a little more stylish. I’m sure the boyfriend would appreciate it. When we were first together, I was looking pretty snazzy, but as the work piled up and the stress piled on, I just couldn’t keep it up. When I get my refund check, I’ll try to shop for style…

Anyway, we ate some pizza (the only thing I could afford) and I went to Victoria’s Secret to get my bra size checked out. It’s changed over the years, and this time it seems I am somewhere between a 38B and 38C–although the C cup felt a little more comfortable. My mother says she’ll take me to Kohl’s after she gets out of work to buy some bras and panties. I think it’s about time I tried to be sexy.

Throughout the whole thing, my little brother and my soon-to-be 21 year old cousin Rayna couldn’t seem to get along. She simply hasn’t changed since we were kids. She’s always been heavy-handed, and she doesn’t know when to stop. She seemed to think that my brother just didn’t like her, and she didn’t realize he was taking her jokes/pranks as antagonism. I was trying to get my brother to understand, but he’s too stubborn and wouldn’t listen–he was just too upset. I definitely sympathized with him, but if I met Rayna for the first time today I would think she was mentally retarded. It’s that serious.

So yesterday, my brother has enough and he tries to tell my mother that he’s having problems with Rayna. Instead of trying to talk to Rayna or my brother calmly, she yells at him, saying he’s whining. I tried to reassure him that I’m on my side, but at the same time I know it’s an impossibility to get through to Rayna. Pissed off, my brother calls my step-father back in Jersey and tells him what’s going on. Now, my step-father wants to speak with me, trying to figure out why this 21 year old is having a hard time understanding people’s limits. And even though he tells me he understands, he repeats the same questions over and over again, and I am forced to be silent or to repeat the same answers.

Now my mother is pissed off and she tells my brother, “If you have something to say to me, just say it!” Yeah, right. I thought he already tried that…? Eventually, it was settled, but it took a lot outta me–taking attitude from both sides. I told my brother, if we see Rayna again before we leave, and she’s getting out of control, then she’s going to have to deal with me. Psh. Who knows. Maybe her need for approval from me will make her calm down if I get annoyed enough with her.

For the past year, the only thing/person my mother can seem to think about is Michael (her new boyfriend). They’re getting pretty serious and they want to get married, but the business with the divorce with Gus is getting in the way of that… If they get divorced than I’m going to have to use my mother’s financial information, and that means dealing with her flakiness. If I were graduating this year, then it wouldn’t matter, but the next three years may be hectic if I have to use her finances. Let’s hope I can count as an independent.

Well, now that my sister is enrolled in school, I may be able to get more financial aid. (Yay!)

Of the kids, I was the first one to wake up on Christmas morning and see the tree with presents sitting under the tree, but I didn’t care, because my mother had already told me what I was getting. She got me a gift card for Target.com of $25 and $30 or so in cash. It seems she went through a lot of trouble getting my brother and sister’s presents. She bought him the usual array of Star Wars toys, and she bought my sister a tablet for drawing pictures on a computer. By themselves, those things are more expensive than my dinky gift card. She could have given me more than that. Although I didn’t have any money, I spent hours looking for decent presents for everyone in my family on Amazon–all a lot more expensive than what anyone gets me. The older I get, the less people seem to care about trying to surprise me. Once I get a decent paying job, I’m going to show up all of their presents and make them feel guilty for not even trying.

After waking up, Michael immediately started washing dishes, and then ran up stairs. I found out later that he was throwing a tantrum because he was the only one cleaning up. Hello? It’s Christmas morning, let people rub the eye boogers out before complaining about people being lazy. My mother asked me to help dry dishes, and I was annoyed, because I had nothing to do with how those dishes got there. Surprise surprise, she didn’t help clean at all. If I only saw someone a couple times a year, I wouldn’t be expecting them to clean my dirty dishes…

So, Michael spent the entire day upstairs watching football. Psh. Are you kidding me? I really wish someone had asked me when I wanted to leave. I don’t want to be here for another week. Doing what? Watching my sister play the video games she knows like the back of her hand? Listening to my brother talk about what he wants for next Christmas? As much as I love my family, I can’t hang around them any more than I can hang around anyone else. I just don’t have the patience.

One of the good things I learned is that my sister is finally going to be attending school. She starts in the Spring, and her major is Interactive Media. I hope it goes well. I just wish she had some common sense.

Later on, we went to my Aunt Shelly’s house and ate dinner with them. I got to see how the baby had grown since I last saw him. He is so cute, and thank the heavens, looks just like my cousin and not that fool she’s apparently still having sex with. Yup–she’s pregnant again with a girl, trying to get on welfare, and still with the man who got her and another woman pregnant twice–simultaneously. As far as I can tell, there’s nothing special about him.

The kicker of the night came when I got to talk with my cousin Rayna–she ran away from home some two or three years ago and up until recently, I hadn’t heard from her. We went for a couple walks, smoked a couple cigarettes, and she told me all of the terrible things that have happened in her life since i lost contact with her. Her boyfriend came along for the holiday, and at first I was a little wary of him. Then she told me all of the things they’ve been going through together and I felt a little better about him. He’s tall, very dark-skinned, very serious look on his face. I can’t really tell how old he is, but I’m assuming he’s my age.

My cousin ran away in the first place because she was tired of being abused by her father. I always knew he was hardest on her , since she’s the oldest, but I never knew he was doing crazy things like choking her just for walking around with some boy she wasn’t even dating. She would run to someone she thought loved her and would give her shelter. As you can imagine, she ran into an abusive one who beat the crap out of her for not making his eggs the right way.

She ran away from that guy and was selling drugs, etc. She was arrested a couple times before she decided she wanted to get her GED and go to school. Now she’s trying to complete a major as a veterinary technician–or something like that. She confessed she wants to have a baby, but I told her she should at least get some credentials under her belt.

She wanted me to spend the night at her place, but the idea of it made me uncomfortable. I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but I wish I could be a little less angry/sad. I haven’t been through a fraction of what she’s been through, and yet she seems more at peace. Maybe it’s an illusion–in which case, I congratulate her even still.

In the fog and rain, my step-father and little brother left Jersey City by car and drove to Pennsylvania to meet up with my mother to be taken the rest of the way to Ohio. The fog and rain followed us the entire way. During the long, sprawling hours, I read, “Invisible Man” by Ralph Ellison (which I’m pretty sure is going to be my favorite book of all time) and thought of the boyfriend. He called me last night (a little later than he said he would), but I didn’t pick up the phone. I didn’t pick up because I didn’t want to. I just wanted to be left to my movies. I wanted to put my emotions on hold. I thought about this during the ride to Pennsylvania–the ride that took about two hours longer than it should have due to inclement weather. There were numerous accidents and “they” shut down traffic to re-salt the roads. My step-father (at the wheel) and I (on the passenger’s side) passed out a number of times during this interval.

Mostly, it was quiet. My brother was roused from sleep every now and then, said something about… something and went back to sleep. For most of the ride I was stricken by thirst and hunger–having not eaten breakfast. That was an intelligent decision on my part.

Upon reaching Pennsylvania, we stopped at a Starbucks to meet my mother and sister. As you might imagine, we were greeted warmly and they both mentioned how much they love the dreads. My step-father was agitated and annoyed. My mother pulled him aside, they spoke heatedly, and he left. Us kids all hugged him good-bye, and I told him I would miss him and was sad to see him go. As he climbed into the car, very obviously exhausted and sad, I began to cry.

In my mother’s car, my step-father called my brother’s phone and asked to speak with her. With a loud, sharp noise she hung up the phone, only to be summoned again. This time, the conversation lasted much longer–and much louder. They yelled about the restraining order in the divorce papers. Trying to avoid hurting his feelings, my mother tried to warn him that it is her lawyer’s procedure to place a restraining order on the spouse in order to protect her client’s assets–not necessarily to protect the client from physical harm or harassment. My step-father wouldn’t hear any of this, though. He insisted my mother was doing it intentionally to hurt him or make him look bad. This is the reason why I can’t move back to Jersey City with him upon graduation–his temper is too bad and at times just refuses to listen to reason. Granted, I would be a little offended if I were in his position, but my mother was not the one who put that element in the divorce papers.

To make matters even more taxing on one’s nerves, my mother told the story consecutively to three different people. It was bad enough hearing them argue, but then she ranted out it aloud to herself and told it three times to three different people. I’m beginning to remember why I don’t like the holidays. And tomorrow isn’t going to be anything special.

The boyfriend called me a couple times earlier, while I was trying to construct a Christmas tree out of string lights. No one was really helping me and I was trying to make it something fun and funny. My mother was tired from driving a total of eight hours, so that’s understandable, but my sister just sat around looking annoyed and she hardly lifted a finger. I can’t believe she can be this selfish during the only time of year I’m going to get to see her. It’s bad enough I’m going to be here until the 3rd–I was hoping to be back in NJ sooner so the boyfriend and I could spend the New Year together. So much for that.

Back in Jersey City. I took the Northeast Corridor line, and got to the NJT Rail train station just about on time because I hardly had to wait for any of the trains. Due to my unfortunate lack of funds, I ended up getting one-way tickets for each train, finding an unused Light Rail ticket in my wallet, though. Maybe I’ll get some money for Christmas that will help mitigate the costs for the return home. I’d like to be back by the end of December, but my brother says he’s going to be in Ohio for 11 days–I don’t know about that. I have to get back in time to look for apartments, clean up, write articles, etc.

At five o’clock tomorrow morning we’ll be leaving for Pennsylvania. At Pennsylvania, we’ll meet up with my mother (and probably sister) who will then take us to Ohio for the holidays. I’m not sure if I’m going to get anything, but if I do, I hope it’s panties and socks–I could use some more of that stuff.

After our stint at the pet store looking at the guinea pigs (two of which were sleeping and the other sitting and staring back at us suspiciously) that the boyfriend’s parents are at least considering getting me a guinea pig. If they do, I hope they get it from a shelter. Pet shops are very treacherous places. Apparently they either lie, or are horribly misinformed when it comes to the less common animals. I wish I had some money so I could buy some guinea pig books off of Amazon. I’ve already put a good number of them on my wishlist.

Now, my younger brother has me watching this ridiculous cartoon called “6teen” or some nonsense, about teenagers who spend all of their time at the mall talking of practical matters of love and money–growing up, basically. It’s not the worse show, but it definitely tends to focus on the man-side of growing up, which is a little strange.

Upon my first exposure to television in a long time (I don’t like making a habit of watching television) I came upon the trailer for the newest Terminator movie–one of my favorite movie franchises of all time:

After the boyfriend left to take care of his last exam for the Fall semester, I spent the majority of the day working on blog and article promotion. I signed up for some writing sites that I’ll probably never submit anything to, although I wish I would. I’m just worried that I’m going to spend all my time writing articles and no one’s going to pay for them. Not to mention all the brainpower (that I don’t have) that’s going to have to be spent writing articles of exceedingly high quality. Perhaps my best bet is to just keep writing for Triond and perhaps work my way through Hubpages and Bukisa. I’m not sure how how much I like the other sites, since I’m pretty established at Triond and after a great deal of effort I’ve managed to insert myself in the community. With these other sites I’d basically be starting from scratch. I was thinking I may write for all three and just divide the content between the sites depending on how popular they happen to be on that particular site. For instance, Bukisa focuses on How-to articles, Triond doesn’t have a particular focus, but people usually like articles written about strange things. As of right now, it seems Hubpages is similar to Bukisa in that it doesn’t want poetry or fiction, but I’m not sure what sets that site apart. If I do intend to make some kind of part-time living off of these sites I should just shut the heck up and start writing. But with all of these sites I’ve been joining lately, it takes a long time to get the codes, link up other services (such as Amazon or Google Adsense) and then to post articles I’ve already written. Xomba, Reddit, Technorati, and Twitter are my newest social bookmarking experiments. Perhaps they’ll work well for me. They seem to be doing decently, but it’s hard to tell if that will translate into cashmoney.

I was intending to finish the remainder of my Sanskrit take-home exam today (and I did finish most of it), but I didn’t finish as much as I would have liked to. This means that once the boyfriend heads off to Matawan for the vacation, I’m going to have to head back to my place to finish this thing and send it off to my professor before he loses his patience and decides to fail me and get it over with. Not to say that I wouldn’t deserve it. I didn’t do two quizzes and I have no idea what grade I received for the midterm. I have a feeling he’s not going to fail me (he’s too nice for that), but my grade will be either a C or B. Obviously, I’m hoping for the B, because as a four credit class, that C may bring my GPA for this semester below 3.0–which is all I want out of life these days.

My short vacation in Matawan was pleasant, because the boyfriend’s family is generous and caring. They tend to be a bit high strung, and their attempts to dissipate tension is usually through laughter–this is where the boyfriend gets it. They have no qualms with inviting me over for holidays, but I know if I were to invite the boyfriend to stay with my family for the holidays they’d give him a lot of lip for it, and then call his phone a million times just to make sure he wasn’t shot. The only thing they know about black and Hispanic communities is what they see on television and they seem to think that spending a few days in what can be called my “hometown” will only lead in death or destruction. I try not to get visibly offended when they make comments about the boyfriend’s hair being too curly or “wild” when they really mean it’s not white enough for them. This perplexes me, because there are plenty of white people with curly hair–people just seem to think that straightening their hair is the way to go. I love curly hair and I tell the boyfriend so when in front of his parents. Their liberalism is reassuring, otherwise they’d probably say way more offensive things without realizing it.

However, they did me a big favor and took me to PetSmart to take a look at the guinea pigs. The boyfriend’s father was the most adamant about doing it. He seemed to want to keep a promise to me, even though they hadn’t promised anything of the sort. There aren’t many (if any?) pet shops in New Brunswick, so I don’t get a chance to enjoy the company of animals. The boyfriend’s parents’ cats have warmed up to me these days, though.

[WARNING: THE FOLLOWING IS A RANT]

The two bedroom apartment above mine at the bar might be up for rent, and because the boyfriend’s housemates don’t seem to know what they’re doing for the upcoming school year, they aren’t giving him any information about their housing plans. Once the first week of the holidays is over, many of the apartments now available are going to be gone because Rutgers is so crowded. I told him he may want to move into the upstairs apartment with my friend M’s boyfriend (who also lives in his house). When he mentioned the idea to his parents he laughed as if it was a joke and his parents (annoyed at the mere suggestion) pretended to find it funny. There’s nothing sketchy about the bar, I keep trying to tell him and them. It’s just above a bar. I don’t feel unsafe, I just don’t like the noise. In any case, I was quite annoyed by this scene, but I didn’t mention it to the boyfriend. He seems to think they all I do is try to stress him out by complaining about things. Yes. I do complain a lot, but that’s because there’s a lot to complain about. For starters, the boyfriend has a tonsil problem that makes his breath smell bad. He can take preventative measures by gargling with special mouthwash twice a day. But he doesn’t do it. So when I tell him to use the mouthwash, he gets a sad look in his eyes and (AGAIN) begins to pity himself and his plight. I’ve told him a million times that if he gargles with the mouthwash twice a day there wouldn’t be a problem, but the only things he can seem to think about are philosophy of science or religion. He really should be using that stuff every time he eats, but he probably couldn’t manage to do that either. If he’s not using the mouthwash and he can’t be trying to kiss up on me either.

[END OF RANT]

Anyway, the night after returning to this godforsakened city, the boyfriend and I went to take a look at some apartments. The first apartment was the studio I believe I mentioned in an earlier post. It’s a decently sized place, about the size of my place above the bar. There’s a little kitchen area, a pretty big refrigerator, a tiny private bathroom, and a lot of storage place. There are a couple drawbacks. For instance, the landlord wants to rent the place out in January (and my lease doesn’t end until June), even if I found a subletter, I wouldn’t have the security deposit and first month’s rent until the 20th of January, and the tenant painted the place this horrible light purple color. On the other hand, the landlord said he’s willing to buy the paint if the tenant is willing to put in the labor. So if I want to paint the place anew, I can jazz it up the way I like. All of the storage space (tiny, flat drawers and awkward cabinets) take up a lot of the wall space, so I’m not sure what I would do with all of my posters and tapestries. But I’ve done a pretty good job with my space above the bar, so I’ll figure something out. Another bonus of the place is that it’s a couple blocks from Douglass campus, where a good deal of my classes are going to be. I’ve e-mailed the landlord, asking him if he can work with me on paying for the security. If he’s willing, I’m going to use that as a bargaining chip for the other girls I’m supposed to be living with to start stepping up their game. Last year apartment-hunting was a one woman operation and it was stressing me out. I’d love to be able to stay somewhere and be alone for the weekend if I wanted to. Staying at the boyfriend’s house is really wearing on my nerves.

After eating at my favorite Mexican restaurant on George Street, we bought some salt to melt the ice sitting casually on the boyfriend’s front steps. Upon completing that mission, we headed to another apartment all the way down Hamilton Street. There, we were greeted by a cute little brick house and a bunch of people moving about, packing. I assumed one of them was the landlord, but apparently not–he was on his way. The tenants spoke of him kindly and offered to sell us some of their things, otherwise it would be gotten rid of. Again, this pain job was ghastly, but there were a lot of good things about the place. First of all, it was in a decent, quiet area of New Brunswick near trees. There’s another apartment on the second floor inhabited by graduate students, and heat, water, and sewage were included. There was a small patio-like enclosure in the back of the house and a large yard. It’s a nice place, but they’re looking to rent it out for January, and it’ll be difficult to find three subletters for the bar. Not to mention the hassle of moving during the winter time. If I do move into a one bedroom or a studio, I may ask my step-father or the boyfriend’s parents to help me move. I wonder how either will feel about the idea.

The landlord for the studio says he’s “been on the road” and hasn’t been able to show too many people the place. He claims I’m only the second person he’s shown it to. In that case, he may find it a relief for someone to express a very strong interest in the place. The problem is the money. I wish I could give him something to hold on to until the current tenant moves out.

Here I am–at the boyfriend’s parents’ house. I’m sitting upstairs in his room while they listen to William Shatner and chuckle to themselves. Another thing about white people: They sure do love their irony. The boyfriend didn’t wake up until some time after noon, after I had already engaged in some kind of heart-to-heart with his mother. She told me she feels stressed during the holidays because she usually spends the entire day cooking and putting out food on Christmas while her husband’s family gobbles it up. She added, however, that she finds it fun despite all of this. I told her I wish I could think of the holidays in such a way, but I already know exactly what it’s going to be like: I’m the oldest on my mother’s side, so all of the adults are going to ask me what I’m doing in college and what I want to do with my life. They’re going to notice that I don’t have a kid and am not expecting a kid, and they’re going to be happy about this. They’re going to tell me I’m pretty and make me uncomfortable–they’re going to stare at me expectantly and I’m going to look at my hands or a glass of booze I happen to be drinking and not know what to say. I will be dodging children I don’t know and wanting to get away.

Now, I didn’t tell her all of that, but I told her some of it. She then went into this long story of how fragmented her own family is, and how they became even more so after her mother died. It seems that getting older doesn’t do anything for easing sibling rivalry. As the youngest (20 years younger than the middle child, her older brother), she was the most responsible. When her mother passed, she left more money and responsibility to her and not very much to him. Not to mention, that her mother’s will dictate she sell the house he was living in after gambling all of his money away. She had to evict her brother from her dead mother’s house. Awkwaaaaard.

This made me think about what’s going to happen in the future of my family. My grandmother is shrinking (literally and figuratively) and I know death isn’t that far away for her. Who knows how many medications she’s on. I try to call her and e-mail her, but she (like everyone else in my family) doesn’t seem to be much for returning messages. I have no idea why. You’d think she’d get tired working her crappy, anonymous part-time job and watching Law & Order with the remainder of her time. I want her to move to Ohio with the rest of the family, but she says she’s “comfortable” in Queens. Old ladies shouldn’t be spending the end of their days in Queens, for God’s sake! It’d be really great if she moved to the Virgin Islands with her long distance boyfriend. It may just be that these proposals are more satisfying for me than for her. Maybe she’d just be lonely without all of the hustle and bustle of the city.

Looks like the boyfriend’s mother isn’t going to let him take a shower before we leave to get a tree.

Last night I dreamt of either a family reunion, a wedding, or some mixture of the two. Both of my parents’ new lovers were present, and the boyfriend was present as well. I can’t remember whose wedding it was supposed to be, but the “wedding” part never actually happened in the dream. There were a ton of people sitting in one big hall or reception eating dinner. There a lot of tension which resulted in awkward silences here and there–then my brother started acting up. For whatever reason, he didn’t want the food on his plate and he said he would rather eat something else (I can’t remember what, though). My step-father got in his face and yelled at him (as he would years ago before he began to calm down), but it didn’t last very long because my brother was adamant, and (unlike in real life) didn’t cry. Defeated, my step-father sat back down.

In the dream, the boyfriend and I were separated because I wanted to sit near my family for a little bit. At some point, I remember pointing him out to my mother after nearly abandoning him at another table by himself. I can only vaguely remember another part of the dream, which involved walking around in what had to be the peak of a spring or summer day, it was so bright.

I had another dream about my ex, The Buddhist, but it’s too fragmentary to remember completely. I remember trying to confront him about something, hoping he would dignify my accusation with an answer, and he said something like, “I can’t deal with this,” and leaving. I remember hiding in a big room that looked like some kiind of mega-antique furniture store. I can’t remember who I was hiding from, or why, but they were older white people in their mid-forties and early fifties. Perhaps they owned the store or worked there? I don’t know.

Anyway, right now I’m waiting for word on my Sanskrit final exam. As you may have noticed by the red color of my Weather Underground widget, it is currently snowing in New Brunswick, and my professor said he would e-mail us the final and make it a take-home exam if the weather was too bad. Well, it’s supposed to be snowing until Monday, so maybe that’ll be bad enough for him. He had to drive all the way from Philadelphia (where he’s also a part-time lecturer at Penn State) just to get to New Brunswick for a two or three hours. But… if he makes this exam a take-home that means I’ll actually have a chance of passing it. I’m so absolutely fed up with this semester, all I want to do is work on promoting and writing articles! Then hopefully I’ll be well-rested for the remainder of this year. I feel sorry for the boyfriend, he’s had two exams today and has yet another one on Monday before he’s done.

The apartment search is still underway. I’ve made three appointments thus far, one of which is supposed to be tonight at 8 o’clock. Rai is supposed to be coming with me, but if I end up going to Matawan with the boyfriend (which seems quite likely), then that means I’m going to have to reschedule. Although I like the snow (covering up all the red Solo cups and greasy paper plates), I definitely need to get myself out of this city even if only for one night.

For some reason, this video (amongst others) kept me up last night. It could be because I had a nap yesterday that lasted about three or more hours, but it doesn’t seem reasonable to stay up until after six o’clock in the morning just watching YouTube videos. I’ve seen this one more than any of the others.

This morning, the boyfriend truly surprised me by waking up before I did. His exam is today at noon, so I guess that lit enough of a fire under his ass to get him to wake up at a decent hour. These days, his laziness is getting to me more and more. I wish he would just wake up and get himself together without pitying himself for being lazy in the first place. I’ve yelled at him a million times about pulling that pity party crap when he hasn’t done anything to try to rectify the situation, and yet nothing changes. He claims he simply “can’t” wake up on time, which in nonsense, because last summer when he was doing yard work for $10 an hour he got himself up at the crack of dawn. I’ve mentioned this to him as well, but still–nothing helps. I think it’s good that winter break is coming up, so we can get a little break from one another. Maybe we see each other too much to begin with. I try to encourage to take his time when he goes back to his place to study or get some things, etc. His mother’s birthday is this Friday, so after his evening exam he’s going to spend the night in Matawan, and he’ll be back on Saturday.

I hate being left above the bar on weekends, because that means I’m going to have to deal with the knuck-draggers outside. However, this Friday there is a surprise party being thrown for a friend of mine, so I might go to that with a friend to pass the time. I guess I’ll ask Rai if she’s going to the party. The boyfriend invited me to go with him to Matawan, but I think he did it to be polite. It’s possible his parents would like me to attend. I think I was there for his father’s birthday, or for Fathers’ Day, I can’t remember which. I’ll ask him when I see him later this afternoon/evening. If it turns out I did attend his father’s birthday, then it would seem rude not to attend his mother’s. And, it would be nice to get out of New Brunswick for at least a night.

Given the seemingly dismal prospects of the job world in New Brunswick and its neighboring cities, I’m thinking of shifting my attentions to other methods of making money. I’m just going to have to make article writing, blogging, and SEO my new part-time job. It’s difficult coming out of nowhere to try to promote one’s blog and get traffic and clicks, etc–but it looks like I’m going to have to do it if I’d like to make some decent money off of this thing. Referrals are going to have to be my best friend.

As you can imagine, I should be studying for my Sanskrit exam–the one I have a very likely chance of failing.