Jan 05 2009
I Must Increase My Bust; Featured African American Blog
Since there are only seven blogs (including my own) in the African American subcategory of the Living category, and the other six don’t seem to post very often, it is no wonder that my blog, Black in College, should be the featured blog of that subcategory. I suppose I’m not surprised that there aren’t too many other black bloggers on Today.com. It takes a while to really start getting hits on one’s blog–not to mention that Today.com doesn’t pay out until the blogger reaches $50. I, for one, feel very encouraged to be blogging with Today.com. I can track my progress up to the minute with the VIP Statistics, to see how people are getting here. With the increased traffic, I haven’t felt as guilty for not posting everyday.
In housing news, the boyfriend and I have been having some problems trying to find apartments with our flaky friends. We can’t condense houses, because Rai doesn’t want to live with The Poet and The Poet doesn’t want to live with Rai, so attempting to force these people to live with each other would just create even more problems. I went on a housing tour with the boyfriend and The Poet yesterday and one of the houses seemed like a decent option. It’s strangely labyrinthine in structure, with narrow corridors and boarded up walls here and there. Some of the walls looked like they had been plastered haphazardly. I can’t understand why he would rent out such a shabby place without offering to fix it up before the new tenants move in. The nice thing about the place is that there’s a finished basement with an additional kitchen. So if the boyfriend and I wanted to cook, there wouldn’t be a conflict with other people in the house. There are two bedrooms in the basement, so there could potentially be a bedroom, an office, and a living room-type area down there all for the boyfriend. He would have to pay a little more than the others, but it would be about what he’s paying now to share a disgusting bathroom and a disgusting kitchen with self-loathing loners. The major downside of the house is its location. It’s about a twenty minute walk from the College Avenue campus, and it’s nowhere near the Douglass campus. If the boyfriend gets a car from his parents then he could potentially drive to class, but I hate kids who do that.
In terms of housemates, my situation is less confusing. I already know who I’m going to be living with. The problem is where. Besides the bar, I haven’t been able to find a place that includes utilities and is a fair price. I just don’t see the point in moving into a three bedroom apartment, paying $550 a month, and then having to pay utilities for a room that won’t be able to hold any of my stuff. If the guys in the upstairs apartment decide they want to move out for the 2009-2010 academic year, then Rai and I will move up there. It’s only $25 more a month, and if M decides to stay at the bar, then we could all share the internet bill as long as we find a couple more people to take the remaining rooms. If the housing for the boyfriend falls through, then we’ve considered moving up there ourselves, although that may cause additional strain on our relationship. It’s close to College Avenue, but it’s not very close to where my classes are actually going to be, so that means taking the bus to and from class. Meh. I should purchase a bike anyway…
To add insult to injury, the boyfriend’s parents have been giving him a hard time with the housing situation. They think that if he moves out of his current house, then they’re going to have to help him move all of his stuff to his new abode. I told him to reassure them that he could do it himself if necessary; they’re warming up to the idea of his moving bit by bit, but it’s taking some convincing. In fact, he’s on the phone with them right now trying to talk some sense to them.
Amidst all of this stress, the boyfriend and I have managed to enjoy some minor copulations. The excitement initiated, because we thought his landlord would be arriving within minutes to give a tour of the house. We engaged in a passionate quickie–and the landlord never showed up.
