Black in College

I watched the first couple episodes of “Black. White.” with the boyfriend earlier this week, and he was extremely aggravated by the attitudes of the white family. I felt bad for subjecting him to that, because he and I are very open when it comes to discussions/jokes about race. The only time a discussion got a little heated was before Barack Obama became the President-elect. He said Obama is articulate, and I had to explain why that was an inappropriate comment. He was not surprised–I think he just didn’t realize what he was saying. After dating a psychotic African girl and then an eccentric black girl right afterward, he’s most certainly aware of our cultural differences.

After one episode of “Black. White.” he was done for the day, promising that we would watch another episode later (which we never did). He was pissed at the “surprisingly” ignorant white family for expecting a bigger reaction to their newfound black existence than they got, and I was pissed at the black family for not being able to concentrate more on their own experiences, rather than spending each episode schooling the white folks. Then again, I’ve only seen two episodes thus far.

The most annoying character for me was Bruno Wurgel, who spends every minute of every episode preaching positivism. He’s convinced that the only racism black people experience nowadays is all their own creation. He thinks if you have a positive outlook, no one can get to you–not even a vehement racist who shouts “Hey, nigger!” for no particular reason. My hope is that Big Man Wurgel will soon realize that he’s not going to get the type of racism he seeks; because interestingly enough, he criticizes black people for seeing racism when there is none, and yet even in black-face, he can’t see the fear or apprehension in the eyes of the white people he encounters. I guess white people do a good job of “just being polite.”

Really, I’m not sure what the black people are supposed to get out of the show. Perhaps they’ll realize that white people have more to do with themselves than sit around hating black people? I don’t know. I think Renee Sparks was right when she said that most black people don’t need training when it comes to “acting white” because they have to do so each and every day they go to a job interview, or attend a professor’s office hours… My mother trained me to impress many white person while I was growing up–and everything she’s taught me has been extremely useful. I make sure to keep my posture straight, shake hands firmly, and enunciate each of my words, occasionally even inserting an SAT word for good measure. These tactics will ensure that I am one of very few black woman soil scientists.

I woke up at one o’clock this afternoon with a dry throat, no doubt due to the space heater that’s been blasting for days on end. The boyfriend’s radiator hasn’t worked since the winter started, so every weekend I lug my space heater from above the bar to his place and back once the weekend is over. Eagerly pouring water down my throat, I attempted to log in to my new anime blog. Rejected. For whatever reason, the boyfriend’s internet connection is down.

Pissed off, I washed up and headed to the computer lab, thinking I would enjoy some quiet time with my anime blog, contemplating all of the wonderful ways I’ll be earning passive income by the time Winter Break is over with. Unfortunately, the computer lab is much more crowded than I was expecting–not too long into my stint at the lab I was confronted by lab assistants poking over my shoulder at my terminal and loud conversations from lab patrons. That’s right, now I remember why I’m going to be spending a huge chunk of my refund check on purchasing my own computer. I don’t care how much it’s going to cost me. When I’m trying to do my work, I should at least expect some semblance of peace and quiet. My freshman year, I was always relieved when loud patrons were shushed by the lab assistants. Now the lab assistants themselves are the problem–and I don’t understand why. Perhaps they’re simply not doing their jobs? One of these days I should try to send out an e-mail to their supervisor.

Anyway, on the walk over to the computer lab I was thinking of this website I came across a little over a year ago. It’s called Nigga Know. You may very well have heard of it. It’s this technology/pop culture/news commentary site mocking white people supposedly from the perspective of a black male. I think it’s pretty obvious that this site is not, in fact, run by a black man, but a bunch of white kids pretending to be a black guy making fun of white people. Don’t get my wrong–it’s an ingenious idea and I’m sure they get a lot of hits and make a decent amount of advertising money. But this reverse/hipster/postmodern racism is really beginning to annoy me…

NiggaKnow.com is just one of many sites run by white people, mocking white people. A lot of the other sites are written from a white perspective, but NiggaKnow takes it a little too far when claiming to be written by an angry black man who also occasionally mocks Asians and poor black people. When feeling uncomfortably racist reading “edgy” blogs like NiggaKnow.com, one must take into consideration their target audience: young, college-ages white men.

Now that I’m done complaining about that, my GPA for this past fall has been calculated, despite the fact that I still haven’t received my grade for Sanskrit–it’s higher than it’s been in a long time. I can’t help but feel a little disappointed that I didn’t get that 4.0 I was so desperately dreaming about, but 3.62 isn’t bad either. I’m a little apprehensive about precalculus, but if I manage to get a decent professor, I can attend as many office hours as possible to at least let the professor know how hard I’m trying.

The Spring is when I’ll really be getting into my soil curriculum. The books are going to be quite expensive, but the refund check will help that out.

The boyfriend didn’t get to sleep until about six o’clock this morning, so he didn’t officially wake up until about five o’clock this evening. I woke up this morning a little after nine o’clock–and this has been going on since I returned from Ohio. Our schedules are completely out of whack with each other, but it actually works out pretty well. For instance, I got an entire day to work on another blog I call, “The Anime Connoisseur.” The first blog post is a review of the first three episodes of Speed Grapher, and the opening credits of this anime features the song, “Girls on Film” by Duran Duran. You can check out the link to the right of this page under The Soapbox. Anyway, I wish my new blog was a Today.com blog, but I added it to the directory, so that may help it get some exposure. I’m thinking that the use of Project Wonderful ads will help a lot. Apparently, some people make a decent amount of money running ads on their blogs from Project Wonderful–perhaps I can get in on the fun. In addition, Today.com seems to have gained enough faith in Black in College to allow me to apply for a second blog with them. Black in College was approved rather swiftly, so I’m hoping my new idea goes well. Thus far, I’ve managed to make a little over $35 with this blog since its inception in October. Not bad. I just wish the payout was $25, rather than $50.

In other news, the boyfriend’s housing dilemma may be just about solved now. He’s managed to get five people to agree to sign the lease for the labyrinthine house that lies about about a mile away from College Avenue. I guess the boys can rest assured that they won’t be forced to live with icky, sticky girls like me, M, and Rai… Now all I have to do is make sure I have my own apartment situation figured out. If it boils down to living above the bar for another year, I don’t have a problem with that, but I would like the landlord to get back to me some time this century. If I did get to move to the upstairs apartment–even if I had to live with Rai–then I wouldn’t have to go to the boyfriend’s house all the time to get away from all of the hubbub.

Despite all of those stressful elements, what I’m most worried about right now is getting my thesis proposal over with so I can get an A in the first half of Comparative Literature Honors and then just get started writing the thesis itself. This week, the boyfriend and I planned to do nothing but relax, but I might at least get some reading in tomorrow while he’s hanging out with a mutual friend of ours. Due to a variety of planned illegal activities for tonight, I don’t think I’m going to be able to get up early enough to meet with one of my advisers for my prospective individualized major is Soil Science. Thus, after this weekend’s visit with the boyfriend’s parents, I’m going to spend the rest of the remaining week of Winter Recess trying to write at least the first 20 pages of my thesis. That would leave only 25 or so more pages for the remaining semester–difficult, but doable. This past Fall, I watched the boyfriend hammer out a 15 page paper in a night, so with enough fire under my ass, I can write at least 20 pages in a week. I’ll work on getting my library privileges returned, getting my bibliography completed, and then all I’ll have to do is read and write. I may try to dedicate at least 10 hours a day working on it. Not to mention all of the precalculus I have to brush up on before the semester starts. It seems the break may be more stressful than the actual semester… Nah.

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.

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 hung out with Rai, a friend from my old dorm and a prospective apartment-mate for the 2009-2010 school year. I showed her the list of available (although not affordable) apartments in the area. So far, not so good. She seems to think that one way or another we’ll find an apartment. What she doesn’t know is that I’m just about ready to start looking for a place on my own - for the right price, of course.

The rent around here is getting more expensive for the same crappy houses and apartments and everyone I know is looking to graduate soon. Even a couple of the girls I’m supposed to be living with haven’t given me concrete answers as to were they’re going to be at any given point. It depends on their job prospects, of course. The only thing I can do is look for something cheap and small. The boyfriend and I have considered moving in together, but we’re still a new couple and we’ve agreed it’s probably not the best idea. On the other hand, if the people we know disappear, we may not have a choice.

I found a listing for a studio recently and I sent the landlord an e-mail, but he didn’t respond. Then I tried to call him earlier this morning and he didn’t pick up what I’m assuming is his cellphone. The listing says it’s available immediately, but because of my lease, I’m not going to be able to move in until June of ‘09. I figure I’ll try to set up an appointment to see the place and if it’s decent, and the landlord doesn’t seem shady then I’ll try to see if I can sign a lease for June. Then all he’ll have to do is find someone to live in it for six months (if he hasn’t already).

I have considered just losing my security deposit and moving out no matter what happens, but I really would like that security deposit back.

Also, with the addition of an individualized major and the prospect of spending three more years in school ahead of me, I’ve been trying to find a job. With no success, of course. I may be able to work with NJ Community Water Watch this summer if they’d allow it, and there are some internship opportunities I’m interested in, but nothing concrete. I’m going to have to make blogging and freelance writing my part-time jobs–and perhaps I’ll actually make some decent money selling out my life. The problem is finding the damn time.

Lastly, I have decided that every Wednesday is going to be “White Wednesday,” where I share something I’ve learned about white people (in particular white men) from the week.

Today, I realize that white people seem to think they have all the time in the world.

“Hello. The more I research your company over the internet, the more suspicious I become. It seems you have a horrible approach to shipping your items and your customer service is non-existent. I should have purchased my order from a reputable seller with which I am familiar, but I decided to give your company a chance–only to find out that there have been an incredible number of incidences that begin like mine (with a lack of contact) and then descend into red tape. I will be contacting Mercantila by phone on Monday (tomorrow). If I do not receive satisfactory information regarding the status of my order I will be contacting Google, Paypal, Bill Me Later, and all of these other services you use to seem legitimate. I will ask them why they are tarnishing their records by working with a fraudulent and misleading company. I will then send a complaint to the Better Business Bureau. I will then write yet another scathing review of your company on any site that will take it. Please, send me information regarding the status of my order.”

…And that is the threatening message I sent to Mercantila this morning. Contrary to any kind of logic whatsoever, I’ve been spending inordinate amounts of money on accessories for my apartment. This is not to say that these things are not needed, but I could very well have waited another month or so for the next semester to come around before spending money. I was just so desperate to improve my state of mind that I began buying posters, tapestries, a spaceheater, an exercise ab wheel, a toaster oven and most likely something else I can’t remember. Lastly, I bought (or at least I am currently attempting to buy) a kitchen cart for my room upon which I can rent the toaster oven and make decent meals in the comfort of such room.

Mercantila’s website is overloaded with guarantees regarding their customer testimonials, how safe and guaranteed their shipping is, and yet when I Googled the company, I came up with a plethora of complaints against them–all of which are beginning to become my reality. In order to attempt to avoid a lengthy process of nonsense and red tape, as stated above, I have decided that a simple, threatening message may do the trick. I don’t want to have to deal with them for too long, and I want to be able to get my toaster oven from off of the floor. Their refund and return policies leaves a great deal to be desired. I should have just gone for a more familiar company.

The problem is that Amazon and a couple other sellers had some really great kitchen carts that were a lot more expensive, and Mercantila’s prices were just right. Not to mention that I bought the cart via Google Checkout and received $10 off the final cost of the item. That’s not a bad deal, unless you’re dealing with a company that deliberately misleads its customers. Anyway, we’ll see if that message will get them to pay attention, and maybe they’ll actually attempt to improve their services. The interesting thing is, like Amazon and other online merchants, they have a section of the site for writing reviews, but none of the reviews I read were for any of the products were especially bad, so I figured the company must be doing something right. Gah. It would have made more sense to do research before letting them withdraw money from my account.

Anyway, next semester I’m going to focus on buying more clothing. I don’t have anything professional, and since I’m going to be looking for a summer job (that will hopefully pay a decent amount of money) I’ll need professional clothing for interviews and possibly for the job itself. I also need to buy summer clothing while they are still cheap. Some shorts/capris, tank tops, sandals, etc. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to dress better than I did last summer. I didn’t (and still don’t) have much of anything, and I was walking around in a shambles. Once the spring semester comes I’m going to try to fix myself up. I’m sure the boyfriend would like that. He said he has noticed that I haven’t been “taking care” of myself lately. If I didn’t look like a bum, I wouldn’t feel like a bum and vice versa.