I’ve Underestimated my Charm (Again)

…A friend/ fan recently asked me why I don’t blog anymore or less; and I replied I don’t blog because I’m in grad school and the only time I find myself with a rare moment of freedom the last thing I want to do is look at a computer screen.

Not to say I don’t love or miss blogging. I do, really. And at least once a day something happens or pops up that makes me want to race to the computer and blast to the world….

But it usually happens when I’m IN class (actually most of the time it happens I’m in class) or on the way to class or leaving class to go to the library or on the couch while watching “I Love New York 2″ and there’s just no way in hell I’m tearing myself from that!

Nevertheless I realize that my last personal post was a bit down, a bit critical, a bit, well, typical of my love life; and I’d like to update at least that so people (exes) don’t think (call, email) I’m still down (crouched in a corner of my apartment bawling, not having seen daylight for months).

I am fine. Really. I whore-er- stocked up while in NYC over the summer and am now back in school, back in Siberi-er- Cambridge where a good day is one where I get more than 4 hours of sleep, eat more than 1 and a half meals, and have one conversation that doesn’t concern the myriad ways black people are fucked. Yes I’d like to date someone but by “like” I mean on occasion I’d like to laugh with someone who I’m attracted to, by “date” I probably mean grab coffee because that requires a maximum of 45 minutes since I would most likely have to put off work and by “someone” I mean a man whose breath is decent (you’d be surprised) and is kind, generous, fun, grounded, and interested despite his knowledge that he’s a diamond-in-the-ruff in 02138.

For whatever reason the above is hard to accomplish and I’m not the kind of person to mull it over, bitch about it (for too long), and make a negative self-judgement because I don’t have a friggin date. I’m not a snob, my shit stinks too, but fuck it: I go to Harvard, I get paid to go to Harvard, I love what I do to get paid to go to Harvard, and I’ve made great friends in the process. I see the light of day with them

p.s. Black Kids is the best band ever!

Knock, Knock….

Well, well well hello there all. wouldn’t you know it’d take me until winter break to get back on here? and o how i’ve missed it. but every time i’d even think to blog, there was yet another paper, book, conference, meeting, book, class, paper, book, paper, book to attend to.

I came here all hot-headed, thinking nothing of going back to school, Harvard, Schmarvard, I got this, etc.

Folks, in the words of the great Jack McFarland: I bitchslapped the law and the law won.

School’s turned out to barely be half of the new life I have but more on that later. Now I could rant, I could bitch, I could do the whole “Oh my God, it’s so crazy, I’m so swamped. Cambridge/Boston is bull, Harvard is so up its own ass” et cetera……O lookie there, I just did do the rant.

So there you have it: Harvard does think its shit smells like roses. Cambridge is “quaint”, Boston has no sense of direction but honks at someone it thinks does…and it is racist. I am swamped and it has been crazy….

BUT there is absolutely nothing like waking up on your time and doing your work for yourself. All those books, all those papers, all those deadlines and intimidating tones from professors – they’re all for me. I’m getting paid (humbly of course) to do what I want, not what someone else wants. So yeah it’s cold and pricey and the undergrads on the Yahd seriously need to be kicked in the head*, but at the end of the day, I’m doing what I want..so what more could i possibly ask for?

*I kind of always thought it was a little overblown but alas no, 99% of kids who go to Harvard are ass-annoying and think they worked their hardest when they got their acceptance letters. Thus, when a good colleague of mine gave his students a pop quiz in economics he was only somewhat shocked when half the class protested the “pop”ness of the quiz and when one student threatened litigation….that saaaaaiid, I must give due to that lovely 1% I’ve had the pleasure of knowing via my Swahili course. They know who they are

Back from the Chill

Hellooooooooooo! It’s been a bit of a bit but thankfully my girl Jackass has held it down recently.
I had to spend some weeks getting moved and settled in, get oriented at school, start classes, make friends, and adjust to the COLD ASS CITY THAT IS BOSTON.

What’s that you say? “Duh, Brown Baby, it’s cold up there.” Ha, no no dear reader, I’m not referring to the dropping temps I expect to endure as the weeks progress.

No, I’m referring to the fact that Bostonians are some rude ass bitches who are cold as ice. That’s right, I said it. Actually this is no big surprise either, so I’ve been told. Still, it must be said. I’m originally from the city/town of Washington, D.C. which also proudly carries itself with traditional southern hospitality. And NYC, which has the (wrong) reputation of being the epitome of rude, is actually full of amazing, polite, and warm city-folk. What’s noteworthy about NYC is that just as much as one is likely to come across the greatest hospitality and helpfulness, politeness and respectability, one is just as likely to come across a rude ass bitch…who also may be a little scary but thats neither here nor there. And, to be fair, if you had a gazillion annoying tourists walking with their heads tilted 45 degrees upward while their ratty ass kids trip you up on your way to work, you’d be pretty foul too; so it’s actually pretty great that New Yorkers remain among the nicest bunch of people I’ve ever had the pleasure of living with.

And then there’s Boston, where you can hold a door open for someone and she’ll not only NOT give you the obligatory thankful nanosecond-long nod of thankful acknowledgement, she’ll give you the (until now, unknown) cocked-eyebrow sideways “that’s right, you held the door” look; or, secret door #3, no look at all. Maybe I’m being picky but it’s the little things you take for granted until all of a sudden they’re gone – the little polite things you experience every day.

Since my new residency, I have been ignored for minutes while simply trying to get directions, been ignored and yelled at by the T conductors, been shoved, been ignored while waiting to be seated at a restaurant, frowned at, ignored while waiting in line, ignored, ignored, ignored. The level of snootiness is very odd for a town who’s only claim to fame is Harvard University where only a minority of the actual residents actually attend.

Harvard itself is quite NOT snooty and within its confines, I’ve faced nothing but warmth to the point of nurturing. But step outside those iron gates, and it’s cold cold cold.

Other New England points of note TK:

The T

The insane drivers and the insane non-grid traffic system they go by

The hell that is living across the street from freshman dorms

Harvard freshman

Clueless cab drivers

The T not running after midnight

12:30am last call

….and cover charges? o hell no.

Toodles!

Same As It Ever Was, Part Deux: The End

Of course, the last week before I move up to school I sit on my glasses and don’t even notice for 15 minutes because my ass is so big; and when I do, they are completely deformed and when I wear them I look like a wacky scientist.

Of course, the last week before I move up to school my contacts have expired so I must wear my glasses which are deformed so when people meet me, they will think I am a wacky scientist.

Of course, the last week before I move up to school I am utterly broke and don’t know how I will manage paying my movers the $600 in cash I owe them for the second half of my move. Nor do I know how I’ll even eat since I won’t receive my stipend and travel expense check until the 13th. and, of course, I need to get my hair did before I move, especially to lessen the wacky scientist look.

And of course in my last days here before I go more than halfway to Canada, things get serious with a boy below the Mason Dixon line. Yes, the boy and I have gotten pretty serious, much to my chagrin and pleasure. We’re somewhere in between strong crushes and falling into that four letter word. I’ve been more cautious for obvious reasons and this was not in the plan of my new life in a new town with a new purpose! It’s all muddled up and you know what? What did I do when it was getting more and more muddled up? Reader, I bedded the boy and now it’s all kindsa muddled.

And Reader, of course he’s a MGM. And not just any MGM. I didn’t smile and thank God more than I thought “Holy Shit” and took some deep breaths. To be honest, it’s a little too big but that’s just my “luck” dating a 6′7, 220 lbs giant. But he’s still like a gift from heaven: after the first time, he apologized for the apparently short time (but anything after 5 min is lucky to me) and said “but I brought more for later.” Can you imagine my glee?!

But it’s not even that. The boy is the first person I’ve made a real emotional connection with in the 2 years since I met my ex. He is the first person to remind me of my worthiness. I’ve been doing a pretty good job myself but it’s always nice when someone else sees it, too. He’s a stand-up North American Negro Male who’s worked against all the shit this country sets against black men, he’s passionate, no bullshitter, and we laugh together about crap. Here’s a first: I sang in front of him. I have a crackhead voice that scares the strongest of dogs, but the boy makes me feel so comfortable I don’t even care. Though he hasn’t asked me to sing again, but that’s ok…because I still will.

But I’m leaving and the boy is here, of course.

-BB