Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

So today I went on the hunt for a dresser.  I braved IKEA again, on the quest for something cheap and functional.  Perhaps this is where I should say I do not enjoy the vortex of IKEA.  the first time I went into an IKEA I was hobbling along on crutches as I had broken my foot.  Perhaps it was the pain pills, perhaps it was the July heat, perhaps it was the massive crowds that day . . . But, ever since I have detested the place. I'm just not a fan of winding through the vortex of IKEA, with only one way out--through more crap.  To make it even better all the furniture blurs into itself after about five minutes, and winding through the maze of assemble-yourself furniture of pressed wood and veneer it feels like a vortex has sucked you in.   Mixed in are rooms assembled with signs attesting that "This is rooms costs 1000."  Components share and match, and mix, and . . . scores of folks run about designing their room to look like something from the stor...

Blogging in traffic. Sometimes life has a funny way of working out. Six weeks ago I came back up to NY with wild hopes of staying and refinding my lost dreams of self-respect, redemption, and career. I guess persistence, fear, and shame paid off as I've landed adjunct lines, health insurance, and an apartment share. I emailed every call for adjuncts, and I hit up schools not advertising. I prayed under a star lit sky, along the shores of the island I once called home. In all reality, I never stopped calling NY home. Memories of spending nights in the city haunted and drove me on my quest to find my solace in the city of dirt, grime, dreams by the dozens. The classes kind of fell into place, and after a week of scouring Craigslist for housing I found something great. Of course, I had the handful of crazies and jerks, but persistence paid off as I didn't feel at home in College Point, Queens city, and Kew Gardens. I had secretly had my sights on the sometimes grimy but deeply...

Last week was a shitter. Here are the accounts . . . 1. A friend who had made plans with me months ago, and canceled them just days before I got to NY, sent a text message asking if I wanted to go camping last weekend. I was a little rebuffed, but I initially said okay. Then her boyfriend started with comments, and I got uncomfortable. Mostly, I was uncomfortable because I could already see that their weekend was based on two people, and I would only be a third wheel. Perhaps things wouldn't have gone so badly if he hadn't posted two messages on FB that I have "no sense of adventure" and "no sense of humor." Also, note that he misspelled my name. Anyone who knows me knows I hate that shit. I know better than to ask a friend to choose, I don't do that, and I no longer allow people to treat me like that. I have no beefs with her, and I'm a bit upset that I can't talk to her anymore. The problem is I never know if her boyfriend is reading ...