DUH!

I don’t understand people and their criticism. Reading takes some sort of conscious effort. If you don’t like what I write, then why are you putting the energy into reading it? Unlike television, you have to work to read, even if it is just the teeniest little effort.

Don’t get me wrong, I love rubbing people the wrong way, getting a reaction is what I do best. I’m sure most of my friends and all of my ex’s would describe me as difficult in one way or another. So, for everyone that has had something negative to say about my blog, let me just say this, thank you.

That being said, I’ve had a busy week. Let me introduce NYU, not the university, but the person. A new addition to the ever-turning disaster wheel that is my dating life. We finally had a “date” which was good overall, leaving my neck bruised like a high school virgin. I have two reservations when it comes to NYU.

1)Only 20 years old

2)As an “artist” he may be too into the illusion of an artist

I tend to date up when it comes to age. With the exception of a few people, I find that dating older is easier. Younger guys are typically more interested in racking up a certain number of partners than they are in a lasting relationship. We’ve all been there, so it’s to be expected. That’s not to say that there aren’t a ton of older guys that behave in the same manner. How many of those have I encountered?

The illusion of an artist: It’s easy to be defined by what you do when you’re a writer, painter, singer, dancer, etc. The problem is when people are so enveloped in being an “artist” that they have this smug air about them that’s almost intolerable. For example I’ll tell people I’m a writer, but if you ask what I write I’ll tell you that’s my other life. I have no interest in discussing my books with people unless it’s a signing and mandatory. I don’t know if NYU actually fits the artist illusion profile, but I get the feeling that it isn’t far below the surface. It might just be because he’s young and very into the idea of what he’ll eventually do with his life. There’s nothing wrong with dedication.

The reality is this: I’m staying single for my own metal sanity. One-night stands are not an option, and I’m remaining in the realm where it’s all about me. There’s nothing wrong with being selfish sometimes. NYU is cute but in reality I’m positive he wouldn’t be able to handle me.

The surprise of my week came last night when my roomie woke me up at 4:00a.m. with,

“the fire department is here.”

I’d taken a sleeping pill and gone to bed at 2:00a.m. so it was a wonder I responded at all. I fell out of bed, making my way into the living room. There was a smell like burning plastic. As fireman prodded about the apartment we just sat on the couch and laughed, mostly because I was two steps outside of my head. Unfortunately I knocked over the smelly perfume thing my roomie had on the back of the toilet. Our apartment is now infested with mold and smells like a brothel. I suppose the two really go hand-in-hand. We were never informed if there was a problem, but went back to bed when the three fire engines left. The apartment hunt is on. We have one month to find a new place and be out of this pit of doom.

I’m dedicating this blog to my B. Brown who is my biggest fan and a close friend who understands what it’s like to be inside this head.