So real life really did happen. Lots of work stress and self discovery. I'm not going to write about my everythings all at once because I don't want this to turn into one of those "real life" blogs; one that gives you insight on the real life activities of today's girl; one that might end up in a yellow bubble on the cover of Self magazine. Instead I will talk about my living situation. Because this is New York and nobody is ever happy or ever lives anywhere; ever.
Our lease may or may not be over come June 1st. The owner of our building didn't rent out any other properties, this was his only apartment building... he sold buildings like ours as individual units in condos. He also died on Saturday and his son took over ownership of our building. Hence my not knowing if our lease might end or not. We are currently residing in an overpriced one bedroom in Little Puerto Rico on the corner of Little Dominican Republic Ave. and Little Mexico St. I have nothing against my Spanish speaking/screaming brethren. We are brothers and sisters in skin tone, therefor we are united. But you would think that for the amount we're paying (too much) we wouldn't have to endure the screams of children/old men/young men/gang members day in and day out. Williamsburg is surely being gentrified, but it may not be happening fast enough for my liking. And while I don't like the idea of misplacing a peoples, I also don't like worrying that walking down the street may or may not mean walking past bags of medical waste, being called a faggot by an old drunk, or getting hollered at by a Hispanic man in a gold Camry with dice dangling in the mirror. I believe he said "yo shorty, let me get at that booty".
Ideally we would love to find a loft. One that is in a nice enough area, close to a grocery store that sells organic foods, has lots of windows/natural light, is close to the JMZ or the L (nothing after Montrose, please), costs less than our apartment we're living in now (or is of equal price with way more space), and a fire escape wouldn't hurt the equation either. But if a loft isn't in the future for us, anything for the price we're paying now that has more space would be welcomed. Our across the hall neighbors are either screaming along with their idiot friends playing Wheel of Fortune Kids, or the girl is crying about feeling used or incompetent or unappreciated or something of that sort. I know that's not nice, but life isn't nice! She needs a new boyfriend and a hobby! She'll come home from work wearing heels and walk around on the hardwood floors with her heels on for HOURS before she thinks to take them off. What a bitch.
Moving closer to the JMZ would be ideal. But we don't want to rule out Greenpoint just yet. Although every time I'm in Greenpoint the Polish people look at me funny and I have a built-in hatred for the G train. I don't think I can explain exactly how I feel about the train in words... so I made a handy little graphic. Here it is:
If you live here you know what I mean. So what do we do? I'm sure no matter where we end up our individuality will shine through. I want to move out of this place and find another apartment that feels more like home. The stairwell here feels like a dentist's office situated on several sets of stairs. our balcony (yes a balcony!! Fancy!) window is drafty... and we just need more space. We're furthering our suburban-gone-hipsterness by ordering some furniture from Jennifer Convertibles, so we need some space to grow. I know the answers to my quandaries probably don't exist in this blog, so I'm going to give this post a rest.
But I'm back! And until I disappear again I'll produce other entry-long posts about problems that are really important to me because ultimately I'm exceedingly selfish and I enjoy keeping record of my thoughts because they are golden and I am amazing and unique.
Find me an apartment.
Please?
2 comments:
haha. the G train graphic is actually really funny.
kyle, i totally read your blog. and i love you. and i hope that you find the apartment of you dreams.
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