Category Archives: Apartments

Behind every desire is another one waiting to be liberated when the first one is sated…

I’ve always considered myself to be a pretty self-aware person. And while I know I bring the crazy sometimes, I usually have a pretty good grasp on why. Just because I’m self-aware doesn’t mean I can always control my emotions…

Anyway, if you’ve ever read anything I’ve written – from Facebook posts, to Tweets, to this blog – you know I’m a big fan of the ellipses. See above, ahem. I can’t really pinpoint when this phenomenon started (very likely with my first major foray into social media, the Myspace), but I know that it’s been a punctuational mainstay ever since. I typically feel that the use of the ellipses more closely mirrors the way I talk (and if you’ve heard me talk, you know this blog is pretty damn close to the way I speak)… but I’ve recently had an epiphany: the ellipses reflect my lack of commitment…

Yeah, I know, it’s a big leap. BUT… think about it. If I end a sentence with an ellipses, I’m not committing to an end; I’m letting my statement just fade out. It gives me an opportunity to say what I want without that sense of finality. OK, crazy person, how- or more importantly why – did you make that connection? Well, it may have something to do with the fact that my life is in a state of flux… yet again.

My current temporary position ends on January 31 so I’m looking for a source of income starting right as that ends. I have been on one interview with another in the works. The first interviewer was concerned that I wouldn’t have the staying power that she’s looking for. She wants someone to commit for at least a year. The second job wants someone that will likely stick around for three. And suddenly I feel like the cliche male from a romantic comedy… someone starts mentioning long term to me and I FREAK OUT. Suddenly I’m feeling stifled.

My longest job was teaching… for four years. The longest I ever lived in any one place was when I was in high school… I lived in that house from 6th-12th grades. Before that, and since then, I have not stayed anywhere for too long (two and a half years is my current record). My longest functional relationship? Three years. My longest dysfunctional relationship? Four-ish years. The only thing, aside from my family, that I’ve been able to commit to for the long term is Walter Matthau, my dog… we’re going on six years in May. And as much as I love that friggin’ dog, I sometimes think about what I could do if I didn’t have him (oh, the apartments that would be available to me).

I abhor the idea of getting a job that will last a few years. I can’t fathom staying in my apartment for more than a few more months. And as far as guys go… well, it’s a lot easier when they don’t stick around for too long either. I take a strange comfort in temporary. Sticking to one thing for years and years and years (or worse, forever)… seriously gives me the willies.

I’ve never had roots anywhere. I’m always fascinated by people who have childhood friends or whose parents still live in the house where they grew up… or whose parents are still married. And I’m not saying this to elicit some kind of sympathy from you, Dear Reader. I’ve had all my life to accept this… and accept it, I do.

But I think this means I’m always going to be looking… for anything… for everything… and you know, I really don’t think I’ll ever find what I’m looking for… nor do I really want to… I just want to have fun doing it… DOT DOT DOT

Blog song title: “Weightless” by Nada Surf


I need to find some peace…

I really want to write something spectacularly meaningful here… but I’m totally exhausted. Not only did I barely sleep last night, but I just spent the better part of the evening deep cleaning my kitchen – floors by hand… oven… counters… sink… even the trash can. I want nothing more than to fall blissfully asleep right now.

Unfortunately, the window in my bedroom goes into an air shaft… and if anyone is playing music, it sounds like it is right in my room. And someone is BLARING that really fast latin music (I’m sorry that I do not know the exact genre)… it is making me insane.

Anyone feel like subsidizing my rent so I can move the fuck out of Harlem?

Blog song title: “Peace” by Weezer


And that’s the way we get by…

I recently read an article on BrokeAssStuart.com (for which I am also a contributor) about the unrealistic portrayals of young people living in New York City. From 2 Broke Girls “struggling” in their gigantic apartment in Brooklyn (with room enough for a HORSE to live off the kitchen) to the ridiculous apartment shared by Rachel (a waitress) and Monica (a sometimes chef) in the West Village on Friends (look at that humongous living room, will you??).

                                                                         

These shows are spreading a very dangerous (and infuriating) message to those who are actually attempting to thrive in NYC (or any city for that matter). As an avid Friends watcher in the 90s, I have to say that I thought living in NYC looked pretty easy. And when Sex and the City came along, Carrie Bradshaw made journalism look glamorous (and lines of credit look never ending).

The “hustling” lifestyle is a quaint and common motif used in TV and movies (awww, look at that poor hapless supermodel look-alike who has a shitty job and can’t find a boyfriend even though James Marsden keeps trying to charm her pants off… but lives in a 3000 square foot loft – spare me). But with new shows like 2 Broke Girls and even Happy Endings and New Girl (seriously LOVE these 2 shows) there’s a great opportunity to show the financial woes of the 99% while still making us laugh. While there doesn’t seem to be any sign of student loan debt or low credit scores for the Chicagoans on Happy Endings, the 4 roommies (yes, 4) on New Girl seem like a better sampling of late 20/early 30 somethings (a teacher, a bartender, a marketing assistant, a personal trainer… and no clear indication if there are loftier goals ahead).

Now, I realize for the purposes of entertainment (and studio size) that television shows can’t show the harsh reality of real life real estate and the pathetic job market. Come on, that would be depressing… we watch TV for an escape. It’s just pretty annoying that television (really just sitcoms) can’t make an attempt to show more financial accuracy… instead TV perpetuates the myth that city living isn’t so bad as long as you have a few good pals to meet you at the bar downstairs (ooh, forgot about How I Met Your Mother– I don’t care how Ted met the mother of his kids… I want to know HOW in the hell Robin pays rent and can still afford to have the cutest flipping raincoat ever). And I suppose this is true to some extent… but you get my point… friends don’t pay the bills – they just make you feel better when you can’t!

As for me, I no longer believe the lies my TV told me. I’m still looking out for that dream job (or any job at this point) and I’m thrilled to have a teeny tiny piece of NYC to myself… for $800 a month…

(Yes, that is my new bedroom. To some of you it may look tiny – you have been brainwashed by the aforementioned television shows – but compared to other rooms I’ve seen in the city it is massive… and it has a closet.) 

A job will come along soon… and so will a guy – though I won’t delude myself into thinking he will look like James Marsden… oh, but wouldn’t that be nice…

 

Photo credits: lovelyundergrad.com, adamecker.com, and me… with my iPhone
Blog title song: “The Way We Get By” by Spoon


Hey, little girl, comb your hair, fix your make-up

Foreword (yes, this blog gets a Foreword): I know I owe more of an explanation as to my current state of things, but like my new life in NYC …that’s just going to have to wait.

I’m sure it has been said before, but job/apartment hunting is a lot like dating… and I could even take that a step further to say online dating.

I am currently on a massive job/apartment hunt and it is no less than exhausting / frustrating / infuriating / disheartening / annoying. Each day I wake up between 7:45-8am and spend the majority of the day combing the internet for job opportunities. If I find a really interesting opportunity, I will spend half the day agonizingly tweaking my resume and cover letter to hopefully suit the needs of the discerning prospective employer. (Are you with me here?)

Recently, my sister helped me shop for a great interview outfit. I thought about how to accessorize said outfit… which purse would I bring… how I would wear my hair… how I could make a great first impression. (Still with me?)

In between job queries are Craigslist searches for apartments. I have a routine – I look for rooms in apartments that accept dogs; I plug in my budget price; I search for places in my favorite neighborhoods. When these searches come up short, I start altering my standards slightly… I guess I could live in Harlem; sure the building is nasty, but the neighborhood is cute. (I didn’t lose you, did I?)

And then there are the inquiries I send out to prospective roommates. I recently found the perfect apartment in the perfect location. The girl who lived there seemed like someone I would get along with. The place was cute. AND she liked dogs. So of course, I quickly sent her an e-mail. And then I waited. And waited. I never heard anything back. Did I come off as too strong in my e-mail? Was I not what she was looking for? Should I not have sent a picture? (OK, if you don’t get it now, I can’t help you.)

Job applications are the same. I wait for the phone to ring… and it never does.

Perhaps I am over-sensitive as a thirty-(ahem) year old single gal (yes, gal). Or maybe I just have too many life issues up in the air… either way, limbo sucks and job/apartment hunting is a lot like dating.

 

Blog title song: “Wives and Lovers” by Jack Jones


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