Patterns in the Chaos

After three years of living in eight places, I finally signed a lease two weeks ago on 78th and York. Actually, that's a lie. It's really between York and East End but I like to tell myself I'm near York. I can't tell you how amazing it feels to have a little piece of New York that's all my own - even if that piece is little (400 square feet?). The apartment search process was very stressful. There's nothing like spending two outings with a near-stranger who helps you determine where you will live for the next year or so. And then if that wasn't hard enough, having to fork over about $5,000+ in one afternoon.But as I sit here in my apartment, surrounded by my things, and more importantly, complete quiet other than my typing, I realize it was all worth it. I never made the effort to buy nice furniture or make my room my own because it always felt temporary - the illegal sublet on St. Mark's that I assumed I'd be kicked out of at a moment's notice, the 5th floor walkup with a crazy man living above us who let his tub overflow into our bathroom.. and then of course, countless furnished sublets. For the first time in my life, there is a place for all my stuff - no desperate need to buy a set of drawers or determine how much I can fit under my bed.. It all fits.

So what I really want to talk about is coincidences. And the idea that even though our world seems chaotic, there are patterns and details that draw similar people to similar things. Like that online test that tells you where you should live based on personality traits. Mine said New Jersey.

OR... the fact that the guy who lived in my apartment before me went to Carlton College (you can learn a lot by what mail people get), which happens to be in the same small town as St. Olaf, where my dad and my sister went to school. Was he also drawn to the personality of an older building - or its built in bookshelves? Or even more coincidental, the person who lived in the apartment before him was a Norwegian girl. I know all this thanks to remnant mail and a quick Google search - something I would have never been able to know a decade ago.

So is it all just one weird coincidence, or is there a common background, set of values or visual language that we all share? Me, the girl from New Jersey with a Jewish, Eastern European mother (who happened to grow up a block away from my current apartment). With a father who is predominantly Norwegian from Minnesota. The guy who went to school in Minnesota - possibly from the midwest. And the girl who is actually Norwegian. Or is it all just one big, fat coincidence? 

We're Captive on the Carousel of Time

A few weeks ago my old roommate (or shall I say ten roommates ago) emailed me asking about my dealings with our old apartment. After six years in our East Village, St. Mark's apartment which I lovingly referred to as a small dark hole, she was moving out. Naturally I suggested we celebrate over drinks and asked her for an update on how the apartment has been since I moved out about four years ago. The St. Mark's apartment had been my first New York City apartment, a sublet steal. In fact, its very location inspired questions like "who did you have to screw to get this place." While it was a privilege to live on New York City's most iconic streets in one of my favorite neighborhoods, the apartment also provided enough creative fodder for Girls-like blog posts and novel-worthy story elements. There's nothing like a little pain to help the creative juices flow.Or to give you a full picture; when asked for an update on the apartment, my roommate's response was:

"I am actually moving back to parents for a few months, then moving in with my boyfriend.  I just can't deal with the building anymore.  Slum lord is right.  We literally didn't have gas for six weeks over the holidays - so out of control!  Let's see what else you missed - They redid the gas lines in the building two years ago, we literally had no wall outside of our apartment for the last two years.  They just replaced it last week and repainted because they were fined by the city.  They replaced the lines at least three times cause they kept doing it wrong.  Our bathroom ceiling caved in last summer because the person above us rents the apartment like a hotel - a new person every 3 days and they broke the shower or toilet, it leaked down.  Old Man Winter, and M both died (90yr old+ building tenants) :(  Old Man Winter left behind a hoarders delight - literally men with hazmat suits were removing things from his apartment to dumpsters that were 12' high and half a block along the length of St. Mark's, it was insane.  This went on for two days.  And the little clog man who wears the heels and always used to say the elevator is broken has taken to peeing in the hall, in fact, I've caught him numerous times standing on the stairs holding his junk.  Awesome.  Never a dull moment at 22 St. Mark's.  The one good thing is that the newish super is actually the nicest man and responsive.  As crazy as it was in that building I will miss my usual surroundings for sure."

If you don't live in the fantasy world of Carrie Bradshaw and have to live within a real budget, you sure as hell better have a sense of humor. Despite the daily trials of the apartment, I still walk by it with fondness and I'm sure my former roommate will do the same. We made it out with steal resilience, tons of memories and our sense of humor in tact.

FML

Remember how yesterday I seemed all positive and happy? I returned from my final photography class inspired and happy that I met some cool people. Went to the Shake Shack beforehand. Ran into someone entirely random that made me think the universe was trying to tell me something once again.. had a talk with someone else that made me think things will go in the right direction soon in another area..

And then. 11:07 PM happened. I was just about to put my New York Magazine crossword puzzle away and hit the sack when I heard water pouring out but not in the shower/ faucet / toilet kind of way. Okay, maybe toilet. Apologies for the graphic details during lunchtime.. but urine saturated water came seeping through the light fixture in the bathroom, covering our tiled bathroom floor with a 1/4 inch film of a severe health hazard. Fortunately, both my roommate and I were around to deal with the issue. We went to the apartment above us (crazy older man) and loudly knocked on his door but got no response. Calling the super didn't lead to any further resolve so we called the police. Okay, perhaps I watch way too many crime shows but I figured, hey, he could have died while on the can and I'm doing him a favor. The good looking firemen that showed up (what is it with men in uniform!?) weren't able to help us either but turned off the power in the bathroom so we wouldn't have electrical issues. And we all agreed that sometimes Manhattan really sucks and you have to pay an arm and a leg just to be in a building where a landlord addresses your issues. An hour and a half later, I went to bed wondering what I must have done in a past life to deserve all this apartment strife. Perhaps I was a landlord.

And after leaving another message, we still haven't heard back from the management company or our super. So if you ever come across DMB Properties on 86th street, seriously, keep walking.. and if someone tries to show you an apartment on 66th and 1st avenue, say no thanks and move on.

Anyone have any advice for how to deal with this situation? Any lawyers familiar with our situation? We sent off the rent check yesterday afternoon so withholding is a no go and are most likely not going to renew our lease in July.

eeeek. okay. Fortunately, I'm in a better place that I was Monday and the last two weeks.. so I think I can try to see the humor in this right? happy thoughts.. happy thoughts.. happy thoughts..

Brrrr

Just had a miniature nervous breakdown. There was crying involved. Mid-shampoo, the hot water in my apartment ran out and stopped working. I'm glad I moved from one ghetto apartment to the next. I managed to avoid hypothermia while I boiled pots of water but did achieve a minor injury during its transportation. I'll try and avoid taking the "why me" approach because as I speak, there's probably the crazy, homeless man, sleeping just outside the church across the street from my apartment. It certainly can't be karma because just yesterday, I donated money to two random causes. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to continue getting ready for work and convince myself that this has no bearing on the rest of my day. Tear.

New Apartment = Simplicity

One of the goals is to simplify my possessions in my new apartment. My roommate and I actually have a decent sized living room but my room is smaller than my old apartment. I've come to terms that it's unlikely I'll work on my beaded jewelry anytime soon. I haven't made a pair of earrings or a necklace since I've moved into the city so I returned it to my parents. I also returned old photo albums (after scanning some fun pictures) and I don't have a T.V. in my room. BUT I haven't been able to give up my red guitar. I have the unrealistic, but romantic hope that I'll find a man who's musically inclined. We'll come back one afternoon from a relaxing stroll in the park to my apartment. He'll play the guitar and I'll sing. It will be like "Once" but with a romance.

Note: It's amazing what someone's environment can reveal about a person. Can you find the objects that tell my story? Hint: France, Italy, colors, vino...

Delicate glass flowers and bowl made from paper wrappers (roommate's)

Pextax that used to be my mother's.

Roller Coaster

Wow, I've had a whirlwind of a week. I felt like at the beginning of the week, I had no hope in finding an apartment- Was completely frustrated by the process, freaking out, and exhausted. And by Wednesday, my luck changed. I'm signing the lease for a 2 bedroom in the East 60s tomorrow. Craziness. My whole "New York identity" is wrapped up in being an East Village/ downtown girl. Actually, I don't even know what "New York identity" means. I've been literally wondering and pondering all this for months as you probably know. Brooklyn vs. Manhattan, Uptown vs. Downtown. And now it's done. I have absolutely enjoyed my time here but have walked and explored nearly every street there is to explore downtown. I'm looking forward to a healthier, more quiet lifestyle. Maybe regularly running through Central Park. Walking up 5 flights of stairs! Cooking in my new, nice and decent sized kitchen! Not being tempted by the 5 frozen yogurt places, pizza joints, fast food and booze. Knowing that I'll have to take a cab or subway and then 5 flights of stairs to get home, thus curbing my temptation for 1 last drink. Or staying out late. I'm soo excited.

And having sunlight stream through my window.

But yeah, holy fucking, freaking, shitting crap. I can't believe Michael Jackson is dead. This is unbelievable. Even though he's been completely out of the spotlight for nearly 10 years and might as well be dead, this comes as a great shock. Especially since he died in preparation for his comeback. It definitely seems like those who have such an exceptional impact in our lives have all died young- Monroe, Kennedy, MLK, Princess Diana, John Lennon.. And in these cases, I can truly say that it was not their premature death that made them more special, but that they had a significant impact already while alive. And now we will forever remember them for their virtues- before they got old and feeble, made mistakes or faded into old age.

WOW. Let us please all pause and appreciate how precious and fleeting life is. How ironic if MJ's death is one that can unite us all.. His music certainly can.

Apartment Searching = Not Easy

I don't know what on earth made me think it would be easy to find a new apartment or roommate share. The market it good but then again, so is the rent on my current apartment. It seems like there is more available in Manhattan than the areas I want to live in Brooklyn but I'm kind of sick of Manhattan. All the craigslist shares listed in Brooklyn seem to be with 2 other roommates. I've never lived with 2 other people and it seems like I'd be moving backwards in that way. It's hard enough sharing a kitchen and bathroom with one other person. And could I live with a guy? I'm wondering if I should suck it up and get a studio. Of course, that would also mean probably using a broker on top of that. Hmmm. Pondering..