I am now the thing I swore I’d never become. I’m a Writer Who Lives in Brooklyn.
I live in Bed-Stuy, so it’s not nearly as hipstery. But I live in a really artsy building that is in the part of Bed-Stuy that is smack between Clinton Hill and Williamsburg.
The hipsters are coming! The hipsters are coming!
But it’s a great place. Small, but cozy; a three-bedroom with two lovely people, Jesse and Liz, who run a theater production company together. A patio outside the aparment, roof access, a laundry room, a lounge in the lobby w/a flatscreen TV, cable, & a DVD player (helpful, since the roomies don’t pay for cable), and a huge rec room w/a pool table and a ping-pong table.
After 2 months of getting my job situation together and having no luck finding apartments in my price range, and after two weeks of scrambling and sleepless worrying, and after my mover meeting me at my storage facility at 6:25PM for a 3:00PM appointment, being settled into a place feels really good. I still have a ways to go before I’m thoroughly settled and my room looks presentable. And I think I may feel like a guest for some time, as this is the first time I’ve ever moved in with complete strangers. Not just strangers to me, but strangers who are really good friends with each other and have a routine. I find myself asking permission to do things in the apartment, knowing that I don’t need to ask, because it’s my place, too, but asking anyway.
Still, the situation is perfect for me, and I think I’ll be able to settle into a routine soon enough. And do you know what? Despite being a Queens girl through and through, I might even like Brooklyn!
I should be writing. Instead, my mind is spinning, because tomorrow (as you might already know if you follow me on Twitter or FB) I will be hearing two important bits of news that will alter the course of my life forever. No, seriously. That sounds like hyperbole, but it’s really not. I may or may not get the perfect apartment, which means I may or may not be staying with a friend next month. AND I may or may not get into the NHMC Writers Program, which means I may or may not be off to LA to begin my screenwriting career. How I’ll sleep tonight, I don’t know.
Then again, who am I kidding. I never sleep.
The past two days have been really difficult for me in that I’ve learned what friends and family really think of what I’m trying to do with this whole freelance writing business. For the most part, I have oodles of love and support, and I am so grateful. But there is also a lot of (well-meaning) discouragement coming from some unexpected places. It hurts me that some people think what I’m doing with myself is a waste of time and that it won’t work. I have had a LOT of people help me in a LOT of aspects of my life over the past couple of months, and I’m more grateful than I can possibly say. However, what matters to me more than any monetary or otherwise physical support is that they respect what I’m trying to do. I am not a slacker. I am not lazy. I am not going about my life without planning ahead. I don’t mind living with roommates. I don’t care that I don’t have a 401K. I’ve gone without health insurance for most of my life. I don’t have children or a spouse to take care of.
So if not now, when?
When I think about my parents, one of the greatest lessons I took from them is that putting what you want or need aside in favor of doing what people expect of you will lead to more sadness and pain than you can shake a stick at. Of course there will be moments of happiness. There are always opportunities for happiness even in the midst of deepest despair. But with my parents, there was always an underlying (sometimes very overt) layer of sadness and regret in everything they did, and I think a lot of it had to do with each of them at key moments in their lives choosing what society told them was the “right” decision to make, as opposed to doing what was right for them.
Meanwhile, they always encouraged me to follow my heart. Practically, of course, but unwaveringly. I think they both, in their own way, were trying to warn me away from the mistakes they made. And I’m listening. I’ve made a lot of mistakes since college, financially and otherwise, and I’ve gotten to a place now where I’ve set a definite course – the course on which I want to spend the rest of my life – and all I ask is that people respect that choice. They don’t have to like it, or understand it. They don’t have to help me if they can’t.
But they shouldn’t hurt me either.
And with all that rambling in mind, I present Teresa’s “Watching the Wheels” Playlist. Enjoy.
WATCHING THE WHEELS (John Lennon)
The Tale As Old As Time isn’t Beauty & the Beast. It’s people not understanding why money, or security, or success according to a societal standard doesn’t matter in the same way to everyone. Here’s John Lennon’s take on the matter. Amazing how a song written by an English dude before I was born expresses what I’m feeling better than I can right now.
GIRL ANACHRONISM (The Dresden Dolls)
They’ll say, “Just let her crash and burn, she’ll learn. The attention just encourages her.”
I don’t necessarily believe there is a cure for this, so I might join your century but only as a doubtful guest.
Incidentally, I was born via cesarean. And I was an accident…unless my parents were planning on getting pregnant in their 40s.
RAISE YOUR GLASS (Pink)
The lead-in to the chorus is a little wonky (“Why so serious?” “Just get dancey?”) But I’m a sucker for: So, raise your glass if you are wrong in all the right ways.
And I always was too school for cool.
EXTRAORDINARY MACHINE (Fiona Apple)
I’ve been in love with this song since the bootleg of Fiona’s third album. And I’m sorry, but I like the production on the bootleg version better than what ended up on the finished album, so that’s what you’re getting.
I seem to you to seek a new disaster every day/You deem me due to clean my view and be at peace and lay/I mean to prove I mean to move in my own way and say I’ve been getting along for long before you came into the play.
I am the baby of the family it happens, so, everybody cares and wears the sheep’s clothes while they chaperone/Curious, you’re looking down your nose at me while you appease/courteous to try and help, but let me set your mind at ease…
NO LOVE (Eminem, featuring Lil’ Wayne)
Many of you already know I’ve been obsessed with this song lately. Eminem’s half of the song KILLS me.
Just typing that title felt ridiculous, but that’s kind of exactly what happened after I saw the most AWESOME APARTMENT EVER. (Seriously, you all will LOVE visiting me there. Cross all your appendages for me and hope that I can make this work!)
So, I was waiting for a train after seeing this apartment, and I was feeling really good. The train arrived, but as I was stepping on, I hear someone say “Miss! Miss!” behind me. I turned around when I realized that someone was addressing me, and I saw two police officers, one of whom asked me to get off the train and show him my ID. I thought this was an odd way to do a random check, especially since I was already on the train, but as I’d done nothing wrong, I figured that must have been what it was, so I got off the train and showed them my driver’s liscence.
The train left. (Grrr! I had something I was trying to get to!)
Bad Cop: Any reason why you decided not to pay today?
Me: What do you mean?
Bad Cop: You didn’t pay to get in here.
Me: Um…yes I did. I swiped my Metrocard. I have a weekly unlimited pass.
Bad Cop: Didn’t look like it to me.
Good Cop: Why don’t you show it to us?
(I take my Metrocard out and show it to them)
Bad Cop: Why don’t you take a walk with us to the turnstiles while I check this card out.
Me: Um, sure. It’s an unlimited, so…you’ll see really clearly that it was just used.
(NOTE FOR NON NY-ERS: If you have an unlimited Metrocard, once you’ve swiped it, you can’t swipe it again for 15 minutes. This is to prevent social people for paying for their friends or nice people from helping homeless people.)
Good Cop: (as we walked) We just have to check. You know.
Me: Well, I don’t exactly have the energy or strength to jump a turnstile, you know what I mean?
*chuckle from the Good Cop*
(Subtext: HAVE YOU SEEN MY FAT ASS?! THERE’S NO WAY I’M JUMPING OVER ANYTHING, AND I’D PROBABLY GET STUCK TRYING TO GET UNDER THE THING! AND DID YOU HEAR THE ALARM GO OFF FROM THE EMERGENCY EXIT?!)
So we get to the turnstile area where Bad Cop had already gotten out and tested my card. OBVIOUSLY I had swiped it. Yet, when he hands it back to me with my liscence, there’s no acknowledgement of it checking out, or of his mistake. No apology for the hassle and for making me miss my train. He just handed the stuff back to me saying “Here you go” and walked away, looking me up and down as if I was getting away with something that he knew I did but couldn’t prove!
Quite possibly the most RANDOM thing I’ve ever experienced in my life! Not only would I never have reason to jump a turnstile (the few times I’ve ever been caught without train fare, I’ve asked people to swipe me in), but the movements necessary to get past the turnstiles are really obvious. Either someone needs to jump them, or someone needs to squeeze under them, which for an adult would be really obvious. OR you would sneak in as someone is using the service entrance, but that’s really obvious, too. Especially if you’re a cop standing around looking for that stuff. I clearly didn’t do any of those actions, so I don’t know what the cop thought he saw.
Did I look like someone they legitimately saw sneak in? Don’t think so, as the hoodie I was wearing has a distinct design on the back that isn’t very common. Did they stop me because I’m brown and just felt like it? Who knows, and I hate playing the race card even if it may apply. Do they have some kind of weird quota where they’ve made it a PRIORITY to nab fare jumpers?!
It shook me up a bit, because I’m someone who doesn’t do stuff like that. This reminds me of the time a cop actually tried to ticket me for jaywalking when I was in college during the Giuliani Administration (“America’s Mayor” my ass. New Yorkers hated him exactly for shit like that). You’d think that the NYPD would have bigger fish to fry, wouldn’t you?
And for the record, people wouldn’t need to jump the turnstiles if the MTA didn’t keep raising the fares every other day. Just sayin’.
- leaving the house you’ve lived in for the past seven years
- only having housing plans for the next month
- still waiting on word as to whether or not you’ll be hired for a couple of jobs you applied for
- not having been paid for freelance writing you’ve done yet
- being petrified of all the unknown that lies ahead
Your body would’ve become paralyzed on the couch and your heart would’ve started beating really fast. You would’ve gotten unreasonably upset by the summer finale of a show you like and started crying about it, except it wouldn’t really be about the show at all. You would’ve started to overanalyze every decision you’ve ever made that led you to this point, and gotten overwhelmed by how utterly unprepared you feel, not only for the upcoming changes, but for the rest of your whole life.
This concludes this test of the Emergency Freak-Out System. You may now return to your regularly-scheduled packing.
The title of this post totally just made me think of Animaniacs:
Today had the comic dichotomy of a Good Idea/Bad Idea sketch.
GOOD NEWS:
ChinaShop Magazine has decided that they want me to be a regular columnist! Not just decided, but decided enthusiastically! Check out what my new editor had to say about my post on Tara Reich:
Hey Teresa,
Your post has done phenomenally well. Its not even been 7 days and already you are over 3100 views. Not only am I happy to pay you $XXX for this article, but you have earned a bonus of $XX for getting over 1,000 views within the first 7 days of publishing. Well done.
EEEK! So, thank you ALL so much for checking out the article and passing the link along! You’ve all helped me toward a regular writing gig! I hope I can continue to bring you posts that interest or entertain you! Also, if you or anyone you know does anything in any medium (visual art, film, TV, web, fashion, theater, etc) where the geeky meets the mainstream, let me know about it! Your suggestion might be the next thing I write about for ChinaShop!
BAD NEWS:
Housing just keeps falling through for me. I’m still staying with my friends Robyn and Jerry in Brooklyn for the month of September. However, moving next door to my landlords’ place has fallen through, because there was a misunderstanding about what part of the house was actually being rented to me. As it turns out, just the bottom part. So, it would be only three roommates instead of five splitting the $2,500/month rent, and I can’t afford that. Next, I thought I’d be able to sublet my housemate Lindsay’s new place as of October for at least six months if not more, because she’s going to Italy for work (I know, right?!), but that fell through, too, as her new roommates already had a subletter lined up. As of this moment, I have an email out to a possible roommate lead, and the month of September to figure out my living situation. I’m selling pretty much all of my belongings, save a few that I’ll try to keep in a small storage unit. Here’s hoping that I a) find a place, or b) get into the National Hispanic Media Coalition’s writing program, and that they love me and find me a job right away after the program is over.
Otherwise, I might consider Jules’ life plan in Pulp Fiction:
GOOD NEWS:
I rocked my job interview today for a position as a writing tutor at a community college in NYC. The dean there seemed to be enthusiastic about me, and my friend, who got me the interview, seems hopeful about my chances! However, now it’s a matter of their budget and whether they can afford to hire me. I feel good about it though. This, plus my new, regular babysitting job, which starts September 13th, plus my writing gigs will keep me more than afloat. Fingers crossed!
BAD NEWS:
It was rainy today, and dealing with various leaks and floods made me late to said job interview. It was just a generally dreary day. However, as it didn’t really affect the interview, I guess I really shouldn’t count this as bad news.
But I like symmetry in my blog posts. There’s lots of positives in my life, and all I can do now is continue moving forward. The second half of 2010 has big things in store for me, I can feel it! I just have to be ready to greet them with open arms!
And as Animaniacs taught us all, the Bad Ideas may have been bad, but they were also where the comedy was. Good News is great, but the story is in the Bad News.
Specs: 1br in a 4br house. Small kitchenette area and bathroom.
Rent: $500/month
NYC neighborhood: Woodhaven/Richmond Hill, Queens
Since I wasn’t really planning on moving when I was told I’d have to, I hadn’t really put much thought into what I was looking for. Two viewings into my apartment search, a need has become clear.
I NEED A LIVING ROOM.
It doesn’t have to be huge, and I don’t mind sharing it, but I need an area that is separate from the kitchen and/or bedrooms that has a couch and a TV in it. I need a place where, should I have guests come over, I can entertain.
Saw a place last night in the Woodhaven/Richmond Hill area of Queens, off the J train stop at 104th Street. (I’ve never taken the J in my whole life. Now, I’m taking it every other day) You come out onto the street at 104th and Jamaica Avenue, and it feels a bit sketchy. However, once you get off Jamaica and walk a block, you’re in a really nice residential neighborhood. The block I was going to looked a bit like my current block in Astoria, and the house I’d be looking at was gorgeous! It has a huge porch and everything! I was hopeful.
The house was just as nice on the inside, and I realized that the upstairs was very separate from the downstairs where I was being shown the room.
I didn’t realize I’d be looking at a 1930s-style boarding house.
The room for rent itself was nice and was the size of the room I have now. I felt bad, because the little Chinese landlady apparently didn’t tell the girl who currently has the room that I was coming to see it, and she had friends over! So I felt really awkward eying her room with her and her friends still in it!
There are 4 bedrooms total, the others of which are filled. There’s a shared bathroom that was really decent, and then there’s the kitchen/common area above. There are 4 sliding-door closets in the kitchen – one for each bedroom – where tenants can hang their clothes. Everything was really clean, and it felt really warm and homey. The thing about this place, though, is that it’s, as Robin put it, “a halfway house for people between college and adulthood.” It was like a cross between a dorm and a hostel. There was a kitchen cleaning schedule on the wall, and there are House Rules on the fridge. Things like: no boyfriends/girlfriends allowed to spend the night.
*record scratch* What?! Ease up, Mrs. Garrett! I may not be getting much action at the moment, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to move into a situation that will prevent it from happening ever again! Had I seen this place right out of college, it would’ve been perfect. 31-year-old Teresa, however, NEEDS A FUCKING LIVING ROOM. And also, she needs to be able to have whatever visitors she likes be able to enter her home. That should be, like, standard.
Then there was THIS awkward conversation:
Landlady: So, do you have a job? What do you do for your money?
Teresa: Well, I’m a freelance writer, and I write for several websites. I’m also an English teacher. Right now, I’m teaching at a learning center in Flushing, and at the end of August, I’ll be taking another job as a tutor in the English department of a community college.
Landlady: So…you don’t have a job?
Yeeeah, that’s not gonna be a good fit.
Lastly, I don’t think I could live comfortably in a neighborhood that is home to classy dining establishments like this one:
Palace Fried Chicken - the fried chicken place so classy they can't even call themselves KFC
However, I’m hopeful today! I’ve come across several listings that are more along the lines of what I’m looking for, and I have another appointment tomorrow and one on Friday. I WILL find what I need. So, there.
Specs: 1br in a 3br apt. Bathroom, small kitchen, teensy livingroom
Rent: $520/month
NYC neighborhood: Bushwick, Brooklyn
I looked at my first apartment today, answering an ad on Craigslist for a bedroom available in a three-bedroom apartment in the Bushwick area of BK, which required me to take the J train for the first time in my whole life – and I’m a native New Yorker.
When I got off the train, I knew I wasn’t in Kansas anymore.
The neighborhood was certainly not the best. To be perfectly honest, and in the words of the girl whose apartment I was going to see, “it’s ghetto.” However, there were lots of families, and I didn’t feel unsafe. While it wasn’t as nice as Astoria, there was a friendly vibe. There was some kind of block party going on as I walked to the apartment, and so blaring reggae followed me down the street. It was actually rather nice. Then, I saw something that I thought could possibly be a sign. Something that told me that maybe good things might happen if I decided to live here. The apartment was on the corner of Evergreen Avenue and:
Surely this was a sign that if I moved here, I’d have a long and healthy writing career (Evergreen), and that I’d eventually get a job with the BBC writing for Doctor Who (Moffat). At the very least, it was a sign that my geekiness knows no bounds in that this was the first thought that popped into my head…
Standing outside the apartment building, I was already skeptical. As I waited to be buzzed in, I stood on the front stoop and looked around. I couldn’t imagine living here. I couldn’t imagine leaving the house everyday and having this be my view. The front door was beat-up, the street devoid of anything welcoming. But I reserved judgement until I could see the apartment.
Angilique, the girl whose apartment I saw, was very nice. Also, very driven. An ambitious 27-year-old dancer and pilates instructor, she was very clear both about what she did want and what she didn’t want in a roommate. We were definitely on the same wavelength artistically. However, I wasn’t sure if this was someone I could live with, though she’d probably be home very little, so it wouldn’t even matter.
It is not to be. The apartment, while cute, is really small. Too small for my stuff, and that’s taking into account that I’m getting rid of a lot of stuff. The bedroom I was looking at for $520 was the size of Liz’s bedroom here in The Commune, and she only pays $300 for it. The slightly larger available room that was going for $565/month would fit my bed, but not much else. There were no closets anywhere in the apartment. While the kitchen and bathroom were new and lovely, there was no furniture anywhere, save an armchair in the corner. There was also no room for any furniture if I wanted to bring mine. There was no TV that I noticed and no cable/internet, so if that’s something I wanted, I’d have to get it on my own.
But the real nail in the coffin is the fact that she wanted to find someone to pay August rent. I can’t do that right now. It’s all I can do to get it together for September.
However, I’m glad I went. You know how people seem to drop into your life exactly when you need them? Well, my chat with Angilique about art and the things we do and don’t sacrifice for it was something I needed to have! It reaffirmed my commitment to this crazy freelance writing idea – mostly because she kept saying things like, “I don’t want to get to be 30 and not have done anything!”
Er….yeah. And yes, she knew I was 31.
So this apartment and I were not meant to be. However, that didn’t stop me from contributing to the local economy, when I spent $1 to buy a really big (and really good!) cup of pink lemonade from some cute kids with a table set up outside their house, and another $1 on an italian ice from a woman pushing an ice cart. Here’s hoping that finance karma will return the favor. Or not, because I don’t think “hoping for it” is how karma works…
