i'm a white writer. in new york. original, no? i've been blogging since october 2002. this blog picks up in october 2008, when i moved from DC to NY...(and then I moved to Maine in 2012)

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Next month I will have this many years.

In Italian, you say "Ho ventuno anni," to say "I am 21." The literal translation is "I have 21 years."

So I saw a cute studio last night. Perfect. Tall ceilings, huge closet, granite kitchen counters, new parquet floor. $800 a month. $40 for electric. I have the paperwork filled out and am even willing to fork over a ridiculous $250 non-refundable application fee to get it.

Then I had a massage tonight. A 90-minute massage that left me feeling like I'd been f*cked six ways to Sunday.

And on my wobbly-kneed way home, I realized that by moving to this incredibly cheap apartment in the middle of an incredibly poor neighborhood, I will be seriously limiting my social options.

Who will chat me up at the grocer's?

What will my neighborhood bar be like?

Who will make the trek for a booty call?

For many years, I bought $10 clothes off the clearance rack at Marshall's. Then a friend in Connecticut gave me a ton of expensive, gently used clothes, and she loaned me a $2,000 suit to interview in.

When you're deprived emotionally and financially over the years, you become inured to it.

Maybe that's not such a great thing.

I realized I'm turning a year older next month.

I have a great long-term temp job, and I am talking with a Canadian company about doing some consulting. My thought was, if those things fall through because of the economy, it would be better to have an $800 rent. But isn't that planning for the worst? I've planned for the worst for so long that so now when crappy things happen I'm not really affected by them.

Like when my massage table is stolen. Or when your kitchen has a roach infestation and your roommate doesn't care. Or when a roommate walks around without pants on.

But in this economy, isn't it wise to plan for the worst?

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

The number that is approaching is exciting. It's a time to take control of your own happiness. You moved to NYC, a bold and scary move. While you're living situation sucks, it's a blip in an otherwise successful move. Go get the apartment and get your sanity back. You left your Korean market and found a new market to love you. There are foreign men in convenience stores all over the place...and a booty like yours is well worth hiking out to the middle of nowhere to tap. that will be your new litmus test! If he travels, keep him.

love from bean town.

Anonymous said...

Girl, you underestimate men's willingness to chase a booty call. When a man hears the call, he becomes like the post office: "Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night will stay us from the swift tapping of our appointed ass."

elsewhere in bean town.

stopwatch said...

take the apartment. Your piece of mind will be worth whatever else happens. And that description for $800 a month is an amazing deal. If you find you hate it, you can always move again - the city is very transient - there are always options out there. As someone who lived in a neighborhood like that, trust me, people will come when they want to spend time with you (tapping or otherwise).

derora noo said...

I threw the line about the "booty call" in as my "funny third in a series." I thought it would be funny because it's ridiculous to have that concern. Because, you know, I'm apparently never dating ever again. It's been two years, seven months! And I'm happier than I've ever been in my life!