Brooklyn I love you but you're bringing me down- nah not really.

Eeeeek! I have no idea what to write about but really want to update. Isn't that weird? Don't answer that.

Hmmmmmm...


Let's talk about the amount of noise that emanates from the streets into my window and the constant complaints I get from friends and family when I'm on the phone and have to pause because a train is riding past my window.

I live on a pretty busy street and the people in my neighborhood don't feel inhibited by courtesy or early morning hours. No, the people in my neighborhood relish in their ability to scream at the top of their lungs and play loud music at all hours, truly exercising individual freedoms, regardless of when and where. My neighborhood defies the boring suburbian lifestyle and laughs in the face of "quiet hours" and curfews. More than a few times I have seen 14-year-olds walking the streets after I get out of work at oh 2 in the morning- ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. I've also seen mothers totting around their toddlers at the same hour. The poor kids are usually falling asleep, heads bobbing every which way, wondering why the hell their in a stroller and not in bed.
I love my neighborhood, though. Everything about it, including the obnoxious guys who stand on the corner and yell the N-word every 5 seconds, the ice cream truck guy who sits outside of my window at 9 in the morning blasting the most irritating renditions of children songs, even the train that runs outside my window every 15 minutes. I love it all. Brooklyn is the bees knees.

Yes, I live that close to the tracks. It's actually quite quaint. In a chaotic, wildly noisy way.

(not so) Random musing: I need to have a house warming party soon...


Also! Devin and I are going to be collaborating on a whole new blog! I'm super excited about it. CAN'T WAIT.

I'm out.

The Hunt is STILL on

Brandon and I are undergoing an interminable search for apartments in Brooklyn. For weeks, before he came up here, I had been anxiously viewing apartment after apartment, sweating bullets due to stress and the consistently fluctuating temperature. Yesterday we found a place that both of us loved and are hoping to hear back today if we can move in as soon as Wednesday! I'm really hoping we get this place, I really think at this point we deserve it. After all the unbelievably strange hardships and let downs, getting this apartment will have negated it all. I wish I had more to say. This last week has been quite draining both mentally and physically. When I have more energy I shall hit you with a sweet sweet post. Wish us luck in finding an apartment!

Please?!




I'm out.

On the Hunt

Alright. It's been a week and a half of ceaseless craigslisting and endless phone calling and I think if I see one more apartment my head might explode. Going through craigslist is almost like going into Forever 21, clothing strewn everywhere, an overwhelmingly diverse amount of clothing with no apparent organization, some clothing better quality than others. Am I really equating looking for an apartment with being in a clothing store? Yes. Yes, I am. I mean, some of those pictures on craigslist are definitely done by professional photographers who know how to shoot at creative angles to make space seem endless and full of possibility. They're gooood. My viewings go as follows: I show up with the beautiful image of a sunny, spacious dwelling in my head: The floor aglow with copious amounts of sunlight, the wood sparkling gaily underneath its warmth, the windows large and overpowering, exposing the greenery outside, the room large and welcoming. In reality, that glow is coming from a disgusting fluorescent light, the floor is dull and worn, the window is the size of my fist and the rooms the size of closets. "What did I do to deserve this," is all I can ask myself as the people showing me around the apartment flatly explain what everything is, "thank you, captain obvious. I think I could have gathered that a sink and a stove equals a kitchen." Oh and that's another thing! Where are the landlords finding these people to show their apartments?! Is it some kind of undergrad hotline? All of the people who have shown me apartments have been bearded men (the actual landlords), or people my age. I don't mind that my peers have taken a curious interest in real estate in the city, I do mind that professionalism may not be their forte. There was this one guy who was taking me around to different apartments when I was looking to move into a 3-bedroom. He was pretty decent, planned accordingly so as not to show me just one, single apartment. He was flexible and accommodating, but then, I called him again after my initial plans fell through, asking him to show me some 2-bedrooms- womp womp. We scheduled a meeting for 1 and to call him at 12 to confirm. So, the day rolls around and I'm feeling pretty lucky I didn't have to stare at my tiny iPhone screen to search for apartments myself.
I call him at 12 and he tells me he'll call me back in a few minutes. An hour goes by and I don't hear from him so I call him and he asks if we can push the appointment to 3. Fine. I get there and this guy doesn't have the keys to the apartment! And the other two on the list are occupied by people who obviously don't want some stranger traipsing through their home. What a mess. So I wasted an entire day of apartment hunting. Not to mention that while we were looking for my 3-bedroom after he finished showing me apartments we went to a bar. Very unprofessional, but totally awesome. He was such a nice guy, but a little flighty. Ah, well I think I may have FINALLY found a place, so I'm feeling a lot less stressed and angry with the world. We'll see how it goes, though won't we.

Gotta twerk today. Hope I don't get out too late.



I'm out.