So…shit got pretty real a few weeks when I was sent a lease renewal notice with a rent increase.
Did the building’s management company not read my comment on the survey THEY sent me where I requested a month-to-month lease and a $100 DECREASE in rent? Apparently not.
Still, I refuse to move. Between LA, NY and MA, I have had TEN (10!) different addresses over the course of the last ten years.
If I have to move again, I am getting rid of everything that will sell – including the carpeting. I started walking through my apartment thinking about what I could get rid of. Though I spent five years building my DVD collection, a sad and painful visit to the “we buy used” section of Amoeba Records on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood is probably in my near future.
I then took to Craig’s List to post for a roommate to share my one-bedroom apartment. It’s doable but the problem is that people who would be willing to do that are probably in their late teens or early to mid-twenties and noisy as hell. Older people who are quieter aren’t going to want to sleep in a living room. I sure as hell don’t want to. I did that for nine months after returning to LA from NY.
I’ve gotten three responses so far and neither panned out. The first guy opted out. The second guy was a girl. I lived with a girl before and it’s unfortunate that she and I aren’t really friends anymore. The third guy was also a girl but she didn’t need the apartment until June of 2012.
Talk about planning ahead.
The reason why I refuse to move is because I deserve to live where I live. I want to live where I live. Despite the dog-friendliness that I didn’t even realize until I had lived in the building for seven months, I like living where I live and don’t want to move.
For all you realists out there, the fact that we don’t always get what we want is beside the point because there’s no reason on this earth why we shouldn’t. Just because we are told that life isn’t always fair doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be and I’m going to occupy some shit until it is.
I think a lot about all the possibilities. They are scary. I constantly wonder if I’m doing all I can to ensure some semblance of a near future. I don’t know. I just do what I know to do right now – which is to write. And keep writing. And then keep writing some more.
I just really wish Facebook hadn’t changed their interface AGAIN. It really screwed up my readership.
Original Fiction from a Sitcom Mind > The Halls of Shambala > The Non-Fiction Archives: 2012-2014 > The Unemployment Chronicles >