Apt 45 Part 2: The reality of Washington Heights

As the much needed fail of the MTV Washington Heights reality show moves into its next week of pointless drama, I give you part 2 of Apt 45.

One thing about this year is that the resolution gym rush occurred in February. All the people who promised to be gym rats starting January 1 are delivering on that promise in February; delayed start, but can't hate the intention. In the spirit of embodying the New Year Spirit in February, I'd like to tell you about the best of the worst New Year's Eve/Day stories ever experienced by this here writer -- in apt 45.
Remember 2009? It was a big one for me. It was the year I finished college, moved to New York and moved in with a crazy person. For almost four months I had to play a challenging game of let the hood rat run around until she evicts herself. The game goes something like this: hood rat does something crazy, Ohio girl attempts to let it go and documents the occurrence -- and repeat. My goal was to gather enough altercations (unprovoked) to convince the remaining tenants that life would really be much better without her. Well, this proved to be so much easier once I discovered the rat was a squatting one -- she wasn't paying rent. Determined with the lack of work ethic to not settle for a job and therefore not have any money for rent, my roommate squatted, but like a sitting duck she had to be nice to me and she had to be smart about her actions; the latter was something I certainly had an upper hand on. So as a self-declared master of passive aggressive activity, I began to sting small arguments with the venom of, "well I'm paying rent so ..." The veracity of my statement and the amazing teeter of the power structure let me sleep better at night (even with the ridiculous radio playing).
Now that you have a sense of the tension that broached the apartment, picture: December 31, 2009 a joyous night that celebrates the past and designates positivity for the future. My sane roommate and my bf are getting ready for a night out together. The crazy one comes by to let us know that she's having a party tonight and that it should be over by like 2. Annoyed of the idea that the apartment might be infected with her hood rat friends, we reside to agreeing that being back by 3am will give people plenty of time to leave and we'll be back without having to experience it ...

Boy were we wrong.

Enter 3:15am New Year's Day 2010.
As I walk out the elevator towards our apartment I hear music blaring, but an empty apartment! I'm thinking great we missed them, now off to bed. As I was quickly corrected, her party wasn't starting until 3:30. The level of anger cannot be explained in this post, but just think about narrowing escaping a really bad situation only to find out that you were still in the wrong place at the wrong time, in fact it was your living quarters. Seething, I return to bed hoping for the party to be over as soon as humanely possible.
7:30am ... Party is still going, music, drunk people, running up and down the hallway, knocking on doors while we pretend to sleep, and the kicker: my roommate was nowhere to be found...  I hadn't slept, the cat was hungry and I was beyond done. I go outside to feed him and am accosted by someone I could only describe as a misdirected Tim Burton character.

That I believe is what they call the straw that broke the camel's back, I succumbed to calling the police on my own apartment.

I mean, who has to disguise their voice as a scared neighbor to get the police to come to their apartment and break up the party ...? This lady. In apt 45.


Don't worry it can't get worse than this, right?
Stay tuned for more ...

Apt 45: The reality of Washington Heights

When I heard there was a reality show about Washington Heights, I began to search my papers to make sure I hadn't agreed to be filmed and was secretly recorded the two years I lived there -- because that would explain the level of drama I was forced to live with. I mean really, this living situation was devoid of producers and unpaid talent - MTV's dream production I would think.
So, when we examine the former against the rules of a reality show, this post will serve as a convincing proposal to either my house was bugged and an audition tape for the Washington Heights reality show, or I was lucky craigslist responder number 439 to reply to a cheap room in Manhattan's upper living quarters. Either way, I'm going to publish a series here -- a literary rival of reality show vs. real life. Now, the essential principle to create a successful reality show rests in the ability to create a situation that is bound to bring out the worst in others: Apt 45 on Saint Nicholas is a contender. And now, what will be the first episode:

Part 1: Real Life Hot Mess
It started out with a reply to an ideal craigslist post (if there is one):

Friendly girls looking for young professional female roommate -- own room, cheap rent, clean roommates!

It was summer in the city, I spent the last three months living off raviolis and take home meals in an apartment that was robbing me blind, sucks being naive and from Ohio. So, I'm at the end of my rope living in a summer sublet, I reply to this post and tell the girl I can come by with a check if all is as it turns out to be. As I walk in to visit this shotgun apartment one early summer morning ready and happy to meet my roommates, one is sleeping and one answers the door half naked, exclaiming how comfortable everyone is with each other! I peek into the kitchen to confirm the "clean" part of the posting ... it's borderline rotting with dirty dishes and scum (no really, actual scum). My host and tour guide tells me "and this is the kitchen, oh we were cooking last night no worries it's normally really clean."
The room is small, but what room isn't in NYC. It had a closet and would be my own. I continue to rationalize each red flag thinking: well even if no one seems to be going to work except for me surely they are doing something to pay rent here; and the kitchen can't always be like that I mean no one would want to live like that. In desperation and with hope for change I tell her I'll take it and will move in next week...
When I showed up tired from moving all day and a little nervous about what this next chapter would bring, I finally sit down after I finish unpacking at about 1 in the morning on a Thursday night. As I'm getting ready for bed my roommate comes home (the one that was sleeping when I initially stopped by)...
Without pleasantries she looks at me and says abhorrently, "ummm, you have a cat..??" You would have thought my cat marked his territory across her door, when instead he sat there per usual like a bump on a log. Hatred towards my cat was a strike... her attitude was a strike, her faint scent of hot mess was a strike ... within moments my dreams are crushed of a blossoming friendship with my roommate and instead it's replaced by a nightmare punctured with misplaced piercings a noticeable weave and a muffin top.
And so the drama began ...
We exchanged angry words as I declared she must turn down her music as some people needed to get up and work in the morning. I mean when my walls are shaking ... really ... really ... ?
She wanted me to keep my cat in my room, when I threw back at her that I was paying rent and he was part of the package she stood down ever so slightly (little did I know how poignant my sticking point was).
The mediating roommate and resident owner of the apartment finally comes home and attempts to make a deal between the two of us. I'll just say it was a short-lived truce.
Like any typical reality show, we've established the conflict at the beginning: a clash of two worlds with an infinite possibility of aggression, arguments and situations that could be scripted but in reality, are not. A girl from Ohio learning her way in the city sharing a space with a girl who's future will consist of living off the money she made agreeing to marry an illegal immigrant.

Stay tuned for more posts as you get to relive with me the best of the worst of my two years in Washington Heights.

Attainable Ideals

Alright, so maybe I've said it before -- but really, what's with all the TV shows that are horribly realistic? I mean I can't be the only one that looks to Hollywood and says, "thank goodness they get paid to be perfect, otherwise where would all my pinspiration (and the traditional kind) come from?" Listen, I like my tv idols just as well as the next girl: skinny, a dose of scripted wit and the ability to never over or under dress. Last night as I succumbed to the group decision to watch Girls, admittedly, there were some parts where I chuckled, but overwhelmingly the awkward dialogue and unfortunate style choices were distracting! If entertainment is suppose to suggest a vicarious life, or an escape route with aspiration, then what's with this new genre? On one hand I get it -- people are looking for a novel in a television show and shows like Girls offer multidimensional characters that people can relate to and give a voice to the "common girl," oh and we also don't have to read and comprehend, just watch and listen. On the other hand, you don't need a television show to remind you how nondescript and vulnerable you actually are, at least I don't. I'd much prefer to watch a show that keeps me thinking and dreaming versus "oh man someone out there really gets me, unfortunately she's making all the dough, and the only thing more I have is a girl that can't be described as pretty acting out scenes that could easily be from my weekend." I mean really.
Another thing, I must say to male readers that adore this show: just because there are moments you might have recently experienced with a girl when she offers tangential line of reasoning and you see it again in this show this does not mean the show is a window into the girl psyche, therefore you should not assume she would also agree to get a horrible tattoo or wear a bra in public, or any other egregious attribute that might be assigned should you hold this show as bible when it comes to girls. In fact, all this show really summed up is that life and girls don't make sense - and you can't make even make a show that's going to appeal to all of us. Because we're so complicated and yet oversimplified in our ideals that nothing and everything satisfies us. Makes so much sense, right?

Resolutions That Matter

Happy New Year!! Right in time for 2013 and the shameless appeals to do better next year, I finished the book "Cold Tangerines" by Shauna Niequist. The book is a series of short stories celebrating the everyday-ness of things. So for example, appreciating the way your hand warms up when you grip a hot cup of coffee, or celebrating the rock in your life - the person who always is there to hold you up even if they are the one to make your knees weak. It's one of those books that will make you think with each word, each sentence and each chapter. I'm telling you about this book because it inspired my New Year's resolution. It made me realize that I've been having a hard time the last year being comfortable, you know feeling content and enjoying the every day. Worrying about if I have enough friends, if enough people like my writing, what will my life look like in five years, do I need a bigger couch, etc. I do things like this and I also do things like qualifying the best and worst of things without appreciating the just plain ol' good. And when I initially thought about my resolutions I was thinking I should resolve be less nervous, or be more spontaneous. But, quite frankly, when I was being honest with myself, these are traits of my personality, not a lifestyle change.
I wanted to do something that would help me feel better about the coming year, and then I finished this book and thought "ah ha!" what better way to start the year than by resolving to start appreciating what I have. So, that's what I'm doing today and hopefully the rest of the year and onward- planning and executing a way to appreciate the good.
I know it's going to be challenging -- it's going to take some work to start seeing and celebrating the hidden gems in mundane activity or completely terrible situations. And the catch of the book and this resolution - is that you can't do it retrospectively, you have to let yourself be open to the goodness of something when no one else can see it, in that moment. That's what it's about. Now, how does one do this you might ask?
Well for starters when I stop thinking about something better, something worse, something that's not right now... I can start living and stop waiting for things and hopefully, they will just happen.

So, readers wish me luck. Hope you don't think this is a cop-out, I'll be working just as hard as those trying to swear off cookies (which would be equally challenging for me). I wish you all the best in 2013, and no matter what your resolution is I hope it makes your ever day a little better than it was last year - because that's all that matters, right?