Subletting an apartment is like, well, living in someone else’s room. You’re surrounded by their stuff, you sit in their chair, you take care of their plants, and you sleep in their bed. Sure you have a place to stay – you aren’t homeless. But you certainly never have a home.
This certainly doesn’t help with cooking either. I already know nothing, so when I’m forced to impose myself on someone else’s cooking utensils it makes me just comfortable enough not to try. I made a frozen pizza for dinner tonight.
I share my apartment with three women – all of which seem to be here temporarily.
My roommate Anna has been here the longest. She’s from Maine and has several siblings. When she lived in Brazil with her sister for a year the locals would call them both “blonde tornadoes” because apparently they were “pretty wild”. Her brother rides his motorcycle from Maine to Mexico and back at least once a year. She grew up in the forest and as a result has a decidedly ‘earthly’ manner to her. She likes to cook mushrooms and not wear any shoes. Oh, and she is a designer for Armani Exchange.
Gloria has been here the second-longest, but only for a little over a month. She works as a “real estate liquidator” – whatever that means. But she is studying up on some sort of digital art or technology something as she will be entering NYU’s graduate program in the fall. Her cooking seems to be the best and after a talk with her today, it sounds like there may be cookies soon…
Alex is the third roommate (a coincidence, I know). I know almost nothing about her except that she is only in the apartment after 2:00am and she may or may not work at a video store in Midtown. She seems young because she is very small and quiet – but I have nothing to verify my assumptions because she is never around. I think she has been here less than a month, and she is leaving before July. I’m pretty sure she is scared of the rest of us.
Last weekend I got the opportunity to visit one of Andrea’s friends who has a nice apartment on the Upper East Side. It was refreshing to see that people actually make homes in this city, rather than live out of suitcases, uncertain as to what the future may hold.
Luckily, I got to go on their roof (something I have fantacised about with romantic NYC images drawn from Dharma and Greg and Friends). Looking over the skyline was encouraging. Real people live in NYC. I know its only been a week and a half, but I think I could live here.
I just need a home.
