The hardest moves to make

Afraid of change,
afraid of stayin’ the same.
When temptation comes,
we just look away.

-”What A Good Boy,” Barenaked Ladies
Uh oh. Song lyrics to start an entry. Things must be bad.

They have been.

I’ve tried to live my life week by week. This is the only way I’ve nearly survived a whole school year at I.S. 666. Since May, the days have melted off the calendar faster than I can accomplish everything I want to. But all the while a chant has throbbed in my head: “I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here.”

The search for a new job hasn’t been easy, despite how motivated I’ve been about sending out resumes and cover letters. I’ve had some fruitless job interviews at decent schools that wanted someone with more experience. I’ve also been called for interviews at some schools that are as bad or perhaps worse than I.S. 666. I didn’t bother going to these. Human punching bag no more! Next year, I plan on actually teaching.

Coupled with my ennui from stressful working conditions is upheaval on the homefront. Since last August, I’ve lived in a third floor walk-up with three other women, none of whom have been employed. This is weird, considering I’m the youngest person in the apartment and the only one working. The arrangement worked out for the most part. Sure, I was annoyed when Chen, the roommate closest to me, would want to talk or ask me to do something for her right when I walked in the door from work. That is not a good time to talk to me. Ever. I’m tired, hungry, and disgruntled. Always. Chen and I also had internet issues, because the router is in her room and she’s always home, except when it needs to be switched off and back when the internet stops working in my room.

I found out three nights ago that I’m expected to move out a month before my lease ends to accommodate a family member of the primary renter of my apartment. This means I need a new dwelling next month! At times like this, one doesn’t recall all the uncomfortable summer days without air conditioning or the tile that fell from the shower wall while showering one night, leaving ancient black scum at your feet.

Instead, one freaks, really really freaks, out.

Omigod. IhavenofurnitureofmyownandtoomanyclothesandverythingIknowishere. AHHHHHHHH!
Howexpensivewillthisbe? WillIhavetomoveinwithfreaks? Whocanhelpmethroughthis?

My mom misses my “only in New York” stories. Well, here’s one: Only in New York will someone pay over $800 a month to rent a bedroom so small that he or she literally can’t do a push-up in it. (I know, because I’m dating a someone like this). Only in New York do people rent kitchen pantries out for college students to live in. Remember that Seinfeld episode where Kramer houses Chinese men in a bureau drawer? I’m pretty sure there may be residential situations like that downtown.

George Carlin has this schtick where he talks about how people refer to their own possessions as “stuff,” but those of others as “shit.” For instance, my room is full of my stuff, but the rest of the apartment is completely cluttered with Kathy’s shit. I’m afraid of getting an apartment where I have no storage for stuff OR shit.

In all this upheaval, I start fast-forwarding months ahead and I want to see something better. Nothing worthwhile is easily attained, I know, and I have to take risks. I know there’s a way for me to get a better living situation in the future without going through all the roommate drama. I need a situation with fewer people to deal with. I need to live with someone I know better and trust.

I don’t want to share a cluttered, cramped apartment with multiple roommates for the rest of my twenties, but I don’t want to move to an apartment in an undesirable area just so I can afford my own place, either.

As for the job, again, nothing’s easy. I need to be more educated in a particular area to take advantage of one opportunity. I’ll do my best. Sometimes I can’t tell if all this undulation is coming from waves out of my control or my own mad splashing in treacherous waters. Either way, I’m still paddling, desperately trying to stay afloat.

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