UPDATES

July 20th, 2010

I've heard that everyone has to have a NYC living experience in a closet sized apartment. I thought I'd count myself out of said experience when I moved into a studio all by my lonesome. But then real life hit me in the form of a crashing economy. My neighborhood went to shit.

My family came to visit me for christmas when i was living WAAAY uptown in my studio two years ago. My mom was never really fond of my neighborhood. I thought it was fine. To set the scene, it went like this: mother and father sitting in my studio, christmas tree lit, warmth from the radiator. and then...

BAM!!!!

Mother runs to window: "Was that a gun?!"
ME: "If it was, the last place you'd want to be is right in front of the window."
Mother pressed up against window now: "You need to move out."
ME: "Get away from the window, mom. I don't need to move out. It could have been a firecracker." (yes i realize that doesn't make much sense, but not much made sense in my neighborhood.)
Mother: "You need to move out."
ME: "Mom, I'm fine."

Fast forward to christmas morning. Set the scene: mother and father and daughter stepping out across the front stoop. Blood ALL OVER front stoop.

Mother freaking out: "IS THAT BLOOOD?!?!?!"
ME: "I think it's just ketchup."
Father: "No, that's blood. I've seen this before. Looks like a stabbing."
ME looking in disbelief at father because somehow, he's seen EVERYTHING: "Oh."
Mother: "You need to move out!"
ME admitting defeat: "Ok."

So, there goes that idea. The ex moved in and we moved out. Moved a little further downtown to the UWS. This is a nice neighborhood. To give the abridged version, we broke up, she moved out, and i got a roommate... in a one bedroom apartment.

AND thus began my NYC lifestyle in a shoebox. I live in the living room with a curtain for a door and no closet. I store my linens behind my couch...

And it's not half bad.