Movin’ Ain’t Easy
The art of moving … no, I'm not talking about rhythmic gymnastics or complicated yoga poses, I mean the actual art of switching residences and claiming a new territory as your personal sanctuary. Since, I'm in a perpetual moving limbo (waiting for a roommate to decide whether or not she's leaving the big, bad Burque), I've been searching Craigslist and various classifieds in search of a new home, a fresh start so to speak.
Since I'm [still] relatively new to the city, I'm not entirely knowledgeable about the various zip codes, what they entail, the good neighborhoods, the bad neighborhoods, the apartments that are low rent v. apartments that are close to a McDonalds. But, I've found that the actual practice of visiting complexes, searching the interweb, and conversing with various consultants is an adventure in and of itself.
For instance, I spoke to one consultant via phone. I couldn't really understand his name through the static, but it sounded something like Naim (I hope that's correct). Extremely excited and chipper on the phone, Naim said he had a great apartment that had been renovated, and the monthly rate was a whopping $450 (all bills included). Since this was in my price range, I jumped at the opportunity, and asked for the address. He informed me that the apartment was on Towner and Juan Tabo. Since I currently live near there, I assumed that the neighborhood would be somewhat nice, and the location seems central enough (in that there are a lot of businesses and stores in that area).
But, as I turned down Towner, what I envisioned as a picturesque resort-like complex of townhouses and pools was quickly overshadowed by streets with pot-holes, some dudes with jeans around their knees giving me the what-you-want stare, and buildings that didn't seem quite renovated. Now, I grew up in what some refer to as “the hood,” and though I rarely get skittish driving through neighborhoods that are considered treacherous for high crime rates (again, I just moved here, so I'm not making any assumptions), this didn't seem like it was for me. So, I kindly turned my car around after throwing the dudes a peace sign, and drove off. I called Naim and informed him that it wasn't for me, and slightly saddened, he just said, “Okay, thank you for calling. Let me know if you're looking for anything in the future.”
Aside from that, I've visited complexes that are within my price range, where the leasing consultants describe a complex as familial, yet tiresome (whatever that means). And I've gone to some that are out of my price range where the consultants said, “We like to keep it quiet around here.” So, no loud music? I'm sorry … next!
So, obviously, the art of moving to a new apartment is a bit like soul searching. You'll hit a few embarrassing moments (like when I jumped a curb next to the leasing office of Wyoming Place in front of the maintenance man), moments of realization (where I realized that a living room might actually be a nice amenity rather than a studio apartment the size of my roommate's closet), moments of clarity (ie. When I came to the conclusion that maybe I'm looking too soon, and should just be comfortable in my current situation). But that's too easy. And so, the search continues …
