Corners

There's something about Harlem that drives me absolutely crazy

Not the cool air that moves through you if you step outside after sunset
Not the soul music that reminds you of an older generation unwilling to leave
Not the laughter from teenagers negotiating sex, love, and hip hop(or is it just sex?)
Not the bouncing of basketballs by young men just trying to survive and forget life's realities

Probably instead, it's a gentrification that just won't quit
Doesn't give a shit
Can't be bothered at all

Poverty just a corner away from comfortable wealth
Tree lined streets of brownstones
A hop, skip, and a jump from disabled homeless men sleeping on the street
Cute little trees and 'true diversity'
Professionals in various skin colors with the deep pockets to rent or buy
Old timers and natives need not apply

Garbage that flies around in the wind
Sticks to your ankles when you wear a dress
But never, never, never
Makes it around the corner
Somehow knows it's not wanted
Just like the homeless, disabled, drug addicted, and/or prostitutes
Who never, never, never
Make it around the corner
Somehow knowing where they're not wanted

Sometimes I think I'll scream
Tantrum and Fling
The nearest garbage can through a nice shiny window
Knock on the door of a renovated brownstone
And tell the occupants they're doing no one any favors
Reveal the secret inadvertently of course
That I am one of them
"Blessing" Harlem with my presence

A middle class social worker
Who's Latina at least, does that not count for something?
As I pay a rent that eliminates the possibility of that 'other' Latina living here
The one walking into the projects
Around the corner
With two kids, maybe one kid too many
Who isn't allowed to dream she can live in my apartment

We can both walk down the main street
Avoiding garbage
That never, never, never turns the corner
We can hold our breath as we pass the homeless men who have been lying in the sweltering heat
We can avoid the gaze of the police officer who's doing his best to keep 'us' safe from our own
We can pray for a neighborhood that makes sense
Instead of what exists
We can do and say as we please for as long as we want

But then we'll turn our respective corners
And realize that we live in two different Harlems
And the cool air
The soul music
The laughter
The basketballs
Can't make it around every corner

Apartment Hunting

I'm trying to find a new apartment that's bigger and cheaper than my current one. I know, in New York City, nearly impossible, but only nearly and that's the hope I hold on to. But apartment hunting in New York is like being selected as a juror for a high profile case. What do you do? How much do you make? Who will live there? When was the last time you called your grandmother? Do you have allergies? How do you feel about strawberries? Can you make a deposit of one of your kidneys? Now, it makes sense to a certain degree, there are people who move into apartments knowing they can't pay rent and eviction is a long process. But as social worker, I also know this is such a small minority that such presumptions in an application process are actually quite unnecessary.

Then again as a recent graduate, I also know that such presumptions can be the difference between moving into a new place by August 1st or continuing to pay an arm and a leg in an apartment that didn't ask so many questions (it is really nice, pretty big, close to transportation and stores, BUT immensely expensive). I'm a recent graduate, you want to see my W-2 forms you say-that's fine, they say I made $13, 000 last year. Why? Oh, because I was in school dickwad, I could only work but so much in addition to classes and a 21 hour internship. Do you make over 40k? Not yet. Why not? Oh, because I was in school dickwad, and since I just graduated I'm in the process of transitioning from a decent paying part time job to a more decent paying full time job. Do you have a co-signor that makes over 80k? No way-*Chuckle, chuckle* Why not? Oh, because I was in school dickwad, but most of my family has not. Nor were they in school much in high school and therefore they have lived most of their lives busting their asses for wages that really don't match all the work, sweat, and tears they put into the system. Any more questions???

Last pet peeve in apartment hunting-looking at ads that are listed as "by owner only" (therefore intimating no brokers and no brokers fee) and having to talk through a 'middle man or woman' who somehow needs to be paid a month of rent in order to help you. Is this not similar to a broker? Is this not a dishonest practice? Should I not curse them out and send them to hell when I feel that I have been deceived? Just some questions I would like answers to.

But, alas, thus is the struggle of the New York City apartment hunter and I'll keep you posted on my progress, but if anyone has any suggestions or leads as to where I should be looking, I'm open to hearing them...