Come check out my latest short stories on Angie's Diary:
1. New York....The City That Sleeps Around?
2. Sally Felt A Little Funny
My Magical World of Pen & Paper
My blog is a professional portfolio used to showcase my talent as a writer. Ever since I learned how to read I couldn’t put a book down. I am a former teacher who holds a M.S. in Childhood Education. The empathy and drive I felt for making a difference in the classroom is the same motivation I channel into my writing. My stories are meant to inspire, help people feel better and make a difference. My passion for education and social justice reform will never cease.
Saturday, June 13, 2020
Thursday, June 4, 2020
My Memoir
Saturday, October 27, 2018
Wednesday, September 19, 2018
Monday, September 3, 2018
Craig's List Nightmare
Craig's List? or Little Shop of Horrors? Before you answer that
question it depends what you are seeking. It is a ubiquitous website people use
all over the world that caters to every demand and need you are seeking from
jobs, gigs, romance and real estate. I'm not talking about romance or other
kinky/fetish ads on there that led to murders like that Craig's List Killer who
was an ivy grad, that's so overrated.
No I am talking about something not as talked about......Apartment
Shares.
If you are looking for a place to live and need roommates and have
no other choice but to find people you don't know to reside with, most people
turn to Craig's List. These days thanks to Facebook becoming more like a cult
there are a million groups on there that serve the same purpose such as Gypsy
Housing. The bottom line is it is scary to have to share such an intimate
situation with a bunch of strangers but have no choice due to your finances or
other personal reasons. I was blessed and since I moved out, I have had only
small problems living under these conditions. I thought my biggest problems I
had faced previously were dealing with catty girls in charge of my lease and
lending out the room to me and deciding on a drop of a hat if they wish to
throw me out. It sounds like a sorority but worse because you are in the real
world and have to pay your bills and empty your pockets to evacuate. Or my last
residence where it felt like I lived in a monastery and the other girls were
woken up by a pin dropping. Of course I knew I had it made though. I had a
fight with the last creepy girls when I was still living in Westchester. It was
taxing enough since this house I shared with other women was on top of a
winding hill. It was more of an ambush and attack on me. When I first moved in
I was in a rush because my last apartment I was living in at the time (I
actually lived by myself & loved it) the lease was ending after a year. I
had a month and after answering this ad on Craig's List for a room not too far
from where I was I met the girl who showed it to me and liked her. She was a
crucial part of my decision making to live there because I would be sharing the
upstairs & bathroom with her. Once she gave me the room a day later I felt
over the moon. Looking back in retrospect, I should've gotten a lay out of the
land first because the distance to the train station was a rigorous and
unaccommodating walk; it was on top of a winding hill with tree branches
everywhere and no clear walking path for pedestrians like side streets you
would see in the city; you could easily get hit by a car. Obtaining a
parking permit to have a reserved spot for Metro North was next to impossible;
you could be on that waiting list to get approved for years. Having a car
in this part of Westchester had its own host of problems. The streets here were
designed just like parking in the city; over congested with people parking
their car in front of the sidewalk and every other day you had to move your
car; they had alternate side parking and tow away zones on certain days a week.
Even if you had a parking permit it was still tough to find parking because
there was no reserved spots just reserved streets which every other car had
taken already. When it snowed forget it. One particular time I had left my car
parked after a blizzard hit; it looked like a snowball. It took me so long for
the ice to melt after the storm that right below the windshield wiper was a
block of ice clasping my parking ticket for leaving it there for well over 2
days; probably almost a month. I'm lucky they didn't tow it.
In retrospect I should've ditched my car then.
That was nothing compared to the other snap decision that I made.
My feeling of glee quickly waned after I moved in. Although I had
the opportunity to meet the other girls occupying the house when I viewed the
room, I didn't let my feelings and bad vibes get in the way - which turned out
to be my downfall. The girl's name who was the head of the house (the one
person whose name was on the actual lease of the house) was named Andrea.
When I saw her I felt ill. You know that sinking feeling when you meet someone
for the first time and you get bad feelings/intuitions? Well that's how I felt
about her but I was dumb enough to go through moving into the house once Jen,
the girl I was sharing the upstairs with accepted me. I figured it wouldn't be
a big deal since it was Jen & I who would be the only ones sharing the
bathroom and I liked her and she obviously liked me to have chosen me for the
room. However, shortly after moving in I learned she ended up having a
breakdown. That was the one night she was living there that I wasn't home. I
was thankful I wasn't there that night. I heard her mother was there and early
in the morning was when she lost control. They told me she was yelling in
Spanish to her mother (she's of Dominican descent but grew up in the Bronx) and
eventually she had to be carried out in a stretcher. She was put in the
hospital for a week before she returned back to her room. She worked at
Columbia and had a very good job working with opthamologists. She was studying
to complete some sort of certification and I guess the stress finally took a
toll on her. She claimed she had a bad reaction with over the counter
barbiturates. I was only living there for a month at that time and she was
already living there with the same other girls for a whole year. I couldn't
believe something so catastrophic would occur when Jen has been fine living
here and under control for a whole year. Anyway, when I returned home I was
informed of what happened. Catherine showed zero sympathy whatsoever and just
told me I should just ignore her. She said she wished she would leave now,
"It's not her problem that Jen has to find a new place to live first
before she moves out". I felt afraid when I was given that warning. She
was returning from the hospital soon and we should all just ignore her? I
expected Medusa with a million snakes hissing from her head.
However, it turned out she was totally normal and they still spoke
to her regardless of their warning they gave me. I saw her in her bedroom with
her door opened and she told me the story. Jen ended up moving out a
month later like she said. After that my fate was sealed. Like I said, I didn't
care for Andrea and Catherine (putting it mildly) but I never thought it would
become a war. First I was a little insulted that they didn't seek my approval
once Jen left. I was the one who would be sharing the upstairs with this new
tenant, you would think since I would be mostly with this future roommate they
would for my approval. They ended up telling me it was because I had just moved
in the house and they had been there for a year together. After my new roommate
moved in all hell broke loose. She caused and instigated a lot of trouble. She
had the nerve to tell me what to do, when to clean as if I was a slave and not
paying rent to live there. The three of us had cars and shared the same run
down driveway. The whole house was basically in shambles and Andrea had said
they once had a problem with mice. There was so much drama having to move our
cars all the time if we wanted to leave and the other person was home. It
amounted and erupted like a volcano. I'll call her Sara. She was a phony and I
could tell she was used to using her charms to win people over and she knew it
too. It didn't take much for her to start a lot of trouble for me.
She enjoyed cooking & baking along with making fancy cocktails
you would drink from a lounge and would love to kiss up to them by leaving some
sustenance as a cupcake or two to enjoy while they went to work: "Just a
little surprise. Enjoy them!" She left it on the kitchen table. She loved
parading around in her LBD's (Little Black Dresses) while advertising Grey
Goose - she was a brand ambassador. I found her Instagram and she snapped
pictures of her new found sisterhood with this creepy group by posting photo
ops of them lunching or food she made for them. So she was a master making
mixed drinks and made delicious guac. She even gave out free wine glasses to
this creepy bunch - with the exception of me. I always felt uncomfortable
around Andrea and she was the one who had control of the house. She claimed she
went to church all the time, one of the biggest religious hypocrites I've ever
met. Well after much prodding and persuasion from Sara's part, her brown nosing
worked. They wanted to throw me out of the house. I had been living there for 7
months already and the holidays were right ahead, what an altruistic Child of
God Andrea is, to have no qualms about throwing me out at Christmas over dirty
dishes! They claimed I didn't get all the stains from the dishes out and my
clothes that I was hanging on the drying rack almost leaked that shitty house.
Sara would drive me insane with my car. We all left our keys right by the door
in case we had no choice to but to move another person's car if we wanted to
leave and no one was home. The cars were so tightly packed in the small
driveway that it looked more like a junk yard. Well she decided that at 7 am
she would wake me up by telling me that she needed to leave and my car was
blocking hers. But she was leaving in a couple of hours, not right then at 7
am. She decided to tell me a few hours prior just to set me off. Well it
worked. I was furious. I told her that's why my key is in the basket for her to
move it herself. I was sleeping in, it was the weekend and I was exhausted. I
yelled on top of my lungs and went crazy. I couldn't take it anymore,
especially after being woken up so early on the weekend. She claimed she didn't
know what a Volkswagen key looked like. What a stupid thing to say, it could
only be one of two keys and the symbol of Volkswagen was on it. Not only that
but it turns out later after this incident, I saw her in her sister's car which
was also a Volkswagen. So they wanted me out. I was going to leave eventually
but they made the decision for me, right around the holidays. Some god fearing
woman Andrea was, to kick someone out right before the holidays over a
cockamamie thing like dirty dishes. But I'm not surprised, she's not the first
avid church goer I've met who needs to realize they're immoral; let alone not
following the righteous path from studying the bible.
Andrea was always stoic and I questioned what her story was; she
grew up in some middle of nowhere place, Ohio and acted strange like from the
movie Carrie. I could see her as a frail and frumpy school girl who gets
scolded from their religious zealot parents; just like the torture Carrie
endured by her mother. I also met her parents once and they fit the cast of
Carrie perfectly. She also grew up in a backwards town and gave off a vibe like
she was from Nowheresville, USA. She always creeped me out.
Carrie a.k.a. Andrea and her followers all ganged up on me out of
nowhere one night while I was trying to enjoy my turkey burger. I had always
tried to be nice and before hand even suggested paying Catherine $20 for
installing the lock on my door knob for me (she of course accepted). How many
people would do that? Andrea attacked me with nonsense that happened 7 months
ago when I first moved in when Jen was still living here. To make a long story
short, I finally left. It took me a while because I was between jobs at the
time and unlike most people I had no one to help me move, or places to crash at
such as family like most people have the option of, so I would have to find
another place to rent and pay for all moving expenses out of my own pocket. I
had enough of Westchester. I knew I would be moving closer in the city. I had
spent nearly all my time there anyway except for living there. I was itching to
leave. Westchester is for married couples and college kids. I always wanted to
live in Queens. Never Brooklyn, but Queens. Don't ask me why I zeroed in only
the borough of Queens and had high expectations of it besides because I never
spent any time here or had any personal reason other than a strong intuition...
When you are on a fixed budget and have no one else to move in
with your selection is rather limited. Everyone knows New York is one of the
most expensive cities to move to. Rooms I have rented are equivalent to a whole
apartment in let's say, Binghamton NY and any other Anywhere, USA.
I had no idea I was being 'picky' when choosing a residence to
make my home. I needed to be close to the subway (MTA), meaning a walking
distance away to a train that would take no longer than 30 minutes to get to
the city, preferably the midtown area. After all I had spent my whole life
commuting on Metro North and the trip was up to 45-60 minutes, I didn't want to
repeat it again. One of the biggest perks of relocating to the city is not
needing (actually an inconvenience) of having a car. I always hated driving but
had my license and a car because living in the 'burbs there's no way to get
around without one. It is a complete inconvenience not having
a car here in the styx. You have the opposite reasons of having a vehicle
here in urban life: Not only is it impossible to find parking and driving in
the city is a war zone (I like to joke & say you need to pass another road
test in order to handle the bedlam in these city streets), you have all the
options of mass transit i.e. subways, cabs, walking, buses.....I never
understood why people are surprised when I tell them that I have no car living
here especially when they are New York natives themselves.
After much searching, hunting and banging my head against the wall
I finally struck gold. It was one of the most frustrating & aggravating
processes. I found a cute area right in Queens outside of midtown. I've never
heard of it before but when I found out how strategically located it was to the
city I went to look. As soon as I stepped off the 7 train I was in love. It was
Woodside. It reminded me of where my parents grew up in the Bronx on Irwin
Avenue near Riverdale, one of the nice parts of the Bronx. It was everything I
had imagined Queens to be. It was so idyllic and had a tight knit community. It
was clean, you could almost eat off the ground. There were parks and churches
and a lot of adorable Irish pubs; the staff were off the boat Irish, chipper
with a sing song tone to their brogue. It was a melting pot mixed with mostly a
Hispanic and Filipino population. I relished and enjoyed the Mexican food
especially; it's one of my favorite cuisines. There was also a couple of family
owned pizzerias. They have been open for years and very nice as well, they made
you feel as if you lived there forever. it was not too far from other
neighboring quaint areas like Sunnyside.
It defied my belief that when you have high expectations over
something they are almost never met so it is a good idea to have no
expectations. However this situation was an exception. I thought I wanted to
live in Astoria but it was not meant to be. Not only did I hit pay dirt but I
was shocked besides once discovering this gem.
The landlord was a kind man. He was in his 40's and a forever
resident of Queens. He was a little peculiar and reserved but in a genuine way.
He dressed like his clothes were from the '70s, almost like he saved them from
when he was younger and could've been the costumes for old sitcoms such as
Three's Company. The apartment was on the third floor of his house. He
kept his small house in pristine and in immaculate condition. The house also
seeemed like it was passe; the carpet had a putrid color and the front door
seemed old school but very welcoming. His apartment was on the first floor and
when I entered it it was also decorated like from another era. He even had
tenants occupying the other 2 bedrooms in his place and his living space was
small too to share.
He cared about all of his things and made sure all his tenants
were responsible and maintained cleanliness. He was nice enough to even provide
his tenants with granny carts in the foyer in case we needed it when we ran our
errands. He made sure I didn't have a bicycle let alone a car because he said
there was no space for it. He also cared about my concerns and any issue
I had he addressed it and took care of it right away such as a leaking faucet
or broken door knob; even if I vented to him about catty things such as a messy
stove one of the girls didn't wipe up after she cooked.
He also went above and beyond by offering to assemble some
furniture I had bought; it was this office chair and I ordered it online and if
it wasn't for him I never would've been able to put it together.
The second floor was only one apartment. It was a small stair case
that lead up to the third floor. The only bedroom that was available that he
was showing me was huge. New York is notorious for living in small spaces which
are very expensive but again this was the exception not the rule. I only had to
share a bathroom with two other girls. A lot of ads I answered you had to share
a bathroom with up to 6 people. I could never imagine how that could be
possible, but people somehow manage.
I was in love with the place and felt warm, fuzzy intuitions. Love
at first sight. John, the landlord lived on the first floor of the house. I had
thought about deciding whether to take it when leaving. I wanted it to sink in
so I could think about this meticulously. After telling him I wanted the room
(I was desperate to move in ASAP) he told me to give him the deposit quickly or
else someone else might potentially grab it tomorrow. I ran to the closest ATM,
my bank was not there but unfortunately the other bank refused to dish out all
of the dollar bills needed to give him the deposit. So he gave me till tomorrow
to hand him the deposit so he could cancel the viewing with another potential
tenant.
I never officially met the other girls occupying the space other
than a glimpse and little hello of two of them. But I had a good feeling about
this. Instead of the lease being controlled by someone running more of a clique
from high school, the strings were being pulled by a landlord who happens to be
an older man concerned with making sure everyone follows his rules and respects
his property, almost like an R.A. of a dormitory instead of a sorority.
I came back with all of the bills just like I told him. And it was
mine! I moved in immediately. He had already furnished the 2 large windows with
these beautiful, purple, floral drapes. They were brand new. I loved it. I
eventually met the last girl. She was occupying the bedroom right next door to
me. We shared the same wall. Her name was Cara. You had to enter the kitchen to
get in her room. I always like to say there are pluses and minuses to
everything; in life the best you could do is find something with more pros than
cons. This apartment share was civilized and run by a landlord more like
our father but due to the small size and sensitivity of my other roommates they
wanted absolute silence. When I signed the written agreement it said no noise
after 11 pm. I fully understood and agreed but I had no idea what his
definition of what 'noise' constitutes is and he didn't tell me before moving
in. In the beginning it was okay because the first 3 girls didn't mind if I
walked in the kitchen late at night to grab something to eat or drink or make
sure my TV was at the absolute lowest volume.
Cara and I became fast friends. Of course we fought over
cockamamie things like dirty dishes but how could we not? Sharing such a small
space with no living room and only a small hallway and bathroom would be next
to impossible to avoid butting heads every now & then. Also, upon
moving in I discovered that the hardwood floors creaked every footstep I took;
it turns out it's because the house was very old. I could hear everyone's
footsteps due to the old floorboards although they were recently polished. When
I first moved in I got my first outburst. Apparently I had made a lot of noise
when I came home very late one night. I couldn't imagine how anyone could
complain because I am not an out of control party girl or out of control,
period. That is when I found out about the old floor boards. The girls below me
were absolutely livid; they complained to John and took it upon themselves to
yell at me as if I was Paris Hilton and all I did was party all night while
they were trying to get a good night's sleep for work the next day.
Fortunately, that cleared up and I ended up being friendly with them for the
duration of the 2 years living there. They lived on the second floor, were off
the boat Chinese and had a fat cat. After a year past the first few girls who I
got along with ended up moving out. After they were replaced by two new girls
that was when things had taken a turn for the worst. The new girl who occupied
the room next to me claimed I was "being so loud" by walking into the
kitchen to satiate human needs like hunger and thirst. She also claimed my TV
was "blasting", she would bang on my wall as if I was waking up all
the neighbors with this "noise disturbance". After I went ballistic
telling her how sensitive she is and this is not noise she is complaining about
but sounds, she told me that in order for her to fall asleep at night there had
to be absolute silence. If she heard a pin drop she would get a headache and
falling asleep would be impossible for her. She ended up sleeping with ear
plugs. My landlord had this uncanny knack for remaining calm in EVERY situation
possible to the point that I was envious of him. I never understood how so many
issues that you would think would trigger him to go ballistic never set him
off. No matter how annoyed he would get with these catty issues, and even
serious ones such as my faulty air conditioner almost causing the roof to cave
in because it was leaking (unbeknownst to me) still would never make him break.
I was even more stumped because he was a chain smoker and would go outside late
every night smoking endless cigarettes; you would think this would cause him to
undergo major anxiety and exacerbate his calm aura but no, it never did. He of
course agreed with the other girls that my TV was all of a sudden too loud and
he even politely asked me if I wouldn't enter the kitchen past 11 pm. All of a
sudden after living there for a year he politely gave me all of these
conditions as if I just moved in. These are ridiculous things he should've
addressed before I moved in; and he should've emphasized what he meant by
noise. It's not noise it's sounds. The only rule on his list he emphasized upon
moving in was not allowing any male guests to sleep over. I was okay with that;
I didn't find the prospect of inviting a guy I was dating over to a small space
with 3 other girls appealing anyway; if anything I would feel like my privacy
would be invaded, after all the kitchen was the size of a closet and the
entrance to one of my roommate's bedrooms was through there.
These tenants occupying his property were sensitive to sounds to
the point that it felt like I was living in a monastery. I already missed
the camaraderie I developed with Cara when her & I were first warned of our
"loud behavior" by being greeted with a notice on the bathroom door asking
us to be quiet past 10 pm. We were also asked to lower our voices while
chatting in the kitchen. I wished I could've turned back the hands of
time to when I first moved in and I made friends with Cara - fighting over
dirty dishes would've been a small price to pay compared to what I had in store
for me with in the next year. Although Cara and I had some arguments, she was
always nice to me. Her and I came from similar fields: She is a social worker
and I was a teacher at the time I met her. She really helped me a great deal
when I stressed out with my work and she certainly exemplified the true
definition of a therapist; she would take the shirt off her back for a
stranger. She was very moody however, one of the most moodiest people I ever
met. But I am grateful for the ear she lended me, especially one time in
particular where an incident occurred of mine and she let me vent to her the
whole weekend about it.
In hindsight, it almost felt like the college experience I never
got because I ended up staying at home for college; except this was a new spin
on it: It was the college experience later on in life by knowing what it feels
like to bond with my roommate but this time with the added pressure of hacking
it in the real world by fighting to survive in order to keep a roof over my
head and food on the table.
After Cara left my new roommates & I would send each other
group text messages regarding any issues in the place we were sharing. After a
while I became so fed up with this new set of girls complaining that I was
being "noisy" that I finally had enough and exploded. It ended up
becoming a barrage of nonsensical text messages as if the world was coming to
an end.
Another girl who remained quiet finally chimed in too and told me
she was always bothered by my "loud behavior". I would be on my way
to work and send angry text messages relaying to them what I am saying here;
that this is ridiculous and so on. Finally I had to block all of them and put
things in perspective. I had stop for a second and tell myself to remain calm
and realize things could be so much worse than this; I should be grateful for
all the benefits of living here and not let this nonsense get to me. I had no
idea how much I needed to appreciate my own pep talk until after living there
for two years: My landlord finally took action on his idea of renovating the
apartment by knocking down my bedroom wall, which meant I would have to move
out. He never intended on becoming a landlord of an all girls apartment; he did
it out of family obligation.
I would've had to leave eventually anyway because he raised
the rent every year but thanks to his decision he made me leave earlier than I
planned to.
I had no idea this go around would be next to impossible. I
thought I had it bad before I first moved to Queens, I ain't seen nothing till
now. I wished my biggest gripes were combating the sound of sounds and messy
dishes.
I looked two months prior to having to leave and every place
I looked like squashed my hopes. A lot of these apartment shares looked
more like crack/squatter houses, not fit for a beast let alone a human being
and they had the nerve to charge rent as if it was desirable all because it was
down the street from the train.
Due to my frugal budget it made looking for roommates on Craig's
List even harder to find. I knew I had it lucky before finding a hugely
renovated bedroom so close to the subway that was so close a ride to midtown;
and the minuses being no over night guests and "being loud" but I had
no idea that it would be this grueling to get lucky again. Each place I looked
at and inquired about had these ridiculous conditions and rules such as:
1. No cooking/or only "light cooking" such as using a
microwave. I've never met anyone so afraid of using an oven until now. And how
do you not cook anything? What are you supposed to eat every day without
burning more $ in your pocket and not consuming cheap junk food and getting fat
and getting diabetes?
2. People renting their rooms wanted to make sure you didn't work
from home. I understand this probably pertained to people who would be sharing
the same space as you and wanted to make sure you wouldn't be in their face
24/7 but come on, you're paying to live there! It's not free or even a hotel.
3. Landlords treated their property as if it was theirs and you
were only staying like a guest. I spoke to some people whose name was on the
lease, and apartment was theirs and would tell me that after 6 months she would
"review" my written agreement and see if she still wants me to live
there. The whole apartment was decorated to her liking, including her dog
living there and she's also treating me like I'm free loading and not paying
rent as if it's my space I'm living in too.
4. Innovative ideas of designing a bedroom inside a living room
only partitioned by curtains. I am speechless and don't know how to even
express this discovery on my apartment sharing journey.....Anyone who doesn't
mind camping out in someone's living room or living in a place where someone is
sleeping right next to the kitchen deserves a medal....That's all I've got to
say.
5. "420 friendly", smoking allowed, drugs, etc... and
any other like terms. I HATE DRUGS/SMOKING/POT. It's still supposed to be
illegal here in New York City to smoke pot but apparently everyone is getting
away with it because every block I walk on and room I viewed people are busy
smoking pot and not even getting in trouble. It's not fair that this is illegal
and the police aren't at least giving them fines. When I drove and would get
parking tickets I would have to spend at least $50 for leaving my car there
longer than I paid for; but yet all these people walking the streets and living
in their residences are free to smoke this disgusting drug where I suffer and
suffocate as I try to inhale oxygen and they don't even get fined? They're
bothering people like myself doing something that is supposed to still be
illegal here, but when I ran out of minutes for leaving my car in a spot I was
fined? I wasn't harming anyone.
If you park your car in in an illegal spot here of the streets in
NYC or the time on your parking meter ran out, good luck even seeing your car.
Chances are it's towed away and you have to go locate it and pay the tow truck
driver for hauling it all the way to Long Island and getting it from the
impound late at night. And if your car is still there and it was really a no
parking zone, parking tickets could be over $100.
I had made the mistake at times of not asking the person until I
arrived if they smoke drugs. I say "drugs" and not pot because these
days who knows what they're really smoking; people lace it with so much junk
now I don't even want to know. Then there's people who only want you to stay
short term. I had exhausted most of the time I was allotted to live in Woodside
that I was worried I would never find anything suitable. I had 5 days left to
evacuate and wanted to make sure to honor the maximum time John gave me to stay
because I didn't need any problems with him. He still kept his cool of course
but I could tell he was worried I wouldn't leave on the final date he gave me.
Sometimes when he would casually ask me about my search it would feel like he
thought I was doing this to him deliberately like I was spiting him. In
actuality I had more pressure than him. I was the one who had to find a new
place to live and fast, along with having to find movers and figuring out all
of the other moving expenses that went along with it.
It also made this room hunting extra grueling because a lot of
rooms were furnished already and I coudn't take my furniture with me; there was
no way I was going to ditch my prized possessions and furniture as if I was a
bum. I also had a queen bed which made the nororiety of small living quarters
in NYC affect me because almost every bedroom was so small that if it even fit
my bed it couldn't fit anything else. I knew most of these past occupants
must've been transients or passing through New York like most people who are
inhabiting this city these days; because there would be no room to keep any of
your clothes and other valuables one needs in order to make themselves a home.
I knew I got a blessing from the universe when I found John's bedroom for such
an affordable price in a desirable location. One room I looked at was so small;
it could fit a queen bed and maybe one dresser. The rest of the apartment was
the size of an average kitchen and actually was shared by 3 other roommates!
They each had their own bedroom but I couldn't imagine being within 5 feet of
each unknown tenant by using one bathroom and stove within arms length of each
other and to add insult to injury they raised the rent each each year.
Somewhere along this painstaking process that was trickling down
to the wire something even more unbelievable happened to me:
I had answered one of many countless ads for a share in Astoria,
my dream location I always wanted to live in. It was a roomy house with many
roommates but the rent was so cheap and in the most popular and action packed
part of Astoria and right near the subway. The girl answered me right away and
said she was having a viewing, an open house for all other people who are also
interested. I told her she would have to make a decision ASAP because I had to
leave in a week at this point and she said they would all make their decision
by the end of the evening. The pictures depicted a washer & dryer on
premises and the images of her bedroom looked very cozy. She was raving about
how she has lived there for so many years, it's a great place to live and
would've stayed if she didn't have to relocate back to Texas. She emphasized
the fact that the rent never goes up and other unbelievable features of this
ad. She said she was leaving in a few days but when I told her I had to take
the room that night she all of a sudden changed it to saying that her plans
changed and she was actually leaving the next day and taking all her furniture
with her. At first that sounded too good to be true; the fact that she all of a
sudden expedited her move out date after I stressed the fact that I needed it
earlier especially since she was traveling across the country to the Southwest.
Every other question I asked her was another 'yes' to my every wish; my
wish(es) were her command.
But that was nothing until I went to the viewing.
When I went to Astoria that evening, I happened to catch the
viewing the only night all the girls were conducting it (or so they said), I
couldn't find the house. It was already dark at night and I couldn't see the
mailbox number. At first I walked in front of the gate to this large house but
it was an abandoned building. Then I exited the gate to this charming, little
house to my left. There was no mailbox number either but I knew it was the
right place because another young woman was standing in front of it waiting to
be let in. She told me she was there for the viewing too but she's been
standing out there for quite a while since there was no doorbell to ring and
both of us didn't have a phone number to call them to let them know we were
there. It was also peculiar because when I approached the locked front
door with no doorbell of any kind nor any list of tenants that lived there I
quickly discovered there was no way to announce yourself at the door.
So we both waited for about 15 minutes until all of a sudden I saw
through the glass door a girl flying down the stairs. She was very enthusiastic
as she came out the door and told us girls, "It's so much fun in there but
so crowded. It feels like you are on a set of Desperate Housewives!" She
wasn't kidding. As I entered the front door as she exited, I walked up the
stairs to the second floor where the viewing was and as soon as I entered I was
flabbergasted. It looked like some big social event, all that was missing was
champagne flutes and strawberries on silver platters served by butlers. All
walks of life were there; every Tom, Dick and Harriet. It didn't feel real. I
thought all the girls were playing a joke on me and the rest of the viewers. As
I left they had informed me if they chose me at the end of the night over the other
millions of viewers I would get an email. Needless to say, I never heard back
from them again.
The house itself, the fact that the rent was only $700 a month in
this comfy home with a laundry room and near the most bustling part of Astoria
couldn't be true. The room wasn't huge but could've been doable for me. The
girl who placed the ad was the star of the show since it was her room she was
vacating. She acted like she was from Central Casting, kind of like an actress
from Tony N' Tina's Wedding. I thought to myself this must be some sort of a
sick joke, if they're not actresses then they're psychology students doing a
survey on how aggravated and stressed New Yorkers looking for an apartment
share could be until they finally break....She even added, "The landlord
doesn't even raise the rent! Okay, he raised the rent once when I first moved
here 8 years ago....and he phrased it in such a way that he would disappoint us
because the increase was so high, although it was only another $40!"
The house itself looked like it was a TV set from The Gilmore Girls, it was
beautifully decorated with so much furniture and fixtures like a comfy family
home.
With 5 days left, I felt the mounting pressure begin to take hold
of me. I had to remain positive and convince myself that I have to continue to
arduously and tediously looking at Craig's List a million times a day, refresh
my page and reach out to anyone that looked decent and I would definitely find
something. You get what you put out and I knew it would be impossible not to
find anything if I spent the final 5 days devoted to continuous searching. I
even bit the bullet and paid $20 to hire a broker to help me find a share. This
was worse; not only because I had to waste 20 of my precious dollars but he was
an obnoxious, haughty jerk who had the nerve to ridicule me because my deal
breakers consisted of living in a suitable apartment and no drugs. He had the
nerve to laugh at me and claim I was being too "picky". I had no idea
I was being too picky because I didn't want to pay a fortune on a ransacked
house or live with a family. I initially left his agency after speaking to him
because I couldn't stand his condescending attitude towards me but I walked
back in because I was so desperate and time was ticking louder in my ear that I
felt like I should swallow his surliness and spend my $20. It turns out the
rooms he found me were worse than the rooms I found on my own. He would call me
to ask how I liked it; I didn't want to be dramatic with emotion by crying out
with disgust because it would only bolster his belief of how 'picky' I was.
Although, it was very hard to contain myself because the first place he showed
me looked so run down and old like from a scene of A Street Car Named Desire.
It was the most dilapidated ransacked building with a steep staircase barely
held down from old murky green floorboards. I knew if it was bad on the outside
it could only be worse in the inside. It looked like it was going to catch on
fire.
As soon as I walked up the stairs to the second floor I was
greeted by this young boy from Chile; he said he was a carpenter. The apartment
smelled of rust. The whole place was deteriorating; I was waiting for a rat to
jump out. The shower was so rusty and cracked and the sink looked like it was built
from WWI; it was this huge sink bin. I felt like I was going to pass out. One
of the doors were broken and the room that was available looked like an old
stuffy attic. I felt like I was in a horror movie. I did my best to feign
calmness and shook the boy's hand because he acted friendly and then kindly
left and thanked the landlord's mother for showing it to me. By the grace of
the universe, shortly after my own hard work paid off and I no longer had to
suffer from being desperate to depend on the broker's assistance.
As the final week progressed I had answered another barrage of ads
waiting on pins & needles. In the midst of it all I stumbled upon this
innovative way of meeting other roommates: Roomspeeddating. Instead of
attending a speed dating party to meet your other half you attend a mixer
reserved for potential roommates. I saw the invitation on Spareroom.com. the
event was free and sponsered by WeWork. The date they were having it was a week
away and all the way downtown on Fulton Street. They were serving complimentary
appetizers and alcohol. I remember praying that I would've secured something by
then but as luck would have it I didn't.
So there I was that splendid evening: 3 days left to evacuate but
I still gave it my best shot. I had a couple of viewings lined up that evening
after the event but I didn't want to get my hopes up because each time I did I
was beyond disappointed. However, there was a glimmer of hope in this
subsequent viewing. A woman whose room I inquired about on Craig's List did me
a favor by texting pictures of another apartment her friend was renting out. It
was beautiful. It was a huge, empty bedroom where I could keep all of my
furniture (nearly impossible to find for both), it was a condo building with a
laundry room downstairs. I put myself together and wore my best fall/winter
outfit to impress potential living companions. It was March so it was still
cold. I had winter boots on and jeans, of course accompanied by a jacket. As
soon as I arrived to Fulton Station I was mesmerized. It looked like a Disney
World of the MTA subway system. Fulton Street Subway was newly renovated and
huge with many floors like I was in Trump Tower. You walk in the glass elevator
and ascend to the top floor where the WeWork Millennials kept their space.
I was greeted by WeWork employees to sign in, most of which was
fully equipped with a tablet. It was such a typical millennial organized event
with very young people who looked like the ink on their college degree barely
dried yet. We wore name tags. Instead of the name tag you would wear for
looking for a date with your name/age, you put if you were renting or seeking a
room. Then you put your price budget. Well, I never felt so poor in my life.
I'm not going to even put my budget I was seeking. Let's just say my
budget only had 3 digits while all the lease holder's budgets
had 4 digits. You may be thinking 4 digits, big deal.....Oh no, it was well
over a $1000. I knew it was a fortune to live here in the Big Apple,
and this city is notorious for small spaces that are worth the same amount of a
house in North Carolina but I had no idea how alarming an epidemic it was until
that night. I was actually embarrassed that my amount was so low. Everyone
around me was seeking up to 2-4 roommates with rent over $1200. I couldn't
imagine one apartment with more than one bedroom could be that much money for
each bedroom until then. I only saw one other room seeker
whose budget was as low as mine. I went over to the counter WeWork designed to
be fully equipped with a sink and refrigerator as if it were someone's kitchen
to take a slab of complimentary brie and a cracker along with maybe 2 glasses
of wine. I then took a deep breath. I made sure I was one of the first ones to
get to the cheese plate; I didn't want everyone's filthy hands all over it and
knew it would be gone before I knew it. That was the one defining moment the
universe tested me to be positive and remain calm under pressure. I had to keep
saying to myself standing over there by the counter that it will work out; the
room later on that evening will be a good fit or even the next day with only 48
hours left to move.
So I left after I saw everyone pile into the room and felt
confident those were my only options. I was set to head all the way back up to
Queens in a new part I was vaguely familiar with. I've only been there once to
go to one of the couple of malls located there; after all there aren't too many
malls if any around here. Between seeing how alluring the photos are and the
proximity of the subway to Manhattan I was ready with open eyes. It was later
on that evening, late around 10 pm. I have never visited an unfamiliar building
so late at night but I was desperate and had to look at it A.S.A.P. before it
was taken. It was a nice young couple from China. This spacious and newly
renovated apartment also happened to be inside an apartment building equipped
with a gym, laundry room and elevator.
After getting a tour and seeing how beautiful and spacious the
features were just like the photo displayed, I desperately asked them if I
could take it that night. They told me they negotiated the price of the
room and made it a little less for me because I was referred by one of their
friends. I was standing there with my Michael Kors black, winter coat with faux
fur trim wrapped in a scarf along with blood shot eyes from sleep
deprivation & aggravation and knew I had to make up my mind fast. There
have been times I thought I liked something but after giving it some thought I
rejected it; but this time had to be an exception. What were the odds
that I would score another HUGE UN-FURNISHED bedroom again? Could lightening
really strike twice? Well, in my case, it did. Except even better because
I only had 2 roommates this time, one of which was barely
home. I told them I was going to run to the closest bank and be back in
15 minutes to give them their cash deposit for the room. There was no way I was
coming back that early the next morning, I'd rather get it all over with that
night with the assurance of knowing the room was mine. I found the bank and
came right back and signed the written agreement. I moved in 4 days and had
just moved out the last day I was given by John.
I had only met one of my roommates. It was 3 bedrooms in total.
The other one was taken already and the girl was nice. I had this peculiar,
morbid feeling that whoever they would rent the last room to wouldn't be
someone I could see my self coexisting with. I didn't want to be negative but
couldn't shake off this nauseating feeling in my gut. That's the crazy thing I
never understood about the universe and its law of attraction: How do you know
the difference between being negative and just having a bad feeling in your gut
about something?
On move in day I met her. I don't even
know how to begin to say this. It was much worse than what my gut had warned me
about. I had no idea what was in store for me. I owe this experience to the
inspiration of this blog post; to be honest I have never experienced such a
horrific and scary experience from a roommate on Craig's List until now. Her
name was Sara. When I first met her I felt goosebumps; mostly because she was
accompanied by another person helping her move in. The two of them gave me the
chills; but the kind of chills you would experience watching a horror film on
Halloween. I have never been caught up in such a depraved experience before;
this is worse because I had to share my residence with her, it's more intimate
than another setting for this to occur in. For the first time after years
of cohabiting with strangers, the risk of living with these stranger(s)
slammed me right in my face. Now, on the outside she and her companion don't
look scary. Sara is a very young looking petite girl. She looked like she was
still in high school. She's pretty quiet. But you can't deny the sinking
feeling of intuition us as humans innately possess. Always go with your gut,
especially when your stomach feels like its doing somersaults.
I want to make you understand, in case some of my fortunate readers
can't relate to having to live with strangers:
Imagine walking down the street and you step inside the coffee
shop looking forward to your first cup of joe. As you proceed to stand on the
line you see this unsavory character in front of you. He or she looks creepy,
you might not be able to even describe it; just an uneasy feeling that leaves
you counting the minutes until you don't have to breathe the air in the same
room. Or even worse, you're outside and you see this person who looks like a
bum and high on drugs. Well, all of these unattractive encounters you
inevitably experience could very likely turn out to be your roommate(s). These
people you're sharing a kitchen and bathroom with are literally strangers;
meaning anyone, all walks of life from all sorts of situations could inhabit
the most intimate part of your life from sleeping, showering, not just eating
and drinking but your whole privacy of your bedroom and possessions are now on
display. You are now vulnerable to the idea of someone invading all of these
needs and necessities us as human beings require to function.
Since you are resorted to having to share an apartment with others
that wasn't even your choice to live with, you take a chance 24/7 breathing the
same air x 1000.....A lot of times you didn't even have the chance of meeting
the rest of the tenants. From my experiences I've noticed that a lot of people
take the room without meeting all of them and I couldn't imagine why they
wouldn't want to meet everyone first before they decide to move in; especially
since this decision involves a lot of preparation with money being involved to
move in. That's only the tip of the iceberg. You take a chance from renting a
share with the landlord; what if he or she is a nightmare? This is their place
and you have no choice but to abide by their rules, especially if they live in
the same apartment as you. Another huge minus is that this isn't even your
lease; it's not like you are going the conventional route where you lease an
apartment yourself; you're renting from someone else's lease so you have to
follow their quirky habits and nonsense from not using the kitchen past 10pm to
working remotely from home. Unless you hit pay dirt and the person wants you to
co sign their lease with them; however other problems could arise with this
alone since it's a stranger: They could bail on you and disappear which leaves
you legally obligated to pay the rest of the rent even though their name was on
the lease too.
Now getting back to my last experience. Sara seemed innocent
enough. But slowly and surely things crept up that made me explode. It started
with her using my things without asking. At first I was nice about it and told
her she could borrow it just as long as she washed everything after she was
done using it. I always left my toiletries in the bathroom but this time I
couldn't; I could tell she was also using my shampoo and body wash. I remained
quiet and just decided to leave it in my room instead. According to her she
thought an apartment share meant that we all use each other's belongings; this
was her first time moving away from home.
At first I swallowed my frustrations that I already felt for Sara.
I still tried to be as nice as possible for the first couple of weeks. But then
I ended up discovering other things quickly after that hit my breaking point;
major issues that I never had to endure until this Craig's List
Nightmare:
I ended up being the whistle blower on this fiasco. After
all, I am paying rent PLUS utilities; when I feel mistreated when spending my
hard earned money is involved I automatically snap. I don't care if it's Santa
Claus or Tinkerbell whose taking advantage of me; if they're sponging off of my
hard earned $ I would be just as furious. My only other roommate was almost
never home, plus she was oblivious to Sara's antics from the beginning. It
turns out my other roommate wasn't aware that there were even two people living
with us because she thought they looked identical. It made me wonder if they
dressed similarly on purpose in order to be sneaky and conniving. After all,
they were both Hispanic, with similar hair and both in great physical shape.
My landlord Allan would've had no idea whatsoever because he
didn't even live in the same building as us, let alone the apartment. First I
noticed that Sara's companion was always staying here to the point of free
loader status. Her partner in crime was very quiet too but looked very nasty. I
felt like this person had a super power of making me jump out of my skin;
literally jump out of my skin as if I saw a ghost. I have never felt that
rattled over someone's presence before until now. It was bad enough that the
place I was living in was being inhabited by an extra person; but worse because
this person sent chills down my spine & wasn't chipping in for the rent in
addition to sponging off of the utilities I have to pay for. At first I didn't
say anything because I wasn't even totally sure if her partner-in-crime was
over using the 2 day a week policy for visitors. What started these confrontations
was our front door. We lived in a pre-war building so although our apartment
was renovated the whole door is still old. Allan failed to explain to me the
trickery that needs to be used in order to master how to lock and unlock the
door; I had to learn the hard way. Sara was out late at night a lot; I heard
she was a bartender. She was mainly the one who had the most trouble with the
door. She would come home almost 6 am from being out all night and one night
couldn't get in. She had no trouble ringing the bell either to wake me up
around 2 in the morning. When I opened the door there her and her menacing
partner stood in their scantily clad dresses and stilettos. They walked in
quickly past me as if it was me who woke them up so late at night; not even a
thank you. I tried helping her figure out how to lock the door as nice as I
possibly can but she just yelled in my face, she acted defensive as if I was
calling her stupid for not being able to use the lock. She said she could
figure out how to lock it and unlock it herself followed by her slamming the
door in my face. However, she never figured out how to master the lock because
the next time I woke up I noticed that she left her key inserted in the lock
outside the door. I knew it was her and not Julie, my other roommate. Julie was
responsible and not even home. In retrospect, I should've swiped her set of
keys and kept it in my pocket. I already didn't feel safe since Sara was so
incompetent and irresponsible to not only figure out how to unlock the door but
leave her set of keys in the outside lock! But instead I didn't point fingers
at her although I knew it was her and texted everyone instead informing them
that "someone left their keys" inserted the outside lock.
As time went on it was clear that her partner was living there
pretty much full time. The lock became such a catastrophe that Allan told us
just to continue to lock the upper lock and ignore the faulty lock which
happened to be the door knob. Then another event took place that made me beyond
livid. I could've sworn I smelled pot in her bedroom. Marijuana is a drug;
(contrary to ignorant people who don't want to believe it just like caffeine
and alcohol is a drug too), it was permeating in the hallway starting from her
bedroom. I like to refer to it as smoking drugs, not pot, because these days
drug users lace their weed with who knows what other kinds of drugs. At first I
wasn't totally sure it was drugs because it had a sweet scent to the odor and I
didn't want to call her out on something bad if she really didn't do it. Of
course using drugs here is strictly prohibited; my landlord would never have
accepted that plus it was on the written agreement. I learned the hard way by
making sure before I moved in that smoking and drugs was forbidden. Allan was
in my room helping me assemble the curtain rod and I asked him if he thought it
smells like weed. He was oblivious to it like Julie and said he didn't think
so. But after a few weeks went by the odor became more powerful and less with
the sweet scent to the point that I was 100% sure it was drugs. I have only
been living here for a few weeks and it already felt like a few years. I have
had enough. I texted Allen and told him he must come here. It was around 10pm
when I smelled it and luckily at the time he was still living across the
street. At that point I already told him that Sara had her partner living there
but even after he spoke to her nothing changed. So he swung right by and
couldn't deny the odor either. He called Sara into the kitchen where I heard
the conversation behind my door. She said she only needed it for sleeping and
she wouldn't do it again.
She had previously cornered me by asking to speak to me. She told
me she felt uncomfortable around me because she noticed me standing down the
hallway staring at her. I told her I had no idea what she was talking about; I
would have no reason to stare at you I relayed; but now it all made sense. Her
drug use must've caused her to become paranoid and she was apprehensive to have
moved out for the first time to begin with. She also complained that she felt
uneasy that I was waiting for her to be done using the bathroom so I could then
use it; I have shared a bathroom with more people than I could count and never
did one of them tell me they felt uncomfortable because I waiting outside to
use the bathroom after them.
I later found out that Allen never installed any smoke/carbon
monoxide detectors in the apartment so heaven forbid there was a fire the whole
building would perish in flames. He reluctantly paid for one of them and I
bought the other one for my bedroom. But nothing still changed. I still smelled
the drugs and her partner was still living there. I incessantly alerted Allen
about this and of course he was furious too. Although he kept telling her to
stop, she wouldn't. Then I figured out what this sweet scent was that she so
cleverly diffused the odor with. I was standing in front of the mirror by the
door. Behind me was the shoe rack. I believe the universe was looking out for
me because at that time there wasn't any smoke alarms. I stared in the mirror
and caught a glimpse of something grey. At first I thought it was a gross bug
but after a second glance realized it was an incense stick dangling from below
a shoe on the shoe rack; it was lit for a while because so much ash was falling
to the floor and the candle was almost burnt to the end. That was the sweet
smell Sara masqueraded her drugs with. It was a miracle that I caught it; if it
fell to the floor this whole apartment would've went up in flames. I already
stopped concealing the identity of the person causing all these problems in the
apartment; I had no choice of being the anonymous whistle blower any longer
because none of this would stop. After seeing this potential fire, I took a
picture of it and texted it to Allen. I said enough is enough! What more do I
have to tell him to make him understand that Sara is not only irresponsible but
a risk to all of our safety? I'm not sure if Allen knew the danger of this
situation because he is from China so who knows if he knows what an incense
stick is. He still gave her one more chance though. Julie who also shared the
same beliefs as him, maybe because they both share the same customs and culture
due to coming from the same country, said it was also no big deal. No big
deal?? I explained to them what incense sticks are and how it is the same thing
as a lit up candle and could easily catch fire; anything lit could catch fire!
But no, they all still gave her a pass.
Finally after crying out for help and making all of them see the
light, Julie was aware of what was going on. Her bedroom was right next to
Sara's and she started to smell the potent scent of weed. I googled ways to get
rid of the odor; it stunk so bad, it was my worst nightmare come to life. She
took every precaution WikiHow recommended to diffuse the odor: open all the
windows and light incense sticks. The fact that she always kept the windows
open drove me more into a rage because there were no screens on them so many
bugs kept flying in; I had to buy a fly swatter. Each time I would shut the
windows I would later enter the bathroom and kitchen to see the windows were
open again and the kitchen window was all the way above the counter so I would
have to stand on top of the counter to pull down the enormously sized window.
The Febreze odor spray did nothing to get rid of it; it just
enhanced the smell. I now had a full on war with her and her partner. These two
were actually street walkers; worse than I knew beforehand. I really didn't
want to live with an enemy; but it became almost unbearable to live here, but I
couldn't move just yet; I just moved in and spent plenty of $ and as you know
it was nearly impossible for me to even find this place. Plus, she had signed
only a 6 month lease so I was hoping against hope she would really keep her
word in leaving then. The 6 months trickled by, it was torture. I had no choice
but to finally call out everything to both their faces and expressed beyond anger
how they were nasty and disrespectful; especially after I caught Sara with the
drugs. I actually lived with two full blown enemies; my worst nightmare come to
life. I ended up buying my own portable refrigerator so they couldn't touch my
beverages.
After Julie realized that it was two girls and not one; that Sara
had her companion here all the time, and she finally smelled the drugs she kept
continuously doing, she had enough too. Allen also had enough and finally
forced Sara to leave. Another risk you take with apartment shares is suffering
the price of a landlord's poor judgment of deciding your roommates for you. It
turns out Allen didn't even know tenants rights and the fact that you can't
just throw out a tenant; you have to file a judgment in civil court first. Sara
went ballistic at him and knew full well of this law too and refused to leave
right away. She began to harass me to my face yelling at me but I couldn't be
afraid of her; she was so small. I told Allen that they're right, you can't just
throw a tenant out. He called the cops but they couldn't care less. The first
night it happened the scene took place in the lobby of my building. I went
downstairs to find the whole scene already beginning: A group of cops with my
landlord, his girlfriend and roommates from hell. It became so heated after the
cops blatantly expressed their apathy of my matter that when they left Sara
went right up to my face and nearly physically assaulted me. Other residents
walking in saw the whole thing. The cops had told Allan this is
ridiculous and something the civil court takes care of. They didn't care that I
was concerned with my safety; that I was living with mortal enemies. I gained
to find out that even though the tenant smokes weed you still can't throw them out;
although it's still illegal here in NYC it doesn't matter. I didn't know that.
This whole time I felt comforted thinking that if this ever happened the police
would take care of it and fine them; but now after learning I was wrong I now
have a new wave of anxiety.
Sara made sure to stay the remaining few months of the 6 month
lease she signed. She acted like the poor victim like she did nothing wrong and
would cry to all our faces. She first pled to me, "What did I ever do to
you? I've been nice to you, if I get thrown out I'll be in the streets. You'll
get your karma". She was sick enough to even pretend like we were all
plotting against her for no reason as if she wasn't abusing us and this place
by being disrespectful, using drugs and other dangerous activities. I think she
was my karma from something I must've done wrong in the past.
Eventually, she became nasty herself and had the audacity to cook
in the kitchen and live freely here like everything was fine and she wasn't
ruining our lives. My enchanting bedroom that I made a home was my shield to
block me from the vortex of evil permeating outside my doors. Each time I had
to leave to relieve myself I looked through the crevice of my double doors to
see if they were standing there and my room was right by the front door so each
time I heard it open and shut I would mute my TV and look through to see if it
was them so I would have an idea if they were here and when the best chances of
avoiding them were. Every time I had to enter the kitchen I would do my best to
drown out the evil energy around me by blasting uplifting music such as U2's
Beautiful Day or Jon Bon Jovi's Livin' On A Prayer so I could mentally be taken
away from this toxic environment I was being forced to physically live in by
trying to be optimistic by listening to the happy and positive lyrics rushing
through my ears.
Julie would complain to me and say she was getting headaches from
the weed. Sara had already threatened Julie with text messages warning her to
leave her alone; another thing the cops said didn't mean anything; just like
almost setting fire to the building wasn't grounds to press charges either.
What did Julie want from me? It turns out she also didn't know about the law.
She was still convinced they could get thrown out. She said she knew lawyers,
just take their picture and send it to the police! Is what she claimed. I told
her about the police being called and about the law, I finally ignored her. She
wanted to stay out of my problems all this time and she was becoming nasty. She
ended up calling the cops too. I told her they will be here for nothing because
there is nothing you could do; I've done this over and over. She yelled at me
and told me to take pictures of Sara! I didn't need this hostile situation with
Julie, so I remained quiet and waited for the police to show up to repeat to
her what I have said. I never got so friendly with the police department before
and met so many cops in my life. The first time I called 911 from my first
confrontation with Julie, Sara had beat me to it and unbeknownst to me already
had called the cops and they were in the lobby. Sara knew about the law so she
called them to pretend like she was being harassed and threatened knowing she
couldn't be thrown out.
After Julie spoke to the police, her and Allan had a brilliant
idea: We should change the locks on them so they can't get back in. I told the
both of them that is illegal and you will get arrested if you do that; you
can't throw a tenant out without going to civil court first. They were both so
mad at me for telling the police they were planning on doing that; of course
the cops said if they do that they will be arrested. I saved my landlord; if he
changed the locks he would've had to be bailed out. Then he told me I should
hold back the door so they can't come in! Is he crazy? So I'll hold the door
shut as they try to come in to the point of a physical altercation, he said
that's what he would do. I don't mean to insult him but he's not so
intimidating, he's an insignificant looking short and puny quiet man who does
not come off as a threat to put it mildly.
The remainder months of walking on pins & needles living with
them became so excruciating that I would leave my place for hours at a time
just to avoid sharing the same space as them. I also kept hoping they would
leave when they said they would. You think it's just a few months, but when you
are faced with such a dilemma where you are frightened, it feels like forever.
Sara was almost always home; and if not Sara her partner was here instead; it
turns out they made copies of the key. I would leave early in the afternoon and
come back sometimes as late as midnight. I silently thanked them for being the
ones to beat my procrastination of forcing me to hit up the gym more often and
devote hours of work in the computer lab. Luckily I am healthy and when
something is stressing me out I take it out on exercise and completing work
that has to get done.
I wouldn't wish this amount of animosity and cruel hatred out on
anyone. It felt like they possessed me like from a scene of The Exorcist. I
became so enraged that nothing could be done to stop all of this from
happening; the law wasn't even protecting me and couldn't care less. I have
never said such cruel things to another human being before and I've had my fair
of unpleasant experiences. I wouldn't wish it on anyone.
Finally August approached; the moment of truth that determines if
those two would finally leave like what they agreed to. I firmly believe the
universe had my back that fateful night. I got called to work an over night
shift the evening they were due to move. I texted Allan incessantly to make
sure they didn't try stealing my TV and computer. I would never trust them and
wouldn't be surprised if they would pull something since they were finally
leaving. Allan informed me that they had him wait in the apartment ALL night
till almost midnight for their moving truck. I really think they were waiting
for me to enter that apartment to cause me bodily harm. They kept jerking Allen's
chain by saying they were leaving at 7 pm, then it turned into every hour up to
12. He said the reason was because they were waiting for their moving truck.
Who moves so late at night? It's unheard of to move all of your belongings when
it's dark outside and secondly, who was driving their truck? If you rent a
truck you are responsible to pick it up, drive it yourself then go back to drop
it off at the lot. So who could they have hired to do that for them so late at
night? Whatever the case was, I was saved and didn't have to be
around that final tension. Allen stood guard of my bedroom and when I came back
the next day they were moved out. A huge weight was lifted off my shoulders.
This whole universe is built on energy and I needed to wipe out
the bad, toxic energy they left lingering in this apartment. So I burnt sage
all over the apartment to clean it out and replace it with positive energy and
renew the air by welcoming good vibes to make sure my living arrangement is
finally a happy and positive place. The sage smelled so good and as I traced
the fumes all over the place I silently gave blessings of a happy home and now
I am free of anything toxic and bad from living in my apartment.
I am a firm believer that there are no accidents in life and we
meet people for a reason, good or bad. I believe each uncomfortable experience
we endure is for our better good by teaching us a lesson and making us feel
stronger. After I was able to breathe again, I can't help but scratch my head:
What did I have to learn from this? I already knew full well
the price you pay by living with strangers; and I'm not talking about the price
of the rent either. I feel like this was Allen's lesson to learn, not mine. He
was the one who chose her to rent the room and this was his first
experience with apartment shares.
Whatever the case may be, I feel stronger in the end and this
harrowing 6 month episode helped reassure me that I could still undergo any
hurdle and still stand up.
Friday, June 22, 2018
The Criminal INjustice System
Like most current events and issues America faces, our criminal
justice system is the most corrupt. I feel like we should change it to the
criminal In Justice system. This is scary because criminal justice plays a
major role in society and affects all of us.
First let's start with the prison system in America. These prisons
are so overcrowded and filled with people convicted of non-violent crimes which
is mostly drug related. The population of all prisoners in the U.S. is more
than Los Angeles and New York combined! that's only scratching beneath the
surface. These prisoners are treated so inhumanely and most of them suffer from
mental illness and are not getting any treatment. They are just rotting away in
their filthy, empty jail cell more like a cage while their whole well being
continues to rot. The sanitary conditions and mistreatment makes us the worst
prison system in the world to ever be thrown into. There are no windows in any
of the cells, no one listens to anyone's proclaim of innocence or honors any of
the constitutional rights we're supposed to be given such as right to counsel
and our right to a fair and speedy trial. Do you know how many people are in
prison for crimes (murder) they didn't commit? I don't even want to think about
the ones that were never saved and ended up dying there or given the death
penalty for someone else's crime. Or how about the ones that were saved but
didn't leave jail for years later? Some decades later? No compensation in the
world could help fill that void the judicial system did to them by missing out
on all those years with their family and their life. They finally walk out of
that cage not even knowing what a cell phone is, never mind sending a text
message or the Internet. They missed out on everything from holiday gatherings,
graduations, weddings, birth...etc.
Some of these people were in there for so long just because they
were caught with drugs. Talk about something so innocuous. These people should
be offered intervention and psychiatric and substance and drug abuse
treatment/counselors, that way they could improve their lives and not return.
So many people are treated like dogs as if the filth, squalor and gang fights
isn't enough, they get thrown into solitary confinement 23 hours a day! Only
one hour to see the outside. Most of these people might not even have done it
but no one fails to listen to them or give them their constitutional rights as
promised. For blacks it's even worse. They are slapped with worse serious
sentences; given harder time.
This society is a disgrace and makes me ashamed to be an American.
Discrimination is still wide spread, and I have no faith in the police or
judicial system. Police abuse their power in every facet and continue to get
away with it. They're all connected to the prosecution and judge so no one will
listen to your cries of injustice of these disgusting cops. They're all in on
it to lock you up. The amendment of a fair to speedy trail is more of a farce
than anything else. Most of these defenders are given plea bargains and forced
to take them even if they didn't do it just so they could return home sooner.
They want the case solved so due to the defendant's desperation, they know
there is a good chance they will plea out in order to put the case to rest.
The police make snap judgments by making sure you are convicted
and if you don't have the money to hire a competent attorney than you are screwed.
The dud of an attorney will just watch you sink. How about those
"interrogations"? It's more like manipulation and abuse to force a
confession out of a suspect who nine times out of ten is actually innocent.
They lock them in a small room with no food & water for hours at a time
while screaming at them and harassing them right up to their face. Finally
after being deprived nourishment and rest and being locked up in a room with no
sign of life on the outside for nearly 24 hours, they finally confess to a
crime they didn't even do just for the sake of this torture ending. A lot of
these victims are young teenagers, the detectives especially love to take full
advantage of these naive youths. A lot of people can't believe suspects confess
to a crime they didn't commit. Well, if you think about it for a moment: We are
all humans, so think like a human. If you are being deprived food, water,
locked up for hours at a time like a dog while being yelled at and literally
harassed to your face for almost 24 hours, you don't think you would finally
confess just for this havoc to end? The right response but most people don't
know is to say they want an attorney and refuse to speak. There is nothing they
could do about that, because if you don't and start talking, whatever word you
utter to them will be used against you.
This is a heated topic for me because I have a genuine and long
term passion for the law. When I was in college I was determined to become an
attorney. I had previously interned at the Westchester County Attorney’s office
in the abuse and neglect division. I had a minor in pre-law while in college
and was preparing for the LSAT’s but halfway through the prep class I became
dissuaded. I ended up going down a different path into teaching. My desire that
propelled me into law is the same I thought of in education: I wanted to make a
difference in this world and change a person’s life. How many professions are
there where you could make a positive impact on someone and this world? I love
to read and write. I am outspoken when I feel like there is an injustice or
unfairness. I found there to be a fine line between law and education. I had
the opportunity of seeing firsthand how disadvantaged and underprivileged this
society is. I had taught for several years as a substitute and the majority of
that was in the inner city schools of NYC. It is unfortunate that these
children do not have the support and encouragement they need in order to lead a
bright future. Most of these children do not speak any English nor are getting
any support from ESL teachers like they deserve. These classrooms are filthy
and filled up to over 30 kids with only one teacher. As the school year resumes
in the fall, teachers end up getting even more kids later on with barely any
room to place them. There is cursing and physical violence. There have been
times where I was afraid of being physically assaulted and the administration
couldn’t care less. Most of these principals don’t communicate with you at all,
you are assumed to know what is expected of you. One principal never even
looked my way let alone acknowledging my existence. I was teaching first grade
and there was a boy who was physically violent and I attempted to seek help to
help remedy the situation. I saw her in the hallway without even knowing if she
was in fact the principal. “Are you the principal?” She looked at me with a
mean look in her eye. She was in my classroom earlier in the day and walked in
speaking to the kids without any indication of the position she held. “Yes, I am.”
I knew from the tone of her voice she did not want to be bothered. After I let
her know of the boy stabbing another girl with a pencil she immediately brushed
me off saying that’s what he does, I have to deal with it. I have
become so overwhelmed and dissatisfied with teaching that I want to use my
master’s in education in a different direction. I still love education and
working with people. I would love the opportunity to segue into the nonprofit
sector. My passion for helping people and making a difference in society will
never cease. The law still and education both still interest me. Below I have
written my passion and thoughts of law and the judicial system:
When someone is arrested for a crime and taken to trial we say
“innocent until proven guilty”. This may be written somewhere in fine print as
to how we should proceed by determining someone’s fate but in actuality it’s
not done like this. This may be a matter of opinion and people may not agree
with me but sorry to sound blunt and nasty but if you do not agree with the
system being flawed you need to get your head out of the sand. I could go on
and on naming high profile cases that have had unfair verdicts from celebrities
to average people who have been publicly shamed just because they may have not
been a saint and may have engaged in promiscuity or have cheated on their
spouse. In that case all of us would be thrown in jail then. How many people
commit adultery and engage in debauchery? Unfortunately once the defendant’s
past and how they live their life comes to light the jury is now tainted and
biased. This is why a lot of times the case gets moved to another county. You
can’t forget the prosecution’s main role in this too. They have a field day
with this one. When they hear a defendant was cheating on their spouse they
blow it out of proportion and make a big scene of it in court. They call all
witnesses to help validate their claims that this person is heartless and
cruel. The prosecutor does such a good job that the jury now believes the defendant
had to have done it. I love to say that being a lawyer is similar to acting.
Trial attorneys are trained to make a big show and use their acting skills in
order to manipulate the jury into believing them.
Before I move forward with a well noted and powerful example I
would just like to say that I don't believe every law
enforcement official are cruel and callous and do not care. There are
many cases and crimes where justice is served and good hearted, altruistic
attorneys, judges and police officers do exist and make it their mission to
never quit until the case is solved. Some of these selfless officials let these
cold cases take over their life as if it has happened to them.
They have so much sympathy for these innocent loved ones who
are suffering to have these murders solved because they have families and
children of their own and couldn't imagine the grief they are going
through.
There are plenty of not for profit/pro bono lawyers that band
together and do everything in their power to fight for convicted criminals who
are in prison for a crime they did not commit. These altruistic attorneys fight
with every fiber of their being without receiving a dime to retry these unfair
cases where the whole trial was flawed from the beginning. These guardian
angels receive nothing in return other than the reward of knowing that they
saved a life; an innocent life of a person who was unfairly convicted of a
murder and paid for a crime they never committed in the first place. In some
instances they saved a life by stopping an innocent person of being executed;
sentenced to death. There is no bigger tragedy and miscarriage of justice than
that.
Unfortunately, there's still a great deal of injustice and enough
greed still present that makes American society as a whole still undergoing a
crisis.
Let me take a recent example that I feel touches upon this
beautifully: The Michael Peterson case. His documentary was just aired on
Netflix called The Staircase:
He is a wealthy novelist whose wife was found dead on the bottom
stairs. He was the one who found her and frantically dialed 911. The moment the
police department got there they were sure he definitely killed her, it was not
an accident. Although he had the finances to hire a prestigious and competent
legal team, he was still committed of the crime. Another point I am now
bringing up is what if the person did it but there is not enough proof to
commit him or her of the crime? That is where “innocent until proven guilty”
comes in. This is not always the case. Michael Peterson is a brilliant example
of all of this. He ended up spending all of his money on lawyers that by the
time he got out he was destitute. He has a huge extended family that stood by
his side from day one. He was fortunate that he had all those people to offer
him food & shelter.
The medical examiner and coroner could not say with 100% certainty
that his wife’s lacerations on her head was due to a fall or if he hit her with
a blow poke they claim he had in his house. Now maybe he did do it. The jury
thought so and convicted him twice. The point is that how could you seal a
man’s fate without the most important pieces of the puzzle (forensic evidence)?
It turns out years later Michael was finally granted an appeal because it was
found out that the catalyst of throwing him into the fire was blood spatter
analyst Duane Deaver. He had given false expert testimony in his cases and many
others saying the blood spatter shows they did it. After one man was exonerated
for the crime, Michael’s lead attorney David Rudolf was able to appeal his
conviction. Now maybe Michael really did do it but my point is that
if there is not enough evidence to verify if this person in question did it,
how could they be convicted? It turns out after reopening Michael’s case, other
people on the forensics team admitted they lied too on the stand. Another
forensic expert whose testimony was also thought to be credible admitted that
she really had no idea how his wife Kathleen could’ve gotten those lacerations
on her head either. Even David Rudolf said on camera that maybe Michael did do
it but we really have no idea because there is not enough proof to back it up.
We will never know what really happened on the bottom of the stairs. It’s
unimaginable to think this way if you try to put yourself in the shoes of the
victim’s loved ones. Kathleen Peterson’s sister was so adamant that Michael did
it that it also turned out that her relentlessness to making sure Michael was
kept in prison also tainted the judicial system. When Rudolf reopened the case
and found so many other documents that were never seen before, he found
evidence stating that she was in on it with the other attorneys to have the
experts lie. The biggest blunder yet was the blow poke. Remember how I said when
law enforcement came on the scene they did not want to be wrong? Well, it turns
out the police recovered the blow poke at the crime scene in the garage and
even took a picture of it. They never said anything, they just continued to lie
and say it was missing. But they still had the audacity to accuse Michael of
killing Kathleen with it! How could you be so cruel and make up a false
accusation responsible for taking away something priceless like a person’s
freedom? After all that time when Michael was being tried his
children were running through home videos of Christmas trying to remember where
that blow poke was. They claimed they haven’t seen it in years. They finally
recovered it in the garage. The prosecution was so adamant that he killed
Kathleen with it although the blow poke was never found. Now all this time
later after new evidence being discovered, it turns out this “missing weapon”
wasn’t missing at all but kept under wraps. The police didn’t want to be wrong
and wanted the case to be solved so they decided to “choose” the murder weapon
to be the blow poke.
Another part of this case that I had mentioned before: After he
stood trial it turned out that he was bisexual and committing adultery. The
prosecution dug so deep and found evidence on his computer of him joining gay
sex sites of men dressed in the military that they even called one of the male
escorts on the stand. This case gained so much publicity that the press blew it
out of proportion too. The D.A. did a great job to manipulate the jury into
thinking he wanted to kill his wife because she had just found out about his
homosexual adultery. It was also discovered that Michael lied for years saying
he was injured from the war, when in fact he was not. He never fought in the
war. This case became more about his character than the physical evidence
itself. The only other thing that was discovered that leaves you scratching
your head is that years before in Germany a woman also was found on the bottom
of the stairs. Michael was the only one around too but it was ruled an
accident. She was a friend of Michael’s named Elizabeth Ratliff and her
children he ended up adopting said that she was suffering from dizzy spells.
They are staunch supporters of Michael’s innocence. It is
quite perplexing and odd that this could’ve happened before but could you
really punish someone on mere coincidence if there is no undeniable
physical evidence that leads to the contrary?
Combine this coincidence and his hedonistic and clandestine life,
you get his inevitable conviction.
There are so many cases like this that are based only on
circumstantial evidence but yet lead to a conviction anyway. Or how about ones
that are so clearly obvious with physical evidence? The OJ Simpson case is a
great example. I don’t want to go into it since it has become a cliché but
there was a plethora of physical evidence. Justice is flawed and that is a
shame.
There are many unfair verdicts and trials and a lot of it could be
bought if you have the money. An example of greed is the case of “Affluenza”.
A rich boy named Ethan Couch was found drunk driving and killed four people.
His attorney appointed a psychologist in order to make up a phony claim as to
why this happened which was because of his entitled lifestyle. His parents left
him home partying in his mansion for days at a time and wanted to blame his
actions on his neglect and indulgences. All he got was 10 years of probation
while another boy who was poor that committed the same crime received 20 years
in prison.
Needless to say, I feel like the criminal justice system is an
oxymoron.
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