HIPSTER RUNOFF

CARLES PRESENTS
THE STORY
ABOUT THE TIME
HE WAS EVICTED
FROM HIS FIRST APARTMENT
IN THE CITY

A SHORT BLOG STORY BY CRLS

Photo via lookbook

I had spent all summer convincing my parents that I didn't need to go to college--I needed a year off to figure out who I am, and what I REALLY need and want to do. It was a bold decision that only risk takers like me would make. I'd be better off if I had the opportunity to find myself by living in the city for a while. Even if I just had a shitty job, or eventually got an internship with a web magazine, I know the experience would be the best way to spend my time.

I told them that I had a job lined up in the city that started a month after I moved there. But I needed them to front the deposit and the first 2 months rent, so that I could 'get my feet wet.' The apartment was amazing. Stainless steel appliances. High ceilings. Flat screen TV from the game room at my parents' house. Stolen wifi from a neighbor. There was even a bodega at the corner that didn't card.

Needless to say, those first 2 months were the best 2 months of my life. I went to so many shows, art openings, flashmobs, and had a great time. I tried new drugs, and did stuff that I thought I was supposed to do to symbolize 'growth' and 'being mature.' Every now and then I would scan craiglists for jobs. Sometimes I would send emails to places. I'd get replies sometimes. I went to an interview at a local deli, and went to work for one day. I felt like it wasn't for me, since every one else there was actually a grownup, and I think there was just a generational gap. They were making sandwiches to feed their families', and I was just a kid in the city working this job until something better came along. Part of me hopes that wide-eyed kid never dies.

I lied to my parents and told them I was working for a dot-com. I even bought the dot-com page and built a site that they probably thought looked real. They were proud of me. I had taken a risk that they never would have, and I was doing well and standing on my own two feet.

Month 3 ended. I did not pay rent. I got a notice that I had 2 weeks to pay my shit. I freaked out. Tried to sell drugs but I didn't even know any one in the city yet. I was still just a kid from suburbia trying to figure out what to wear to be taken seriously.

I went on a 5 day bender when I realized I wasn't going to be able to pay. I returned to my apartment at 9 a.m. All of my belongings were outside. Black people and brown people were rummaging through my shit, leaving most of my American Apparel + thrift clothes but taking all of my technological items. Everything that made 'me' was in an alley by a dumpster. Even my IKEA furniture and the HOT/LEAN POCKETS from my freezer. Record player + 80% of record collection was recovered.

I called my parents. Sobbing uncontrollably. I told them the truth. The truth about everything. I should have just gone to the state school. I should have just listened to them. I was a failure. I was a fuckup. Mom and Dad got in their van and made the 7 hour trip to the city. Sometimes I don't know why they even bother with me--but I think they love me for who I am. We went out to dinner at a chain restaurant before making the long drive back home to suburbia.

I moved back in with them. They sold my car, but it didn't matter. I spent that entire next year alone in my house, pretending that I lived in the 'city' on myspace+facebook so that my high school friends would consider me to be cool. Eventually enrolled in community college and got most of my pre-reqs out of the way. I even settled for a girlfriend who didn't 'get' me/what I was all about, but still looked alright and was always down to fuck. Eventually she made me too sad because she non-ironically worked in the Best Buy music and DVD section, considering herself a music+film critic. We broke up.

I miss my life pre-eviction. Back when I honestly believed I could do anything.

I wanted to live in the city so bad. Looking back, it seems like I would have done anything to live in the city. I lied to my parents. I lied to myself. I spent 3 months in the city, and it ended up wasting a year of my life.

I think it was worth it.

These days when I drive to my retail job in suburbia, I think about what I experienced, what I went through, and how I am a strong, brave person. My parents will never trust me again, but I think I have a better idea of who I am and what I want and what human suffering is.

EVICTION
A TRUE STORY
BY
CARLES