This place has flavor, though more than I care for.
I have a lovely view here from building D of something that resembles a strange border between India and Mexico. The grounds are covered in stray cats. Plus! about 100 yards away there's huge trash dumpster where there are people who arrive every morning to dig for cans. AND - these people have fucking tools to facilitate this! you'd think with that kind of trash-digging creativity they could find something more lucrative to do with their time. i was fascinated the first time i saw. i was late to work after spending 10 minutes staring at a 90-pound Asian woman in fishing boots stand in the dumpster (which she reached by standing on her bike) with her weird clothes hanger-wire-hinged-claw hook doohicky thing. and she's fast! she collects anything metal. I assume to sell by the pound at the local scrap yard.
Occasionally, on holidays and long weekends the trash is not picked up. Because the dumpster is shared with "The Orange" - a complex right next to us, trash piles up and gets blown onto the (landscaping?). The is perpetually a matress or sofa that takes up half the dumpster. It's unbelievalbe to me that my neighbors have the economic ability to throw away so much furniture on a weekly basis.
and thank god i speak near fluent vulgar Spanish. there's a large group of giant (by Mexican standards at least) latino boys listening to awful shared music in the parking lot next to my building EVERY night. they're always drunk and stupid. i sometimes have to park near them when my own apartment parking lot fills up (this generally happens during football games as we're about 3 miles from the stadium). the first few times i heard them talking about me, loudly to each other, in Spanish - critiquing my body, what i was wearing, my car, my hair etc.. -- i ignored them and walked to my building nervously. there are some BIG boys, and there are always at least a dozen of them. about a month ago they pissed me off. one of them said something about my being a spoiled bitch that never smiled because i likely needed to be fucked. i approached them and asked in Spanish if anyone had any other wise advice for me, about my clothes, or my hair, or my sex life. they apologized and tried to offer me a beer. now, i can't even add windshield washer fluid to my car without being bombarded in the parking lot by these guys asking if they can help me, asking how i'm doing, etc. it's amusing. they're all perpetually working on these UGLY UGLY low rider trucks with air brushed large breasted hispanic women painted everywhere.
I have LOTS of loud neighbors here:
herds of east Indian boys who like to blow plastic horns in unison while drunk, a large large gangsta man who kindly shares jazz music at all hours of the day and night while simultaneously threatening to cut people with knives for looking at him, and the man living above me whom always ALWAYS walks on his heels (I swear he must be wearing tap shoes or lead boots too or maybe he doesn't have feet but just stumps that he thuds with each hobblestep). I can tell you which room he's in right now. I call him, "Thor" after the thundergod.
So, why do I live here? Why haven't I moved out? I can walk to my office at ASU in 10 minutes. It's cheap to live here. I'll be applying to PhD programs soon and dont want to take the time to move all my shit. I hate moving more than I hate living here.
Some irritations:
The wiring is old. When i have a neighbor whom is running his/her vaccuume, blender, food processor, power drill, etc. etc. etc. my television waves and becomes inaudible until they're done. I only get 4 channels because we're surrounded by other tall buildings and I'm on the first floor.
The pipes are old, and they creak LOUDLY and moan and cough whenever anyone around me or above me turns on their shower. The sound has startled many of my visitors. I have been awoken many nights by this noise.
The wiring is old. I cannot blow dry my hair without blowing a circuit and frying my blow dryer. I've been here 7 months and have gone through 3 blow dryers. (My hair is thick and long - not blow drying is not an option). One dryer even caught on fire, but I got Revlon to refund my money after I threw a fit about how I could have lost my hair. In reality, I know the reason the blow dryer caught on fire is because of the wiring here. This is not a safe place.
I have no heat. When it's cold I warm my place by putting a box fan in front of my open oven. This, however, makes my apartment smell like gas and I eventually have to open a window, which causes me to be cold again.
To do laundry you have to put money on a card. The machine to add money to your card is located in the office, which is only open during office hours. If you are not able to get into the office during office hours you have to go elsewhere to do your laundry.
The office WILL NOT take packages for residents. If anyone sends anything to me that is larger than a breadbox I have to drive to the post office to pick it up.
My apartment windows are tinted. This is both good and bad. It's good because I've never had it get truly hot in here -- but it's perpetually dark. I feel like I live in a cave here. The apartments come with only a few overhead lights. My place is filled with halogen lamps. If I close all my windows, shades, curtains at noon -- I can make my place pitch black. Some people may enjoy this. I hate it. I want natural light. This place is depressing.
My kitchen cupboards are this lovely novel arizona burnt orange color. They're charming if you have kitchen appliances and dishes to match this desert color. I do not. I moved here from NY. They're disgusting. They look like something out of the 1970's. Maybe if I had a pea-soup green shag carpet and some pom pom curtains to go with them..... I'd be mod.
Don't move here unless you have to.