It's 4 in the morning
It's 4 in the morning and I can't sleep. I've been tossing and turning for over an hour and I remain relentlessly and oppressively awake. I read once somewhere that the worst thing you can do if you can't fall asleep is stay in bed, so I decided that now is as good a time as any to do some catch-up posting.
Yes, I am posting to you from exotic Lubbock, TX. I am in an apartment, which is what I wanted. Other than that, I am pretty thoroughly unhappy with where I am right now. I forget if I have made a post about the ongoing trials and tribulations concerning my search for adequate living conditions, so in case I haven't, here goes. If I have, my sincere apologies for double-dip whining.
So way back in April or May, I decided pretty much on a whim to sign a year-long lease on a four person apartment with my friend Sarah at a nice complex called University Pointe (or just Pointe) that is within easy walk/biking distance from campus. We figured that we could deal with being roomed with two other people if it was the two of us. So all of that goes dandy and I go home for the summer excited that I get to move off campus in the fall.
Cut to about July when I get my packet of move-in info from the complex. It has my list of roommates, which includes Sarah and two other girls I don't know. I decide to try to be a good incoming roomie and send out a dorky "Hi my name is Xan" email to attempt to get the ball rolling and make things somewhat less awkward when I actually get there. I mention in the email that I already know Sarah and I get a reply from one of the girls that essentially says that "Oh Sarah isn't supposed to be on there. Another girl named Carol is going to be living with us instead."
I contact Sarah about this and she says that she got a packet and was listed to live in the same unit I was and that if the complex changed something around, they did so without telling her. I call them up and ask what the heck and they say that they'll fix it immediately and send us new paperwork. They fix the problem and assign us the same unit, but neither Sarah nor I get any kind of replacement paperwork in the mail.
Cut to last Saturday, which was the official move-in day here at Pointe. I had decided to postpone coming up here because I had some stuff in Austin I wanted to do, but Sarah had been staying in Lubbock this summer and so moved in that day. I ask her how it is and she replies saying that the other two tenants are two sisters who have been there for the past year and are nice, but the unit itself is disgusting. She sent me pictures and she was right. The fridge was in horrible shape, crammed full of pots and pans. The freezer was even more crammed, but this time with food. The sink was piled high with dirty dishes. The counters and stove had dried food remains crusted on them. The washing machine had old detergent CAKED on it.
My heart sinks, but I tell her that between the two of us we can deal with it. She replies and apologetically says that she can't deal with it and is going to get transferred to another room. My heart sinks further. She advises me to call up there NOW and ask to be put on the room transfer list. I call up there and talk to someone and they supposedly put my name on the list.
In retrospect, this is the point at which I should have started suspecting that the list is a lie and when they tell you that they will put you on it or otherwise assure you that they will do something that will in theory result in something useful or productive actually occurring, such as take your name and number for their boss to get back to, they are actually using your contact info to look you up on the internet, print out your picture, stamp the word "SUCKER" across it and then paste it to their undoubtedly giant board of people to which they have promised help.
And then they'll use said board as a dart target.
I proceed to be in a state of near-constant anxiety for two days, having miniature panic attacks over if my living situation will be as fucked up as it was shaping to be. But with the help and reassurance of lots of people (Mom and Boo in particular) I try to hang onto my optimism and pack up my crap and head to Lubbock.
Cut to Monday. I arrive at Pointe after the six hour drive it takes to get from Austin to Lubbock and check in, get my paperwork and keys and the like. I go to the room.
Yes, the kitchen was totally filthy. I am vaguely disappointed, as at one point during my phone calls to Pointe, they had promised that they would send someone over to clean it. In fact, they promised this several times to both me and Sarah on different occasions. See the dartboard comment.
"Well that sucks," I think. "But I can deal with a messy kitchen if I have to. I'll just keep my stuff contained and clean up after myself. It's not ideal, but I'll make it work."
The apartment is empty when I get there, so I get to haul in all my crap in peace, recruiting help from Boy and some of his buddies for the bigger items. It doesn't take long and I begin to do some unpacking as best I can.
And then the roommates themselves actually show up. Except there are about half a dozen of them, they are very loud and speaking a language I have NEVER heard before. Believe it or not, deep down in my core, I am still a shy kid. This is incredibly intimidating. Eventually I do peep out my head and am greeted by a HUGE family whom I can only assume are of Caribbean descent judging from the accents and the language. Like Sarah had said, they are all nice and I think "Okay maybe I can deal with this." I didn't talk with them too much (I was busy unpacking and going shopping for essentials and getting food because I managed to go twelve hours without eating that day) but from what I could gather, it was two sisters and a cousin sharing this place with me.
Great. Because I don't feel awkward and outsider-ish enough.
I sink into a serious depression wherein I am upset that nothing works out the way I wanted to, I'm mad at Sarah for abandoning me, I'm pissed off that I am apparently paying to feel ostracized and have to deal with a disgusting kitchen that I am apparently only entitled to about 1/8 of. If that. I cry. A lot. There is a lot of crying.
DId I mention that I was PMSing through all of this? Because I was.
There are also sobbing phonecalls to my mom, which I HATE doing because I feel like I sound ungrateful and whiny. Eventually I come to the conclusion that I'll just go to bed and see how things are in the morning. I do so.
The next morning (this morning) I am still upset and feeling fucking rotten. I walk over to Boy's building (he is living in the same complex, different building) to see a friendly face and also get his advice. We go see Sarah, who is now living in the same building as him. I'm still mad, but I can't really hold it against her so I try to let it go. She offers to come with me to the office and try to get things straightened out. I gratefully take her up on it.
Because Sarah has been dealing with these people a lot for the last few days, she knows what to do. We march in and ask to talk to Yvonne, who is available. I explain to her the situation and she says that the only things that she currently has open are a 3x3 unit and a 4x4 penthouse, both of which are about $20-$30 more a month than I currently pay. I ask her to let me know if anything else comes up and she promises she will. I leave her my contact info. Once again, see the dartboard comment.
I go back to my room and try not to be depressed. I feel like I am in limbo because I don't really want to unpack anymore than I already have in case I DO get moved I'll have to pack it back up again. I feel incredibly unsettled by having all my boxes and things half-opened all around me. I talk to Mom and she basically says that it's okay if I transfer into one of the more expensive units. I wibble guiltily over this and then eventually decide to go take her up on it. I go back to the office.
I ask for Yvonne, but she is out so I explain my situation to the very nice but ultimately unhelpful Desk Peon Girl, who seems very sympathetic. Once again, I give her my name and number and ask her to have Yvonne call me as soon as she gets back in. Once again, see dartboard comment.
I go back to my room and continue to mope around. A few hours pass and I decide to go back to the office once again because I haven't heard from anyone. This time I speak to Desk Peon Boy and is told that Yvonne is in a meeting but I am welcome to wait. I have come prepared. I sit and wait. Five to ten minutes later, I hear Desk Peon Boy ask someone walking past if Yvonne has already left for the day. Guess what, she has. He comes over to me and tells me she's gone for the day. I once again try to explain my situation and am told rather abruptly that there is next to no chance of me getting moved, especially if it's "just because the situation is awkward."
Pardon me, buddy, but if I am willing to pay you the extra money and move my own shit, I don't see any reason why you can't.
I ask when Yvonne will be in tomorrow and am told abruptly that getting to talk to Yvonne is going to be "impossible" and that I need to speak to Lauren. And if Lauren isn't available, I need to speak with someone else whose name I don't even recall now. Feeling thoroughly peeved, I thank Desk Peon Boy and leave. I start crying on the way back to my room and continue crying for a good fifteen minutes. Just following this, I discover that I am no longer PMSing but legit bleeding. Isn't timing wonderful?
I feel thoroughly depressed for the most of the rest of the night, even despite getting to talk to some really great people and being reassured by everyone. I decide that tomorrow morning I am going to go to the office with a book and a DS and stay there until they tell me I can move rooms. I am thoroughly prepared to be a pain in the ass. The office opens in about four hours. Maybe I should just go camp now. I might even sleep.
Some fun facts:
-Roomies have managed to set off the fire alarm MULTIPLE TIMES each day I've been here.
-When they are all here, they are constantly talking very loudly in the language that I cannot understand. SHOUTING.
-I am so intimidated that I don't even want to go put my trash in the kitchen trashcan when I hear voices outside. I am skulking around my own fucking apartment.
-At multiple points, they have played very loud Caribbean-techno music. This could be cool if I didn't have a sneaking feeling that it will be a common thing. At one point, it sounded like a three-year old with Tourettes that had been given crack and helium and set loose on a drum machine and told that if he shrieks a particular phrase over and over twenty times without stopping he'll be given a new puppy.
-There is loud construction going out right across the street from me. I can't complain about this one too much, however, because according to Adam it will at one point be a Chipotle.
-There are lights BLARING straight into my room at night, even despite the blinds. I have curtains, but I don't to bother putting them up until I know I'm stuck here for sure. This is not helping my insomnia.
I'm still wide-a-fucking wake. Fuck.
Yes, I am posting to you from exotic Lubbock, TX. I am in an apartment, which is what I wanted. Other than that, I am pretty thoroughly unhappy with where I am right now. I forget if I have made a post about the ongoing trials and tribulations concerning my search for adequate living conditions, so in case I haven't, here goes. If I have, my sincere apologies for double-dip whining.
So way back in April or May, I decided pretty much on a whim to sign a year-long lease on a four person apartment with my friend Sarah at a nice complex called University Pointe (or just Pointe) that is within easy walk/biking distance from campus. We figured that we could deal with being roomed with two other people if it was the two of us. So all of that goes dandy and I go home for the summer excited that I get to move off campus in the fall.
Cut to about July when I get my packet of move-in info from the complex. It has my list of roommates, which includes Sarah and two other girls I don't know. I decide to try to be a good incoming roomie and send out a dorky "Hi my name is Xan" email to attempt to get the ball rolling and make things somewhat less awkward when I actually get there. I mention in the email that I already know Sarah and I get a reply from one of the girls that essentially says that "Oh Sarah isn't supposed to be on there. Another girl named Carol is going to be living with us instead."
I contact Sarah about this and she says that she got a packet and was listed to live in the same unit I was and that if the complex changed something around, they did so without telling her. I call them up and ask what the heck and they say that they'll fix it immediately and send us new paperwork. They fix the problem and assign us the same unit, but neither Sarah nor I get any kind of replacement paperwork in the mail.
Cut to last Saturday, which was the official move-in day here at Pointe. I had decided to postpone coming up here because I had some stuff in Austin I wanted to do, but Sarah had been staying in Lubbock this summer and so moved in that day. I ask her how it is and she replies saying that the other two tenants are two sisters who have been there for the past year and are nice, but the unit itself is disgusting. She sent me pictures and she was right. The fridge was in horrible shape, crammed full of pots and pans. The freezer was even more crammed, but this time with food. The sink was piled high with dirty dishes. The counters and stove had dried food remains crusted on them. The washing machine had old detergent CAKED on it.
My heart sinks, but I tell her that between the two of us we can deal with it. She replies and apologetically says that she can't deal with it and is going to get transferred to another room. My heart sinks further. She advises me to call up there NOW and ask to be put on the room transfer list. I call up there and talk to someone and they supposedly put my name on the list.
In retrospect, this is the point at which I should have started suspecting that the list is a lie and when they tell you that they will put you on it or otherwise assure you that they will do something that will in theory result in something useful or productive actually occurring, such as take your name and number for their boss to get back to, they are actually using your contact info to look you up on the internet, print out your picture, stamp the word "SUCKER" across it and then paste it to their undoubtedly giant board of people to which they have promised help.
And then they'll use said board as a dart target.
I proceed to be in a state of near-constant anxiety for two days, having miniature panic attacks over if my living situation will be as fucked up as it was shaping to be. But with the help and reassurance of lots of people (Mom and Boo in particular) I try to hang onto my optimism and pack up my crap and head to Lubbock.
Cut to Monday. I arrive at Pointe after the six hour drive it takes to get from Austin to Lubbock and check in, get my paperwork and keys and the like. I go to the room.
Yes, the kitchen was totally filthy. I am vaguely disappointed, as at one point during my phone calls to Pointe, they had promised that they would send someone over to clean it. In fact, they promised this several times to both me and Sarah on different occasions. See the dartboard comment.
"Well that sucks," I think. "But I can deal with a messy kitchen if I have to. I'll just keep my stuff contained and clean up after myself. It's not ideal, but I'll make it work."
The apartment is empty when I get there, so I get to haul in all my crap in peace, recruiting help from Boy and some of his buddies for the bigger items. It doesn't take long and I begin to do some unpacking as best I can.
And then the roommates themselves actually show up. Except there are about half a dozen of them, they are very loud and speaking a language I have NEVER heard before. Believe it or not, deep down in my core, I am still a shy kid. This is incredibly intimidating. Eventually I do peep out my head and am greeted by a HUGE family whom I can only assume are of Caribbean descent judging from the accents and the language. Like Sarah had said, they are all nice and I think "Okay maybe I can deal with this." I didn't talk with them too much (I was busy unpacking and going shopping for essentials and getting food because I managed to go twelve hours without eating that day) but from what I could gather, it was two sisters and a cousin sharing this place with me.
Great. Because I don't feel awkward and outsider-ish enough.
I sink into a serious depression wherein I am upset that nothing works out the way I wanted to, I'm mad at Sarah for abandoning me, I'm pissed off that I am apparently paying to feel ostracized and have to deal with a disgusting kitchen that I am apparently only entitled to about 1/8 of. If that. I cry. A lot. There is a lot of crying.
DId I mention that I was PMSing through all of this? Because I was.
There are also sobbing phonecalls to my mom, which I HATE doing because I feel like I sound ungrateful and whiny. Eventually I come to the conclusion that I'll just go to bed and see how things are in the morning. I do so.
The next morning (this morning) I am still upset and feeling fucking rotten. I walk over to Boy's building (he is living in the same complex, different building) to see a friendly face and also get his advice. We go see Sarah, who is now living in the same building as him. I'm still mad, but I can't really hold it against her so I try to let it go. She offers to come with me to the office and try to get things straightened out. I gratefully take her up on it.
Because Sarah has been dealing with these people a lot for the last few days, she knows what to do. We march in and ask to talk to Yvonne, who is available. I explain to her the situation and she says that the only things that she currently has open are a 3x3 unit and a 4x4 penthouse, both of which are about $20-$30 more a month than I currently pay. I ask her to let me know if anything else comes up and she promises she will. I leave her my contact info. Once again, see the dartboard comment.
I go back to my room and try not to be depressed. I feel like I am in limbo because I don't really want to unpack anymore than I already have in case I DO get moved I'll have to pack it back up again. I feel incredibly unsettled by having all my boxes and things half-opened all around me. I talk to Mom and she basically says that it's okay if I transfer into one of the more expensive units. I wibble guiltily over this and then eventually decide to go take her up on it. I go back to the office.
I ask for Yvonne, but she is out so I explain my situation to the very nice but ultimately unhelpful Desk Peon Girl, who seems very sympathetic. Once again, I give her my name and number and ask her to have Yvonne call me as soon as she gets back in. Once again, see dartboard comment.
I go back to my room and continue to mope around. A few hours pass and I decide to go back to the office once again because I haven't heard from anyone. This time I speak to Desk Peon Boy and is told that Yvonne is in a meeting but I am welcome to wait. I have come prepared. I sit and wait. Five to ten minutes later, I hear Desk Peon Boy ask someone walking past if Yvonne has already left for the day. Guess what, she has. He comes over to me and tells me she's gone for the day. I once again try to explain my situation and am told rather abruptly that there is next to no chance of me getting moved, especially if it's "just because the situation is awkward."
Pardon me, buddy, but if I am willing to pay you the extra money and move my own shit, I don't see any reason why you can't.
I ask when Yvonne will be in tomorrow and am told abruptly that getting to talk to Yvonne is going to be "impossible" and that I need to speak to Lauren. And if Lauren isn't available, I need to speak with someone else whose name I don't even recall now. Feeling thoroughly peeved, I thank Desk Peon Boy and leave. I start crying on the way back to my room and continue crying for a good fifteen minutes. Just following this, I discover that I am no longer PMSing but legit bleeding. Isn't timing wonderful?
I feel thoroughly depressed for the most of the rest of the night, even despite getting to talk to some really great people and being reassured by everyone. I decide that tomorrow morning I am going to go to the office with a book and a DS and stay there until they tell me I can move rooms. I am thoroughly prepared to be a pain in the ass. The office opens in about four hours. Maybe I should just go camp now. I might even sleep.
Some fun facts:
-Roomies have managed to set off the fire alarm MULTIPLE TIMES each day I've been here.
-When they are all here, they are constantly talking very loudly in the language that I cannot understand. SHOUTING.
-I am so intimidated that I don't even want to go put my trash in the kitchen trashcan when I hear voices outside. I am skulking around my own fucking apartment.
-At multiple points, they have played very loud Caribbean-techno music. This could be cool if I didn't have a sneaking feeling that it will be a common thing. At one point, it sounded like a three-year old with Tourettes that had been given crack and helium and set loose on a drum machine and told that if he shrieks a particular phrase over and over twenty times without stopping he'll be given a new puppy.
-There is loud construction going out right across the street from me. I can't complain about this one too much, however, because according to Adam it will at one point be a Chipotle.
-There are lights BLARING straight into my room at night, even despite the blinds. I have curtains, but I don't to bother putting them up until I know I'm stuck here for sure. This is not helping my insomnia.
I'm still wide-a-fucking wake. Fuck.