Colorado conversations

Mike and I began our apartment hunt today. Of course, our rental experiences, although based on the same things, have differed drastically in the last two years. When Dad was moving into the first set of apartments post-divorce, there was a lot of looking and negotiating to be done. Finding the apartment in Chicago was actually an incredibly smooth process, and although it has yet to be entirely finalized, I’m expecting to get most of my security deposit back. Actually all of it, but we’ll touch on that in September.
Mike has the luxury of living in a beautifully spacious apartment complete with a garbage disposal, double sinks, granite counters, two bathrooms, carpet and perhaps most importantly, counter space. Oh, did I forget to mention the washer and dryer IN UNIT?
I, on the other hand, live in a building that sees more crime and petty thefts than Park Vista has seen since we moved here eighteen years ago. I love my building, we have beautiful vaulted ceilings (we’re on the top floor) and a sense of semi-historic charm. We also have about three cubic feet of counter space  (or less), a sink, a refrigerator and leaky faucets. Our walls are not nearly soundproof enough, nor were they primed prior to being painted. I love my apartment. It’s warm and comfortable; water, heat and gas are included in the rent; I feel safe there: I can see the entire apartment from the living room and when I’m alone, I find that to be a source of great comfort.
It’s a shit hole. Let’s not kid ourselves. The linoleum (ew) in the kitchen comes up every now and then. The floors are separating from the walls. I wish I could explain that but I’ll give you a visual instead: Gerardo, the nicest maintenance man who should have never become a maintenance man, coming by every fall to stuff strange bits of gauzy fabric in the ever-growing gaps between the dirty wooden floors and the walls. I have an ever-expanding crack in my wall that won’t seem to stop creeping.
The apartments that we saw today were not way out of our price range, but they were a bit on the nice end. I would prefer, especially during my first post-collegiate year, to live on a more modest scale. Of course I’ve love something beautiful and stunning, but it’s just not realistic in my life-view.
We’re going to have to expand our search and remain diligent.

I hate the show “Family Guy.” I fall asleep to it sometimes. I put it on because I know I’ll be asleep in moments.

Growing up is frustrating at times. My whole life I’ve been begging to be older and even now, perhaps more so than ever, I find that it matters. I just wish to be taken seriously, but I feel as though there will be new challenges. I’ll complain about them, get through them, and then eventually I’ll be old and being young will seem like something I should have held onto.
 I hate that you can find something that seems to fit, that could have been, and then you find that it can’t fit because your life is everywhere else. And then what? It’s not like you can hit pause on certain parts of yourself. Wouldn’t that be amazing?
I love finding a connection, a conversation, a whisper. But it’s heartbreaking to know that sometimes it slips away. I wish it wouldn’t. I wish there was a different way to handle certain situations. Sometimes there’s not. Sometimes there’s only forward, moving forward. Go. There’s no holding on there’s only progress.
I’m progressing. Also pouting, but progressing. It’s all lame.
I’m nervous for real life to begin. I won’t lie. I am terrible at dealing with change. I get apprehensive, short in conversation, withdrawn and moody.  I’m excited, I know that, but I need to work on not being overwhelmed to the point of inaction. I find that sometimes I am so afraid to begin something that I just give up. But I’ve identified it as a point of contention between myself and, uh, myself so it’s something to move forward from.
Is it wrong that I cannot wait to furnish the apartment? I can’t wait to cook. I can’t wait to have my own space, where I can leave my stuff out and know it’s safe. I cannot wait to ride my bike. I cannot wait to be able to drive to Red Rocks whenever I like. I cannot wait to organize all of my things and de-clutter. I cannot wait to watch the sunsets.
I’ve missed the sunsets.

I still hate Family Guy. I’ve been multi-tasking (writing the badly formed blog and trying to complicate my life with facebook chat conversations) and have not yet moved to find the remote, but this is nearly insufferable.

The remote has become my paramount concern. There were other conversation points I had hoped to touch on, of course, but my attention span as well as my annoyance have dwindled and grown exponentially, respectively.

Have a beautiful day, world.

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