And for friends helping friends find friends... and friends. I think I lost a word.
I have a roommate and an apartment in Park Slope, and best of all, said roommate is someone I know from SGU rather than a psycho on craigslist who stuffs my stethoscope down my throat as soon as s/he finds out I have to get up mega early once my surgery rotation starts. AND no huge multi-thousand dollar up front fee, so now I just get to be excited rather than miserably stressed/excited.
Orientation's on the 22nd for Brooklyn, and I'll be starting in psych, which means I'll be reporting to northern Manhattan since that rotation is off site and the commute is longer, but it also gives me the street cred of working in Manhattan. Heh.
Since I'm still in California (which had been complicating my search), I'm flying out on the night of the 17th to attempt to stuff as much Ikea furniture into my bedroom before my rotation starts. My new roomie also introduced me to the concept of the ZipCar, which should make the process of transferring furniture a *lot* easier.
Showing posts with label Housing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Housing. Show all posts
May 8, 2009
May 3, 2009
Still in the in between...
Not for blog abandonment; just for lack of things to say, really. Though I'm sure I'll remedy that with some rambling!
I got an email today saying I had US health clearance and that was being sent to the clinicals, which means, crossing my fingers, I may get my final placement soon! Woot!
It also means that someone at SGU was working on a Saturday at 9 PM. I'll let that sink in for a minute.
Ready?
My preliminary placement was for Brooklyn, which I really really want. Now, I'm in sort of a scared holding pattern for it, because I've been looking at housing, and it's freaking me out. Grenada offered the safety of the dorms to kind of satellite out the housing options in the area until you inevitably lost the housing lottery or went insane from the construction noise, so you could scurry out to an apartment and scurry back which offset the high cost of living and allowed you to get familiar with the area.
Of course, I say this with the comfort of someone that lucked into an apartment I really really loved that somehow wound up relatively cockroach free and proud despite being in the tropics. Others were not so lucky.
So now reality's back, and it needs a place to live in Brooklyn.
I realized that NYC housing would be a challenge, but figured I'd grown accustomed to astronomical housing rates due to Grenada and I don't have a problem with small spaces or lack of light. On that note, apparently, an apartment that doesn't have an actively running meth lab requires an application fee, a credit check fee, an income, a guarantor, your first month's rent, your last month's rent, a security deposit, and possibly a broker's fee, which is also equivalent to first month's rent. Possibly also your firstborn.
The problem? I don't get my loans until the start of clinicals and I've been off in neverland studying for the step 1, which doesn't give me 5000 dollars worth of free spending money to drop on my first month's rent when I was planning on a much more reasonable month's rent plus security deposit. It would, on an unrelated note, give me enough money to have a luxurious month-long diving holiday in Borneo though. Just saying.
It may get easier once I get the final word on the placement. For the time being, I think part of the stress is in the hypothetical. I can't start ferreting out roommates or arrange appointments until I have an active placement lest risk backing out on someone at the last minute, but I feel the burden of time ticking away, plus I'm in California, so I can't just alleviate my fears by going and *looking* at places, even casually, to get a feel for it in the interim. Google maps street view is helping somewhat. I'm also surfing craigslist, which is kind of inundating me with a billion apartments and roommate options, any one of which could prove either my dream apartment (meaning no roaches, reasonable distance to the hospital, and internet), or could provide me with the opportunity to have to utter the phrase: "Officer, I swear it's not mine!!" or worse, "Why am I in a bathtub full of ice?"
So I've got a little case of the cold feet.
On a not "holy crap I need a place to live" note, I headed up to the little town of Columbia, CA yesterday, which is a pleasant little gold mining town from the wayback that reminds me of a more mountainous version of Old Sacramento. Then, since it was pouring and I was carrying more than one portable electronic device, I headed to the Moaning Cavern, which probably has the distinction of being the only cave in gold country without gold. Since I dislike yellow gold and like limestone, I consider this a plus. It also has the distinction of having a number of people fall through it's cleverly disguised top opening over the last few thousand years, so when it was formally discovered, there was a pile of bones at the bottom of a 160 foot drop. Kind of a "we are the world" moment when you realize the number of people over the centuries that shared the exact same "walking through a fiel ahhhh" moment regardless of class, culture or creed.
For something that's been a tourist attraction since the gold miners went "hey, there's no gold here", it's actually not hokey, the cave itself is gorgeous, and the winding spiral staircase that goes down is old (but tested) and made out of a recycled ship, so I got a more authentic feeling out of it, which I appreciated.
I also got to meet an awesome fellow-guitar player that lives and works up there, so that was a highlight.
Diving on Tuesday, aka Cinco de Mayo, so we'll see what my return to cold water diving after nearly 3 years looks like. I'm guessing it'll involve a lot of shivering.
I got an email today saying I had US health clearance and that was being sent to the clinicals, which means, crossing my fingers, I may get my final placement soon! Woot!
It also means that someone at SGU was working on a Saturday at 9 PM. I'll let that sink in for a minute.
Ready?
My preliminary placement was for Brooklyn, which I really really want. Now, I'm in sort of a scared holding pattern for it, because I've been looking at housing, and it's freaking me out. Grenada offered the safety of the dorms to kind of satellite out the housing options in the area until you inevitably lost the housing lottery or went insane from the construction noise, so you could scurry out to an apartment and scurry back which offset the high cost of living and allowed you to get familiar with the area.
Of course, I say this with the comfort of someone that lucked into an apartment I really really loved that somehow wound up relatively cockroach free and proud despite being in the tropics. Others were not so lucky.
So now reality's back, and it needs a place to live in Brooklyn.
I realized that NYC housing would be a challenge, but figured I'd grown accustomed to astronomical housing rates due to Grenada and I don't have a problem with small spaces or lack of light. On that note, apparently, an apartment that doesn't have an actively running meth lab requires an application fee, a credit check fee, an income, a guarantor, your first month's rent, your last month's rent, a security deposit, and possibly a broker's fee, which is also equivalent to first month's rent. Possibly also your firstborn.
The problem? I don't get my loans until the start of clinicals and I've been off in neverland studying for the step 1, which doesn't give me 5000 dollars worth of free spending money to drop on my first month's rent when I was planning on a much more reasonable month's rent plus security deposit. It would, on an unrelated note, give me enough money to have a luxurious month-long diving holiday in Borneo though. Just saying.
It may get easier once I get the final word on the placement. For the time being, I think part of the stress is in the hypothetical. I can't start ferreting out roommates or arrange appointments until I have an active placement lest risk backing out on someone at the last minute, but I feel the burden of time ticking away, plus I'm in California, so I can't just alleviate my fears by going and *looking* at places, even casually, to get a feel for it in the interim. Google maps street view is helping somewhat. I'm also surfing craigslist, which is kind of inundating me with a billion apartments and roommate options, any one of which could prove either my dream apartment (meaning no roaches, reasonable distance to the hospital, and internet), or could provide me with the opportunity to have to utter the phrase: "Officer, I swear it's not mine!!" or worse, "Why am I in a bathtub full of ice?"
So I've got a little case of the cold feet.
On a not "holy crap I need a place to live" note, I headed up to the little town of Columbia, CA yesterday, which is a pleasant little gold mining town from the wayback that reminds me of a more mountainous version of Old Sacramento. Then, since it was pouring and I was carrying more than one portable electronic device, I headed to the Moaning Cavern, which probably has the distinction of being the only cave in gold country without gold. Since I dislike yellow gold and like limestone, I consider this a plus. It also has the distinction of having a number of people fall through it's cleverly disguised top opening over the last few thousand years, so when it was formally discovered, there was a pile of bones at the bottom of a 160 foot drop. Kind of a "we are the world" moment when you realize the number of people over the centuries that shared the exact same "walking through a fiel ahhhh" moment regardless of class, culture or creed.
For something that's been a tourist attraction since the gold miners went "hey, there's no gold here", it's actually not hokey, the cave itself is gorgeous, and the winding spiral staircase that goes down is old (but tested) and made out of a recycled ship, so I got a more authentic feeling out of it, which I appreciated.
I also got to meet an awesome fellow-guitar player that lives and works up there, so that was a highlight.
Diving on Tuesday, aka Cinco de Mayo, so we'll see what my return to cold water diving after nearly 3 years looks like. I'm guessing it'll involve a lot of shivering.
Apr 15, 2007
LOTS of pictures to sort!
Dang, and I'm not kidding either. My new roomie is asleep, so this won't be the longest entry, thus FURTHER dividing my blog into sections because man... Saturday was like a week long vacation packed into a single day... rainforest, boat ride, jeep ride, beach, aquarium trip, more beach, shopping, cute little roadside stand to get Coco Loco (it's a drink, you rampant cocaine addicts), sunset, dinner, strippers... ooh, piqued your interest with that last one, didn't I? That hotel has EVERYTHING!
We got up on Saturday morning, applied COPIOUS amounts of sunscreen and bug spray, packed up our stuff for the trip, which means Nina (Grr) and I had bags, and David *thought* he was just taking a wallet, but as a man, made himself in so doing, the 'spare bag holder', aka man-who-doubles-as-living-purse. Usually, you don't get one of those until you're married, but David is an overachiever.
First off, I discovered that when you arrange a jeep ride... let me retract that. When you arrange ANYTHING, for god's sake, get the name of the guy you talked to and the company, lest you end up in front of the hotel watching the FLEET of jeeps from different companies arrive, and have no idea which one you're booked on, nor where your alleged voucher is or whether you were supposed to get one.
Fortunately, a guy from the awesome hotel ran up and identified us in Spanish, hurriedly handed me the voucher, and vanished. More comforted now, since by that point, I was half-convinced we'd missed our tour, our chariot arrived... a very nice, modified jeep arranged so that people could sit either next to the driver, in a bench seat behind the driver, or sitting across from the other passengers in the back which had an opening one could stand up in and yell "Woo!" at passerbys, which I believe, as translated through the Pimsleur language program means: "I have too much money. Please rob me. I am an idiot American/German tourist..."
Speaking of Germans, there are a bunch of them in Margarita, but not too many Americans, so they seemed to like us largely for the novelty of having us. At least one country doesn't hate us! REALLY wasn't expecting it to be Venezuela, though...
Best yet, unlike the other jeeps that pulled up that were packed so full of tourists, they needed a ring-top to open them, our jeep had only us!!! Not sure how we lucked into that arrangement, except that the guy I spoke to on the phone must have intuited that we were awesome. Yeah, that's it. Or so socially inept as to not be trusted around other people... or the only people on the tour that didn't speak German or decent Spanish... (lots of mainland Venezuela tourists on Margarita too). Whatever reason, it was nice. Private tour!!!!
We met up with other members of the caravan in a little town where we met the main guide, the one who spoke excellent English (and his sidekick, an English guy who spoke excellent German; I didn't ask).
Our guide. Aqui esta George:
He's holding a map of Margarita while essentially saying "Yes, you will be seeing all of this. No, there aren't any hidden charges. Just the 40 bucks... for a 9 hour jeep tour. Yes, gas here costs 60 cents a gallon."
The little town also provided our first of many opportunities to buy muchas cosas, and unlike Porlamar on Good Friday, there were people in the shops!! So prepare for vacation-gifts, family! The town also had the first of three birdie photo ops (also free), providing us with the first glimpse of Grr's hatred of them... tsk... do we now have a vegetarian that only eats parrot?
Polly says: "I'll see you in hell, bitches!"
After Grr's near death experience with the parrot, which consisted largely of her pointing out that birds, inexplicably, have beaks and claws (and feathers), we were off again! (and boy, is Grr going to make me pay for this entry, but not to worry; we haven't gotten to David's hair yet!!)
This time, after getting permission from our driver to stand up in the back of the jeep and yell "Woo!", we were whisked off and up into the mountains, through little towns where people waved at us (even when we were woo-less) and smiled and generally acted like they were glad to see us. Hooray for Margarita people!
We first stopped at a national park that featured mangrove trees, a short hike, and a really pretty view overlooking Porlamar. Observe:
We got drinks with the Caravan, and then back into the jeep to zoom along the Venezuelan highways and backroads until coming to another little vendor area... or so I thought.. turns out it was the dock to our cruise!!! Boat ride through the mangrove swamps, and those little boats were VERY close to the Jungle Cruise boats at Disneyland, but with some horsepower! Yet AGAIN, the three of us were treated to a private vehicle...
Aren't they cute???
But alas, not everyone could go...
Having seen what water does to a midrange Olympus digital camera, I don't even want to CONTEMPLATE what it would do to that thing.
So we'll end here for the night... you don't get to find out about the mangrove swamps yet (or if a hippo rose out of the water and wiggled its ears, indicating we had certainly taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque). Ha ha!!!
In the meantime, my laziness means we're racking up other events... curses!!!
New roommate is one of the St. Vincent 6th termers displaced by the recent crime wave. She's cool, and tends to dispense wisdom about what to expect, which is a DEFINITE plus. She's also from San Francisco and likes the room at subarctic temperatures as I do. No power bill until next term and I wants my moneys worth of my housing cost! Bwa ha!!
Lyla/Leila/Lana lane, but never Layla, which means "sheep" in Arabic thus she doesn't appreciate my singing Eric Clapton songs at her, had her magic 21st on Wednesday! Which we ignored to take her out to dinner on Sunday, because that's how med school works! We WANTED to take her to Margarita with us, but someone wanted to be responsible, stay home, and study. Feh. She also got robbed of her legality milestone since I think the drinking age in Grenada is 18. Poor thing. But I gave her a Venezuelan mask with a vertebrae (not human) stuck in it, so hopefully that'll make her feel better... some chicks like diamonds... I'm partial to dry bits of animal carcass, and I project that love onto others. Be advised if you ever want a present from me...
And speaking of birthdays (and mom's is on the 18th with her unbirthday on the 17th, so don't you THINK that I forgot you and rip out the mom guilt on me), Grrr celebrated turning the ripe old age of 26 on Friday, which she only did so she could be more like me... heh heh... she's going to hit me really hard in class on Monday for this blog entry.
For Grrr's 26th, we all went out to... uhh... expensive hotel across from Spiceland Mall. I don't think that's what's written on their welcome sign, but that's what it's called now. VERY nice restaurant in there, great ambiance, bug spray provided upon request, steel drum player more than willing to play happy birthday, NICE, TIMELY waitstaff who were also willing to ice a cake for the birthday girl, and (drumroll) lambi (conch) that wasn't chewy and steak (David's order) that wasn't the consistency of toothpaste! Damn, there's a reason they're expensive! Though actually, Grr's order wasn't outrageous. I'm going back there soon for that creme brulee with nutmeg ice cream though. When I saw that listed as a menu item, I thought any minute I was going to end up in my biochem exam in my underwear and then I'd wake up with a start...
And speaking of waking up, one cannot wake up without first going to sleep. Adios and goodnight!
We got up on Saturday morning, applied COPIOUS amounts of sunscreen and bug spray, packed up our stuff for the trip, which means Nina (Grr) and I had bags, and David *thought* he was just taking a wallet, but as a man, made himself in so doing, the 'spare bag holder', aka man-who-doubles-as-living-purse. Usually, you don't get one of those until you're married, but David is an overachiever.
First off, I discovered that when you arrange a jeep ride... let me retract that. When you arrange ANYTHING, for god's sake, get the name of the guy you talked to and the company, lest you end up in front of the hotel watching the FLEET of jeeps from different companies arrive, and have no idea which one you're booked on, nor where your alleged voucher is or whether you were supposed to get one.
Fortunately, a guy from the awesome hotel ran up and identified us in Spanish, hurriedly handed me the voucher, and vanished. More comforted now, since by that point, I was half-convinced we'd missed our tour, our chariot arrived... a very nice, modified jeep arranged so that people could sit either next to the driver, in a bench seat behind the driver, or sitting across from the other passengers in the back which had an opening one could stand up in and yell "Woo!" at passerbys, which I believe, as translated through the Pimsleur language program means: "I have too much money. Please rob me. I am an idiot American/German tourist..."
Speaking of Germans, there are a bunch of them in Margarita, but not too many Americans, so they seemed to like us largely for the novelty of having us. At least one country doesn't hate us! REALLY wasn't expecting it to be Venezuela, though...
Best yet, unlike the other jeeps that pulled up that were packed so full of tourists, they needed a ring-top to open them, our jeep had only us!!! Not sure how we lucked into that arrangement, except that the guy I spoke to on the phone must have intuited that we were awesome. Yeah, that's it. Or so socially inept as to not be trusted around other people... or the only people on the tour that didn't speak German or decent Spanish... (lots of mainland Venezuela tourists on Margarita too). Whatever reason, it was nice. Private tour!!!!
We met up with other members of the caravan in a little town where we met the main guide, the one who spoke excellent English (and his sidekick, an English guy who spoke excellent German; I didn't ask).
Our guide. Aqui esta George:
He's holding a map of Margarita while essentially saying "Yes, you will be seeing all of this. No, there aren't any hidden charges. Just the 40 bucks... for a 9 hour jeep tour. Yes, gas here costs 60 cents a gallon."
The little town also provided our first of many opportunities to buy muchas cosas, and unlike Porlamar on Good Friday, there were people in the shops!! So prepare for vacation-gifts, family! The town also had the first of three birdie photo ops (also free), providing us with the first glimpse of Grr's hatred of them... tsk... do we now have a vegetarian that only eats parrot?
Polly says: "I'll see you in hell, bitches!"
After Grr's near death experience with the parrot, which consisted largely of her pointing out that birds, inexplicably, have beaks and claws (and feathers), we were off again! (and boy, is Grr going to make me pay for this entry, but not to worry; we haven't gotten to David's hair yet!!)
This time, after getting permission from our driver to stand up in the back of the jeep and yell "Woo!", we were whisked off and up into the mountains, through little towns where people waved at us (even when we were woo-less) and smiled and generally acted like they were glad to see us. Hooray for Margarita people!
We first stopped at a national park that featured mangrove trees, a short hike, and a really pretty view overlooking Porlamar. Observe:
We got drinks with the Caravan, and then back into the jeep to zoom along the Venezuelan highways and backroads until coming to another little vendor area... or so I thought.. turns out it was the dock to our cruise!!! Boat ride through the mangrove swamps, and those little boats were VERY close to the Jungle Cruise boats at Disneyland, but with some horsepower! Yet AGAIN, the three of us were treated to a private vehicle...
Aren't they cute???
But alas, not everyone could go...
Having seen what water does to a midrange Olympus digital camera, I don't even want to CONTEMPLATE what it would do to that thing.
So we'll end here for the night... you don't get to find out about the mangrove swamps yet (or if a hippo rose out of the water and wiggled its ears, indicating we had certainly taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque). Ha ha!!!
In the meantime, my laziness means we're racking up other events... curses!!!
New roommate is one of the St. Vincent 6th termers displaced by the recent crime wave. She's cool, and tends to dispense wisdom about what to expect, which is a DEFINITE plus. She's also from San Francisco and likes the room at subarctic temperatures as I do. No power bill until next term and I wants my moneys worth of my housing cost! Bwa ha!!
Lyla/Leila/Lana lane, but never Layla, which means "sheep" in Arabic thus she doesn't appreciate my singing Eric Clapton songs at her, had her magic 21st on Wednesday! Which we ignored to take her out to dinner on Sunday, because that's how med school works! We WANTED to take her to Margarita with us, but someone wanted to be responsible, stay home, and study. Feh. She also got robbed of her legality milestone since I think the drinking age in Grenada is 18. Poor thing. But I gave her a Venezuelan mask with a vertebrae (not human) stuck in it, so hopefully that'll make her feel better... some chicks like diamonds... I'm partial to dry bits of animal carcass, and I project that love onto others. Be advised if you ever want a present from me...
And speaking of birthdays (and mom's is on the 18th with her unbirthday on the 17th, so don't you THINK that I forgot you and rip out the mom guilt on me), Grrr celebrated turning the ripe old age of 26 on Friday, which she only did so she could be more like me... heh heh... she's going to hit me really hard in class on Monday for this blog entry.
For Grrr's 26th, we all went out to... uhh... expensive hotel across from Spiceland Mall. I don't think that's what's written on their welcome sign, but that's what it's called now. VERY nice restaurant in there, great ambiance, bug spray provided upon request, steel drum player more than willing to play happy birthday, NICE, TIMELY waitstaff who were also willing to ice a cake for the birthday girl, and (drumroll) lambi (conch) that wasn't chewy and steak (David's order) that wasn't the consistency of toothpaste! Damn, there's a reason they're expensive! Though actually, Grr's order wasn't outrageous. I'm going back there soon for that creme brulee with nutmeg ice cream though. When I saw that listed as a menu item, I thought any minute I was going to end up in my biochem exam in my underwear and then I'd wake up with a start...
And speaking of waking up, one cannot wake up without first going to sleep. Adios and goodnight!
Apr 6, 2007
ADIOS!!!!!!!!!
Well, in a couple hours, but the howling outside is awakening, to say the least... The "Shhhhs" are already starting down the hall. My my, sound does carry through the dorms, as does the voice of the person who got the requisite role of 'bad guy' by asking people to keep it down. Heh heh.
I'm leaving for Venezuela today, which means I'll see you lovely people on Easter Sunday, just in time to uncelebrate Hugo Chavez's impromptu ban on alcohol over most of Easter weekend and hope the bartenders take pity on me. If not, hey, it's all good, right? And I can get trashed Sunday night here.
So, I won the on campus waitlist housing lottery. Heh. I actually got notice on the day (Wednesday) that I signed the lease with my new apartment for next term. I think I'll be happier there anyway, quite frankly. More space, better sitting area, and honestly, the noise in the halls every night does start to wear, as does having to share any part of my domicile with other human beings.
Well, back to bed to bed, but happy token spring holiday to you all and Wahoo!!! Margarita!!!!!!!!!!!!
I'm leaving for Venezuela today, which means I'll see you lovely people on Easter Sunday, just in time to uncelebrate Hugo Chavez's impromptu ban on alcohol over most of Easter weekend and hope the bartenders take pity on me. If not, hey, it's all good, right? And I can get trashed Sunday night here.
So, I won the on campus waitlist housing lottery. Heh. I actually got notice on the day (Wednesday) that I signed the lease with my new apartment for next term. I think I'll be happier there anyway, quite frankly. More space, better sitting area, and honestly, the noise in the halls every night does start to wear, as does having to share any part of my domicile with other human beings.
Well, back to bed to bed, but happy token spring holiday to you all and Wahoo!!! Margarita!!!!!!!!!!!!
Apr 4, 2007
Not gonna be homeless!
Now if I can only get the grades that will let me come back! Oh, make it so!
I got an apartment! I got an apartment! I'm heading off to sign the lease later this morning (Wednesday) but I've already put in my down payment for August. Wahoo!
When we last met, I was still desperately trying to find a place to live after abandoning the idea of being grateful for the opportunity to pay 5000 dollars to live in a somewhat rundown apartment with an outside kitchen, and that's if I WON the Grand Anse housing lottery. What I was HOPING for was placement in Superdorm 3 or 4 for the luxury of having my own room, even if I was sharing a place with two other people, who, due to the random nature of the housing lottery, may have been complete strangers. And not large places, though having seen them, nicer than where I'm staying now.
So I won't be going for convenience over cost-effectiveness anymore! After shopping around a bit, talking to some people, I made a call, hopped on a bus, did the tour and handed over the credit card. My place is huge, near Big Fish for added access to being lazy, has a laundry room, twice weekly maid service, basic cable, a tv, microwave, separate sitting area, an OVEN (man, I never realized how much I'd miss an oven with simply making due with a stovetop) etc etc. It's great! It doesn't have Lori's balcony and hammock, but that's what you get for dragging your feet.
And all for about 2 grand less than I'd be paying to live in Grand Anse... and cook outside. So I'm jazzed. I have to pay for electricity though, which means that oscillating fan I grabbed from Spiceland Mall (for 60 EC! Sweet deal!) is going to get some serious work. I think it'll be nice to have my own place too, because I am answerable to no one and can wander around my facilities at three in the morning in my underwear making raw meat sandwiches and singing "Boys of Summer" off-key... or perhaps I've said too much.
Speaking of living by myself, my awesome roommate moved out, which means hopefully she jumped at the enviable shot of getting a single (even with an awesome roommate, sharing the same sleeping quarters with another person can be a drain on your average 24-26 year old) rather than jumping at the opportunity to get away from a not so awesome roommate (namely, me), but I tried to vomit quietly during midterms!
Truth be told, it's kind of strange by this age to be expected to share the *sleeping* quarters for many people for first term. I'm midrange on age, but some people are older and have come from owning homes or living with a spouse to now sharing their bedroom with, in many cases, someone they met the first day they moved in. That's rough. I got off quite lucky with my roommate, but I have heard some horror stories that makes me think that with all the stresses of medical school, the additional interpersonal skills it takes to cohabitate with someone who may be INSANE (like me!). Even coordinating sleeping schedules, when sleep is such a precious commodity in med school, adds that tiny extra bit of stress that med students don't need.
Or maybe I'm spoiled. I dunno. But I have an apartment for second term! Which is where I'll be getting my party on when I'm not over at Lori's mooching off her sweet sweet porch or swiping homecooked Indian food from my new second term neighbor Nina, aka Little Grr (and don't worry; I won't tell the story, L.G.).
Speaking of L.G., she, David, and I (and mom, I'm sure there's a grammar error in there, and I don't care, because I'm hardcore) have rightfully secured airline tickets, AND thanks to David, hotel accommodations, in Margarita Island! So this weekend's a go! The hotel is about 25 miles from the airport, but it's all good. Gives us a chance to see the island a bit, right? (she asked innocently).
I mentioned the pirate party in Lance aux Epines. Since the viewer numbers indicate you guys like pictures, I'll be posting the pictures from that and the afterparty at Banana's on my next blog, but for now, you're just gonna have to wait! Mwa ha!
I got an apartment! I got an apartment! I'm heading off to sign the lease later this morning (Wednesday) but I've already put in my down payment for August. Wahoo!
When we last met, I was still desperately trying to find a place to live after abandoning the idea of being grateful for the opportunity to pay 5000 dollars to live in a somewhat rundown apartment with an outside kitchen, and that's if I WON the Grand Anse housing lottery. What I was HOPING for was placement in Superdorm 3 or 4 for the luxury of having my own room, even if I was sharing a place with two other people, who, due to the random nature of the housing lottery, may have been complete strangers. And not large places, though having seen them, nicer than where I'm staying now.
So I won't be going for convenience over cost-effectiveness anymore! After shopping around a bit, talking to some people, I made a call, hopped on a bus, did the tour and handed over the credit card. My place is huge, near Big Fish for added access to being lazy, has a laundry room, twice weekly maid service, basic cable, a tv, microwave, separate sitting area, an OVEN (man, I never realized how much I'd miss an oven with simply making due with a stovetop) etc etc. It's great! It doesn't have Lori's balcony and hammock, but that's what you get for dragging your feet.
And all for about 2 grand less than I'd be paying to live in Grand Anse... and cook outside. So I'm jazzed. I have to pay for electricity though, which means that oscillating fan I grabbed from Spiceland Mall (for 60 EC! Sweet deal!) is going to get some serious work. I think it'll be nice to have my own place too, because I am answerable to no one and can wander around my facilities at three in the morning in my underwear making raw meat sandwiches and singing "Boys of Summer" off-key... or perhaps I've said too much.
Speaking of living by myself, my awesome roommate moved out, which means hopefully she jumped at the enviable shot of getting a single (even with an awesome roommate, sharing the same sleeping quarters with another person can be a drain on your average 24-26 year old) rather than jumping at the opportunity to get away from a not so awesome roommate (namely, me), but I tried to vomit quietly during midterms!
Truth be told, it's kind of strange by this age to be expected to share the *sleeping* quarters for many people for first term. I'm midrange on age, but some people are older and have come from owning homes or living with a spouse to now sharing their bedroom with, in many cases, someone they met the first day they moved in. That's rough. I got off quite lucky with my roommate, but I have heard some horror stories that makes me think that with all the stresses of medical school, the additional interpersonal skills it takes to cohabitate with someone who may be INSANE (like me!). Even coordinating sleeping schedules, when sleep is such a precious commodity in med school, adds that tiny extra bit of stress that med students don't need.
Or maybe I'm spoiled. I dunno. But I have an apartment for second term! Which is where I'll be getting my party on when I'm not over at Lori's mooching off her sweet sweet porch or swiping homecooked Indian food from my new second term neighbor Nina, aka Little Grr (and don't worry; I won't tell the story, L.G.).
Speaking of L.G., she, David, and I (and mom, I'm sure there's a grammar error in there, and I don't care, because I'm hardcore) have rightfully secured airline tickets, AND thanks to David, hotel accommodations, in Margarita Island! So this weekend's a go! The hotel is about 25 miles from the airport, but it's all good. Gives us a chance to see the island a bit, right? (she asked innocently).
I mentioned the pirate party in Lance aux Epines. Since the viewer numbers indicate you guys like pictures, I'll be posting the pictures from that and the afterparty at Banana's on my next blog, but for now, you're just gonna have to wait! Mwa ha!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
