I live in a nice property in a questionable neighborhood that’s dedicated to a community improvement project. When the building first opened 4 years ago, people became concerned when those native to the location couldn’t afford to live there. The solution was government subsidies for qualifying adults which introduced working minorities living below the poverty line and their children to a building full of upper middle class white folk who hankered for lofty condos. *That* is a very long sentence and *it* is an interesting dynamic.
Anyways.
Instead of Megabusin’ it, I have a plane ticket to Chicago this weekend. I was instructed to 'wear something nice on the plane' presumably to go directly from the airport to... somewhere. Now for a Megabus girl getting in at 1AM- I’m sure I know what that means. (::winkwink:: scandalous!) But what for a frivolous weekend plane ticket girl..? Hmmm... I know- WWNSD? To the mailroom!
The prior occupant of my apartment was Nancy Sullivan. I know this because I get a ton of her mail. She still gets more than I do- even after 3 1/2 years. At first I tried to be polite about it- letting the mailman know she was no longer at this address, sending the mail back, calling magazines to be removed from listings, etc. That was then. These days I paw through her mail eagerly- I figure the post office *must* want me to have these invitations to posh charity events and catalogues for high-end items I didn’t even know existed. I can’t help it! Her mail is a secret glimpse into an alternative world.
"Take for example this article, Norman." We’re in the kitchen having dinner; I’m sitting on the counter, holding a travel magazine while the cat is standing on the kitchen island- looking down at his food with typical distaste. I read aloud- "Being a white American conferred on me an automatic status abroad. I represented power. Affluence..." Huh. I had no idea. I don’t know if *I’ve* ever had this experience. "But then again," I say- flipping through the rest of the mail and pulling out a glossy appliance catalogue "I’ve never owned a microwave that cost more than a month’s rent either."
Now typically, I tend to dislike the lavish on principle but I wonder if a teeny-tiny part of that is envy. "It’s not just having a $900 microwave, Norman. It’s the lifestyle that supports having a $900 microwave." I try to appeal to his kitty nature by explaining that this means eating something a lot better than tuna everyday. And THAT means it's okay to want nice things.
Sometimes I wonder if maybe I should have just picked a major for the sole purpose of landing a prosperous career. I mean- that’s doable, isn’t it? *This* makes the most money. I need to do *this* to get *there*. Ta-dah! This feels like a slightly sleazy way to go about this business but, if I’m entirely honest, it’s not like I’m doing any altruistic work at the moment anyways.
Norman, as usual, is undisturbed by my ponderings. Demonstrating his blatant lack of concern for the most things in life, Norm only half listens as he idly bats my cellphone from one end of the island to the other. He swats harder and we both watch as the phone goes sailing off one end- directly into his dish of tuna. Norman looks at me as if to say, 'Well? Are you going to get that?'
Then again... maybe there’s another reason I don’t have nice things.
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