Just as I finished recounting the nightmarish housing interview from yesterday in the worst part of this magnificent city and started feeling a bit disheartened about my post-rehab housing prospects, I glanced at my Gmail inbox. Believe it or not, there was an email from my housing counselor notifying me that I’ve been accepted for the first apartment I interviewed for back on November 6th, located in Queens. The exact location remains unknown, but I’ll definitely check it out in the next few days. There are parts of Queens I’d rather not be in, but nothing that compares to where I ventured in Harlem yesterday. Anyway, a free room in New York City — can’t be overly choosy.
So, within the last week, I’ve been approved for two shared supportive housing apartments: one in Queens and another in the Bronx. I liked what I heard about the Bronx apartment, but given my aim to steer clear of neighborhoods akin to where I resided during my disastrous winter of 2021–2022 (filled with crime and drug-related issues), I’m contemplating.
There’s a lesson I’ve learned, something my friend Mike mentioned right when things were going awry in Brooklyn: You can reside in a rough area; just don’t get tangled up in the daily activities of those involved in shady dealings. Staying away from drugs is a solid method to avoid entangling oneself in undesirable matters. This isn’t Disneyland; it’s New York City, where there’s always something to steer clear of. I don’t care if you live in Tribeca; I’ve been a homeless outcast doing undesirable things in nice neighborhoods like Park Slope.
Funny how life operates — when I’m feeling low, a positive surprise often emerges, restoring my faith. I wish I could internalize this and avoid losing faith altogether, but I’m set in my ways. Moreover, if you never lose faith, you miss out on the unexpectedly gratifying feeling of its return. Maybe if I hadn’t witnessed the hellhole I visited yesterday, I wouldn’t have cherished the good news I just received as much.
All the excruciatingly painful and traumatic experiences I’ve endured have at least granted me the perspective to appreciate the good things. That’s why I struggle to connect with people who haven’t experienced suffering. I suppose suffering is relative, but they don’t seem to value anything they’ve never had to live without.
I’d love to continue rambling on about whatever crosses my mind, but my laptop charger is acting up. It needs to be positioned just right to power my computer; otherwise, it’s a no-go, and it’s driving me nuts. It’s alright; I’ve ordered a new one. I just hope the issue isn’t with the port on the computer itself. I’ve only recently acquired this thing, and I can’t afford repairs.
