Insomnia has never been my thing. Excessive caffeine indulgence, yes. Black clothing compulsion, definitely. But getting a solid night’s sleep, most definitely not. That is, until now. My mind has been racing amid a flurry of activity– namely, finding a new apartment, directing my first short film, and balancing my job and relationship.
And so I’ve taken to late night Netflix watching. In the absence of an actual television, it’s the closest I can come to 3 am informercials. Only instead of buying a ridiculously expensive hair straightener, which I don’t need because my hair is naturally straight, I am catching up on political mayhem in House of Cards.
However, the one thing I can’t seem to get past every time I watch the show is that Zoe Barnes, a struggling young reporter, lives in a one bedroom, sans roommates and with a balcony. She basically is living the urbanite’s dream. And while I recognize she lives in Washington DC, a city still significantly cheaper than New York despite its burgeoning hipster class, I am jealous.
I am jealous of a fictional character’s one bedroom on top of a convenience store in a clearly questionable part of town. And all because I live in a city where I can’t even rent a studio without selling my yet to be born first-born.
It’s a frustrating first world problem when you recognize the beauty of your dreams and the practicality of your residency may never align– at least not on the island of Manhattan. And so I’m embarking on a bold new initiative; one I’ve been contemplating since graduation, but one I’ve been too afraid to execute– a move to Brooklyn.
As a self avowed foodie and reader of Adam Platt’s column in New York Magazine, I recognize that Brooklyn’s restaurants have begun their ascension. And if I want to be where the bougie dine, I best reconsider my zip code. It’s time to exchange the 10012 for the 11231.
And so after completing a few episodes of House of Cards, I’ve begun my 3 am quest to find the perfect two bedroom apartment in Carroll Gardens. (Hey, if the neighborhood is good enough for Solange Knowles and Jemima Kirke, it’s good enough for me.) I’ve discovered several reasonable options that offer bedrooms big enough to accommodate full beds– my litmus test for space.
These discoveries settle me, until I realize that I may be leaving the island of Manhattan. Fortunately, the point at which I come to this realization I am exhausted– both at the thought of moving out of my walk up and of moving into what is likely to be another walk up. And I promptly fall asleep (until my 5:35 alarm, that is).