R.B. Winters's Blog: Rent (minus) Control, page 2
May 25, 2019
If You Can Make It Here…
“If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere.” A minor mutation of the Sinatra song lyrics. Which are woven into American pop culture and used over and over again in movies and television series.
Having been one of the people subscribing to this concept for a very long period, I think it’s time we made some adjustments to this saying/concept. If you can make it in New York, you apparently can make it anywhere. Which is sort of true. In reality, if you can financially survive the ever rising rents, exorbitant brunch prices, and the cost of being cultured in New York, then yes, definitely, you can live anywhere on this planet and “make it.”
Why I no longer believe living in New York prepares you to live, or as it’s implied in the non-financial sense, make it, anywhere, is because the city causes dependency. My last two apartments in the city were both great places on the Upper East Side. Everything was no more than three blocks distance.
Walking Distance for important location:
Starbucks: 1.5 blocks
Gym: 3 blocks
Liquor Stores: 1, 2 and 3 blocks
Grocery Store: 2 Blocks
Restaurants: Everywhere!
Once I moved to Puerto Rico, all of these things were much, much farther away, and things in general were more painful. Gone was the ability to get any and everything via mobile app or website. Even small things like paying the electric bill online became more difficult. Home improvement meant learning new skills because the wait for someone to come and install a light, shower glass, tile, etc. took weeks. Even with appointments, it’s pretty common for the contractor to never make an appearance.
Now, having been in Spain for several weeks, I can see the change in reality I have undergone. For example, needing to wash clothing and then hang them to dry on a balcony would have been insane in NYC, but it feels kind of normal. I’m mostly just happy there’s access to a washer. Similarly, having a gas stove which utilizes a tiny gas tank in the apartment. Doesn’t necessarily seem safe, but again, at least there’s a stove!
I think Puerto Rico should be able to claim the concept of, if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere. Living on a small island without the ability to have anything 24/7 on demand, as is the Millennial way, is more impactful than being able to throw your financial weight around in NYC. In my opinion.
May 20, 2019
The Distance
A typical relationship involves two people. You know, they typically live in the same state, city, or possibly house. These are the standard dynamics of dating.
Then there’s me and Baltimore. He lives, you know where, and I live in Puerto Rico. Typically. Though it seems these days I never find myself going home. I am just about in every other imaginable place than home.
This spring, I believe it’s still spring, I’ve been in Spain to focus on Spanish studies. I can honestly say I’m enjoying the change in scenery. The old cities, the easy commute around the country by train, and the drastically different culture. Everything about this place is great, except the dog business on the sidewalk. Why does nobody pick up the poop?!
One of my longer term goals, as in something I’d like to complete by the time I’m 35, is to live in Spain, though I haven’t settled on a city. With current visa rules, I can spend another five or so weeks here after this trip to focus on my studies. I’ve run the idea by Baltimore, which he wasn’t opposed to, though I’m not sure he loves the idea. I think the amount of time I spend off on my own is a little on the difficult side than he lets on.
The semi-awkward conversation led me to wonder what it will mean to actually make the move. I’m not certain Baltimore would be willing to stick around with an ocean between us. I’ve mentioned wanting to move in passing, not entirely sure how serious he is taking my commentary.
If I move, am I committing to return to single life, or would Baltimore be willing to uproot his life? Oh, couple life. We’ll see what happens, but I have a feeling there will be more to say on this in the future.
May 12, 2019
Symptoms
I’ve now been in Spain for a little over two weeks. Outside of the local coffee shop barista and the people in my classes, there’s very little human contact. Time alone is definitely a win in my book, but it was a nice break from my time off from reality when London and his friend came to town for a visit. Well, they came to Santa Pola, a small city about 12 miles south of where I’m staying.
As you’d expect, we had the typical alcohol fueled antics. To that effect, I’m very aware my age is impacting my ability to bounce back from a late night out on the town. What has now become a two day hangover, is also showing itself as some awesome muscle pain and cramps. Not that I’d ever want to be twenty again, but I’d happily take the ability to bounce back the next morning like nothing happened.
Anyway, London asked a question I’ve never had presented. Regarding Baltimore, “any wedding plans on the horizon?” Or something along those lines. No. That is not on the table at this time. It did make me think, is that the direction we’re going? Not that I’ve ever stuck with someone for this long, but is our old married couple behavior possibly moving us towards actual matrimony?
My drunk brain this weekend of course decided it would be a good idea to pick a fight with Baltimore. Though I can’t recall over what or why, but you know how drunk people behave. Poorly. This however happened prior to the wedding question, so I’m not a complete psycho who overreacts. I’m a mini psycho who overreacts and puts it online for others to dissect.
As we approach the two year dating mark, I am now wondering if we’ll be one of those couples that’s together for a massive stretch of time without the legality of a wedding. Or, is it possible that at some point we’ll actual settle down 1950’s style? To be determined. Until then, I can always keep Baltimore on his toes with erratic wine fueled behavior.
May 2, 2019
Bye, U.S. | ¡Hola, España! Part 2
Bye, U.S. | ¡Hola, España! Part 2
Oh airports and their fun delays. My travel to Spain began at BWI, with a flight bound for JFK at 2:10 pm. I, true to form, was at the airport well earlier than two hours prior to departure. Around 1:00 pm the Delta app notified me the flight was delayed three hours due to high winds. The problem with the delay is that it would mean missing my JFK connection to AMS. Rather than try and fight for the attention of the overwhelmed gate agent, I jumped on the phone.
Customer Service was as speedy as was possible, booked me for a slightly later flights and all was well. I retired to the Priority Lounge for a cocktail. Then came another notification via the Delta app. CANCELLED. The most terrifying word one can see when there are no other flights going to the airport desired.
After a second, much longer call, I was booked on new flights and all was good and I made to retire back to the lounge. Then, I checked my app. The flights listed were not those discussed on the phone, and happened to be an entire day later. Another, more panicked call, to customer service, and we booked me on a new set of flights, routing through Atlanta. Adding hours onto the itinerary, but fortunately adding more miles towards the next status level.
Jump forward twenty-two hours and I was in Alicante, Spain. My good luck continued as all the bags came rolling out onto the rotating belt, one by one collected and eventually none were left. Not even mine. Being incredibly tired I located an agent and much to my relief, my bag was in the airport, but had been segregated due to the country of origin.
At this moment, I was so happy to have made the decision to schedule a car in advance. It made life so much easier getting from the airport to the AirB&B. Even better, the host was prompt and onsite. Thank, Jesus! I needed to crash. Once in the apartment, I had NYC whiplash. The space is so similar to a railroad apartment I shared in Brooklyn. The long hallway, the tiny rooms, the extraordinarily small kitchen and bathroom, and the paint. There are at least five different colors used in the apartment. Blue, red, purple, green and yellow. It’s like living in a circus space, or an aging rainbow.
Things are just getting started, but I do like this tiny little seaside city after the first few days. More to come as I actually have some experiences.
April 26, 2019
Bye, U.S. | ¡Hola, España! Part 1
Bye, U.S. | ¡Hola, España! Part 1
I like to think I’m routine and predictable. This seems to be a lie the more I think it to be true. Case and point, I have once again upended my life. Because…why not?
Last Monday, I put my notice in at work. Last Friday, I purchased a five week Spanish language immersion course in Spain. Last Sunday, I booked my flights and AirB&B. I’ll be leaving in eight days for five weeks in Alicante, Spain. Followed by a week of vacation in Barcelona. This is an awesome little language adventure materializing out of thin forced air.
It’s also a bit terrifying. This will be the first time in eighteen years I have not had full-time employment. Think about that for a moment. Nearly two decades with a steady income, and now I’m going to rely on the income generated from my condo in Puerto Rico to survive. Hello risk, my name is crazy.
The nerves are creeping up a bit, as today is my final day with the analytics company in Seattle. We are parting on what I believe to be good terms. Like any relationship, if it doesn’t work for both parties, it’s not worth investing the time. It also isn’t worth letting a company take a toll on you if it’s not something you enjoy. It’s bittersweet to admit, because I was truly excited when I received the job offer last year. Over nine months the excitement was replaced by irritation and lack of interest. So much so, that it is no longer a viable path forward.
This would be a great time to use a cliche saying like, the future isn’t set in stone, make your own future, blah blah. Who knows what the future holds. Jumping off cliffs into the unknown has been fairly effective over the last fifteen years. Why not take this jump and get a step closer to living in Spain? That’s my end goal for 2020-2021. This is a chance to spend some time getting familiar with new cities before committing.
Deep breath. Here we go!
April 2, 2019
Bloody Good Fun
Isn’t it always the way, that when you say, we’re only going out for a quick drink, you end up a wreck and most of the night is a blur? This is exactly what happened in this all too familiar scenario.
I like wine. I also like vodka. I don’t always like people. However, I do enjoy compliments. Who doesn’t? I was in Baltimore this past weekend and wanted my last full day to be semi-interesting. Baltimore, the man, B1 and I went to Amber Sea, which I may be noting incorrectly as their logo was very confusing when it came to reading the name. Baltimore and I arrived before B1, grabbing a seat at the outdoor bar. This was the first really nice day of the year in the states and everyone wanted to be outside to enjoy the break from the winter bullshit.
Baltimore headed off to the restroom, as we’d walked a couple of miles to pretend we weren’t about to pound drinks and beat ours livers into submission. As I sat, there was a lady sitting to my right, and she complimented my sunglasses, I returned the favor and now we were bar best friends. I chatted her and the hubby up, learning she was the sister of the bartender, who was the special kind of asshole I enjoy. Alas, this was only the beginning and we moved on once B1 arrived.
We migrated to Paterson Public House for a glass of wine. Yum! B1’s phone was behind the bar charging when a random guy asked if he could get in on her charger. A smooth entry, and rather well timed. Rick hit us at the moment of being friendly drunks, and not wanting to eat and pass out. Of course, Rick was our new best friend! Two bars, and we were making friends left and right. I mean, Rick wanted into B1’s pants, and as a good wingman, I was there to assist once she provided confirmation of being interested.
Let’s jump ahead a few hours. We took Rick to the gay bar. Mind you, it was only about nine at night, so the bar was dead, but we were lit. Poor Rick. He didn’t know what he was getting into. We were ready to dance and have a good time, all the while he was just trying to bag B1. I mean, I’m all for singles and couples bumping their uglies. Get it.
Well, we get to the gay bar, and this is my favorite part. Rick had a blunt to share, which in retrospect was an interesting choice on my part. I do have a medical marijuana card, but I’m pretty certain it’s only valid in Puerto Rico. So, smoking on a Baltimore street corner was probably not the smartest decision…but it was a fun one!
We ended up in the bar, which I was unaware had an upstairs with a cover charge. We drank, danced, and Rick continued to try and nail B1. I continued to play wingman, but constantly was checking in with B1 to confirm if she was even interested. We’ve all been drunk interested in someone. Then you get a moment of clarity and think, fuck! That didn’t seem to be the case in this situation, and as we tried to wrap up the night and get cabs things went a little off track. You see, B1 and Rick were ready to go, as was I, but Baltimore was nowhere to be seen. Incoherent drunk texts began to arrive, I fortunately speak drunkanese, learning Baltimore was outside across the street. No idea why, but there he was in all his bloody glory. Oh yes, my drunk boyfriend either fell or ran backwards into something very sharp. He had a lovely 5 inch gash on his tricep, which had left blood all over this leg, as he had probably been sitting on the sidewalk as we looked for him.
It’s one of those moments where you become instantly sober and go into mom mode. After confirming B1 and Rick were set, and letting them leave, I piled Baltimore into a cab. Side note, I made best friends with the driver. Drunk me and retail me seem to be the same person. We get home, and I more or less gave him a hooker bath to clean all the blood off. I mean, it’s been about five years since I fell in one of the street shafts and busted up my face, but at least I know what happened. Baltimore has no idea what happened to his arm.
To end this post, let’s recall that my goal was to go out and have one drink. We had many drinks, three bars, one hookup and a whole bunch of blood. How was your Saturday?
March 10, 2019
Do You Change?!
Some people debate that we never change, others say we’re changing all the time. I like to think I don’t change, even though I’m constantly realizing how much I, and my life in a bubble, have changed. I mean, we just had my mom’s fifth deathiversary and I totally forgot about it this year. Previously, this was one of those, need to have a drink, weird feeling days. If Ray Ray hadn’t posted about it online, it would have gone by without a second thought.
I have a point to the rambling. Last weekend I went home to NYC and took the bf with me. NYC life was my twenty-something life. There are some things that I’m happy to leave behind, and some stories that I’ve embedded in books, but would prefer to not relive. In visiting a few friends, I realized there is no way to hide or avoid anything you’ve done in the past.
First we visited with Baby in HK. It was a re-hash of all the drama my sister caused five years ago when she came for a visit after my mom’s death. That visit ended with us in a screaming match, the police being called, and her on a plane home in less than twenty-four hours after arriving. Yes, family is exciting. One of the major reasons we have not spoken a word since. Overall, this wasn’t the worst thing, but I don’t think the bf realized how much drama was being kept under my family rug.
Then we met up for drinks with Shew. Shew is a loose cannon when it comes to me dating. I never exactly know what the narrative is going to be with him. Will he divulge some inappropriate or horrifying thing I did ten years ago? Maybe. Did he? Not exactly. I wound myself up so much over this, I ended up word vomiting a majority of the topics I thought could be brought up to simply get them out of the way. Rip the band-aid off! The bf seemed okay with all of the details he learned, though I think he now wonders where this oversexed version of me went. Trying to explain that person existed mainly for books and blogs back in the day, didn’t exactly kill the conversation, but at least paused it for the time being.
With all these mini NYC dramas, it seemed as though going home transported me right back to a life from ten years ago. If I could pick and choose, I’d keep the youthful energy, tone down the sex stuff, and avoid all the drama. Since that’s not possible, may as well funnel all this stress into a new book or some sexy blog posts
February 24, 2019
Limit of Patience
There are things that annoy everyone. It can be something little and insignificant, like a person waiting do decide on their coffee order until they reach the cashier. Then there are the big little things, like people walking too close behind you. Which is obnoxious, but also makes you wonder if they’re going to snatch your wallet. It’s all part of a normal day, just like driving and sitting in traffic jams.
Some annoyances, no matter how seemingly insignificant, are so tremendously irritating that they can set off my rage meter.
Prime example: A man in my building’s gym. Ok, you’re thinking, “Wow, what a twat. It’s just another person. No big deal.” This gentleman, who is nice enough, we’ve had very limited conversation to date, is oblivious to others or just doesn’t care who is around him. When he arrives at the gym, he brings a bluetooth speaker, plugs it in and streams Pandora from his phone.
This drives me nuts! If I can clearly hear your music over my own, and I have headphones in, your shit is way too loud. This is one of those situations where I silently stew in my treadmill rage, huff and puff, but actually do nothing to alleviate the situation.
Now I’m wondering if the guy is aware of my irritation. Honestly, concealing anger is not something my face is able to achieve. As of late, the man is not only blasting his music, which ranges from techno to pop, but he’s also begun to sing along. The other day he was singing at a very high pitch, one to rival my own high, nasal voice. To add additional annoyance, he also was vigorously clapping to the beat of the song.
I feel the urge to bring a large stick and trip him while he walks and sings on the treadmill. An obviously irrational reaction, but seriously, why? WHY?! The knot in my shoulder is currently throbbing and it’s mainly due to my obsessive fixation on this man who is driving me to distraction, during my usual peace time.
Please tell me I am not the only person being driven up a wall by a rude gym member…
December 31, 2018
While You Were Gone V
It wouldn’t be the end of the year without this post. Though, I admit, a head cold has me in a less than stellar mood for writing or celebrating.
2018 was a pretty busy year personally and professionally. I’ll start with the piece that’s going to interest you the most. Dating. Six years ago, you asked when I was going to find someone. I paid it no mind, and reaffirmed I needed no one. I will still argue, I enjoy my alone time and independence (aka needing no one).
However, you will be delighted to know I am actually dating someone. Like, a real human being, not some crazy online love affair that ends with someone getting stabbed to death. [Look up the tinder murder story, if you haven’t.] Yes, I have allowed a very small crack in my wall to form and am testing out these emotion things. I find the wine also helps with such endeavors.
The change doesn’t stop there. You heard me bitch and moan for years about work. Well, taking the advice I would give anyone else, I finally did something about work. I switched companies, roles and industries for the most part. There’s still a heavy learning curve, and I’m definitely now a small fish in a very large pond, but overall the move has been beneficial.
With the work and dating changes, it does require that I split my time between the States and Puerto Rico. Though I’d rather spend all my time on the island. Which I’ll be pushing for in the new year. Which should come as a lovely surprise for Baltimore. We won’t be stopping with simply a change in location from dense city to beautiful beach. I have a move to Spain in my five year plan. We’re coming up on the three year mark, and I’m pushing forward with getting to Spain. The plans are still coming together, but the first is moving into a position where I no longer work for a traditional company. We’ll talk more on that later in the coming year.
Like I said, it’s been a busy year. 2019 is shaping up to be just as eventful, which means, after nearly a year off the writing wagon, it’s going to take some effort to get things back on course. 2018 is the first year in a while that I’ve not completed a new book. [Sad panda]
Anyway, I’m rambling at this point. I’ll let you get back to things, as it’s just about time to pour a glass of bubbles and get properly sloshed for the new year.
November 24, 2018
Naked Confidence
In polite society we all walk around in clothes…obviously. What we do behind closed doors is a whole different story. Though, the story you tell may not be obvious until you’re behind someone else’s doors.
I am a semi-naked at home person. Meaning, if it’s day time, there is never a shirt on. If it’s bed time, or in that neighborhood of the night, clothing is totally optional. This evolved from years of living alone and working from home. I think there’s also a certain confidence you start to gain as you grow out of your twenties and escape that voice in your head which tells you other opinions matter.
So, I thought it was fairly normal to wander around the house naked. Example: You’re on the third floor of a house, you need something that’s in the dryer on the first floor. It would make zero sense to get dressed to go fetch the item and then undress and redress once you have the item.
Well, Baltimore pointed out that it’s not normal to waltz around the house in the buff. As he put it, “The neighbors can see you.” Of course, I replied, “Let them look. Who cares.” Honestly, if the neighbors can actually see in through the tiny blind slits, let them enjoy the view. Now, that may stem from years and years of living in apartments. Someone is always looking at you from somewhere. If you worry about it, you’ll be living in a dark, depressing den of doom, up to your ears in turtleneck sweaters and scarves.
So, we all know position on the topic. What type of person are you?
Rent (minus) Control
- R.B. Winters's profile
- 6 followers
