Random Shit!

bellview--muchos besos   

Home | Movie Reviews | Video Roundups | Essays | Game Reviews | Subscribe | Mailbag | About | Search

Solo Negro Status II: The Apartment

8/16/04

As many of you long-time Bellviewers may remember, I wrote an essay a couple years back called "Solo Negro Status", when I went to a wedding where I was the only black guy there.  Now, I'm going through a whole new kind of solo negro experience...

The home life.

And, I love it.

For years, I had always wondered what it was like to live alone.  When I was just out of school--by "school", I mean "the greatest University in the history of Universities, THE University of Virginia"--I always felt bad for my friends who had their own apartment; who would want to come home to themselves every day?  It just seemed like self-imposed solitude was the way of the monk, and that just wasn't for me.  Probably the biggest reason why I didn't want to live on the Lawn was just that--living in a tiny room with just me.  Didn't appeal to me; why couldn't they have six-person suites on the Lawn?  THAT woulda been phat.

So, I stuck to what I knew since I went to UVA--having roommates, although not nearly as many as my days back in the dorms, where I had nine suitemates one year, then five the other three years.  Talk about privacy!  Didn't matter to me, of course, since it's not like I ever had any women over; the two women I dated while at school seemed to insist that I stay over at their place, even though their apartments didn't seem any more private than mine.  (I came to learn later that it doesn't matter whether you live with five guys or not; women always seem to want to stay in their own environs.  I'm sure there's research somewhere on this, but I'll save it for another essay.)

Forsaking privacy, living with other people--in all but one of my apartments, that meant living with other guys--was fantastic.  Although I had a pretty good time my first year at school, all I seem to be able to remember is the fact that we had a 10-man Super Tecmo Bowl league run out of my dorm room and that almost every single night that year, there were about a dozen of us fucking around in the suite room until 2 AM or later.  Everyone was right there, you know?  Damn, I loved that.  I still can't believe that I didn't fail out of school that year (although I made a good run for it), because seriously, when I wasn't in classes or at the parties, I was chilling in somebody else's suite room.

Coming home to other guys waiting to go out, or play video games, or talk some shit, or watch the game...that was always cool to me.  I did a ton of that in school and when I was living with Chuck "The Verb" Longer (he's all about action) for a few years after getting out of UVA, and when we added Keith "Dogshit" Karem to the mix, it was nearly perfect for me; had a big three-level townhouse, had a nice-sized dining room and kitchen so that everyone could hang together or get away from each other; had the back yard all set for hard-core grilling.  In 2001, the first Bacon Party was held and at that moment, I was at the height of my love-the-roommates capacities.  I knew it wouldn't last, but damn, if you've got good roommates, you almost don't want to let them go.

But, alas, I had to.  Chuck did what any sane man would do, given a beautiful woman that puts up with his crazy video game habits, so he was married off sooner than later; I had decided a couple months prior that my destiny was out west.  When I got to San Francisco I wanted to live with my friend Laura, and it was during this time that I started to dream about having my own spot.  Not because of anything bad that Laura did or that I did...but, there were a few times when I really came home wanting to be there all alone.  Couldn't really explain it at first, but after a while, something changed, something about my love for people mixed with a newfound desire for homelife privacy that I hadn't really ever needed before.  I decided that I would try one more apartment with other people, but I intentionally tried to live with random folks, so using only the Roommates tools on Craigslist.org, I went out and found a pretty sweet spot with three people I didn't know to see if I really did need to get my own place.

More than any other experience, my last apartment in San Francisco taught me that I'm at the point where I need to come home and be alone a few days a week in order to really have the balance I need between always trying to hang with people during the weeknights and on weekends, and coming home to dinner with lounge music in the background and the kitchen table all to myself.  The three folks I lived with in my last place in SF, all on the mailing list now, were pretty cool to live with mostly because we shared the space well.  Sure, it helped that my boy Wes "The Hammer" Shaw was at work so much that he probably has worked 4000 hours in the last year and a half.  But, the synergy was good but it still taught me that from my hours to my habits, I'm better off on my own.

So now, I'm at that point; even though I did entertain the idea of living with roommates when I first started my apartment search back here in DC, I was very intrigued by the idea of getting my own place.  After looking at almost 30 apartments, I finally found the one that worked:  a one-bedroom condo that sits about 8 minutes from my office in Rockville.  Sure, the rent's fairly expensive ($1050 a month, utilities & underground parking included in that price), but as my friend Jennifer reminded me during my hunt, sometimes the price for happiness is worth it...and, she's right.  My own space, close enough to use for lunchtime siestas, a five-minute walk from a multiplex and a metro station fits the bill.

I called my dad, Ken "Ken" Bell.  "So, you got the bachelor pad, eh, son?" he joked, but he was right--it's strange coming home now to a place that has "hangin' out" written all over it.  You walk in, and this place is fairly big for a 1-BR:  almost 900 square feet, with a view of town that reaches well into the distance.  Sure, I've got floral patterns on my couches, but since they were freebies from Mom, I won't complain a bit.  With room for a dining room table, I can now have the dinner parties I've always wanted to have weekly; game night no longer requires a clearance from my other roommates.  The 170-pound television is used mostly to play my games on; for me, it's nice coming home knowing that I won't be interrupting someone else's shows because I've got the itch to log onto Xbox Live.

I can't really say that these kinds of things annoyed me all the time in living with other people; you just kind of expect that, so you move on.  But, for me, the money shot of my apartment--and, the biggest reason why I looked at almost 30 units in the first place--is the kitchen.  The kitchen at this apartment isn't the nicest in the world; the oven, stove top and dishwasher look quite dated, in fact, and the cabinetry was pink until I insisted that the owners give that color a facelift.  No, the reason why I love the kitchen is probably the biggest reason why I couldn't live with other people any more--I am super-anal when it comes to a clean kitchen.  SUPER-anal.  Highest compliment anyone has ever paid me is when my old roomie Laura told me that after we finished living together she missed me in part because I used to always do such a good job of cleaning our kitchen.  No shit, I was shedding a ManTear (just one) when she said it!  This, coming from a woman that herself might be the cleanest kitchen user of all time, a compliment!

See, for me, the kitchen is the most sacred room in the house.  Far and away.  I like having a fresh, clean kitchen to work in every time I work in it.  I like having the counter space required to make food, not just put it into the microwave or pop it in the oven, but really prepare the food, like when you've got to make lasagna, or bread your chicken, or multitask with your Bacon Party.  (Assuming, of course, that you have Bacon Parties.)  I go to the grocery store every week, and I like getting, say, an Omaha Steaks order to throw in the freezer and know that I am not taking up more than my one-third share of the total freezer space.  I could clean my dishes right after a large pasta dinner, but knowing I don't have to...sheer bliss.  Now, I have a fridge that I can stock full of 40's and not worry about pissing anybody off!

It's the kitchen alone that makes me love living solo, but there's so much more gravy to pour all over the whole living alone gig.  I'll admit, as silly as it is, that when I came home from work the first day after I had moved in, I was giggling knowing that there was no one else at home and there was no one else coming...it was like "Willa Wonka and the Chocolate Factory", without Willy, the Chocolate Factory, or...well, you get the idea.  I was a little kid again, running to my room and throwing on the finest sweat pants money could buy (but didn't, because I got them for free) then running back to the TV area so that I could play "Jet Grind Radio" on my Dreamcast and turn up the sound so loud that even the deaf would have pitched a fit.  I had left a minor mess in my room before going to work that day, and I came back only to find the same mess there...and, I loved it!  I looked in my refrigerator and found that the milk carton had exactly the same amount of milk that was there this morning...and I loved it!  I had spread out two magazines that I was reading this morning, amazingly in the same place I left them hours ago...and I loved it!

It was all love, all the time.  I don't feel so strange any more coming home at 4 AM on a Saturday or 1:30 AM on a Tuesday, since I'm not going to wake anybody up.  I don't feel so bad not cleaning up the john every three or four days because hey, it's just me!!  Right now, I've got laundry spread all over the living room in piles because I'm going to do that tomorrow...and nobody gives a shit!  I know guys that never got the chance to live alone and I'm telling you, you would have LOVED this shit!  It's like a party in my mouth...and, everyone's coming!

Man, I'm fired up.  I'm going to go back to lounging on my couch naked.  Happy Tuesday!

 

Random Bellviews, courtesy of Bell and Longer Community Trust:

• Your only stress at work--what to do with the number one pick in your fantasy draft:  Opening Weekend

• License plate that says "TRIXTER":  $9.50 Show

• The state of the union:  Matinee

• Monsoon conditions on your day off:  Rental

• Wearing light khaki pants to work...and realizing that your period hits the same day:  Hard Vice

 

justin@bellviewmovies.com