Edition #92: What's In a Home?
Plus, you can make any day the best day, the ethics of egg sharing, and a screen writing class
A Note From the Editor
You get accustomed to certain things growing up in Central Florida—frequent alligator spottings, “fancy” dinners at Chilli’s, and the occasional hurricane. The year I was in sixth grade, occasional turned to frequent. There were three consecutive hurricanes in a six-week period that year, starting with the worst of them, Hurricane Charley. The storm uprooted a tree in our front yard, collapsed our fence and our pool screen, broke a few windows, and all but destroyed the roof of our house. We tried to stay put for a few weeks afterward as the other two storms blew through, but soon it was impossible. The smell of mold was so thick you could taste it in the back of your throat. Our power was spotty during that time, and when you tried walking up the carpeted stairs, a splat of dirty rainwater squished out with every step. Soon we were packing up our things and moving into a rental. The repairs on our house would take a full year. While this all sounds quite tragic, a part of me was thrilled. From this destruction, we had a chance to start new.
We didn’t have what most would consider a “nice” house. It was decent sized and it had a pool, but the luxuries ended there. Ours was a home of mismatched furniture, mostly hand-me-downs in various states of dishevelment, walls half painted various shades of Easter egg color. Nothing was particularly clean and when things were broken, which was often, they weren’t fixed right away. One year, we went nearly a full summer without air conditioning. My little brother and I took to sleeping downstairs on the pull-out couch that year in attempts to cool off. I remember how I made him watch Mulan with me on VHS every single night, how the scratchy cotton of my Powerpuff Girls comforter would stick to every inch of my heated skin as I sang along about defeating the Huns.
When we did eventually move back into our house, I had the chance to pick out new furniture for the first time in my life. I remember trips to Rooms2Go, trying out every single bunk bed in the store until I chose the one that would be perfect for my little sister and me. I traded the Powderpuff Girls and for a surfer theme, and I even got horizontal blinds on my window, a true marvel to young me. The house had other updates, too—no more carpet downstairs, tiled kitchen counters—and for a year or two, I experienced what it was like to be genuinely proud of where I lived. I no longer worried what my friends would think at sleepovers, as the gap between their houses and mine had shrunk in some tiny way.
This propensity to create comforting spaces followed me throughout my life. I got a bedroom to myself for the first time my senior year of high school, and by then our house was back to a state of disarray. I was determined to make this room my sanctuary, so I tore up the carpets and had my mom help me install fake wood tiles. I painted the walls yellow and hung up my purses on the wall with thumbtacks. I loved that room—I swept it every single day, I even cleaned its windows. It made me feel safe, calm. Through college dorms and crappy off-campus apartments, I always did what I could to make my room feel like a place I could relax.
I’ve been thinking a lot about our living spaces and how they deeply influence the way we feel about ourselves, the ways we show up in the world. My current apartment is the first one I’ve ever had professionally decorated. I’ve lived here for nearly a year now and still, every time I open the front door, I pause for a moment. I’m still in awe of the space. Knowing this place is mine makes me feel like I can do anything. I’m always proud to have people over for the first time, seeing their reactions to my sacred space, I love telling the stories of the various vintage pieces around the apartment, talking about the artist that did the sensual painting in my bedroom.
Needless to say, when I got a cryptic message from my landlord a few weeks ago telling me that I should expect a “very significant increase” on my new lease because “COVID pricing is a thing of the past,” I panicked. It would have been an anxiety-inducing message in regular circumstances, but it was made worse by the fact that this was only my second week of being a self-employed freelance writer. I began to spiral, trying to math things to out to see what I could afford while having to admit to myself that I don’t have a true gauge of what my income will be next year. The entire time I just kept thinking about having to leave this apartment, a space that I invested money and much emotional energy into making special. I couldn’t stop thinking about how volatile my rental situation was, what little protections and power I had. If my landlord decided to increase my rent by 30%, what could I do?
Perspective is crucial in any and every situation. When I got over my own small disaster, I realized it was just that—small. I would try to negotiate, I would figure out a way to make things work, but what about all those other people in New York who are hunting for an affordable place to live and getting shut down at every turn? Those who are being told prices are back up, and that if they don’t like it or can’t afford it, they can find another place to live? Those who won’t have the cash to move, who can’t find another place to fit their family? The market shifts, I understand that. Its natural things would be cheaper during COVID, but the spike from then to now, in the span of a single year, is scary. If people can’t afford housing, more people end up on the streets when homelessness is already at peak levels. The housing cost shift is reflective of other price increases, too—gas, travel, groceries. I can’t help but envision a near future where so many Americans are priced out of basic functions of living, all in the name of a turbulent market. While I get to come home every day and feel safe, gain confidence from the space I’ve created for myself, so many people are struggling just to find a place to rest their heads that they can afford. We’re at the mercy of the market, of corporations, of landlords who can do whatever they want and charge whatever they want. It makes me wonder how the people can take more of that power back, and what I can do to contribute to that shift.
Cheers, my dears, and thanks for reading. If you’re new here, welcome! And if you liked what you read today, please consider sharing it with a friend.
Three Pieces of Content Worth Consuming
You Can Make Any Day the Best Day of the Year. This year in particular, I’ve found it virtually impossible to get into the holiday spirit. Part of it is the pressure that exists around holidays—and birthdays, and any day that comes with an obligation to be special. This piece was such a fresh, bright perspective, arguing that the best days are never the ones we plan, and offering a sweet solution for how to claim your best days in advance. My favorite line from the essay: “I rarely had any photos at all of the best days. I was too busy living them.”
The Ethics of Egg Freezing and Egg Sharing. Have you ever heard of freeze and share programs? I hadn’t before this article. The cost of freezing eggs can be prohibitive for many people, so these programs allows women to freeze their eggs at no cost…so long as donate a portion of their retrieved eggs to a (paying) person/family. An interesting meditation of the ethics of egg donation, delayed parenthood, and the unborn.
Merriam-Webster’s Word of the Year. Being a lover of words, I look forward to Merriam-Websters word of the year every December. I love the idea that a word can so eloquently sum up an entire 365 days, telling a story in such a simple, singular way. Try to guess this year’s word before looking and let me know if you get it right. It’s also worth a scroll to the bottom to see past words of the year (2020’s was pandemic, 2019’s was they).
Perhaps You Should… Try Your Hand at Screenwriting
If you’re someone who loves watching TV and is constantly coming up with new show ideas, this ones for you. I’m currently in the final two weeks of Pilot 1, a screenwriting class geared towards writing an original TV pilot, and it has been incredible. Though it’ll be easier if you have some general knowledge of fiction writing, this class could work for anyone who is willing to learn and put the work in. Dylan, the instructor, is generous and knowledgeable, and he’s currently enrolling students for a new class starting in January 2022.
**Bonus Content** (Off Beat Retreats)
Possibly the best marketing email I’ve ever gotten was the one from AirbnB that linked me to this list of unique properties in places I wouldn’t normally go. This list had me swooning, planning, and plotting for 2022.
A Quote From A Book You Should Read:
“I look back on those days and it feels gluttonous, all that time and love and life ahead, no bees in my body and my mother on the other end of the line.”
-Writers and Lovers by Lily King
This newsletter is best served with a side of conversation, so drop your opinions, reflections, and thoughts in the comments below and let’s get to talking.
Or, share the most thought-provoking piece from today’s edition with someone you love, then call them up to discuss, debate, and percolate. As a wise woman once said, “Great minds discuss ideas.
I hear you on rent increases. My first apartment in my new city tried to raise my rent by $200 on an admittedly already low-quality-but-high-price unit. So I had to move. After that, I was determined to never be in that situation again.
One thing you can do is negotiate your lease, demand a clause that only lets the landlord raise the price a certain percentage every year. I did this on my next apartment and the property managers didn't bat an eye over writing down how much the max increase would be the following year.
You can also organize with other tenants if that landlord owns multiple units. There's power in numbers. If you can essentially unionize the other tenants, you can make demands of the landlord at the the threat of withholding rent. If one tenant does this to them, they likely won't care. But if most of their units do? They'll care very much and make concessions, including likely coming down on a big rent hike. Organizing is very powerful.
Lastly, and I know you already do this, mutual aid! This is more about fighting the powers that be but removing yourself from corporations to help support, and be supported by, your community takes a lot of the power away from capitalism!