local charm

Some promising things have been brewing on the job front recently, and I've been spending a fair amount of time imagining what my life will be like when I have a place that's not across the street from a crack den and when I only eat hot dogs by choice at county fairs and ball parks.

Mostly this involves two things: looking at pictures of sweet little puppy faces on the Humane Society web site and trolling Craigslist and The Flyer for apartments and houses. And sometimes looking at pictures of shoes in the Sunday newspaper ads. Because oh my God, SHOES.

Apartment hunting in Memphis can get interesting, because (like Jersey City) really great, young, kitsch areas or old, wealthy, gorgeous neighborhoods back right up onto the projects. You're surrounded by huge trees and big ass houses one minute and decaying apartment complexes and 24-hour check cashing joints the next. It makes deciding what you'd consider a safe place to live kind of a tricky proposition. And safe is a relative idea anywhere -- people have been murdered and robbed right here in super-safe Bartlett. You're never immune to the crime, but there are definitely areas of Memphis that I think my dear old dad would not be keen on for potential digs for his daughter.

This weekend I was at the Memphis Academy of Science and Engineering doing some freelance work as part of Social Camp Memphis, an un-conference on all things social media. As we were breaking down at the end of the day Saturday, I pointed out some apartments across from the campus and commented on how cute they were. But, I said, the chances of my dad letting me live on that part of Jefferson Ave. are slim to none. And slim just left town.

And let's be real -- this is not the worst neighborhood in town by a longshot. But each and every time I drove up and down that street this weekend some old dude or perhaps some old dude(s) were wandering around fairly aimlessly in the middle of the five-lane street. Sometimes fully clothed, sometimes not. Sometimes probably drunk, sometimes I couldn't have been sure. Sometimes maybe stoned, sometimes maybe, well, less stoned. Almost all of the time? Not totally in their right mind.

It's the charm of the neighborhood, just like getting "Ay mami'd" around Journal Square in Jersey City. And it is so, so charming. But I think for now I'll just visit.


cheers,
elizabeth