Darling I Love You, But Give Me Park Avenue
ANYWAY I've been thinking quite a bit lately about real estate. This is not only because I spent the greater half of my Memorial Day weekend embedded in the housing throes of Craigslist, but also due to the new terms in my vernacular that did not exist prior to my New York relocation six months ago. Rent control, prime location, ratios of square feet to dollar, exposed brick, dilapidated structures, rooftop additions, interest rates, adjustable mortgages, etc. etc. I want to learn more.
So once this publishing stint turns sour, I think I'll try my hand at real estate. Looking out the window of my new office, down, down, down onto 42nd Street, Bryant Park during lunch hour, onto the human ant farm (gosh darnit that's a tired metaphor but it fits so well!), I notice that I no longer take into account new expansions in my community, as I once did, but rather, what vacant spaces have not yet been developed.
If I were a real estate agent, the city would be my office. I love it. I would get to run around all day, showing newly weds where they can hang their plasma screen TV's on the Upper West Side, and hip hop stars where they can abandon their dying house plants in Tribeca for 3 G's a month. Of course this new occupation will take more consideration partly, ostensibly, because the sum total of my knowledge of this subject is zero. However, I did a bit of person to person research this weekend and figured out that I can take a 45 hour course for $200, after which I would have a real estate license.
Then, assuming I could find a job, I would only be required to show up to an office from about 10:00-2:00, at which point, I would go out "into the field." It might take me a while to wrap my brain around this new lingo but, ultimately, this shit is not rocket science. Besides, it's not the unwieldy commitment of grad/architecture school so if I don't like it, I can be a real estate dropout and there is absolutely no harm in that.