Moving to Hollywood (Closed)

[ForeverIllinois]

http://i1255.photobucket.com/albums/hh637/ForeverIllinois/49d82b2207dc1_Y6OpT72sized.jpg
Name: Alyssa Smith
Age: 19
Height: 5'8
Cup size: 38 D

***​

During the late Saturday evening, amid the hot days of July, I found myself alone in my one bedroom apartment, clicking away at my laptop. The weather outside was pretty deplorable, and it was emphasized by the fact that all the lights in the room were closed. My gazed fixated on the screen, I was reluctant to even continue. What I was doing was a big risk - what with all the hearsay of psychos lurking on Craigslist. Still, I wanted to make my way in the world and the best step was going to a place where opportunity lied and where I would most likely feel comfortable. So, I found myself on the page strictly devoted into the Hollywood, Los Angeles area.

"Well, here goes nothing." I ponder to myself, as I click the confirmation and in an instant, my message was posted to lord knows how many individuals. Technology was amazing in its own way.

Young aspiring model seeking roomate(s) in the Los Angeles area. Looking to find a decent neighborhood with decent people. I can pay about 600-700$ a month and food isn't an issue. Age really isn't either - though I would prefer to be around people my own age (I'm nineteen years old). A few photos are attached, in case you know any managers who are looking for clients. Thank you in advance!

*Email and phone number also attached at the end*

Not exactly a novel, but I figured that I should make my message fit in with the others. Oh well, looks like all that's left is to play the waiting game.

 

[salty_sailor]

'It was a Saturday...I wasn't supposed to be working on a Saturday.' The thoughts came hotly to mind. I was seething. 'She fired me on a Saturday?' I knew why she was doing it. She didn't want me to make a scene. The company was in trouble, blah, blah, blah. I should take the extra time to get to know myself. Bullshit. 'Oh, I would make a scene, all right.'

Okay, maybe I was overreacting a little, but I was pissed. And a little desperate. Okay, so maybe I hadn't been fired, per se, you can call it whatever you want. I had definitely been cut back, downsized, or layed off. All these thoughts confusedly bounced around inside my head as I made my way to the elevators and stabbed the button with my index finger.

As the doors slid open and the long decent began I was gritting my teeth. I didn't know if I was more upset because I was out of a bunch of work, or because cleaning out my desk took all of 15 seconds. I had tipped everything in the top drawer into my backpack. On closer inspection, all the other drawers were empty.

She told me to come back in a few weeks, maybe business would have picked up in that time. All it would take is adding another account or two and I would be right back in there.

She sounded so optimistic when she had said it. In the locker room in the basement, I changed into my cycling gear and stopped. I rested my forehead against the locker in front of me and took a few deep breaths. 'I'm a logical human being. I'm thoughtful and I'm resourceful. I will sort this out.' On the way home I almost got clipped by a sedan's opening door. I'm usually more careful than that.

At home that night, I ordered pizza, I drank more beer than was perhaps wise and then I tried to focus on my finances. I ran through the numbers three different times, two different ways. No matter how I figured it, I only had about one month's worth of savings. Two if I stretched things. I looked at the beer bottles lining the edge of the sink, the cardboard box sticking out of the recycling bin...luxuries that I could now ill afford.

So I jumped on Craiglist. What else was I to do. There were plenty of jobs out there, but after a half dozen times in which I received an instant email response letting me know that the position had been filled I soon grew discouraged. I started looking at apartments. I could downsize, right? I looked around at the rough brick walls, the photographs hanging there, the stainless steel refrigerator, the nice hardwood floors. I would have to say goodbye to all of that. More disappointment followed as I paged through the 'for rent' ads in what I assumed was my price range. I popped open another beer.

Then following a stroke of inspiration I stood up from in front of the laptop and walked straight into the second bedroom. It stood mostly empty. A few cardboard boxes were stacked in the corner, the closet held a handful of sweaters, my climbing gear and my guitar sat on the vacant bed. All in all it was pretty empty in there. It wouldn't take all that much to clear it out. Suddenly my mind was racing, and I was stacking up rent checks. There had to be hundreds, if not thousands of people looking for a room in the city. It wouldn't even have to be long term...afterall I was had been assured that I would be back in the game in no time.

I snapped a few photos of the place, left a short description, and left the tag: negotiable terms. I posted the ad.
Just for funsies, I clicked over to the renters section and one in particular caught my eye. 'No,' I thought, 'the ratio of relative attractiveness to temptation was too high'. That would be just too much to handle. My luck never ran that way anyhow. I stood, stretched and reached out to shut the lid of the computer. Just before I did, I forwarded my ad in response to her posting. It was practically an impulse and as the computer whirred into silence I had to wonder what I had just done.

 

[ForeverIllinois]

I was surprised, to say the least, when I received a reply about ten minutes after my posting. It was a decent place with a man looking for a roommate. Fair enough; I was originally hoping to share my place with another girl but beggars can't be choosers, as the saying goes. I hesitantly typed away, responding to his add - when I quickly figured that a phone call would be best - someone might frown upon a message response, it being a little less personal than talking right on the phone. That said, I reached out for my cellphone and dialed the number shown on the screen.

"Hello?" I inquired, as I heard someone pick up while I was glancing again at the pictures. "I'm responding to the add that I've seen on craigslist...is it still available? I'm moving into the area but don't have a place to actually live in exactly." I finished with a chuckle.

 

[salty_sailor]

Standing there with the fridge door open, and bending over peering in, I look for a snack. When my phone starts buzzing, I almost whack my head on the sill of the door as I jerk upright. 'Thing happen ridiculously fast on c-list' I'm thinking. It had only been a handful of minutes.

"Hello?" I answer and to the whimpering voice of a young woman I adopt a mock scolding tone: "Why ought I trust a woman who couldn't be bothered to find a place to live, to stay in my house?" The tension rushes out of my voice in a gust. "I'm just messing with you."

I go on to rattle of a handful of details about the place---its convenience to some amenities, the walkability of the neighborhood, the character of the old building, its accessibility to the beach or the hills via short bike ride. I ask if you're still interested, but I can practically feel your eagerness. I finish with: "Why don't you come by tomorrow for a tour." And I give an address in West Hollywood. Pressing the 'off' key, I drop my phone into my pocket and scramble to start cleaning.