Chaos in equilibrium

Nothing is guaranteed in life--not happiness, not stability, not confidence, not satisfaction. This past week I paid over $300 for a professional inspection of the house that I had foolishly begun to think of as the one that I belonged in--the one that I would rehabilitate and breathe new architectural possibilities into while gradually fulfilling my tenure as a visionary neighborhood pioneer. The nearly four-hour up-and-down of that unassuming, neglected little aluminum-sided antique with sagging floors confirmed my worst suspicions and fears: there isn't one component of that house, as far as I can tell, that is not in dire need of repair or total replacement. (Okay, maybe the bathroom sink can stay...) So much for crusading on a woefully low income and borrowed funds. So much for instinct! I certainly do not trust my own, although I am at least honest enough to admit to myself that my own gut feeling is rarely correct--so rarely that its very incorrectness is consistently proven. This was a lesson worth learning the hard way, however; I gained a tremendous amount of insight from the inspection--enough to know not to delude myself in the future, to vigorously scrutinize future property prospects, and to rest assured that I chose one hell of a good inspector. (Tim Raufer of VBInspect, in case you're wondering.)

If you were to ask me to summarize the year 2011 so far, insomuch as it pertains to the particulars of my own life--my own experiences and perceptions of life--, I'm not sure that I could. I do not know whether I'm winning or losing. I can't say that I'm necessarily gaining ground or falling short of a modest vision with cautionary tendencies. I doubt that my integrity, my sensitivity, my conscientiousness, or my good intentions are getting me anywhere. I crave validation and praise; I yearn to be loved. I need a fucking hug. I am surrounded by people who have the things I cannot have--not empty material goods but genuinely life-enriching things--, and I cannot escape the suffocation stoked by their effortless contentment as it casts such an unflattering gray-sky light on my own pathetic struggle for dignity. Every triumph comes with an accompanying disappointment. I'm beginning to think that I ought to lower my standards, stop expecting so much, and shelve any prospects of greatness--or consensual late-night pleasures--to be exercised in another lifetime.

All this being said, I offer a new (and so far unrevised) poem that, hopefully, succeeds in capturing some of what I'm feeling and striving for. Its title is most appropriate--the subtitle of a book of collected essays that I'm currently reading.

Architecture In the Age of Uncertainty

Check the earthquake death toll--
     has it topped ten thousand?  Check around

for a better house, not one that's begging
     razing.  Oh, you joke, I saw the perfect home

floating off the coast of Japan on CNN,
     red tile roof and window panes intact.

The monstrous tsunamis put it there, voyaging
     alone like adventurous architecture

hoping to reach California by next week.  You know
     its owners are likely dead, damn lucky

if they're not.  Here in Pittsburgh we're browsing
     real estate, lamenting our limit of seventy grand,

whining we don't earn more.  Check the news again--
     in Japan these people have nothing left but sea

replaced by debris and leaking radiation.
     Search your heart, buddy--you feel their pain?

You sympathize?  Embrace a cottage economy,
     that's a good start.  Sell art for extra income.

Save, waste nothing, let go of what's not needed.
     The Japanese would be proud.  Patience, honor:

prouder still.  You know they don't riot and loot
     and kill and hoard like the desperate do here.

Find your perfect little starter house, bless it
     with incense, clean and silence.  Plant plants

and get a cat.  Pray your place stays away from
     earthquakes--lucky it's not near the beach.

To be, or not to be...

Here she is: 4417 Garwood Way!

You'll have to excuse me for the cheap citation of an extremely over-quoted Shakespearean line, but that certainly is the question that plagues my mind daily as I desperately ponder whether the little two-story row house located at 4417 Garwood Way in Lawrenceville, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania is the house for me.  It's only the third house that I've toured and I just can't get the image of it--the potential, the renovation ideas, the wistful "if I had a million dollars!" architectural overhaul fantasies, the visions of a hip working-class urban neighborhood on the upswing--out of my head.  The first two houses that I visited were clearly, definitely, unquestionably, outrageously spectacularly not the ones for me.  I knew that from the start.  However, with this house in Lawrenceville that I've already taken to calling mine, I'm experiencing something else altogether. 

Some context including neighboring houses.

The house is indeed appealing.  It's cute, it has personality, and it's a solidly built structure 111 years old.  Granted, it has not yet been inspected, so I have no way of knowing what unforeseen problems and disasters-to-be await me; but, by all appearances, this house is more or less move-in ready except for its lack of a refrigerator, washer, and dryer.  (Those items and more can easily be purchased at Casper's Scratch & Dent in Homestead, I've been told.)  It has a new, very solid deck attached to the back, which is essential as I require a place to work on my sunburn during the summer months.  There are two full bedrooms on the second floor, an extra finished bathroom in the basement, and the finished attic--complete with high cathedral ceiling and two dormer windows--is a perfect additional suite that I could rent out.

Then there's the location.  Lawrenceville is fairly central to the city and convenient in terms of accessibility; it's within walking distance of the Strip District, downtown (a bit farther), Bloomfield, and Friendship.  I would still be able to walk to work and back every day, and Shadyside is also a mere half-hour's walk.  Lawrenceville itself has a lot to offer as an urban community.  There are galleries, antique shops, restaurants, bars, and at least one music venue that I've visited several times and plan to in the future, Thunderbird Cafe.  The well-known hipster hangout Brillobox (which I have not visited yet, although I went in a few times back when it was called Zooty's) is five minutes away and a large grocery store is only fifteen minutes away.  Importantly, the house is directly across from Children's Hospital.  The enormous, relatively new hospital's presence may not guarantee that upper Lawrenceville will continue to get safer and cleaner, but one immediate benefit is that Garwood Way has no houses on one side of the street; it's all very nicely maintained lawn and saplings with a giant parking structure behind it.

Look at this nasty mess--one of many challenges that I face.

There are a few issues, however, that cannot be minimized.  There's an abandoned house with a smashed-in back door, a sure invitation for crime or inappropriate loitering otherwise, just two houses down.  (No scalawags, riffraff, delinquents, or derelicts on my street!)  A few of the adjacent back yards are trashy as hell--totally abused and neglected, and a sorry view to behold, which is to say, a view that I would really rather not behold.  The house behind 4417 Garwood, as you can see in the photos, is more than a bit slummy with its dilapidated, completely unusable porch / fire escape threatening to drop away from the structure and right onto my deck.  (There I go again, my deck!  You know what I mean.)  Underneath that sorry wooden atrocity is an assortment of trash, old wood, and a ruined dresser.  Sorry, but if I'm going to buy 4417 Garwood, all of that trash has to go and stay gone.  I've gone to war with negligent neighbors before and I'll gladly do it again if necessary.  As for the junky fire escape, I've already reported that and the city fire inspectors are taking action.  Ultimately, if I buy this house, I will insist upon building a high fence along the southwest property line.

I hope to have made my decision by no later than the end of March.  My parents are both tentatively willing to lend me money to cover the down payment since I unfortunately have little in the way of savings.  In the meantime, I'm still researching apartments, considering other houses--remaining receptive to every possible option.  This whole process has been exciting, enlightening, and a tremendous source of motivation--a prospect for major life change that is both frightening and invigorating. I likely won't get to vacation this year if I buy the house, but it's a sacrifice that I'm willing to make.  Wish me luck!

Cosmos, tell me what shall be: is this house the one for me?