Out of Focus

I lived in LA for eight years, seven of them over the legal voting age of 18. During my time there — all of which was I registered to vote and had a drivers license — I was never once called to jury duty.

October 23 will mark 11 years living in New York — nine in Manhattan and two in Brooklyn. I am currently sitting at the Kings County courthouse in Brooklyn, in the juror assembly room, called for jury duty for the third time. Part of me being here today is my fault. I last was called just under three years ago, and every time you serve, you’re excused for at least four years (and based on something said during this morning’s orientation, I think now it may be up to eight). But that was in Federal Court, and I can’t find my receipt of proof. Besides, with my pattern, it seems like it would just postpone things for another year until I was eligible again, and being called now, at the end of the summer, is certainly best for me schedule-wise. So here I sit.

The first time was in New York County Superior Court. The second, Federal Court. This time, Kings County Superior Court. Three different courts, and three different experiences. I was placed on a jury the first time, but as an alternate, which has to be the worst of all worlds. Sitting through the trial is the best part because, depending on the case, it could be (and was) really interesting. But as an alternate, you’re only there in case someone from the jury has to drop out, and if that doesn’t happen — which it didn’t — they let you go before deliberations. So you sit and watch and observe and think and, eventually, start to judge, but then you’re sent on your way with nothing to say.

The second time, I waited around all day, never called to a panel, but then not having to return. Apparently, the State of New York has tried to make jury service even less time consuming. Unless I misunderstood things, instead of being almost guaranteed to be here at least three days (like the first time I was called), now, if I’m not selected to a jury by the end of the day, I’m excused.

But the thing that really struck me first thing this morning after arriving as requested at 8:30 AM and waiting until about 9 AM for anything to actually start was the movie. OK, fine … the video. That’s right; now when you arrive for jury duty, the very first thing they do is show you an educational video about the justice and jury systems so that everyone can know why we’re all here and what to expect from the …. zzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Sorry, I nodded off while reminding myself of the experience.

It’s not that I don’t think such a video is unreasonable or even invaluable, and I do understand (as scary as it may seem) that a lot of people don’t understand the system, but this video is a total piece of crap. Its obvious purpose is to make the people here feel like they’re doing something valuable — which they are — while also convincing them that they will likely leave behind their jury service with a completely different idea of it than the horrors and time-wasting experience they imagined. And yet, the very first thing they do is show us the most annoying, boring, borderline condescending (considering that this is a room of adults and not third graders) piece of crap possible, made worse by a brief courtroom reenactment. Said reenactment involves performers who I really hope are actual government/court employees because if any of them are wannabe actors, giving them a paying gig will only serve to prolong their delusions.

Yes yes … I know that this is not an artistic endeavor and it’s likely to be somewhat dry and lacking in any sort of creative wit and ingenuity. But considering the entire purpose of this video, does it really make sense to lull everyone to sleep at 9 AM when their perspective is at its most I-don’t-want-to-be-here? And it’s not like this video was made by a high school civics teacher with his/her class. The damn thing has (the late) Ed Bradley and Diane Sawyer narrating two-thirds of it. And by the way: it’s between 25-30 minutes long, so I’m not complaining her criticizing some little five minute blip in the day.

You know what would be cool and cost-effective? A contest. Open it up to film school students and other young filmmakers; create boundaries and context so that the winner isn’t anything inappropriate. Obviously, we’re talking about the court system here, so you’re not going to expect or want anything too out there and you need to get the vital information across, but, to repeat the never-forgotten lessons from UCLA screenwriting teacher Richard Walters’ lectures, Entertainment comes from Intertwine. To entertain, you’re really just talking about capturing somebody’s attention. When you capture someone’s attention and keep it, that person is more likely to actually understand and retain what you’re giving him/her. I would place money on the fact that most of the few hundred people sitting in the Kings County Courthouse with me today can barely remember a thing about today’s video, or, whatever they can recall, they probably already knew. It’s not so different from watching the safety video on an airplane. Most people who have traveled have seen it so many times that even if they do watch it instead of reading or whatever, they’re minds are likely glazing over a bit and drifting due to their familiarity with the subject. Now imagine an 30 minute airline safety video … and you get the idea.

So come on court sytem. A video isn’t such a bad idea, but why does the idea have to produce such a bad video.

I love New York. I love living in New York. This October will mark 11 years here for me, three longer than I was stuck in LA and only six shorter than my time growing up in San Francisco. And looking forward, I don’t see myself living anywhere else, certainly not anytime soon. But moving … moving in New York City … finding an apartment and moving in this town … they only thing as bad that doesn’t actually qualify as tragic (i.e., death of a loved one, etc.) is job hunting. I often don’t know which is worse, but as I don’t have to job hunt right now but I am looking for an apartment, I’m going to go with the apartment hunting.

And somehow, not only does it never get any better; it progressively gets worse. In my 11 years here, apartments and rents that seemed outrageous not so long ago are now steals. I’m totally priced out of Manhattan (at least, the parts of Manhattan I would live in, and there are plenty), and now, I even seem to be priced out of where I want … nay, need … to live in Brooklyn.

It used to be that parts of Brooklyn weren’t necessarily so much cheaper than Manhattan, but at least you would get more bang for your buck. That still may be the case, but the bang has gotten much quieter. I currently live in Clinton Hill, a neighborhood between Ft. Green and Bed-Stuy. Five years ago, Clinton Hill was still, shall we say, less than desirable and not on the gentrification ladder. Less than two years ago when I moved in, it was just starting to become a popular neighborhood with new buildings being constructed, but rents were still reasonable. Not anymore, though. My friend’s one bedroom in Clinton Hill, even further east than where I live now and arguably in Bed-Stuy, just blocks from where they shot Dave Chappelle’s Block Party is costing $1750. Yes, it’s a brand new building with a gorgeous kitchen area and all new appliances including dishwasher, but otherwise, it’s certainly not a huge apartment.

I’ve come to the decision/realization that location is, right now, more important to me than space. That is a huge thing for me to decide, though, because I have a ton of shit, and stuff that I don’t want to get rid of. But I have decided that I will likely place a lot of it in storage until I can afford a larger place. Of course, that statement would likely blow the mind of anybody who doesn’t live in New York since I’m looking at apartments that cost up to $1500 per month.

Today I went to look at a place in North Park Slope on Sixth Avenue near Sterling. This is basically my ideal location without moving back to Manhattan. It’s close to subways, close to my gym, close to my bank, close to a Duane Reade, close to a great grocery store, close to Prospect Park, close to the best part of Fifth Ave in Brooklyn, close to the Atlantic Center … you get the idea. But the apartment? Tiny. They call it a “Jr. one bedroom.” And yet, I’m sitting here struggling to decide whether I should suck it up and take it? Why? Primarily because I love where it is. Second, because there’s no broker’s fee involved. A fee on an apartment like this (with a rent of $1450) would probably be about $2500.

But it’s soooo small. My Queen size bed would likely fit, but nothing else would; and because of where the closet and the window is in the bedroom, it would likely be a very awkward layout. The living room would be an OK size if one end of it wasn’t the galley kitchen and the refrigerator — because of the location of the living room closet — wasn’t in the living area proper.

And that’s the problem … when one lives in New York, one considers places like this. And because of how quickly things get snapped up, it’s hard to determine whether one has seen enough before to deciding to jump. I probably won’t take this place: if there wasn’t actually a wall separating the bedroom space, it would probably be better/more manageable size-wise. But the process of looking and finding and getting approved … it just makes me want to scream.

(On that note: if anyone can help make it easier, e.g., you know of an available place … I hope you emailed me before even getting tot he end of this post! Thanks!)

If you’re curious about some of my other New York apartment adventures (particularly involving my incarcerated landlady from my first NYC abode), you can re-read my “Acts of Catharsis” here: Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.