Some would argue that there is a distinct line to be drawn between good and bad. Simply said, there are good people and bad people. Others might say that its not that straightforward: there is good and bad in everyone and it is impossible to categorize people as only one or the other. I am too lazy to make an argument for either side of that debate, so instead I will totally bypass it and move onto new categories that are loosely connected to the aforementioned distinctions: shitty people with money, and shitty people without money. For the purpose of this article, shitty will be considered a technical term.
In August of 2009 I moved into an apartment building in the South End of Halifax, right at the end of Young Avenue, which occupies beautiful homes, several mansions and one giant fucking pink monstrosity that I am 94% sure belongs to Uncle Pennybags from Monopoly. The yards are all beautifully kept, the cars in the driveway all top end, the people all immaculately dressed. Jesus, the fucking dogs are groomed better than I am. It was a “good neighborhood”, so to speak. My top story apartment had an amazing view of the harbor, and you could spit on Point Pleasant Park from the front door. It was widely accepted as a nice place to live. I fucking hated it, but not because of the neighborhood, but for reasons I will not burden you with as they are melodramatic and quite frankly, stupid.
Just this April, I moved to the North End of Dartmouth. It is not Real Estate heaven, like South End Halifax, but agents have predicted that market values will rise in the next five years, as most of the area will be gentrified, much like North End Halifax. I bought my first place for a very low price, knowing that the neighborhood was perhaps considered a little “rough”. Any given night there is a steady parade of cop cars down the block, and there is an ugly bingo hall across the street. Large women and shirtless men sit on their front steps. There are several corner stores with dilapidated store fronts; a few of the buildings surrounding mine give off that certain, “your drug dealer lives here” vibe, and it is socially acceptable to light up a joint on the street corner in the middle of the day. Still illegal, but generally accepted by the neighbors.
At first glance, it is not the most glamorous place to live. It is clear that this is a mid to low income neighborhood, and people generally live here because they can afford it- not because there is a fantastic view of the power plant or because of the 24 hour quick-e-mart on the corner (which in reality is open about 12 hours a day, at best).
I have been living here for almost 4 months and I think I have learned a few important things. Painter’s tape is the creation of Satan, buying a dog and then buying a leather couch was admittedly not my smartest move, having more closet space does not mean I will no longer maintain a floor-drobe, it is more upsetting to break a glass once you’ve bought the set yourself, and as I mentioned before, there are two kinds of shitty people: shitty people with money, and shitty people without money.
Before I touch on that, I really do want to make it clear that I have met some wonderful people in my building and in the houses up the street. Off the main road there are rows of side streets with small houses painted odd colors, mostly with lovely yards and little fences, and generally occupied by families and elderly couples and nice ladies who I chat with at the dog park. I’ve met a handful of people in my building and have grown quite attached to my daily talks from balcony to balcony with the three year old girl who lives next door. I get most of my writing ideas from her as she is infinitely wise. Today I met a young couple expecting their first baby next month and we exchanged numbers and have plans to meet up.
They are all decent, hardworking people who are just trying to live their lives comfortably. Our building is very quiet and generally when I do run into people they are polite and I’ve been fortunate enough to meet some very friendly people. That being said there are a couple shifty douchebags and if you look out the front of my building around midnight you can spot the hookers working the main drag. But who doesn’t like the odd hooker now and then?
Yes, there are some questionable characters on my block. But I think there are questionable characters everywhere. When we first see someone, we make judgments. Don’t say that you don’t because you do. You take into account a person’s dress, their hygiene, their general appearance. You recognize the way they speak, their grammar, their tone and their body language. We immediately form an opinion of someone just from looking at them, from speaking to them, and from listening to them.
How valid are our first impressions? How do I know that someone who speaks perfectly and is dressed perfectly and drives the right car and lives in the right house isn’t the notorious “South End Stalker”? Dude breaks into apartments in the South End of Halifax and stares at girls while they sleep. Creepy as fuck, right? My theory is that it is unlikely that one of my neighbors hauls ass from the North End of Dartmouth just to watch a bunch of university chicks sleep. It’s probably some button down, father of three in a Lexus SUV having a mid life crisis or some varsity football player who has tired of the bar stars and needs a new way to get some kicks.
Just because someone has money doesn’t mean they’re not a shitty person. And I don’t mean like, shitty as in they yell at their kids and drive a Hummer. I mean shitty as in they’re stalkers or drug dealers or rapists or thieves or they watch Grey’s Anatomy. They do shitty things that hurt other people. Rich shitty people are probably the people that pick up the hookers on my block. So why does my neighborhood get the bad rap?
Why just today some shirtless men on their front porch drinking beer complimented my dog and were very friendly. I don’t think that’s shitty at all. Maybe they smoke drugs. Maybe they are on social assistance. Maybe they are lazy bastards living off the system who have sex with hookers and steal stereos off the back of trucks. Or maybe, they’re just two dudes who were hot on a Saturday afternoon and wanted to have a beer and watch some people walk by in their neighborhood. I’ll probably never know, and neither will you.
So yes, there may be shitty people in my neighborhood (those would be the shitty people with no money), but I’m betting there are also shitty people in my old neighborhood (shitty people with money). The point of all this, is that I am tired of defending my building and my neighborhood to every small-minded half wit who scrunches up their faces and says, “Oh, you moved to Dartmouth?” Shut up. There are nice people here, and there are shitty people here – just like your neighborhood. Just like every neighborhood on the planet. Go ahead and make your assumptions about people, but bear in mind that people are doing the same to you- good or bad, no matter where you live, no matter how much money you have.
A Chic Peak into StyleCaster
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