by Hannah Lauder

Created on: June 10, 2009

I live in a suburban wasteland. The sort of town that "once was", I suppose, though from the looks of it I doubt this was ever more than a place where one could settle for lack of ambition or other options.

My town in particular is small, unheard of even by people who live only yards away, and is more of an access point to other suburbs of slightly better repute. It doesn't even boast of a strip mall; you have to the next suburb for that, right down the busy road. The strip mall was built on what was a former landfill and now boasts of several national retailers. None of them are hiring currently.

Of course, you can always submit your application. The job prospects are poor around here indeed. I recently went to the Barnes and Noble to inquire. The man quite enthusiastically informed me that there were no open positions. He then enthusiastically pointed me to a stack of applications. You can always fill out an application. I took it and went to the cafe to fill it out, snarfing down a vanilla cupcake and Pepsi all the while. A boy was also there with the same idea. I, of course, grew competitive, snarling a bit even in his direction. I gloated in the fact that he needed help filling out his application. I raged when he managed to turn his in before me. But I turned mine in, and doubtless neither one of us will be receiving a call back any time soon.

This town has a library, limited to a few classics and a plethora of Harlequin romance novels, thrillers and out-of-date car guides. Nobody comes there to check out books. Some hags sit at the public computers in their old and worn-out pink stretch pants or high-waisted tapered jeans, t-shirts and bras that do not offer the support they so desperately require. Men sit at the desks with newspapers and magazines, leering at young ladies. And a few others, confused, attempt to use the copier, driving the librarians to exasperation. There appears to be no money for a copier, or a simple security system for that matter.

I walked home, straight down the busy road. There's a technical college and a charter high school, as well as a number of apartment complexes. I have the theory that the more run-down the suburb, and the cheaper the apartments, the more grandiose names they possess. "Court of Kings". "The Villas". And so on. Mine is evocative of a house in the Hamptons. One washer and dryer per building at Hamptons prices. Right next to the train tracks. You get used to the noise. But I am always amused at how the apartment shakes whenever one goes by.

The people here, however, are a refreshing change from the last suburb I lived in. My neighbors there were primarily concerned with the status of other people's lawns, roofs and mental stability. It is said that they drove one woman to suicide with their incessant gossip. Here, they merely stand around and laugh. Occasionally one of them will call out to you: "hey baby girl, got a cigarette?" I've plenty of cigarettes, but not for you, buddy.

You still sometimes think that you're above it all.

Learn more about this author, Hannah Lauder.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.