Merry Christmas, Hope you didn't go to the zoo

Merry Christmas everyone! And Happy Holidays for the non-Christmas-celebrating folk!

I hope you didn't go to the zoo yesterday.

One down, four to go

I started this blog to chronicle my path to a journalism career. Today (or yesterday, by now) may have marked a crucial date in that journey, or, it may prove to be completely insignificant; I'm not really sure yet. That's because today (or yesterday) I mailed in my first journalism application. The letters have been sent, the sites have been clicked and my credit card has been charged so it's done for good or ill.

Overall I think my application is solid. My background is a bit of a smorgasboard and I'm not certain if that's to my detriment. Some programs seem to prefer "dedicated" students who have already cut their teeth in a journalism capacity while others apparently welcome students of all backgrounds. My education should help and my test scores were neither spectacular nor embarrassing. My statement of purpose didn't take shape until two days before my deadline (isn't that always the case?) but thanks to a mentor and an old college friend I sharpened it up considerably right up until a half hour before the deadline. The writing samples I submitted, three in total, are big question marks for me. Obviously, my portfolio (and I use quotation marks when I say that) is comprised almost entirely of opinion pieces; all I write about are my opinions on television shows, movies, sports, my life, etc. I could have dusted off some old college papers but when I read those I could actually hear all the words being stretched out to meet length requirements. I could have edited those bad boys for a slimmer fit, but even then they would still sound like academic papers. In the end I went with my opinions and we'll see how far they take me.

Now that my application is submitted I feel like I can catch my breath for the first time in weeks. I think I almost lost it once or twice during the last month. I've been trying to make headway on my internship, but it has oftentimes taken a backseat to my night job, my applications, and, certainly not least, my visiting parents. Plus I got sick so that sucked too.

The problem with the whole scenario is that writing application essays isn't like normal work. You can't say "I need four more hours on this and then I'll be done." You have to stick with that bastard until you get that burst of inspiration and smack the hell out of it until it says exactly what you want. I've never had an easy time writing about myself and as much as I like myself, it's super hard making yourself sound qualified and certain when you're anything but.

Poor me.


My parents flew home on Monday but I get to see them again for New Year's. We all have tickets to see UH at the Sugar Bowl (Go Warriors!) and my brother and I will fly down to New Orleans for a few days to soak in the sights, the game, and most likely some alcohol. Seriously though, I am such a lightweight that I may regret this trip. Okay, probably not.

Take everyone and I'll keep you all posted. Literally.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Enjoy Turkey Day!

Don't forget to unbutton your pants after eating. You don't want to accidentally shoot somebody's eye out.

Leave it to Korea to make internets addiction sound like a bad thing

Well, not exactly. Rising levels of internets access in South Korea has allegedly led to rising levels of internets addiction cases. The problem has become so severe, with millions of young people - most of them boys - spending up to 17 hours online every day, that the New York Times is reporting that the South Korean government is funding a boot-camp style rehab center to wean the pasty fellows off the virtual teat.

I was going to write a 10 page rebuttal to the preposterous notion that the internets is addicting but I'm still working on my "Why Babies Need More Asbestos in their Diet" paper.

The article provides further entertainment at the expense of South Korea's image with this sparkling exchange between a Boot Camp instructor and an internets addicted waif-boy.

“Do you have anything to tell your mother?” the drill instructor shouted from below.

“No!” he yelled back.

“Tell your mother you love her!” ordered the instructor.

“I love you, my parents!” he replied.

I have no doubt that some major network is already turning this into a reality television show.

I'm Smart and also not so Smart

I have no idea what the criteria is for this evaluation but my site was rated College level for the Blog Readability Test. You must be this intelligent [--------------------------------] to read My New York Times. The Spoon also rated at a College level while my sports page, The Athlete's Footnotes, scored at a High School level. Dumb jocks.

Get a Cash Advance

New internets, job, filthy conversations

The internets is up and running in my apartment and what was the first thing I did? Immediately interrupt my busy schedule of practicing the GREs (verbal stuff is getting there, quantitative stuff not so much) to watch television shows!

In other news...

I got hired the other day by an advertising research company. Apparently advertising research is conducted in survey "game" formats to measure people's recall/recognition of advertised products (either in commercials or within the programs themselves). Writing these survey questions requires knowledge of the programming, grammar, and a little creative flair. I guess I have enough of all three and I'll also be trained to write questions for sports programming (because that pays even better!). It's not the sexiest job in the world, but it pays pretty well.

In an unrelated note, I was at the library a couple days ago. I was on the phone so I paused before entering. Besides me was a well-dressed African-American man also talking on the phone. I was listening to his conversation with half an ear when I realized that he was quietly spewing the nastiest sequence of words I have ever heard. Pure, straight-up nastiness. The amazing thing was that even though I was certain he was berating the person on the other end of the line, they moved on to holding a natural, normal conversation just a few minutes later.

New York people are weird.

I'm a Star!

This is an old photo, but it proves I'm about 76% of the way to being a star.

Show some love

Want to see more? Check out my post.

Check out another new post by yours truly. Since I've been given the green light to write whatever I want, I decided to write a more humorous sports post about crazy NFL athletes. I've also reverted to my old habit of including pictures and captions.

Please check it out and have your friends/enemies read it as well. Also leave a comment if you can. It's charity, baby.

Changes in New York weather, my job

This past week the temperature in New York has hovered just above 50 degrees Fahrenheit which is roughly the cutoff point for when my building’s heater turns on. If it were any warmer then I’d be all roses and candy canes. If it were any colder I’d be snug inside my heated room. As it currently stands, I’m neither hot nor cold except for my feet and extremities which have apparently seceded from the rest of my body and migrated to Iceland when I wasn’t looking.

Today my feet weren’t the only things making unexpected departures. That clever segue requires some explanation: today at work I was busily typing away in my 2 square feet of desk space for nearly forty-five minutes before finding out my supervisor (and only collaborator) had left the company. Of course, this was made worse by the fact I found all of this out via AIM from my departed supervisor – nobody in the office thought to tell little ole me.

I immediately had one of those “Oh crap! The walls are closing in on me!” sensations and if I wasn’t on the 9th floor I would’ve tried sneaking out the bathroom window. Fortunately, I met a new supervisor and he not only gave me permission to do/write whatever I want on the different networks, he encouraged me to do so! Being an unpaid intern must make it easy to keep me around.

The crazy thing is that despite my lowly status as an unpaid intern, I’ve been “promoted” to full access to every single darned thing on every system at Next New Networks. If I seriously wanted to screw up the company I could literally go in and delete EVERYTHING. (If you work at Next New Networks and are reading this, please remember that I would never think of doing such a thing, no matter what I just typed in the preceding sentence.)

Back at home…

I think in my last post I wrote about getting two whole rooms to myself. Well, that didn’t exactly work out and I ended up getting a single room, although that’s proven to be plenty big for me. Technically, I actually have the entire apartment to myself since my roommate hasn’t moved in and my third roommate does not exist as of yet. As a result, I’ve been able to focus on my studies and writing.

Bright days ahead

I was all set to post an extremely caustic (yet hilarious) rant on apartment managers/landlords and the various and myriad ways they cause me distress, but then I actually got a place and lost my ranting mood (although I might post it later). Please join me in a great sigh of relief. Uggggggghhhhh.

I don't live right here, but my new abode isn't too far away

My new place is in Queens so it's safer and cleaner than much of Brooklyn. It's near tons of restaurants, a movie theater (I think), and it's on a direct 10-15 minute route to the Manhattan offices I'm working in. Included in my deal are complete furnishings, closet space, windows... oh yes, and a second room! I won't say how much it all costs, but it's a pretty sweet deal and I'm lucky to have walked in on it when I did because I'm basically sharing a three bedroom apartment with one other person. So I also get access to a complete kitchen (because sandwiches and cereal making requires plenty of space) and a bathroom that does not look like it's been used to test America's next generation of biological weapons.

Of course, with my new apartment will come new responsibilities. I'll almost certainly have to work full time (possibly no weekends for me) and the next couple of months will be full on nose to the grindstone with respect to my journalism applications. I move in to my new place November 1st but now that I have my living situation arranged (with some more money and paperwork to be completed in the next few days), I can return my focus to getting into grad school. Although this coming week I also have my first interview for a paid position. My fingers are officially crossed.

Busy Busy

I really should be sleeping right now, but I've got a lot to share. I'll start with the important stuff.

My internship is actually starting off pretty well. I've already put up one of my own posts (it's not my best work but it's a small, heartfelt little sports plea from one Lakers fan to Kobe Bryant). Within five minutes of being in the office building I was given the power (though not necessarily the authority) to change any text on any site in their entire network of ten plus websites. I already knew they were doing some high quality work, but now I'm glimpsing the behind-the-scenes action and the energy is infectious, in a good way. I must also be doing something right because my supervisor asked me to come in an extra day this week. I'm doing everything for free, of course, so that may not mean as much as it could but I still take it as a positive sign.

My rooming situation has been infected with a different kind of energy. First I had a room with my brother, then another room opened up for me, then it was taken by the squatter, then I was going to move out, then the room opened up again, then it was taken by the squatter again, and supposedly now the room is mine again. Despite it being available I'm probably going to find my own room elsewhere. I've been up front with my brother and our third guy about my needing a stable environment where I can write and study and so far this apartment hasn't been that place. My brother is bummed about it but he respects my decision. Now I just need to actually find a place.

I've already looked at one place that could work pretty well, but it's in a completely different community from what I'm used to - Caribbean folk. It's starting to grow on me, but I want to hold out for a place that is a little larger and more convenient with food options. I'm probably being greedy but I don't want to latch on to the first place I see.

I've done my best to study with the free time I've had, but between working, searching for an apartment and all the talking related to the whole rooming affair I haven't had a super focused time with my test preparations. It's a little confusing because the Verbal and Writing sections are probably the really important sections but they're also already my strengths. I want to be focused with my studies but not neglect other parts of my preparation as well. It's kind of easy to forget that I also need to prepare separate writing statements for different journalism programs and that'll take time too.

Oh and one final light story. Earlier today it started to rain on me while I was walking through the Union Square area so I decided to find an umbrella (and also a urinal - rain makes me pee). I found a mini Walmart location on my phone so I wandered around a three block radius enough times to start etching groove marks on the pavement. Finally I turned to a blonde woman beside me at the cross walk and used my polite gentleman voice to get her attention. Then she turned to face me and it suddenly became clear that her dog wasn't out there for the exercise or to spew little poopoo coils on the sidewalk but instead the dog was there to help her "see" because she was blind.

Awwwwkward.

I automatically felt a little embarrassed for what I was going to ask, but then I remembered that one of my good friends from college is blind and he has a better sense of direction than I do with both eyes and a map, so I asked the woman for directions anyway. Turns out she wasn't familiar with the area and she actually needed my help to find her destination which only took a few minutes and made me feel better about myself as a human being.

An hour later I was taking the subway home with my brother when the same woman and her doggie somehow darted in front of me and blocked me from getting into the turnstile. She got tangled up in the turnstile herself, being blind with a frisky dog after all, and I asked her if she was alright. She didn't recognize me but I finally realized why this woman looked so familiar.

She was none other than Eleanor Roosevelt.

Now I definitely need to sleep. Take care everyone.

New York offers surprises, kicks in the nads

Much has happened in the last few days, some of it good and some of it less so.

The Good:
The other day I met a nice Christian guy who wanted me to work in the ghettos with him to spread the word of God. I met him, along with his friend, as they tried to punt a seven pound rat across Union Square. The rat kept coming back to play but the guy's foot failed to spread God's message to that particular rodent.


The less so:
I've found several warm, comfortable places to study for the GREs. No matter how warm or comfortable I am, however, I still have difficulty with the many Quantitative Comparisons that include more letters than my name.

The much less so:
I may have to find my own room/apartment/hovel. I love my brother to death, and our third roommate is a nice enough guy, but they haven't proven to be very reliable nor forthcoming in our search for a new home. With the new month fast approaching, finding an apartment in time is becoming increasingly unlikely and rent prices have become more of an issue. While staying at our current place had seemed like a reasonable option, I may not actually have priority on the available room thanks to an unfortunate interpretation of squatter's rights.

I had expected a certain number of surprises in New York, but I didn't anticipate this kind of moving difficulties. Although if I expected a surprise then it would cease being a surprise, wouldn't it? In case you were wondering about the title, my potential need to get my own place was the metaphorical kick in the nads.

My To-Do List 10/17/07: A Retrospective

- Eat a full meal
Check - I ate at the golden arches! Yummy.

-Write another article for my internship
Half check - I thought of an idea. It's the thought that counts, right?

Everything's A OK

-Find a study place for the GREs
Check - I found a big ole library in Manhattan that's open fairly late. Plus, it has work stations and free wireless access. On the negative side, it took me about two hours to get back home because I got off the train to get a soda and literally walked in circles for forty five minutes. I wasn't being crazy, just lost.

-Study for GREs
Check - I did random questions on my computer until my body slipped into full nap mode in the middle of the library. That's how I know I'm in the groove.

-Eat another meal
Half check - I ate a plastic bowl of cheerios, but it was regular cheerios and regular cheerios are the worst kind of cheerios.

-Occasionally think about getting a job
No check - I was completely carefree on this one. But I think I'll get to watch a movie tomorrow with an old friend in town. Who needs work when you've got the movies? Don't answer that.

My To-Do List 10/17/07

My To Do List for today:

-Eat a full meal (yesterday's pizza was devoured by my roommates before I woke up today)

-Write another article post for my internship (I wrote my first one last night, still waiting to get a reply on it from my "editor")

-Find a study place for the GREs. I'm thinking a library.

-Study for GREs. Perhaps peruse a Math for Retards book while I'm in the zone.

1) Lick paw 2) Lick balls 3) Repeat

-Eat another meal (I may have to start licking leftovers to claim it for later)

-Occasionally think about getting a job

Learn about, kill, Hipsters

'The mainstream hipster is not an artist or a musician. He has an office job, and wears one hat to work and another at night.' Presumably, the latter is a trucker—or a porkpie—hat.

Read the rest of the article, entitled "Why the Hipster must Die."

New York Fashion

There’s a Levi commercial where this guy is putting on jeans except they’re so tight that he has to bunny hop to get them up his legs and every time he jumps the entire world rocks with the massive force of his bunny hop. I don’t think this is an exaggeration for a lot of people in New York because it’s practically a rule for anyone kind of artsy under the age of forty to wear pants tight enough for people behind you to count the rolls of cellulite on your butt cheeks. Since I’m a fashion bumpkin it’s easy for me to notice this dress style and even a few others you might not be familiar with.

The Hipster: The main demographic for the tight Levi jeans commercial. This group consists mostly of young, artsy professional types who also wear small t-shirts, frayed sweaters, stylishly mussed hair and glasses. You might guess they spent five dollars on their outfit or five hundred dollars and you have an even chance of choosing correctly.

The Prepster: The jeans are baggier, the shoes whiter and collars starchier with this group. Think of Kanye West or that frat guy who date raped your freshman roommate’s girlfriend and you’ll have an idea of what the Prepster looks like.

The Pan Handler: There isn’t so much of a uniform dress code for the Pan Handler as there is a uniform smell. Sometimes there are shoes, sometimes callused feet suffice. Most Pan Handlers have rolling luggage bags and a reservation at the park bench that you wanted to sit on.

The Professional: Suits and ties. Blah.

The Retired Old Person: I used to think that old people everywhere wore oversized khakis and $20 sneakers. Now I know it’s a fact. Aesthetically, the Retired Old Person’s outfit is even worse than the Pan Handler’s. Plus, wearing a belt at neck-level isn’t fooling anyone.

The Ethnic: I don’t want to be racist here but ethnic groups in New York tend to dress similarly. It’s okay for me to say this because I’m a minority. If I were white than you could legitimately call me racist, but my Mexican-ness gives me a free pass. Speaking of Mexicans, most wear paint splattered dungarees, boots, and plaid long sleeve shirts. Sometimes a baseball cap is added for a little twist. Those of the African-American persuasion like to wear baggier clothing. The Hasidic Jews in the neighborhood keep it real with tastefully somber black coats.

If Three's Company, Five's a Biohazard

Right now Brooklyn is almost thirty degrees colder than my old room back in Hawaii and that's not even counting the wind chill factor which normally only matters when you're homeless, but in terms of heat retainment my new apartment is on par with a mesh speedo. If only that were the biggest adjustment in my living conditions.

For the last two years I've had the good fortune to live by myself, not counting the fourteen months I spent at home with my parents. I could leave out cans and wrappers, turn the lights off or walk around sans mesh speedo whenever I felt like it.

Now I have two roommates (four if you count squatters) and my freewheeling, mesh speedo shedding ways are out and in their place are some changes I'm not too excited about.

1) Dirt boldly going where it damn well shouldn't

It's a little disturbing seeing a white bathroom with white tiles, white walls, and a white ceiling and then looking down to see that it has a brown shower floor. Did I say disturbing? I meant infectious.

2) No food

I've barely spent any time in Brooklyn so I don't have a clue where to eat nearby. Everybody orders out or goes out but no food survives long enough to make it back to the apartment. I found a cookie in my pocket earlier today and I'm pretty certain I accidentally ate part of the wrapper.

3) Squatters

As I mentioned earlier, there are a couple of squatters in the apartment that make life a little complicated. One guy seems like he's legitimately here for only a couple of days. He may actually be gone already. Another guy is not gone. Apparently he has not been gone for roughly five months, taking first the couch and now a room without ever spending a single penny for rent. He sucks. If I could, I'd kick his ass out right now, but one of the legitimate roommates still takes pity on this guy and allows him to take the room that should be mine. I'm not bitter. Honest.

4) Television monopoly

I like having total remote control of the television. But it's been days since my hand has grasped that symbol for male virility. Once again I am talking about the remote.

Stayin' Alive

After living with my parents for a year, keeping myself alive has never seemed like such a chore. Since I landed in New York I’ve had a cup of hot chocolate and half a cookie from Starbucks (I dropped it on the floor and wasn’t quite hungry enough to finish it off), a steak sandwich, a slice of pizza, and a beer. That may sound like a lot but it’s all I’ve eaten in about three days. I fear what my stool will look like, or even worse, how it will feel coming out. Ugh.

Despite my unintentional dieting efforts I haven’t felt super hungry until right this minute. Probably because I’ve been walking around in a semi-delirious state thanks to some awful weather and a head-cold, not to mention the expected jet lag. Thursday’s rainy weather might have been tolerable if you’re from Minnesota or Russia, but it wasn’t that great coming from Hawaii. Friday was pleasantly sunny but with cutting winds that knifed through my shirts like Rosie O’Donnell parting the line at an all you can eat buffet.

Technically, I’m still unemployed but even in my weakened state I’ve made progress on that front. I’ve started an internship at Next New Networks which is a fun and innovative company and they aren’t paying me to say that (not that they’re paying me for anything at this point, but moving on). NNN is the home of some truly entertaining and original content with “channels” comprised of video podcasts, blogs, and heavy viewer/reader participation on everything from green living to do it yourself fashion to the best of sports blogs. My humble duty is to assist with the planning and editing of the different channels’ written blog entries. I haven’t learned the details yet but I’m sure to find out once my first work day begins next Tuesday.

It may not be obvious yet but I'm planning to keep this blog a lot less structured than my other babies, The Spoon and The Athlete's Footnotes. I think it makes sense that my life's blog should be just as scattered and frantic-looking as I am.

Join me next time at My New York Times to find out if I'll ever eat a full meal or find a job. Personally, I'm dying to find out.

Welcome

Hawaii may be a paradise but since my dreams of becoming a hula dancer ended horrifically in the sixth grade (don't ask), I always knew my future lay elsewhere. With the support of my family and the encouragement of my very small army of blogging fans (hey guys!), I packed my bags and boarded a plane for New York. My goal is to get some real world experience before enrolling in a Journalism graduate program and beginning a career as a super bad-ass writer. This blog will be my man-diary for the strange, fascinating, and absolutely-not-tragic events that happen along the way.