December 18, 2005

My first trip to New York, New York started in a rush of agitated confusion.  My host, Dr. Uplift invited me to the city and said that catching a yellow cab from LGA to Manhattan would be easier.  I didn't have time to research bus lines or the train system.  That was my mistake. 

The first green words I hear of New York's sound is "Where you goin?,"  in a South African accent. " 23rd ST and 6th," I say. " That'll be $55."  I ignored the driver after that and accidentally bumped into a New York Airport Service Express Bus attendant. 

Where you goin?" " 23rd ST and 6th." " That's near Penn Station.  You can walk to it.  It costs $12 one-way to ride the shuttle to Penn Station.  How much was the other guy going to charge you?" " $55." " You should have slapped him." 

I hung up with Uplift and asked the attendant exactly where the stop was. 

"Penn Station." " Where is it." " It's the first stop.  It's easy."  He failed to mention the length of wait and transfer process. 

The express bus dropped us off on a bustling street near 31st.  People poured through wide-eyed tourists.  We waited, cold and desperate, for another shuttle to pick us up and head to Penn Station.  The shuttle arrived and waited 20 more minutes to possibly pick up New Yorkers hailing yellow cabs right in front the shuttle (how New Yorkers hurl themselves into traffic, in front of vehicles, in harms way is baffling). 

The most surprising thing, flying from Ann Arbor to New York was that there was no snow on the ground.  The day before it rained and washed most of the snow away.  The temperature was about 50 degrees, summer weather in Ann Arbor. 

the beginnings of a terrorist attack gone sour

New Yorkers and tourists flooded Manhattan for the holiday season.  I met Uplift in front of the world's largest Macy's (overrated).  I felt a sense of "I-have-arrived" nostalgia.  Though I had never been to New York, I consider myself a native.  The city has always felt like home.  That feeling quickly dissipated by the end of the night. 

On the Journal Square train to New Jersey a drunk man and woman almost hit me with a Pepsi bottle playing drunk field hockey.  A drunk college student fell asleep standing up on the train and almost collapsed on top of me.  A drunk man groping his even drunker girlfriend must have elbowed me in the head, standing right beside me, at least 6 times. 

In the surrealism, being in the city that I loved, wanted to love and being assaulted by drunkards, I smelt the subtly of fresh vomit.  When I finally looked down at my feet I saw a small brown shopping bag.  I hadn't noticed the bag boarding.  It was half open.  I looked inside it and saw something slushing around.  It was vomit.  Red, white, and corny. 

December 14, 2005

I am sitting at work contemplating the next 3 years of my life.  What to do?  I am finishing up a masters in Human Resources and Organizational Development.  I have been applying to training/development jobs at Career Journal and America's Job Bank.  No word. 

Before applying I sent off my resume and cover letter to the Office of Career Services on campus.  I made the appropriate corrections and submitted to about 10 organizations (in LA, South Florida, the Bronx, Brooklyn and Atlanta). 

The average correspondence time after submitting an application is 3 weeks generally however I need cash flow now.  Student loans are due, credit card bill overdue.  I am flying to New York this weekend to think over my employment strategy.  With any luck I'll be a reality television star. 

December 07, 2005

There comes a time in a graduate student's life when he must decide whether to continue on the path that academia has chosen for him or go in a completely different direction.  I wish I could have the courage to pursue writing however being Bohemian is not as an attractive lifestyle as it used to be (see Fortune magazine). 

I am applying to countless trainer jobs in the Bronx, Brooklyn, Boston, Atlanta, LA, and South Florida. 

I can live vicariously through my creative type friends.  Dr. Uplift has a book signing for Our Truth at Cafe Bunne Gusto/CBG Red Bar 2nd Floor (on the lovely Upper East Side of Manhattan).  Hopefully I can make it. 

"This event will feature an open mic night and blessings from a couple feature poets/musicians who are currently blazing the entertainment scene," Dr. Uplift says. 

"I've been to this event a few times, and you never know who might show up.  From industry execs to celebs, the night is always interesting.  With Poetry, Song, Drinks, Conversation, and Dr. Uplift, what more do you need?" 

November 15, 2005

There are two things that motivate me to get up and out bed in the morning: writing and abdominal exercise.  The possibility of this being the day when I'll shed belly fat is similar to my first publishing experience.  Writing is in my blood.  Print is my bible.  I live by it but acknowledge the presence of other mediums, television, radio. 

I am attending the Spirit of Diversity Job Fairon Thursday.  This is my chance to hit the pavement running or hit the treadmill in front of a Runner's mag jury of my peers. 

I am fine tuning my resumes, clips, and interview questions.  My only dilemma is finding adequate transportation.  I do not believe in cars and not believing in cars in Ann Arbor is a lot like sticking your head in a gas oven and turning the power on. 

My options are taking Amtrak and Greyhound. 

I emailed two journalism majors at EMU and UMICH (who may or may not be attending the conference) three weeks ago to see if I could get a ride.  I'm still waiting for a response. 

October 24, 2005

Dr. Uplift and I were having a conversation last night about furthering our journalism careers.  I am applying to Newhouse.  He is applying to Columbia.  In lieu of the GRE Columbia's potential candidates must pass a current affairs test to matriculate in. 

The test has various questions like "Where is the secret location of Asama bin Laden" and "What is the significance of Abu Gharib?" 

Dr. Uplift was reading off some of the questions and asked "What is the capital of the United States?"  That's easy I think, Washington D.C. He says, Harrisburg, of course. 

Harrisburg?  The capital of Philadelphia is Harrisburg.  Clue #1 that this mofo is not getting in. 

He asks "What are the seven continents?"  He names 3 and cannot remember the rest. 

October 04, 2005

Amid the frequent penis enlargement, financial empowerment and free iPod Nano spam mailings clogging my inbox, I received a warm letter from my loan provider, the federal government.  It seems that I am 45 days overdue with my loan payment.  My loan is in forbearance.  The email must have been a mistake, dreamily thinking to myself. 

I called a DLS customer service representative to resolve this problem (DLS must pay their workers peanuts because they are always rude).  I informed Belinda (that's such a rep name) of the problem at-hand and in protocol fashion, Belinda asked for a litany of information. 

"This is not new information.  You knew this already."  Suddenly she knows me on a personal level. 

Belinda proceeded to think of me not as the patient customer (that I was) but as her child. 

Since graduating from undergrad in 2002 my life was been continually spiraling into a episode of The Simple Life: Interns.  Shifting from "this is not a real job" nightmare to a "what the hell I am wearing and why I am here" workdays.  Fortunately I was accepted into my graduate program in 2004 to avoid paying my rich uncle.  Government started calling last winter semester (termed spring at smaller institutions) when I dropped down from 3 classes to 1 class.  Uncle Sam, knowing that I have the gift of telepathy, failed to call me before my loan account was first overdue.  Wait, no.  They called and left a message (supposedly) stating to call a forgettable person at a forgettable 800 number (see bullshit). 

Receiving a blow to the head, I was informed that I should submit aForbearanceform.  The rep failed to inform me that the suspension of repayment was for 3 months only (see postal). 

September 30, 2005

I know winter is approaching when the alarm clock rings and instead of getting out of bed I press the snooze button.  Curling back underneath the covers.  I sleep with my head toward the wall-to-wall window. 

I can feel coldness roll through my bones.  The alarm rings again.  I press the snooze button.  It becomes a competition to see how long I can stay in bed until I need to go to work. 

I know winter is approaching when the alarm clock rings and instead of getting out of bed I press the snooze button. 

September 27, 2005

Working at a library can be quite low-pressure.  Working at a library in Ann Arbor is absolutely cutting.  Reshelve this book, help this patron who has never seen a computer before, pacifiy this patron with a brownie ... insanity.  I signed up for a myspace type website called www.modelmayhem.com.  Maybe I'll hit it big and become one of the beautiful people.  One of the altered beautiful people and kiss this job goodbye.