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...two weekends ago. And thus less fun the following week. As in I spent it mostly in bed.
I had my five-year college reunion, and the school just had its way with me. Can't pop the kornheisers like I used to. But it was fantastic. Like college itself, it went by in a blur. And like college itself, it was damn fun.
First of all, people looked awesome. For some reason I expected everyone to be like 40 years old and look like this:
Just kidding. But people really did look fantastic. I'm impressed with the class of 2009. We look grown-up but young and sexy and less sweaty than in college. We're hot.
(Note: the sweaty thing clearly did not apply to me.
As my friend said of this picture taken at the Saturday night dinner and dance--which was more fun than a wedding--"The disgust on the girl's face is palpable."
Secondly, we were in the dorms. Threw us right back into party mode, but there were no rules. For once, I did not get written up. A weird feeling, but a good one. We played games and talked and danced and ordered from our old late-night food joints. It was magical.Â
One thing I've hoped to accomplish with this blog is, for posterity's sake if nothing else, to chronicle what it's like for someone of my age and background to find gratifying work today. Granted, I've gone about it in a quirky, roundabout, "unique" (i.e., weird) way. I've rambled and strayed off topic and made it pretty personal: with the exceptions of my guesticles, it's been pretty much all about me. And that makes me uncomfortable, because--while I love the subject of me--I'm not particularly interested in writing about it. I'm interested in recording this process so many of my generation are going through, this apparent crisis we experience inside ourselves as we look for a career we actually want, and the massive difficulties we have coming anywhere close. The struggle is partly self-imposed ("suck it up, start making money, and use all your free time on your true passions--the rest will follow") and partly out of our hands (the job market, I assure you, is not awesome). Point is, I could have written this blog as a recording of anyone's struggle. I know that my own career status is not something people particularly care about--they have themselves to worry about, and understandably so. I document my own journey because it's the only one I experience first-hand, but it doesn't matter so much if I'd chosen mine or any one of a number of friends experiencing this. What matters, I think, is that it is representative of a big chunk of my generation as we try to become adults and contribute to our planet's well-being in a way that makes us happy.
You know, like 18-months quick. I could have had two healthy babies in the time it took to get just one of these, but I finally got one: a job. Granted, itâs freelance, and Iâll be far from a big wig, (more like a tiny toupee), but I got one. Iâll be making real money and going into an office and I can go out on school nights and eat as much dessert as I want and EVERYTHING.
I will still pursue my other interests, but starting in June Iâll be a web producer for Travel+Leisure. Hereâs to hoping working there involves a little of the former and a lot of the latter.
P.S. The blog name must change, I suppose. Fantastically, I can keep the same URL, the same hats, etc. I am now the Master oâ Funemployment.
P.P.S. Not only could I have had two healthy babies, but the first one could be walking and talking by now.
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Then get the game 2048 on your iPhone. Someone told me about it, and I was hesitant to download it cuz I'm not a huge phone/video game guy, but I decided to go ahead and get it for bus rides and stuff. "Bus rides" has turned into every waking hour. It's absurd. I legitimately think the makers of 2048 spent time studying what makes something addicting before making this game. My thumb has about three more rounds in it before it falls off.
There are some names out there that just scratch me right where I itch, be it because I like the sound, they make me double-take, whatever. Theyâre just gorgeous. A sampling (mostly athletes, with one actor thrown in):
Barkevious Mingo (NFL)Â - Oops I barkevioused my mingoes.
Vontaze Burfict (NFL) - This name is almost berfect.
Thorbjorn Olesen (PGA) - Just feels good to say. Thorbjorn. Sort of like Godsteve.
Shingo Katayama (PGA)Â
SHINGOOOO!!!Heâs got the name and the headwear. Just gorgeous.
Scatman Crothers (thespian)Â
"Itâs a beautiful baby boy, Mr. and Mrs. Crothers! What would you like to name him?" "Scatman."Â Incredible.
Yangervis Solarte (MLB)Â - Yangervis.
Bismack Biyombo - Stay the f**k up outta ma BIZmack.
One of the ways I scrape by--and I assure you, it's not a real job--is by editing marketing copy for self-publishing authors. You know, like the fifth- and seventh-grade sisters I edited for the other day who are publishing their SECOND novel? And who are nationally ranked swimmers. And who play the violin at esteemed theaters? Makes me feel pretty good about myself.
Can't be too hard on myself, I guess. I did play intramural softball in college.
Had an interview for a freelance web producer gig at Travel+Leisure magazine today. When I told my dad about the interview, he responded, "Well, you certainly know a lot about leisure." Classic.
I'm not too hopeful, based on my past experiences, but who knows? Maybe publicizing this before hearing back will somehow shake things up. Maybe I'll get to
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As Iâve been running a bit lately, marathons (specifically, not doing them) have been on the mind a bit. The running has had an effect on my underpants, which got me thinking: a good name for what the undercarriage of my boxers has gone through? Wear-and-tearathon. And what the half-marathon I ran felt like, based on what I saw in front of me at the back of the pack? (Half) derriereathon.
Some more âthons:
The amount of stuff I fill out for doomed job applications: questionnaireathon.
My closing-in-on-26.2-month-long job search:Â nightmareathon.
The 26.2 responses I get to my job applications every month: the "weâre looking elswhereâathon.
Which has led to:Â despairathon.
And might lead to:Â welfareathon.
And could lead to my spurting out 26 bad words at someone before being stopped 0.2 of the way through the 27th:Â swearathon.
And maybe, in my gloom, a failure to take care of or groom myself for 26.2 years:Â pubic hairathon.
And so this seemingly endless âraceâ to find interesting work: my own going-nowhereathon.Â
Seems unfairathon but I donât even careathon so THEREathon.
Video. That's where it's at. I've been working on making some for a while, but I'm still looking for someone with the right combination of camera skills and willingness to make goofy crap for, um, free.
In the meantime, I thought I'd show you this puppy, which is closing in on seven years old. See if you can find me:
   Mm hmm. I knew that I was crashing a legitimate breakdancing competition in front of hundreds of people and treating myself to some hilarious pelvic thrusts. I did not know that it would be recorded and put online. Or that I'd be tagged as "random loser." Or that they'd turn on the lights while I was on stage and end the competition.
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Deadspin posted an interesting article, and it extensively mentions the school my father ran for years. I was inspired to write this response not to argue with anyone, but to shed light on some of the wonderful things about the school that the piece leaves out:
This is a response to Deadspinâs article. I only address the issue of Mater Dei School, because the place is so clearly more than what itâs portrayed as.
Before I get into the meat of this responseâwhich Iâll try to keep briefâlet me say two things. First, Iâm better qualified to comment on Mater Dei than almost anyone on the planet: Not only did I go to Mater Dei, not only did I âredshirtâ (and please, we much prefer âreclassifyâ)*, but I also taught there. So I went there, I redshirted, and then I taught there. Oh, and my father worked at the school for more than forty years. Oh, and one more thing: he was the headmaster and president. He ran Mater Dei for almost three decades. So I have some inside information.
-- The schoolâs highest honor is Character Honor Roll. For all eight grades, the report card has two sections: Character Development and Academics. Character Development is shown first, and students are constantly reminded that character (with subjects such as âtreats others well,â âowns up to mistakes,â âworks hard,â and âis honestâ) is by far the more important piece. Iâve never been to a place where being a good person is harped on so much.
-- After character/moral development, the biggest mission of the school is to provide accelerated academics. Not all kids can handle it, and athletic prowess has nothing to do with whether someone is allowed to graduate. Character and academics do.
--The schoolâs most important day, according to my father, is when the second-graders receive their First Communion. I point this out not to say that any particular religion is better than another. I point it out to show that the schoolâs priorities lie with moral/spiritual development, not sports.
--When I went and taught there, if your grades werenât good enough, you couldnât play sports. No matter what.
--I was fourteen when I graduated from Mater Dei, and I turned fifteen a few weeks later. I was extremely old for my class and not very good at sports. Yet I was still highly valued and congratulated as a student because of my other assets. No one really cared that I wasnât a huge athlete. Because most of us werenât.
--Neither of the Headmasterâs Award (a sort of âlifetime achievementâ award) winners in my class were particularly athletic.
--I found the Deadspin piece through an email chain with three other Mater Dei graduates. I quote one here: âCan someone videotape me running or doing some sort of sports so I can send it to Deadspin and show them that twelve years of Mater Dei and Prep didnât amount to s**t for my athletic ability?â Like the vast majority of kids who go to Mater Dei, we did not play college sports. And like most, all four of us loved the school.
Sports are huge at Mater Dei, yes. But you donât have to be good at them. They exist so that young boys can run around and learn teamwork and work ethic while they do it.
Parents all over the country hold their children back in school, but it usually has nothing to do with sports. It has to do with protective parents wanting their children to flourish. Â My own father was incredibly young for his grade. And he was not particularly athletic. Nor did he ever push sports with me. But he did send me to âJunior Kindergartenâ before Mater Dei (I never ârepeatedâ a grade) so that I wouldnât be as young as he was. Itâs probably easy to say you wouldnât do thatâuntil youâre a parent. School administrators almost anywhere would advise parents to err on the side of having their children be a bit old for their grade.
Does holding a kid back at an early age give them a physical advantage over the younger ones? Most likely. And are some parents or schools holding their kids back to exploit that advantage? Probably. But I donât think most are. And I knowâfrom a lifetime of intimate knowledge of the schoolâthat Mater Dei never, ever said, âHey, letâs start holding kids back to win at sports, because it would be super cool if our first-through-eighth-grade school had really awesome sports records.â
So Mater Dei has a reputation as an athletic powerhouse, and thatâs fine. Itâs just worth pointing outâfrom a proud alum and shining example of non-athleticismâthat the most notable, commendable, and important things about the school have nothing to do with sports.
 *I went to âJunior Kindergartenâ before Mater Dei. Iâd have been pretty young otherwise. Also, Iâve never heard anyone use the term âreclassifyâ as itâs used in the Deadspin piece.
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