Yinzer please

January: Mission Accomplished

2012-01-31T22:04:00.000-08:00

31 days into 2012, and I am kicking ass. I am very pleased to say that I have kept up both of my resolutions for this year. And, to be honest, I wasn't 100% sure if they would work out.

I didn't purchase a single piece of clothing or anything that extraneous this month. To be honest, I have actually been pretty solid about my finances, after my credit card company decided to publish my "year end report."

What are year end reports? A way to see the ridiculous amount of money that churns through my hands in a given time frame. I have had my new credit card for about 6 months. For each of those 6 months, I have consistently put more and more money on them, without any apparent regard to my income.

The best part about the whole year end report was seeing the RIDICULOUS amount of money that I spend on food, drinking, and eating out. I honestly had no idea how quickly all of these meals add up...and even worse, every single trip to Starbucks or Chipotle is labeled. Geeze, way to make me feel like shit.

In addition to this resolution, I also challenged myself to try new things for a month. The month of January, I decided to forego meat and live as a pescatarian (with a random week of vegetarianism). What have I learned about myself during this month?

I don't feel any healthier having foregone meat.
It took a while for my body (and bowel) to adjust to the meat-less diet. We finally got things worked out this week.
I do eat a ton of meat in a given week.
Salmon is fucking amazing.
While it is limiting to not be able to meat, a lot of Denver locales have really solid vegetarian alternatives. Even when eating at a dive Denver bar, I was able to get some really awesome green pepper chili.
I probably won't be doing this again, but will maintain my fruit/vegetable intake.

This month, I am going to work on a love-less February. For some reason, I put a ton of pressure on myself to start dating and meeting people when I returned to Denver. My notion of adulthood is embedded with a significant other, which is just inane. This month, I have deleted all online dating sites and will only be spending non-romantic/non-sexual time with my friends.

February = no dates. no drunken makeouts. no pressure for future relationships.

I hope to be able to take this time to meditate on myself a bit and learn what it is exactly that I would want. I also plan on fake-baking a lot.

Closer to 30...

2012-01-29T13:45:00.000-08:00

For the past few years, I have been frolicking around the world and being the youngest at everything. I was the youngest person in my masters program. I was the youngest person ever to win the Fulbright ETA to Hungary, and my life was pretty much bomb.com. I got to smile and say things like, "Oh, I just turned 21." I would then flip my hair and then go shopping at Zara.

Shit went downhill, when I moved to Denver.

A lot of my friends here are older than me, so I get to hear all of the fun consternation about hitting 30. Everyone assumes that they will still be young at 30, that age is just a number, and that they are totally okay with hitting 30. They normally exclaim how okay they are with getting older as they throw back multiple shots to the face.

Last night, I celebrated my friend's 26th birthday. KK and I threw the celebration, and it was kind of last minute....because we both assumed that she would invite people and have a place that she wanted to go. Quickly, I cleaned the apartment while she brought over our Madrileño. We had a really fun pre-game session that involved dancing, Spanglish, an epic conversation about how the Denver Teaching Fellows is a horrible organization, and hummus. Because any good party involves hummus.

This same photo has been taken in many countries and several continents.

This is Jess repeatedly saying that she doesn't take shots.

Here's to being 23!

My favorite highlight was the Madrileña repeatedly saying that she hates doing shots. We forced her into a shot of tequila and then she repeatedly lambasted the fact that she hates shots and won't do anymore. Then I brought out some delicious caramel infused vodka from Poland.

Polish vodka, specifically the glorious caramel kind that I had on my spring break last year, is the most amazing thing in the world. It didn't taste like vodka, it tasted like caramel...which is awesome.

I opened the bottle and within an hour, it was gone and everyone was dancing. That's what the Polish spirit does.

Off we went to Church, during Latino night to get our Spanish dancing on. It was ridiculously fun and I think that for a last minute birthday party, KK and I definitely pulled through. Now, let's hope that someone in Denver will throw me a surprise party.

------

Also, moderately glad that my hair didn't turn out blonde. I need to not be crazy when I am in a bad mood. I am glad that my gray is covered and that it is lighter. So, it's net positive.

Making Bad Days A Bit Brighter

2012-01-28T15:58:00.000-08:00

Last night, my friends invited me out to happy hour. Happy hour is awesome, but it is just a cocktease of a night. I get a little bit tipsy by 8 PM and at that point everyone wants to go home. I'm assuming because Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy are about to start.

Thus, last night I went to bad ridiculously early and woke up bright and early this morning. Seeking to captivate on the day, I decided that I would go for a long run. My training for the DC marathon is...lacking to say the least, and I thought that this would be the optimal time. Also, throwing a shout-out to my Dad, I decided that I would rock his Christmas present.

Check that glorious Thor hat.

I have no qualms with wearing a funny hat or underarmour when I run, if people gawk...fuck that shit. I be who I be. And I like my damn hat. PLUS, it was a PRESENT from my FATHER. So, I have to wear it a few times.

Wearing it was fun at first, a little kid saw me stretching and then started to do the same stretches as me, because I was so cool. As I was jogging people screamed out of their cars that they liked my hat (3 times!), and all was good.

I was set to run 15.25 miles today, getting closer and closer to that luminous 26. When I was at mile 13.50, I ran on a patch of ice and fell. Hard. I landed on my knee and my ridiculously long legs jutted out into oncoming traffic. Quickly I was able to move them out of the way, and though nothing happened, a woman was still able to scream and asked me repeatedly if I needed an ambulance.

There's nothing like hurt pride and a fucked up knee.

Being that super masculine dude that I am, I got up and was able to walk the glorious 2 miles home.

2 fucking miles with a throbbing knee. Life. is. beautiful.

And the hat? Suddenly it transformed from a fun thing that people loved into a beacon for all homeless men that wanted to accost me. Naturally, I was unable to run past them quickly and was greeted by the jeers of all of the homeless. Glorious.

I was pissed that I had such a shitty day, so I decided to change my life.

What I thought that I was going to do was to make a pizza and bask in carbohydrate goodness. On the way to the frozen food section, I stumbled past the clearance section of the supermarket. Hidden between stale donuts, was some hair dye. Some blonde hair dye.

Sweat from my distance run + clearance hair dye = THIS FACE

The hair dye didn't make me Paris Hilton blonde, it did lighten my hair a lot though and cover my gray. So, I'm content with these few choices I have made it.

Suck it, homeless people and knee injury. I'm taking back today, como un rubio.

They Call Me Speed-Dial

2012-01-26T18:28:00.000-08:00

I take back everything that I have ever said. I'm actually really employable, a great worker, and not awkward. In fact, I'm fucking awesome.

Why this sudden change of heart from all of my previous musings? Because I'm conducting more and more interviews. Currently, my supervisor is out of town on a conference. This means that all of her administrative duties fall onto me, and I spend at least a few hours interviewing people. I did this around the holidays, and it was funny. It is no longer funny, and I genuinely understand why America has a failing economy.

An interview that is normal for me:

"Yeah, so I was working at McDonald's. The manager there was a total fucking ass. He just had a different colored shirt than me. And like.....all he wanted me to do was work. And clean up spills. How crazy is that?"

But, I recently had the strangest/weirdest interview experience yesterday. And it has absolutely convinced me that I'm awesome at life/work.

The interview was set for 3:30, and at 3:40 a chubby man with glasses, B.O., and no belt walked into my office. He paused directly in front of my desk, and stated with Asperbeger delivery:

"Are you Jeff?"

I was momentarily relieved because I was sure that I wouldn't have to deal with anyone and could go home a few minutes early. When I responded in the negative, he replied.

"Jeff, you're Jeff. I remember your voice from yesterday. It's me, Jeff. I'm here for my interview. Don't you remember me?"

Aside from getting my name completely wrong, the fatal attraction delivery threw me off. That, and his next question:

"Do you hire ex-felons?"

Yes, we do hire ex-felons. As long, as it wasn't a crime against the person. For those of you that don't know what that includes, the general limitations are theft, assault, murder, and sexual misconduct. If you didn't know that, you could ask me...or you could read it on the application. He assured me that everything would be fine, then he plopped into a chair, pulled out a pen from his bag and began to fill out his application.

In the midst of writing things, he got up and plugged his cell phone into the outlet. I guess that's fine, but isn't that just weird to do at a job interview? I might have given him a "hurumph" look, because he came over and said,

"Jeff, my friends call me speed dial. They call me Speed-Dial, because I talk quickly and I am great with numbers. Jeff, when were you born?"

For some reason, I didn't feel comfortable telling him this, so I lied....about the year.

"May 25.......1987." I thought that if I gave myself an extra year, he would be afraid of me? Because 24 is a scary grown-up, while 23 is a baby? I don't know, it made sense at the time.

"Jeff, happy 9,000 day of life, 11 days ago. Jeff..." eyes fluttering in the back of his head a-la Undertaker from my mispent youth.."you were born on a Monday. Weren't you Jeff?"

Who the fuck knows what day of the week they were born on? But, I pretended to be impressed. Then, I googled it...and I actually was impressed. Homeboy was good with numbers, I'll give him that.

He sat back down and continued his application. He had a 2 liter of Mountain Dew and kept drinking it, burping into the bottle, and then rubbing his stomach by sticking 2 fingers through his shirt buttons to massage the pasty skin beneath. I sat transfixed like when you see a car accident or a girl with daddy issues at her sorority sister's batchelorette party.

Eventually, he finished his paperwork. (It took him 25 minutes to finish something that should be done in about 7 minutes.) He gave me the paperwork, and I instantly went to the felony section. He didn't have anything listed, other than the dates.

Normally, there is a very rehearsed structure to my interviews:
"Tell me more about yourself."
"What brings you to us today?"
blah blah blah.

Because homeboy was a talker. It quickly got adapted to:
"Describe yourself in three words."
"You don't have your felonies listed. Would you care to elaborate?"

His three words were small paragrahs. His felonies? Oh, that's where it gets fun.

November '97: Destruction of property. Homeboy got shitfaced and destroyed his mom's house. He paid a fine.

December '05: He and his new wife moved to a city for her work. He wanted to meet some new friends...so he went into a chatroom. There he met a 50 year police officer pretending to be a 15 year old girl. He was arrested at a park for "computer enticement of a minor." (I didn't even know that existed?)

January '08: He had consensual sex with a minor. You know, he already went to jail for being a pedofile, so he thought he might as well get with the program. Oh, and his wife divorced him 13 days and 15 hours before he got released from jail....so he was emo.

My response after that:

"You know, I really appreciate that you came in. Unfortunately, your felonies would bar you from employment with us. Because we go into people's homes, we can't hire anyone with your background. I'm so sorry, but it just won't work out."

His response:

"No."

It was a resounding "no." The kind of "no" that actually stops people and makes you think oh-shit-he's going-to-kill-and-then-rape-my-dead-body kind of a no.

"We're going to interview."

So, we talked for a bit. After 2 questions, I thanked him for coming in. I then told him that if we decided to continue with his application we would give him a call back on Friday. He grabbed my hand and began to slowly rub it, and then asked,

"How will you think of me?"

I'm not one to get flabbergasted, but I was pretty speechless. He then described himself as extroverted and friendly, to which I responded "that's a great choice of words that you should use to think about yourself."

So, Speed-dial, thanks for making me realize how awesome I am at my job.

Life as a Pescatarian...

2012-01-21T18:55:00.000-08:00

This month needs to fucking be over. My new year's resolution to try new things found me as a pescatarian for the month of January. This week, I decided to cross off a life goal and live as a vegetarian.

This has been the silliest choice that I have ever made.

I am completely drained of energy, I'm having problems concentrating...and I literally can't keep anything in my body for longer than a few hours. I actually had to go home sick from work because I was about to shit my pants.

This is not something that grown-ups should have to deal with.

Thus, I am eagerly looking forward to end this challenge and move on to the next. I'm happy that I gave it a go, but I don't feel any healthier. I'm not doing it for moral reasons, and so there is just very little that appeals to me about continuing this into the new year.

On Feb 1st, I am doing a meat tour. Get ready for that awesome blog post. It will be filled with awesome meat shots. Sorry vegan friends.

Long Weekends

2012-01-17T21:29:00.000-08:00

Long weekends are dangerous. Here's the recap:

Friday:

One of my good friends, Chrissy, went back to PA. Don't worry folks, she's vowed to come back for some hipster adventures. Chrissy was here for about two weeks, but we only got to hang out a few times. Alas, it's tough to balance friends with work and other obligations, but I'm happy that I was able to hang around one of my favorite vegan ladies.

Other news on Friday? I brought out my absinthe from Hungary and had a fun night. Inappropriate highlights include a potential carjacking and bad dancing.

Saturday:

You know what is pictured to the left? A friggin' awesome care package from my friggin' awesome father.

My Dad totally took my side over the corrupt dentist and sent me an electronic toothbrush with some protein bars (as clearly stated in my ideal care package blog post).

I was pretty pumped because my Dad isn't a care package type..so it was nice that he did something new! (This was my new year's resolution for him... Because 20-something yinzers know it all and make resolutions for the people who still have to pay their bills sometimes.)

Outside of a bomb.com care package, I also made a trek over to Goodwill to drop off some clothes.

One of my resolutions was to minimize the possessions in my life, and I'm very proud to say that I have kept it so far. (I'm also still pescatarian, but that shit is getting old.)

Goodwill box

What I donated to Goodwill:

-7 button-up shirts

-4 sweaters

-3 pairs of dress pants

-1 pair of jeans

-2 pairs of athletic shorts

-3 belts

-3 books

-1 pair of sandals

I chose not to go out on Saturday. This was a wise choice. Namely, because I broke my phone during Friday's antics (read: getting into my elevator) and didn't have anyone's number.

Sunday

Sunday was my friend, Rock's (fake name), 29th birthday.

First and foremost, I have friends that are 29. Isn't that strange?

And also, please look at the above picture...that is what I looked like. I don't think that it was anything special, by any means. At no point during the getting ready process did I think, "damn boy, you be lookin' good to-night."

But, the entire night I got hit on. A lot. And I'm not used to that. I felt like a trollop of some kind, but I don't think that I did anything that was exceptionally worthy of getting hit-on.

One noteworthy thing: I did bake cupcakes. If you ever want people to instantly love you: bring in delicious homemade baked goods to an arcade bar. (We went back to 1 up.) Seriously, I think we all could have shat on the floor and punched people, because all the security guards loved my noms.

I dd'ed the entire night. (DD is awesome with boys, it sucks with girls.) And it was fun to grab 3 AM non-drunk food at Tom's Diner. Seriously, Tom's has the most amazing chili cheese fries with vegetarian green chili....totally worth the drunk people being crazy up in my grill.

Bombastic swagga.

Monday

My organization was supposed to be a part of the Martin Luther King marade, but no one actually showed up. Luckily, I went and walked around to all of the other people in the progressive movement and made an appearance. Even better, I met up with a friend for brunch and didn't have to walk in stony silence through the streets of Denver.

After brunch, we went to Target and I bought some really clever organization solutions for my piles of kindergarten material. While it is unlikely that I'm ever going to teach again, I do hope to one day be a kickass cousin and/or uncle. I'd probably need to be in the same time zone, but whatever...at least I have the containers now.

Sadly, I did work on Monday for a few hours as I watched Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead (total rubbish). It was simple data verification/basic analysis, but it made my Tuesday go so much easier.

Life of an Iphone

2012-01-14T18:43:00.000-08:00

On Christmas 2008, my Dad bought me an Iphone. On January 13, 2012, the cell phone fell from my pocket and the screen broke. I wish that my phone had died in a better blaze of glory, but alas c'est la vie.

And now, my Iphone's life in review:

Whenever I turned 21, I was super classy and went to one of the most amazing bakeries in Pittsburgh and got a cake. It was in a box, tied up in string, and made me feel like the classiest damn yinzer in the world.

Remember cash for clunkers? My Dad traded in my almost-exploded-anytime-I-drove-it Jeep from the early 90s, for a 2009 Jeep. It's pretty awesome and has less than 12,000 miles on it. Woot.

Gotta love some street art at Carnegie Mellon.

My hometown is inadvertently clever.

No, it really is. Yinzers are awesome.

One of my favorite things from Hungary, condoms were for sale right next to the cough drops at the cash register. I thought it was a solid plan.

This is the Harrell family Christmas tree. And my Christmas card this year. Family = awesome.

As a nerd, I really wanted to buy this. It was an impulse buy that I did not succumb to.

This is the urinal at Harris Grill; the land of free bacon.

This is how much it costs me to fill up my tank in Denver on the first of the year. Denver gas is ridiculously cheaper than Pittsburgh.

Running around Denver, you see some pretty cool things. Like awesome cat posters.

This is the fucking puppet that the dental hygienist taught me how to brush my teeth. Still not happy about that woman.

Though it sucks that my phone broke, it lasted 4 years. And I was able to get a new phone within a few hours. The new phone is weird though, and I might want to go back to an Iphone because I miss it so much.

Nike+ Ipod

2012-01-12T20:00:00.000-08:00

As I stated in a Christmas wish list, I really wanted a used Ipod to work with my Nike+.

I didn't get it. Damn you, Santa.

But, it's okay, because I was able to purchase one from ebay for $65. AND IT'S GREEN WITH A RADIO AND A VIDEO CAMERA!

The Ipod was from a pawn shop. It was kind of weird, because you could see all of the old music from it. Homeboy listened to really hardcore gangsta rap--97% of it was 2Pac and Snoop Dogg. The only odd thing was that in the middle of the hardcore gangsta rap on his Top 25 played was a Britney Spears song. Gotta love the surprises in life.

Anyway, I finally figured out how to have my Ipod measure my runs. (I ran for an hour on the first day, and it said that I had run .5 miles. I was not pleased by this development...and through multiple discoveries found that the sensor cannot be double tied into your shoelaces.)

Anyway, I'm excited that I have something to monitor my training and help push me towards my marathon goal. I'm not sure of the time that I want yet, but I think that I'd like to shoot for 4:15. That's cutting off about 30 minutes from my first marathon time, but it still isn't an amazing time. Hopefully, I'll be able to get better with time.

In other health news, I continue to hate every single doctor in Denver, because I feel like they are fleecing me. I most recently went to the dentist and the dental hygienist told me that I had gum disease. After which, she showed me in pedantic detail how to brush my teeth and floss. She used a puppet.

I'm not joking.

I am a grown-ass man. While I may have lived in West Virginia for some time, I can assure you that my teeth are mother fucking fine. I genuinely believe that she got ridiculously condescending because I told her I was from West Virginia. I got super white person mad (ya know, the kind where you don't say anything to someone's face) and did the only thing that was logical: called my Daddy. Luckily, he completely agreed with me. Unfortunately, that was $200 and 2 hours of my life after I started the appointment. To compensate, my Dad is sending me one of those fancy electric toothbrushes.

I'm going to take this as a net positive.

2011: A Year in Review

2012-01-08T10:15:00.000-08:00

I think that before anyone can move forward, they have to look back and see where they have been. For me, that comes in my annual year in review.

1.) 2011 was the year that I got fired for the first time. At this point, I am completely over it. Mainly, because I see how many people have quit the program. Do I think that I would have made significant gains in the classroom? Absolutely. Do I think that I would have helped close the achievement gap? I wouldn't have slept or talked to anyone until I did. But, would I have consistently challenged the teachers around and my administration? Also, true. I didn't realize how many egos there are in education and how little people actually want change. I don't mind being let-go, and I think that I did the entire process well.

2.) I got a job 13 days later. Suck it, Denver Teaching Fellows.

3.) I applied to Harvard for the first time, and that is a really big accomplishment for me. Harvard has been my dream for years, and it's tough to start the process for those dreams to come true.

4.) I actually moved back to America and started to live an American grown-up life. This means going on dates, talking about retirement plans, and thinking about long-term careers. It's not something I am thrilled about, but it is something that I am managing.

5.) I visited a great deal of new places around Central and Eastern Europe (with my final total being 17 countries). One of my favorite places was in Istanbul. I am going to go back to Turkey at some point; I think that I'd like to spend a month there....because the culture is so giving, the food is so good, and everything is so damn cheap.

6.) I finished my first marathon. Was it the time that I wanted? hell to the no. BUT! I finished it and completed one of 88 life goals.

7.) I successfully completed the Fulbright program. How crazy is it that I am a Fulbright alumnus from now on? It is amazing that I have it on my resume, and that I was able to have such a great experience.

8.) I learned to read for pleasure, dance for fun, and buy fresh produce. I also learned that I never, ever want to live alone. Especially in Eastern fucking Europe.

For a yinzer, I've done a lot of really cool things. I'm proud of 2011, and I'm excited to see all that 2012 will unfold. Truth be told, I'd like to have some more travel adventures this year...but that will come with time. After all, my longterm life goal is to get one new passport stamp each year. And I'll be damned if I don't complete or exceed my goals.

Resolutions

2012-01-07T14:36:00.000-08:00

Apparently none of my friends or family are going to make new year's resolutions (Boo to Chrissy and Joyce.) Never one to fall into a crowd and succumb to peer pressure (especially blog peer pressure, *cough* Cat *cough*), I decided that I would post my new year's resolutions here and be held accountable.

1st: Try new things a month before quitting them.

CMU Professor and Grandson of Freud, George Lowenstein, demonstrated that we are more likely to overestimate our capacity to learn a new skill and quickly give up. Doing my best to combat this, I am attempting to stick to a new challenge each month and see both if I can do it, and how it makes me feel.

The month of January, I am a pescatarian. (For the yinzers reading this, that means that I am a Catholic during Lent Fridays.)

One week in to the experiment, I have already noticed:

I eat a ridiculous amount of meat in a given day.
It's super tough to go out and eat without meat....including Indian food, which is just ironic.
I don't feel any healthier right now.
I do like the haughty comments that I get to make about not eating meat.
I grew up on a farm and still have no qualms about eating any animals.

I'm pretty confident that I will be able to keep this up for a month, but I'm unsure if I am going to continue this into February. It will most likely depend on my weight/physical appearance. (Shout-out to vanity.)

2nd: Stop buying so many clothes.

I have a lot of shit and very few tangible assets. In fact, if you look at my net worth...I'm sure that it would be overwhelmingly in the red. That being said, my new year's resolution is to only purchase one piece of clothing (or less) a month. This includes watches (even fancy hipster ones), fake glasses, hats, shoes, etc. It doesn't include underwear or socks, because I always seem to lose those.

Combining this effort, I am also getting rid of some of the clothes that I have. My sister has an entire floor of her house dedicated to clothes. That's awesome for her (and something that I occasionally get jealous of), it's not something that I need in my life. So, I am also trying to make a once-a-month donation to Goodwill. This isn't part of the resolution, because I feel like I'll eventually get down to the things that I need and don't want to get rid of things just to get rid of things.

7 days into the new year, and I'm already going strong. Let's hope that this year is filled with new adventures, responsible spending, and less clutter.

2012: Red Bull and Belvedere

2012-01-05T21:37:00.000-08:00

At the start of 2012, I was able to cross off another one of my 88 life goals and experience New Year's Eve in New York City.

Getting to NYC from Pittsburgh was a bit of an epic adventure. I took a megabus. Now, I'm not as snooty as I portray myself...I have no qualms about taking a bus if it saves me a ridiculous amount of money (which it did). But, the other people that are on the bus don't seem to have the same standards for travel, etiquette, and hygiene that I practice. The yinzer that sat next to me answered telephone calls all night.

He was a super-masculine dude, so the conversation went like this:

"Wassup? What's good? (pause) Nah. Nah. Nah. (pause) Damn." over and over and over again.

He was nothing compared to the two drunks in front of us, who had snuck on Gatorade and vodka. They thought they were clever. I thought they were schmucks.

Anyway, I eventually got into NYC and I was quickly able to meet up with 10 of my closest friends. Though I have a bunch of friends in New York, I have a group of 3 fraternity brothers that live in the center of Manhattan. Since they offered me a spot on their couch, I happily made my way to them. They had offered the same spot to a bunch of other people...so it was a bit crowded for a tiny Manhattan flat.

Most of us. A few were missing. Really.

It's strange, but the entire time that I was getting ready...I just had this overwhelming smile on my face. Moving is tough on friendships, but it is definitely quick and easy to jump back in and see everyone. To have someone do your hair, borrow a tie from someone, and tell people that they can't wear running shoes to a club is just so lovely.

Asian w/ Asian food.

Before we all went out to the bar, we went to this Korean BBQ restaurant, where we joined by another 15 people. In total, we had 27 people. That's a lot of nerds in one little place.

I had never been to have Korean food before, and I had never seen a restaurant so proud of it's one star review rating from the NY Times. Seriously, they put it on every single menu (front and back), and then blew it up and plastered it all over the store. Not only was it a one-star rating, but it was really harsh...I think there might have been some translation errors in that decision.

But, whatever, the food was good and I had fun talking to a bunch of people.

After dinner, we walked the half mile to go to The Hill, a NYC bar where we had purchased tickets for an open bar adventure. We got there right around 9, whenever the open bar started.

The open bar was a real open bar, not a fake open bar that is just wine and beer. Let's cut to the chase, I got super drunk (so did everyone else though).

I'm not sure who was the first person to notice it, but I know that within 20 minutes of arriving, I had a Red Bull/Belvedere in my hand. Two after that, and then I was on Patron and pineapple. At one point, I just asked the bartender to make me something that I wouldn't be able to afford any other night. It was seriously beautiful.

Old friends

New Friends

Making fun of Theta.

We all walked home and spent the night without any problems. Nick and I screamed at every restaurant that we wanted to stop and get food, but alas, no one listened. (I think that my fraternity brothers were just inadvertently holding me accountable to my new year's resolutions.)

I had an amazing time, and once everyone got up, I found a ride back to West Virginia. (How awesome are my friends to drive me back from New York City all the way to my Daddy's doorstep in West Virginia?) The trip was fun, and fraught with adventure. We may have gotten lost, ended up in Maryland and then screamed when we saw a group of Amish people in the road.

2012, definitely had a great start. Let's hope that it will continue!

Twas a Night Filled with Bacon

2011-12-30T09:52:00.000-08:00

I miss Carnegie Mellon so much. Well, let me rephrase that: I miss the people of Carnegie Mellon and how awesome all of them were. Since I am in Pittsburgh, I have been able to see some fellow yinzers and the other CMU folks that have found gainful employment/graduate school in the 'burgh.

It is amazing how phenomenal their lives are, what they are doing, and how they are working to change the world. Moreso, it's amazing that we all are able to set aside political, socio-economic and geographic differences to come together for the love of bacon.

Harris Grill, in Shadyside, has a bacon night on Tuesday. It's unlimited, free bacon. And cheap Yuengling. Seriously, that combined with a Carnegie Mellon reunion is pretty friggin' amazing.

Jane and I were able to set up a time to meet and with a few text messages, 7 other CMU alums were able to pop into the bar.

It's always sad to realize that the people you saw are going to be disbursed throughout the nation/world in just a few days. But, it's pretty cool to realize that there will always be the chance to come together and eat bacon.

Except for our Jewish friends. Sorry Dana!

Christmas: Family Snapshots

2011-12-25T21:16:00.000-08:00

Christmas is normally a pretty stressful time of the year. If you are in my family, you have to figure out who is coming to dinner and if anyone has just gotten engaged, so that you can purchase a last-minute gift for that...Bob? Bill? Dustin? What's his name?

Don't get me wrong, I love seeing them on Christmas. And it's always funny to see each of the different lines grow and develop, because I like to think of us as individual tribes. (My mom is the oldest of 3. And all of the kids/grandkids pictured below come from those 3...but we all have substantially different lives/views on the world.)

My aunt likes to describe my sister and I as Barbie and Ken, because we are apparently really superficial and plastic. (It's said with love...I think?) I can understand that though. My sister got a Valentino purse as a present from a vendor (total cost $2,300), and she made everyone hold it. While she collects clothes (and I do too), I also tend to collect degrees/scholarships. Every time I go home, I tell everyone that I am applying for school...or that I'm about to graduate from something or other.

I don't think that anyone thinks I have a job. And I have confirmed that absolutely no one knows where I work and that 5% of people know what an NGO is. (5% = my father)

Such a horrible picture of everyone...and not everyone is even pictured!

Though I love my family, I sometimes get the feeling that I might have been adopted. You know, like when you ask your cousin to get you a "soda" and they don't know what that means. (Yinzers say pop.) Or when you give giftcards to amazon.com, and no one knows what that is. Or, when you're the only 20-something without a kid, engagement, or desire to even be in a relationship.

Alas, I'm the black sheep in the motley crew of my family. But, I love those yinzers. They make coming home an epic once-a-year adventure.

Also, check out my grandparents on the right and my mom. Hey graceful old age. #geneticwin

I think the best part of Christmas is seeing all of the little kids. Someone always seems to be having a child in the family, and it's great to meet them and play with them downstairs. A lot of this Christmas I spent downstairs in the basement playing with the little ones. Gotta love 'em...and I do miss hanging out with little kids on a consistent basis. Though I don't want any (ever), I do want to hang out with them. Maybe I can start baby-sitting in graduate school?

I never met this one before. So I gave him a red cupcake and snapped some photos.

My Mom and Dad are divorced, so I spend Christmas Day with my Dad and Stepmom. As usual, we went to the movies. We attempted to get Chinese food, but the restaurant was closed (They ruined Jewish Christmas!)

This year, I forced my Dad to wear a snuggie, take a picture, eat Thai food, and go see the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. He took all of it well, and I think he even had some fun along the way. He's not really into adventure so much (another reason I might be adopted), but I really appreciated that he took the risks. And some of them didn't pay out...Trans Siberian Orchestra was horrible. Superbly bad. I wanted to throw myself from our second tier seats into the poorly choreographed background dancers and set us both on fire.

Christmas Card 2012? Potentially. Snuggies make me look a little too Santa rotund for my taste.

Merry Christmas from the land of yinzer dreams.

My annual Christmas Letter

2011-12-24T21:39:00.000-08:00

Every year, I send a professional business letter to all of my professional contacts and family members. It is just an opportunity to let people know that I think about them...and that I am still counting them in my professional network in case I need a job in the future. Since it is now Christmas time, below please find the letter sent in all of its gloriousness.

----------------------

Hello Everyone/Hola a tod@s!

(Escribiré todo esta carta de Navidad en inglés, pero necesito practicar mi español. Ahora mismo, estoy viviendo en Denver, Colorado...no puedo practicar mucho. Si quieres contestar este e-mail, por favor hazlo en español! Solo quiero decir que tienes mis mejores deseos para un año lleno de paz, amor, y vino. :) Os deseo un feliz navidad y año propero. Un besote.)

Warm winter wishes to all of you! Recently, I sent a test pilot of Christmas cards to some family and friends. It was a picture of me dressed as a zombie running around the city of Denver. Apparently, that is not funny or appropriate. So...I decided that I would return to the awesome idea of my mailing Christmas e-mails to folks all around the world. Here's to being green and cheap around the holiday seasons!

The last year has been quite busy for me. As you know, I won the Fulbright scholarship to Hungary. I taught 4 university classes in Budapest about fun things like gender studies and informal English conversation. It was an adventure, to say the least. I am super fortunate to have received the scholarship and even more fortunate to have been surrounded by so many amazing scholars, teachers, etc. In addition to my duties as a teacher, I worked with the Fulbright Education Advising Center and worked towards sending Hungarians to America. It was awesome to see folks win really impressive scholarships. (Also, Hungarians are super polite and they bring in chocolate or alcohol to thank you for doing your job. It is a place of magic, I assure you.)

At the start of Hungary, I really thought that I wanted to be a teacher whenever I came back to America. I looked into some alternative licensure programs and was accepted into one in Denver. The Denver program didn't work out, but the city of Denver did! I currently work in a progressive grassroots NGO that focuses on bringing good jobs with good benefits to Coloradians. My official title is "supervisory office manager," so I do things like manage all the HR/admin stuff, hire folks, and do the data analysis for a 14 person non-profit. It's cool. I wish that I used more CMU math skills, but you know...c'est la vie.

Hungary inspired me to pursue my endeavors and conquer my dreams. In Budapest, this translated into landing an internship with the UNHCR. In it, I created a training that people all over the world are using. (Isn't that really fun to think about?) In Denver, it means that I finally applied to my dream graduate school for the 2012-2013 school year. Even if I don't get in or can't manage to go, I'm very excited that I have been able to apply. (Little things, right?)

Outside of work, I can be found running, doing hot yoga, and learning French. I am running the D.C. Marathon in March, and I'm pretty excited that I will get to see all of my DC friends. My French is tres horible, but it's fun to learn a new skill....and I kind of have to learn it if I ever want to work for the UN again. (Damn.)

Though I am full of "life-building" activities, I also hope to return to traveling soon. In Hungary, I was able to see a lot of central/eastern Europe (and even went over to Asia for a bit in Istanbul). In Denver, I hope that I'll be able to see all the cool things that America has to offer...before I hop a flight to Europe again.

As for next year, I have no idea what I am going to do. I don't think that I will ever know what the next year will bring. But, the one thing that I do hope is that it brings some time with you! I miss you all dearly and hope that we will be able to spend some time together.

Sorry to bore you with everything, but it's been a while since I corresponded with many of you. If I am e-mailing you, I can assure you that you pop into my head from time to time (especially former teachers, you guys are just perma-lodged into my brain). If you'd like a more regular account of my life; feel free to read my blog: http://jamesharrell3.blogspot.com/ . It is full of my glorious observations on life, awkward humor, and the occasional photograph. It's not even close to professional, so please don't be offended with my course language or vulgar humor.

I hope to hear from all of you at some point soon! Merry Christmas, Happy New Years, Happy Channukah, Happy Kwanzaa, and Happy Festivus! Have a safe, healthy, and adventurous 2012!

Besos,
James

Fly Southwest. Really.

2011-12-22T21:55:00.000-08:00

I have traveled a lot. (Check out my awesome European map for validation.) And one of my personal pet peeves about traveling is paying to check a bag. I just think it should be free. Always. No matter what.

Yes, I can fit my life into one tiny carry-on bag, and I did just that when I hoped around Italy and London...but I don't like it. I enjoy packing two large, exactly 50.0 lbs suitcases and then hating my life whenever I get to my final destination. Do I really need multiple pairs of shoes and every pair of underwear that I own? No. But...I might. And that is a possibility to which I want to err on the side of caution.

Coming back to my parent's for Christmas, I flew Southwest. It was glorious. First off, I got a direct flight. Second, I got two checked bags for free. Third, the flight attendants were amazing. Fourth, they gave me as many pretzel and Cheez-its as I wanted. All the Cheez-its, I say. If Southwest had international flights, I would sign up for their credit card in a second. Seriously, it was the most amazing trip I have flown in America...and I am ridiculously snooty and difficult to please.

Anyway, I am now at home, swaddled in zebra comforters and listening to the gentle brays of a donkey outside. Nothing like living the good life in West Virginia.

I'm actually really excited to be home. It's nice that I have a solid two weeks at home, and that there isn't this crazy rush that happened with Thanksgiving.

I think another thing that makes is happy is that I have people in Denver that will drive me to the airport. Picking someone up and dropping someone off at the airport is a huge sign of friendship to me. (Because I hate driving to the airport, and assume others do too.)

To repay my airport-driving friend, I did the only logical thing that I could think of: I gave her all the shit in my kitchen that I no longer wanted! #bestfriendever

Sure, a lot of it was going to expire in a day, but there was also some unhealthy shit that I wanted to get rid of too. I know, I know...my generosity is overwhelming.

I'm excited for this vacation home, seeing family and friends, and eating way too much. Life is good.

Things That Make Me Happy

2011-12-18T11:28:00.000-08:00

Countries/places visited: 2009-2011

Though I am probably going to die alone with cats, at least I can say that I have seen Europe. And that makes me happy, when other people let me down.

A Christmas Carol 10K

2011-12-17T13:29:00.000-08:00

Me and Santa!

Oh, the holidays are upon us.

While I would love to say that I have been doing responsible things like running regularly or keeping up my yoga practice. I haven't.

In fact, I have been baking, eating, and watching a ridiculous amount of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia and Modern Family. (Seriously, buying seasons 1 and 2 was the best Black Friday choice ever.)

Today, I ran a 10K with my friend, Wes. Wes is ridiculous with running. (I found out that his quickest mile was 4:36. I can't drive a mile that quickly.)

I finished at 53:35, with a pace of about 8:37. This isn't what I'd hoped, especially given my previous times for the half-marathon and the 10K Fans on the Field.

The Fans on the Field race was really awesome, and this Christmas Carol 10K was okay. The highlight was meeting Santa, getting hot apple cider, and eating some amazing baklava. Plus, I think that I finished moderately well for the group. I didn't wait around for the final results and don't know if they will be posted online, but I got a picture with Santa. So....net positive, right?

Holiday Interviews

2011-12-15T18:24:00.000-08:00

Since my company isn't going to be giving me a holiday bonus, they did the next best thing: the leftovers from a pizza party (two slices) and asked me to work 2 hours longer than I normally do. Ah, gotta love the non-profit sector.

Today, and all of this week, I have had to interview a lot of people for the field organizing job. I don't mind doing interviews, but...like I said, I am really awkward at it. I don't really have social graces. More importantly...we don't have any spots available. So, we are just building up reserves. Which is totally fine. But, at the same time...I just feel like it is exploitative of the worker? There is clearly an employment crisis, and we are kind of milking it.

I don't know, maybe I just see desperation in the people I interview.

Also, I dressed like this for work today:

You'll be interviewing with me today.

I told all of the canvassers that this sweater vest was knit by my great grandmother after the Great Depression, whenever they were finally allowed to knit for peace. I actually used the phrase "knit for peace."

They believed it. And told me it was beautiful.

All of them.

Not ironically.

I interviewed a bunch of people, and 2 of the 4 had committed sexual assault on a child. One of them didn't know the girl was 14. One of them just did it. He was apologetic, but ugh....?

One of my interviews called in and said the following, "Yeah, so....ugh...I need to reschedule our interview today. I'm at the bar and got a pretty good buzz going on. And I ain't trying to lose that, ya know?" ....it was 10 in the morning.

I need a new job. Specifically one where I'm not helping people. #gradschoolmotivation

Ugly Christmas Sweater Party

2011-12-11T14:25:00.001-08:00

Friday night, I normally spend my night eating dinner with friends or having a few drinks. It's nothing amazing, just complaining about work and how I am ridiculously excited to apply to graduate school. Because, apparently, with a masters degree in international education policy, I'll be able to land my dream job of....trophy husband, where I can complain about everything over drinks throughout the week and won't need to wait until Friday night.

This Friday, I spent my night baking. Not a little baking. A metric fuck ton of baking. The amount of baking where people question if you are selling weed brownies from your apartment to supplement your trivial middle class income. (I'm not, don't worry Dad.)

On Friday night, I made 5 dozen of my own chocolate chip cookie recipe and 2 dozen gingerbread men.

On Saturday morning, I made 48 cupcakes into multiple designs. Most notably, peguins frolicking on icebergs.

Penguin and iceberg cupcakes? Fuck. Yeah.

In case you were wondering, those penguin cupcakes are four desserts in one: cupcake, mini-doughnut, thin-mint cookie, chocolate covered cherry (brains for the birds!). Everyone was afraid to eat them, until I drunkenly forced them.

On Saturday evening, I made forralt bor. Throwing it back to my Hungarian Fulbright days, where I was glamorous, had fancy visas, and frolicked my way through life teaching gender studies, I wanted people to get crunk. Because I'm not real Hungarian, I made up my own recipe that combined wine, cinnamon, powdered sugar, orange zest, and amaretto (cue Krakow disco story). And it was pretty amazing.

Though the party was slated to start at 8, folks started to come in at 8:30 and we had a pretty steady crew come in. In total, around 30 people came for the ugly christmas party sweater...and it was a lot of fun. I do wish that I made more mulled wine...and less cupcakes. But, dubs e.

For some reason, I decided to start to take pictures at 1 in the morning. So, this is what the party looked like from 1 AM to 2:00 AM.

It involved:

Ugly stocking sweaters....with hidden treasures!

An amazing photo wall. And gingerbread men.

Maggie is a photo wall whore.

Me dancing. And Krista dead.

It was a lot of fun. And cleaning up wasn't horrible this morning. Grown-ups finish their drink, so I didn't have to pour out every beer like I did in my SigEp days. And, there was only one drink spilled with a few really small stains. The rooms and I were pretty preventative and made sure to cover up the couch and move things that might get broken.

All in all, the party was successful. I had a lot of fun. I danced. People came. Everyone talked about my cupcakes, and I think that if anyone was going to throw a party, they would compare it to this party. And lose. And that's really all I want for Christmas.

Other than a wine rack. I really want a wine rack.

Occupy Denver

2011-12-08T20:53:00.000-08:00

My oh-so-awesome-job has granted me the ability to conduct interviews. I have no idea why they would have me do interviews. My social awkwardness is ridiculous and I can't imagine that I am able to put anyone at ease and trick them into liking the job. But, whatever, it's kind of interesting to do interviews. And, at the very least I now know what to do and not to do in an interview. (Although, because of the stupid Malcolm Gladwell books, I get so nervous about my body language and not shutting myself off to minority candidates. Blerg.)

Anyway, my organization decided that we wanted to capitalize on the Occupy Wall-Street protests. We have new recruitment campaigns that specifically targets those folks interested in the movement, with an admonition that they should fight for the 99%.

That's totally awesome, but the people at the Occupy Denver movement? Ugh....well.....I won't be inviting them to my unfortunate looking holiday clothing soiree. They are just...really passionate about the issue. Like super passionate. Like...let's not shower for a long time and live in the wilderness Walt-Whitman style passionate. And that's just not my bag.

Are they all crazy? Most certainly not. I do understand the frustration that all of the individuals feel and I do see how quickly the rights of workers have declined from my parent's generation to mine. It is true that not everyone is book-smart and that folks should be able to learn a living doing things that I can't (read fix my car or actually clean my toilet well), but at the same time I wonder if opportunities were ever better for these folks? My father was an electrician and he was able to pay for two cars, a mortgage, off his student loans, and still buy me a Sega at Christmas. (And a Sega whenever Segas costs way more than I comprehended.) Is that possible now? Well, I know that I wouldn't be able to do that with my white collar job now. In fact, every month is a really fun realization that I should just get a second job and not talk to my friends. (It'd be really financially responsible.)

I have been to the marches with Occupy Denver and I have even brought food to some of the folks working around there non-stop. (It combines my love of baking, social justice, and making others fat.) But, I don't feel like I am a part of the movement. At all. Nor do I think that I really want to be.

Do I think that marching through Denver screaming "Donna Martin graduates" is a good use of my political capacity or my Saturday afternoon (especially when I could be at brunch)? No. Not really. But, I do wish that these same people who are marching and taking to the streets were also registering to vote, moving their money to credit unions, not shopping at Wal-Mart, writing letters to the editor, and actually using a lot of the systems that we already have in place. True, it's difficult to effect change and make a great big difference...but organizing, mobilizing, and educating folks is definitely the right place to start.

Well, after a shower. You really need to shower.

The Joys of Manscaping

2011-12-01T21:21:00.001-08:00

manscaping (v) to groom a man. Shaving, waxing, cleaning up the superfluous fur.

After a month of being involved in the stupidity of no-shave November, I am thrilled to say that I have shaved off my beard, cut my hair, and done some other man-tenance.

Beard Growth from No-Shave November

December 1.

I don't know why I did No-Shave November, I don't think that I had false illusions about raising awareness for prostate cancer....but, it was kind of fun to grow a beard.

I'm never going to do it again. Well, not until I'm actually old. I feel like it made me look super old all the time, plus it was the technicolor dreamcoat of beards. I had red, blonde, gray, and brown hair growing all up over my face. That's weird.

What else is weird, but a lot more glorious? This conversation on Facebook.

Once again, my stories are all friggin' true....and it kind of makes my day that a random acquantaince that lives in a distant city saw me gyrating while running. The best part, BY FAR, is the fact that she knew the song that I was gyrating to....while passing me in a car. A-mazing.

God damn, life is feeling pretty good all fresh and so clean, clean.

Ugly Christmas Sweater Invitations

2011-11-29T18:38:00.001-08:00

First, before I begin any part of this blog: please note that my friend just got a colonic. And blogged about it. Read it, and learn the horrors of groupon for 20-somethings.

Anyway, one of my new goals in life is to be Martha Stewart. But, you know the yinzer dude version of her. I talk about this every time I go to a party, and bring red velvet cake or some elaborate cupcake design.

But, what does Martha do (outside of insider trading and baking)? She throws parties. And if I am going to be a Denver badass, I have to do the same.

So, with my roommate, we are going to throw an Ugly Christmas sweater party. Except, I guess because I'm in the progressive community, it should be a "looks challenged holiday clothing soiree."

Anyway, we decided that for this gathering, that we would go old-school. The rooms and I made ugly Christmas sweaters for invitations and mailed them out to a bunch of people. (Also, I am again navigating the schism between DTF and work friends to come ever closer to my surprise birthday party. Luckily, no one in Denver reads this...so...I'm golden.)

I made this!

Selection of the Rooms' invites

On the back of the invitations, I rewrote the introduction to the Grinch and it had all of our information on it.

Every Who down in Denver, liked Christmas a lot.

But James and his Rooms, who lived in the center of Denver---

DID NOT!

James and the Rooms hated Christmas!

The whole Christmas season!

Now, please don't ask why.

No one quite knows the reason.

It could be that their sweaters weren’t quite right.

It could be, perhaps, that their shoes were too tight.

But I think that the most likely reason of all

Was that their new Denver friends, rarely did call.

But, Whatever the reason, their heart or their shoes,

They stood there on December 10th, hating the Whos.

For they knew every Who through Denver and all around

Was busy now, with holiday joy soon to be found

Both the rooms and James sat in a row,

At 1200 Galapago.

Wishing that their friends would come and see their new sweaters,

For surely an evening could not be better.

At 8 in the evening, with wine glasses in tow

They ate their cookies, and hoped friends would show.

Thus dear friends, please come this winter season,

To enjoy libations and end their wicked Grinch treason!

Maybe they aren't perfect, but I feel like it's nice. Who gets a physical invitation anymore?

All I Want for Christmas...

2011-11-28T18:05:00.001-08:00

Every year, there is a look of consternation that passes around my poor family's face. What the fuck do we get the gypsy yinzer? Normally, I do some bullshit about not wanting anything for Christmas and how I only want world peace and goodwill towards men. Which is true. If world peace were on sale at Wal-Mart, I'd have my Dad pick up 2. But, alas, it's tough to get that shit....especially at everyday low prices.

So, my dear family and friends, what do I want for Christmas this year?

Here are things that I would be super pleased with:

1.) A Multi-zone DVD player. I don't even need a fancy one, I just want to be able to watch my shitty Spanish soap operas without my DVD player getting snarky with me.

2.) Some type of used or inexpensive Ipod that allows me to run with my Nike+. (Ipod Nano or Ipod Touch 2nd Generation) I need to something to sync with my Nike + thing, and I don't need a new Ipod at all.

3.) CorePower Yoga Gift Certificate. It'll make me healthy, and who doesn't want that?

4.) A trip to South America. I think there are groupons for it, too.

5.) A wine rack. I drink a lot of wine.

6.) Harvey's Bristol Cream. (see #5)

7.) Credit on my cell phone! (I have a fake Iphone: straight up AT&T Go Phone)

8.) My half-marathon registration for the Colfax Half-Marathon in Denver.

9.) A bomb.com watch, like this.

10.) Money. I have bills. And a lot of them.

Brunch + Shitting Your Pants

2011-11-26T18:29:00.001-08:00

Courtesy of my bomb.com super-secretive father that hates being on any type of website, I went home for Thanksgiving and got to see my family. It was really nice to go home and see everyone, especially because I haven't been home for 6 months. In the expat world, that's a drop in the proverbial hat. But, I'm in America. And, fuck it, I think it's been a while.

On the whole, my visit wasn't anything crazy. I ate too much. I watched television. I talked to a lot of folks...and I don't think that I went to Wal-Mart once. (A surprise for any yinzer.)

Getting back to the land of Black and Gold wasn't the easiest process. There was a ridiculous amount of turbulence. The kind in which we got thrown from side to side, and I was pretty sure that I was going to die. (One of my resounding thoughts. "My Dad is going to be so pissed that he invited me home for Thanksgiving. And he's going to have to call my Mom.")

Anyway, after one rather large jump, a putrid stench began to attack my nostrils. This stench... was as abhorent as General Sherman in the Civil War, ravaging the entire circumference of my nostrils and leaving me completely nauseus.

Where was this coming from? The man next to me.
Why? Because he shit his pants.
What? Yep, he shit. his. pants.

I know, it's tough to process. It was tough for me too.

Now, I'm not 100% sure that homeboy shit himself (no visible stains or like...other signs?). But, I'd be willing to give it pretty good odds. And he ran off the plane, which is totally circumstantial, but evidence nonetheless.

It wasn't the worst experience of my life. And I wasn't at fault, but it was the sickest that I have been on a flight in a long-time. But, seriously, can you imagine getting tossed around like laundry while smelling shit? It's not...pleasant.

80% sure that I was going to redo Oktoberfest and throw up all over ~~myself~~ the place, I eventually landed down in Pittsburgh and found my Dad. After spending the night there, I had Thanksgiving at his house and then drove home to surprise my Mom for her birthday/Thanksgiving. It was really shocking and she definitely didn't imagine that I would be there.

While I was at my mom's, folks started to talk about the Occupy Wall-Street movement. Denver has a really strong social protest at the moment, and so it has been on the local yinzer news quite a bit. My G-ma asked me if I went to the protests or knew people that did.

I said, "Ya know, I always feel really bougey whenever I see the Occupy movement, because I'm always going to brunch in a polo and drinking mimosas."

Things that you can pull from that sentence:
1.) I'm a dick. I used the word bougey when speaking to my grandma.
2.) I'm a dick. I drink mimosas.
3.) I'm a dick. Rather than talking about the opportunities that are being afforded by the Occupy movement, I distanced myself from it.

What did my grandma and family find hilarious about the sentence? That I go to brunch.

No. Really. They thought it was hilarious that I go to brunch and asked me questions about it. As a frequent bruncher, both in my home and at overpriced restaurants, I was really surprised that they didn't brunch. Who doesn't brunch? Ah yeah...true black and gold yinzers.

New mission: family brunch for Christmas.

Yinzer, please.

My Dad is Awesome

2011-11-22T16:17:00.001-08:00

Yesterday, I called my Dad and stumbled through the local supermarket to try to buy ingredients to make Indian food for Thanksgiving. Mainly, I was trying to find naan. Getting naan at any store other than Whole Foods seems to be practically impossible. So....my Dad got to hear really awkward conversations about my Indian food for Thanksgiving plans and how I was moderately pissed off that my clever plans of Indian food on Thanksgiving was all for naught...as naan was impossible to find.

Anyway, I mentioned to my Dad that I was off on Wednesday through Sunday. (I worked Sunday-Tuesday.) After my Dad heard this, we said goodbye and then he called me back 20 minutes later. He found a flight and offered to fly me home for the Thanksgiving holiday.

After some initial misgivings, I decided that it was stupid to stay at home on Thanksgiving when my Dad would pay for me to come home. So I booked my flight and am leaving tonight at 3 in the morning!

Life is amazing, and I'm super thankful that my Dad will pay for me to go home. Woo-hoo!

Friendsgiving

2011-11-21T20:07:00.000-08:00

I think that my generation was ridiculously influenced by the television show, "Friends." It was the border of not appropriate for children, but enough flew over our heads that our parents didn't seem to mind. Outside of the "we were on a break" line, the one thing that I remember from Friends is how awesome every Thanksgiving was. The group never went home, rather they bared the difficulty of a holiday in a great big city and had an amazing time...sometimes even dancing with turkeys on their head.

Thus, the birth of Friendsgiving: Thanksgiving without the crazy family and surrounded by friends in a new city.

This Saturday, my Denver group celebrated their own version of Friendsgiving and I had an absolutely amazing time.

I made two dishes:

Corn on the cob cupcakes

One is corn on the cob, the other is maiz. I was trying to be all festive/making due with my lack of colored jellybeans. Sophia and Brock were impressed. I felt happy to be noticed.

Macaroni Pie

Macaroni Pie is a straight up Harrell family tradition and only my Dad knows how to make it properly. (Actually, I'm pretty legit at it now.) As I was making it, I needed to confirm that I was doing all of the steps correctly (it's a super top family secret) and he explained to me how to finish it by discussing French cooking and things that I didn't understand. Mainly, I was confused as to how my Dad, the man who has been living in West Virginia for the past 16 years, knows anything about French cooking. Similair to Rihanna, I think he just found love in a hopeless place...and is overall a pretty bomb.com dude. Which, needless to say, confirms that I can never be a Dad. Because Dads know everything...including French cooking terms.

So, needless to say, I continued to be an awesome houseguest.
However, so did everyone else.
OMFG...apparently all of my friends are amazing cooks and just badass at life. I think that every family has that one thing they are amazing at...so we all brought our A-game. Needless to say, I completely binged on food that was amazing, fattening, and completely delicious.

About 1/2 of the table. Friendsgiving is amazing.

I also loved that everyone actually made something. One girl bought a cheap angel food cake from the store and it was so out of place that it was kind of...lovely? Everyone put a lot of time and energy into their food, so it was awesome to see everything.

Outside of amazing food, there was also an amazing selection of wine and beer. Did I drink two bottles of wine? Yes. Did the rooms have to drive me home? Yes. Did I have an amazing time with friends? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Look Krista is almost my size!

Rooms and I.

I swear to God, a lot of dudes were there. And I'm not as peervy in real life as I may appear.

A little more gender balanced? Kinda?

First time that I played beer pong/flip cup since university. Jesus, I'm old.

I am so grateful to have such amazing friends, and have really begun to respect them so much more...especially because I know that we are time limited. To thank the host, I bought him a t-shirt and wrapped it at my apartment's wrapping station. (We have a wrapping station. I'm aware that I'm paying too much in rent.) It was so nice to see his overwhelming joy and genuine happiness.

This Friendsgiving, I am especially thankful that I know so many genuine people in Denver and that I am able to lead the life that I do. It's not always the most fun, but I definitely am happy to have this "year off."

Paid Sick Decisions

2011-11-16T21:16:00.000-08:00

For the past two days, I have been home sick from work. Could I have gone into work? Probably, but I didn't feel 100%...and my boss recently complained to one of our field managers that I "complain too much about my job being stressful, it's super easy."

My job isn't mentally taxing, but that doesn't mean that I don't work for 40 hours a week. So, I decided to make sure that I felt 100% before coming back to work. Only fair, right? Besides, our paid sick days don't get paid out whenever we separate from our organization...so...I'm going to make sure that I use all of them.

As I was home sick, I decided that I am going to apply to graduate school for the academic year 2012-2013. (Only 2: The Global MSPPM at Heinz School and Harvard M.Ed. in International Education Policy)

I love the life that I have in Denver; I love that I am able to have a job with tons of friends, but I also know that I want to take a leadership role and that I want to really want to start a career where there is an opportunity to get a promotion or get more responsibility. My current job pays my bills (barely), but offers little growth for professional development or new opportunities.

If graduate school doesn't work out, then I'm still on a new adventure whenever my lease expires in August...what that is, I´m not 100% sure. (To show the extent of my crazy, I have even considered joining the Air Force as an Intelligence Officer.)

I'm going to be sad to leave Denver behind, but tengo corazón gitano. The more I´m here, the more I see how quickly I could settle in: invite friends over for brunch, date random people, and complain about my job over happy hour. But, you know, I don´t ever want to look back at my life at 30 and say, "I wish I had done more..." or "I wish I actually had visited all 7 continents..."

I'm always going to be made of equal parts wanderlust and Type-A crazy. I know that one day I should want to set down roots, but I have no desire for children or a significant other. Both of which take a lot less selfishness and time than I am ready to contribute to the world. And if that were to ever change, I am going to be the coolest fucking dad in the world. There I've said it.

Why You Should Invite Me To Your House Party

2011-11-14T13:58:00.000-08:00

On Sunday, I had a work event to go to and I had to make something to bring along with me. Since I recently had a pretty successful time with my red velvet cupcakes on election day (Recipe here), I decided to make a cake version.

Butter and sugar. God Bless America.

I put either too much flour or baking powder in it, because they didn't bake evenly at all, I had to cut off a huge chunk and throw it away.

I ran out of butter for frosting....so, it's not the best designed cake ever.

The fact that the "thanks" became one word, pissed me off.

So...I just made the whole top part orange.

The final version for the party. Those progressives better be impressed.

Let's just hope that everyone liked it!

Brunch + Zoo = My Saturday Morning

2011-11-13T06:00:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, Brock invited me to see his whole new adult life and have an awesome homemade dinner. To continue with this trend of being a grown-up and having grown-up food parties, I had folks come over for brunch and then head off to the zoo.

My attempt at grown-up brunch.

I made breakfast burritos, bought bagels from Panera, cut up some fruit, and made lemonade. 6 people came over and it was a really nice time. I'm doing my best to bring in people from different parts of my life. Right now, I feel that DTF people hang out together. My work friends hang out together. And sometimes the randoms that I know from other facets from my life only hang out with me. Slowly but surely, I am going to get groups together and someone is going to know everyone for when they throw me a surprise birthday.

Seriously, I want a fucking surprise birthday.
Not. Joking.

Anyway, after brunch 3 of us went off to the zoo. The Denver zoo has free days throughout the year and this was the last one that seemed to be warm enough to go without getting frostbite.

At the zoo, this is what we saw:

Apparently kangaroos have better chests than I ever could.

I still climb on things. And knock out small children to do it.

Sassy black bears that wear v-necks.

The differences of head bobbing in species. When I bob my head, it means I'm having a Night at the Roxbury type evening.

Birds (didn't poop on me.)

Sometimes, I force my friends to make seal noises. I support it.

After the zoo, I was exhausted and immediately fell asleep. Going out on Thursday and Friday, with a full day of work thrown in the mix and a morning full of talking to people and being kind...made me want to take a nap. And that nap quickly developed into a three hour slumber where I didn't get up until super late.

I woke up to text messages with invitations out, but all I really wanted to do was bake a cake, watch some shitty reality TV, and relax. So, that is what I did. My cake turned out pretty well, and it's going to get it's own blog post. Because I can devote entire blog posts to my awesome baking skills.

Grown Up Transitions

2011-11-12T00:30:00.000-08:00

There are times when I really enjoy this phase of my life. My life isn't real. I have a full-time job, no children, am not in a relationship...and I have no desire to have any of those things. The only possessions that I have are my wardrobe and computer, so at any point, I'm free to run off to another country, dance and then fly back to my homeland.

Wes and Max were excited about the matching dinner set.

On Friday, after 4 hours of sleep and a full day of work, I was ready to relax and take it easy. Yes, it was 11-11-11. Yes, I am young and carefree...but, ugh...I also feel old sometimes.

As I was contemplating a redbox movie and if I should eat chicken or a pizza, I got a call from Brock. Brock was excited that he just bought wine glasses, a couch, and plates. The glorious aspect of this entire call---is that I still haven't done those things and look forward to calling Brock and others when I hit that milestone.

Brock invited a few of us over for dinner and it was an amazing time. Brock bought an ice cream maker and it is seriously the most amazing fucking thing in the world. The entire dinner was awesome and then we all were able to scuttle over to Gov's Park Tavern and still make it for happy hour. After 4 beers, I was able to walk home...but was super proud that I was able to celebrate a new friend's transition into grown-up life.

1 Up/Dance off

2011-11-11T19:15:00.000-08:00

Because our organization has 14 branch offices throughout the US, we often have folks come in from out of town on a cross-train to learn about our branch and gain a tacit skill-set to take back with them to their home office. Since I have started working with my organization, we have had a total of three cross-trains.

These three cross-trains have made me feel like Goldilocks. Our first cross-train was too mean, our second was too happy, but our third was just right. (She was the only one that I have went out with for a night.) Since this cross-train peaced out for Philly today, we had one final hurrah on Thursday. (She had her actual final hurrah on Friday with people from the office, but I have made it a point to never hang out with people from work. All you do is complain about work and it makes me want to die.)

Anyway, Crosstrain and I went to 1 up. 1 Up is this bomb.com Denver bar that is filled with video game from my childhood, and other fun things like:

Double Dragon? And X-men? Dreams. Come. True.

Pin-Ball Machines.

...that are really scary up close. Especially when drunk.

Giant-sized Jenga? Woot!

After we had a fun night of video games, relatively inexpensive mixed drinks (where I taught the Crosstrain the importance of tipping---mom was a bartender and they work super hard.) We ran outside, bought some burritos from an illegal street vendor.

By "buying" burritos, I mean that I bartered with a tiny Hispanic man outside of Beta. I had a total of $4.21 on me, and I wanted two burritos. He had each burrito costing $3. I got both burritos for $4, I say that is a pretty solid deal. Thank you, masters in bilingualism...you work out for me when I need to haggle in Spanglish.

God bless late-night discount burritos.

After we had our burritos, we decided that we wanted to challenge folks to a dance off. So, off we went to Colfax, where we danced off with multiple other couples and kicked some major ass. We got home at 3:00 AM and then I was up 4 hours later for work. The Crosstrain got to come in at 11:00.

Grown-up incomes with collegiate attitudes? Life is glorious.

Being Thankful

2011-11-08T19:50:00.000-08:00

Have you ever thanked someone for doing their job? Actually sat down and wrote a card for all of the hard work that pretty much everyone puts in everyday? I hadn't either, until this week.

As I said before, we lost our election...horribly. You know what sucks after losing hardcore? Getting up, going to work, and continuing to fight for progressive public policies that benefit the middle class. So, I did what I thought was the normal thing to do: I thanked our state director and MC Activism for working so hard on our campaign and going above and beyond the call of duty/40 hour workweek.

I sent both of them a thank you card, and both of them replied with the nicest and sweetest notes ever. It made my day, and hopefully it'll inspire you to be thankful (especially given this time of year).

Hi Darling,

I just got your thank you card in the mail! OMG, you are the SWEETEST, most amazing person ever. Thank you for the thank you, it means a lot.
I think you're one of the smartest, most savvy, passionate, people in the CO movement and we're so lucky to have you on our side.
I want more and more people to meet and get to know you. I want everyone to see the amazing work you do and the incredible potential you have to really make a difference in your community.
I am so lucky to work with you. Thank you for being there when I need to vent. Thank you for being there when I need to laugh. And most importantly, thank you for being there when I need a delicious, homemade red velvet cupcake.
You are amazing!
-MC Activism.

Warm fuzzies? Yep, got 'em. :)

Autumn in Denver

2011-11-07T00:30:00.000-08:00

Autumn is quickly changing into winter here in Denver. I'm making sure to savor the last few days of autumn bliss by jumping into leaf piles and doing a pilates workout.

The world is beautiful, you just have to find it sometimes.

Transitions

2011-11-06T14:32:00.000-08:00

I am really bad at transitions. If the weather changes or my work schedule is off a bit, I suddenly have no idea what to do with my life. I forget things, I don't work out...and I always want to eat red meat. (Weird, right?)

The Crosstrain and I, post Church and Benny Blanco.

Anyway, since election day I have felt pretty similar to when I finished the Denver half. Well, that's not entirely true. I have had the overwhelming to go out and drink with people...and that's just what I have been doing.

Last night was daylight savings time, and I went out with our office's crosstrain from Philadelphia. We went to Church, a club in Denver that is housed in a former (you guessed it) church. It's awesome that it is super close to my house and that it's really easy to pregame and peace out for the night. The best part of last night? We totally got an extra hour of awkward dancing time because of daylight savings time. Mr. Franklin, I knew you were thinking out for me.

Post a night of Church, we went to my favorite dive pizza place in Denver, Benny Blanco. The crosstrain really wanted some apple juice and wouldn't get any pizza. I tried to convey to her that this was a bad choice, but alas drunk girls never take my advice.

We started to walk back to my flat, and she asked for some pizza. I gave her some and in the middle of the street and said:

"James, you are absolutely amazing."
"Ugh....thanks. Why?"
"Because you have been walking with me this entire time, and you didn't even let on that you were orgasming. Jesus, this pizza is fucking good."
I felt validated.

Also, further validation from the night: Crosstrain confirmed that I was an awesome dancer. That pretty much made my day. Dancing compliments from a black girl from Hotlanta? I'm legit now. I might even put it on my resume, I'm not 100% sure yet.

Another super amazing thing happened to me on Saturday; my roommate's mom sent me a card! And the card had Starbucks giftcards in it ($25!), and there was a super kind note about how awesome I was. Isn't that amazing? It truly made my day, and I was really excited to send her a thank-you note.

All of the cards I have received since coming to Denver, the blue sparkly one is the newest addition.

I have been super lazy this weekend, but I kind of don't mind it so much. (Actually, this weekend I have: written 2 letters of recommendation, proofed two scholarship essays, and started to do resume work with 4 people. For someone who never studied English, I get befuddled by the amount of time that I spend working on career readiness materials.)

Since I do commit to physical fitness and have a pretty structured life of work, exercise, and studying...it's really nice to have some time where I watch television and eat nachos. On Monday, I'll be a little bit more structured. But, for now, well...there's a new episode of Pan Am on Hulu.

Election Day

2011-11-03T17:42:00.000-07:00

My life is slowly picking itself up from the shambles that was election day in Denver. Why is that? Because election day is ridiculously intense if you work in politics.

Denver did not vote for paid sick days. Or to support education. Or for...uhm...anything progressive. Progressives got their asses handed to them. Which sucks. For me. Right now. I might turn into a Republican, especially given my penchant for nice things.

Anyway, here's a shot of what election day looks like:

5 AM: Stare at alarm clock. Realize that you are not getting up to work out today.

6:30 AM: Actually get up to get ready. When dressing, make sure to look as white and unpretentiously wealthy as possible (i.e. blue suede shoes and a sweet Members only jacket).

7:15: Leave to pick up the catering order for the office. Make sure to bring the awesome shit that you made the night before.

I made really awesome red velvet cupcakes for the crew. Everyone loved them. I felt accomplished for making red velvet. (Recipe here.) Also, do I have a large carrying case for my cupcakes? Yep. I do.

7:58: Arrive in office.

8:28: Submit election reporting to east coast for processing. Pray that you didn't mess anything up, because that shit is too important.

9:00: Deadlines start. Sweet.

10:30: Crew arrives. Smile and act like you aren't stressed.

11:00: Briefing from state director, a lot of woo-ing occurs. Sometimes, I don't feel like woo-ing. Whenever I have bagels w/ cream cheese and bomb.com cupcakes, I do woot. And I woot like a mother fucker.

11:15: Get out the vote.

If you don't know what that means, basically, I went to targeted communities and knocked on a bunch of people's doors, asking them if they had voted and if so, how. We engage in 1-5 minute dialogues and then I peace out. It's interesting.

Also, Spanish-speakers totally tried to get out of talking to me. Pero, yo puedo hablar contigo en español. Soy blanco, pero vale ya.

15:00: Lunch with MC Activism.

Turkish food. Gah...I miss Istanbul.

MC Activism. God bless that putita.

Lunch with MC Activism was super amazing. Mainly, because we got bomb.com Turkish food. Seriously, there was schwarma and dolma and everything golden in the world. It was $11, which seems a little pricey for a placed named Garbanzo, but it was sooooo good.

15:30 GOTV, round 2.

During this section of the day, I had the following interaction:

Me: "Hi my name is James, I'm part of Campaign for a Healthy Denver. Are you Cynthia?"
Cynthia: "No, dahhhhhhhhhling. Cynthia doesn't live here anymore."
Me: "Oh, okay, sorr---"
Cynthia: "She's touring Europe now. She's based in Frahnce."
Me: "Oh, France? That's exciting."
Cynthia: "Frahnce. She hasn't lived here in 25 years. Now, I must get back to my hair, dahhhhling."

Later, in the night a small boy ran up to me and screamed to his mother that he wanted my shoes. I felt badass in the moment, now I wonder if he was trying to get her to rob me. Kids today.

19:00-Return to office

20:00-Complete election reporting

20:30-Go to the really awkward campaign party, where everyone knows that we lost...really, really badly.

20:45-Get a drink.

20:46-Realize that there are people who make way more money than me and that they should buy me drinks.

20:52-Get purchased round of shots. Win.

21:42: Have the DJ play "teach me how to Dougie." Teach politicos how to Dougie.

21:44: Make new friends, make them buy me drinks.

22:00-Put on a giant germ costume and gyrate to Shakira.

Sick Rick dancing.

1:00-Quit dancing, go home.

So----all of the work that I did since I first started working with my organization was for naught. It really sucks to know that the workers of Denver aren't going to have the right to earn paid sick days and that big business won...again.

It is awesome to know that I kick-ass at all aspects of managing my job during election season, and that I can get a group of progressives to buy me drinks and dance with me all night---even when they are sad. That's what I like to call: a silver lining.

Weekend in Review: Halloween Budget Edition

2011-10-30T15:05:00.000-07:00

Like I say every single time I get around to blogging, I am both bad at being a grown up and am super busy with election work. Very fortunately, I will be done with this election on November 1st. Let's hope that Initiative 300 passes and the city of Denver is filled with paid sick days.

This weekend was filled with Halloween festivities and it was absolutely amazing. However, this year was my Halloween on a budget. I spent a lot more going out last month than I thought. Dating/having friends is not suitable for my salary.

Friday:

A group of my friends decided to go to a concert. I was invited, but tickets were $40. Since I didn't want to spend $40 listening to indie music and basking in my overinflated ego/music taste, I decided to invite some other people to come over to my house to watch scary movies and relax. Wes and Brock came over, and we didn't end up watching any movies. We talked for 4 hours and drank 5 bottles of wine. (Side note: I buy wine in bulk. Not a joke.)

Halfway through the night, I made them their Halloween costumes. Neither of them was surprised.

Total Cost:
$3.23 Redbox movies
$6.00 pizza/crunch 'n munch

Saturday:

I spent my morning exercising and not eating in an attempt to look more physically fit for my Halloween costume. Healthy? Not even a little, but..we can move past it.

I also did some returning. A lot of it. No one is getting a Christmas present this year. Deal with it, family.

At 6, I started to get my costume put together. It took me about 2 hours to get the final version, because I kept going through different versions and trying to look the best I could. Alas, I came up with this:

White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland

That was the best picture of my costume, and I took it quickly to have two people validate that my costume was okay. Strange? Yes. But, I had really gone through a ton of make-up and white body shit to choose this iteration. So, I needed some confirmation...in addition to my daily validation.

I had a pre-game at my house and a bunch of DTF folks came. I guess I should start hanging out with people at my current job too. Dubs e.

Costumes I made:

Robert Goulet and D-Vine

The guy from LMFAO.

Everyone at my house was supposed to be dressed up as Alice in Wonderland characters. 3 did. I support it.

Alice in Wonderland costumes.

Around 11:00 PM, we all went off to different areas. I met up with another group of friends that were more on a clubbing/dancing all night kick. And that's what I did.

Total Cost:

$0.00-hey free drinks, whaddup?

Sunday:

My Sunday was spent cleaning, doing yoga, baking cupcakes, and organizing my apartment.

Life seems balanced.

Zombie Scavenger Hunt

2011-10-24T01:00:00.000-07:00

I try to avoid online smack-talking. Because, let's be honest...things can get really quickly misconstrued on the Interwebs. Assuming you don't tell Pittsburgh, I'm totally going to say it: Denver kicks some ass.

On Saturday, October 22nd I did the Organ Trail. A zombie scavenger hunt around Denver? Yep, that is just how I want to spend my Saturday.

Basically, the Organ Trail required that groups between of 2-6 people ran around Denver in zombie costumes, participated in random challenges, and then ran back to the base. It was such a good time, and I'm so happy that I schlepped out the $30 to do it.

The best part? I did my zombie costume myself, and I am pretty proud of it. The highlight, which you can't really see that well are my red eyes. Red contacts? Best purchase of my September.

My costume. I always get worried that a zombie will attack me when running, so this made sense.

Our team! Thank god for grad school friends.

The race started at 11:30 AM and it was supposed to last until around 2:00 PM. There were a total of 11 challenges that we had to complete, and our team only got to complete 6. It's totally okay though, because we didn't cheat and use anything other than our feet....and some of the challenges were ridiculosusly far away. Seriously, Lodo to the Highlands? Ugh...my marathon isn't for a while.

Us at the end of the race: we were dead tired.

I think that the best part of the whole thing was seeing everyone else's costumes. Don't get me wrong, my costume was pretty awesome. But, there were definitely some people and groups that stole the show.

Zombie prom. I really kind of just wanted to be their friend.

Apparently, you can have Daddy issues even when dead.

Zombie nerds/boy band?

If you're in Denver, you definitely should go next year. I think it's also amazing to go to a bar and see every single person...dead. Brutally.

The Organ Trail lead into the Zombie Crawl. It was huge and fun and had about 30,000 people dressed as zombies. Amazing. Definitely only a Denver thing...and a great Saturday.

Week in Review: 10/17 - 10/21

2011-10-23T20:10:00.000-07:00

Life is pretty hectic here in Denver. I am currently in campaign season, which means that I have a lot more responsibility on my plate. Campaigns kind of suck, because it's a lot of pressure...and not like deadline pressure. I'm great with that. It's the compliance-with-the-law-so-that-my- organization-can-continue-to-exist pressure that gets to me.

Monday:

Monday evening was spent at a dinner party with friends. My friend just got an amazing job in sales with Vertex Engineering. It's pretty awesome, and it's really great to see someone move to a new city and get a career within a few months. I guess, I did the same thing too. But, it's cool to see someone succeed. AND she can bake/cook like a mother fucker. Seriously, being friends is the best choice I have ever made.

After an amazing dinner with friends, I came home to find a care package from Chrissy. The care package was bomb.com for several reasons. First, it was a complete surprise and I had no idea that it was coming. Second, it was filled with lots of really amazing things--namely a new tie, 'N Sync cds, and hippie food. It was beautiful. Thanks, Chrissy!

Free political t-shirt? Thanks, Planned Parenthood!

Tuesday:

I volunteered with Planned Parenthood. In particulair, I phonebanked folks in Mississippi to make sure that Initiative 26 wouldn't pass. Initiative 26 creates a new definition of life in Mississippi, so that ANY fertilized egg is a human.

What does this mean? Pregnant women can ride in the car pool lane. In-vitro fertilization is illegal. Oh, and if a woman has a miscarriage, she could be tried for murder.

The whole initiative creates a ton of legal problems for an in-debt state, and seriously inhibits a women's right to choose. Ugh...and that's something that I support.

The volunteering experience was nice, but I felt that too much of it was a cultivation and veneration of the volunteers. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy that I got so much free things...but, I volunteer because I care about the issues. Not because I want a t-shirt. (Although, a bright pink t-shirt is always welcome.)

Wednesday:

I went to French class. I really need to start practicing in my free-time and incorporating study-time into my weekly schedule. It's tough to manage all of this, and I lack motivation. I don't find my teacher all that amazing, which makes me sad. My new goal will be to study: 3-5 hours outside of class.

I also sent out another karma diary, specifically a CMU version. I'm pretty excited about it....let's just hope that other people enjoy this project.

Thursday:

I went to a seminar to learn more about teaching at a private English language academy. I got a call-back to go in for a second round interview, and I'm really excited to go and teach my own class again. Plus, I think that I would be able to teach mostly in Spanish and actually cultivate one of my skill-sets. To be honest, I feel that both my quantitative and foreign language skill sets are slowly declining. :(

Friday:

I had a quiet day and stayed in for the night. I had a really intense stomach ache (from Chrissy's hippie food) and just wanted to rest before my big race on Saturday.

Throughout the week, I also finished 3 books:

Sway: The Irresistible Pull of Irrational Behavior.
Dead Until Dark: Sookie Stackhouse 4
Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother

Total Books for 2011: 23

Sway was a really good review of my undergraduate degree. If someone had never researched or studied Social and Decision Sciences, it is really good. The biases were really interesting to read about.

Potentially the best book to read was Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. Mainly, because I was raised by a tiger father, and I fully intend on raising my children in the exact same standards. You know what? Kids do need high expectations. They do need people to be with them and support them, but also challenge them to new expectations. Hopefully teachers do that, but at it's core, that is the parental responsibility. Will I force my kids to study music? No. But, I'll be damned if they are going to come home and play video games or watch television.

S is for....

2011-10-16T20:44:00.000-07:00

Some Sundays, succinctly put, are superb. Similar to Sesame Street, I now present to you Sunday sponsored by the letter S.

S is for.....Saving.

Nothing beats a good Sunday morning filled with reading the morning paper and coupon clipping. My father may find it disdainful, but I love cutting coupons. It's weird, and I know that it is. But, today, I got a coupon for a free Dr. Pepper 10 and 75 cents off a variety of products. If I go during a double coupon day...oh my god, the savings......

S is for....Starbucks.

Since Spend Free September, I have made sure to be a little bit stricter with my budget. (Spend Free September reminded me of a cardinal teaching principle: I need to have a baseline before I make overly ambitious goals. I will use this time to develop that baseline.) But, in September, I limited my going out to Starbucks.

September is over. And I can think of no better way than going to Starbucks, purchasing a venti java chip frappachino with soy milk and an expresso shot. It's pretty amazing, and now you know my Starbucks, in case you want to throw some kindness my way.

S is for....Swan Lake.

Direct Pandering to Black Swan.

I'm not going to lie, I'm probably the classiest yinzer you know. For real, sometimes when I'm mad stressed I listen to some Chopin. And, just for fun, I memorize pointless facts about Picasso's Guernica. Dubs e.

Okay, so I guess I'm somewhat cultured. But, every time that I go to a high culture event, I'm always amazed at what I know and what I don't know. Today, I went to the ballet, specifically to see Swan Lake.

Swan Lake piqued my curiosity since I went to see Black Swan. I was in Hungary, trapped in a post-communist life of death threats and travels to foreign places, and I thought that it was amazing. Well, I thought that Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis were amazing. And the dancing was pretty cool.

So, when Swan Lake debuted in Denver, I decided to get all classy and go to the ballet with my roommate.

The ballet was amazing, and the principles were ridiculously talented. Odette (the white/black swan) was crazy. I don't think that anyone should be able to move like that. Going on point is badass enough, but doing this weird upper-thigh flutter thing is just batshit. Homegirl was awesome, and it was cool to watch her float and just kind of embody grace.

Semi-badonk in this pic?

Rooms and I were not as graceful.

Afterwards, Kayla and I tried to be graceful and poignant. I find these photos tragically beautiful. And I enjoy my bowtie/belt/shoe combo.

S is for...Sushi.

After Swan Lake, I had sushi and Naked Juice. Seriously, sushi is one of my favorite foods...and it was such a good capstone to my day. Further fun fact to randos reading this blog: if you ever want into my heart, ask me to sushi. Or, oh my god, MAKE me sushi. (I forgot that was possible.)

S is for....summaries.

Sometimes, life is pretty great. This past week, I have been kind of in a down phase. But, I am really sure that this week is going to be on an upswing. Namely, because I am going to be ridiculously type-A and am going to make a list of things to get me back into the groove. It doesn't take much to make me feel all awesome again, especially when you can start your week with a pretty sweet day.

Swan Lake program, coupons, sushi....all the makings of a good Sunday.

Bring it, Monday.

Living Social Saturday

2011-10-15T19:40:00.000-07:00

I'm a sucker for a bargain. Better put, I'm a sucker for a perceived bargain. 50% off? I'll take 17. I'm
aware that I'm a college educated smarty pants that knows more about cognitive bias than anyone ever should...but, I also know that I love me some nice things at everyday low prices.

But, life on a budget...kind of prohibits these forays into the glamorous life. Unless, I get some kind of a deal. And that's where Groupon comes in. Or Living Social. Or the Denver Daily Deal. Or the Westword Daily Deal. Or pretty much any of the numerous daily web sites I use to save some money in my tiny little slice of the mile high city.

Bottomless Mimosas-God Bless America.

Though I am on all of the daily deal websites, I don't think that I abuse the websites too much. Mainly, if there are things that I think I will use or places that I go to anyway, I will make sure that I buy it...and then laugh all the way to the bank.

Today, I did all of my daily activities primarily from Living Social coupons. What does this mean in practical terms? Basically, I went to places that I normally wouldn't go because they are cost prohibitive....and then spent a lot of money at these places (even with the discount).

First, I went to brunch with a friend from graduate school. She is currently teaching in Denver and is super busy. So, it was great to see her.

Grad school brunch in Spanglish.

But, it was also awesome to get bottomless mimosas. Sure, they were $12. But, they gave you this little jug (what's the classy word for jug?) that you could fill up and get drunk quickly.

I drank 15 mimosas.
Life was beautiful.
And...I got to speak in Spanish.

Slightly tipsy, I decided that I wanted to go to Whole Foods. I never go to Whole Foods, because Whole Foods is a whole paycheck. Don't get me wrong, I really do value organic produce, and I love the wide selection of ethnic foods that are really difficult to come by at a normal super market...but holy fuck, that place is ridic. Give me a Trader Joe's anyday. (There isn't one in Denver. Score one for Pittsburgh. Score two for the ones with wine in DC.)

But, alas, I had a deal, a backpack, and an Ipod that rocked out Nicki Minaj.

Now, I normally make a list whenever I go to the supermarket, because I want to see everything and make everything very logical.

At Whole Foods, I just bought a crazy amount of sauces, cheese, and chips.

I bought 4 bottles of various ethnic sauces. For some reason, whenever I was at the ethnic sauce selection, I really convinced myself that I was going to invite people over to my house, and we were all going to eat ethnic food and talk about worldly issues.

And....this is why I don't have nice things.

No me apetece

2011-10-12T20:03:00.000-07:00

For some reason, this week has been characterized by the Spanish phrase, "no me apetece." Translated, this phrase means "I do not want," but I tend to cognitively define it as, "It doesn't appease me."

I like my translation more.

This week, I just haven't had the desire to do anything. At all. And it's kind of weird. And...this week hasn't been bad, by any stretch of the imagination.

First, I started a new blog/social art project. It's called the Karma Diary. It is my version of Pay It Forward...if it weren't anonymous and was on a blog. In either sense, I had my first guest post. For every 5 guest posts, I am going to send out another karma diary. I don't know if I'll ever reach 5 guest posts, but I really would like it.

Second, I got my photos from the marathon. And they were so much better than the one from Prague.

Final Stretch

Finishing the half-marathon

Post-Marathon Medal Happiness

I actually didn't hate on these pictures too much, which is something that I like to do...hate on my photos.

I did watch the video of me coming in for the final stretch and apparently I run like a partially retarded Frankenstein. I kind of want someone to watch my running and help me make it a little bit more streamlined. My time is okay, especially for my lack of practice, but it would be nice to actually be good at something athletic.

So...really nothing bad happened, but I just haven't felt at the top of my game. My legs were super sore Monday and kind of prohibited me from rocking...and I slept 11 hours yesterday? Which I don't normally do.

Let's hope that this weekend I'll start to fill back to normal. Well, that and payday is coming up. Payday is always nice.

2nd Half Marathon: New PR

2011-10-09T16:26:00.000-07:00

Today was an awesome day, especially since it was supposed to be a cold and rainy day. Why is today so awesome? Because I gotz me a shiny new medal.

Denver Rock 'N Roll Half Marathon Finisher Medal

Today I finished the Denver Half Marathon and it was a really good experience. I feel so experienced since I ran my first half marathon nearly 7 months ago. I was supposed to run the half with a group of teaching fellows, but ugh....they all backed out. I had already signed up and decided to avoid my economic training and note the sunk costs.

I didn't really prep for the race at all--other than the weekly Irish Snug Run and things like Fans on the Field. I work out everyday, but the mileage that I got since moving to Denver has been virtually non-existent. What I have been doing is eating a lot of pizza and drinking beer. So...my training plan was just a skosh different than that of my uncle's wife.

I decided that I wanted to run at 1:45, which puts me at 8 minute miles. Unfortunately, with my lack of training, I didn't quite make that. But...I was pretty close!

I ran a 1:46.41, which put me at 8:09 minute/mile. I was surprised by how well I was able to feel during the course of the race. The course wasn't particularly hilly, which was very nice and the Rock 'n Roll people really know how to put on a marathon. Each mile had the official time. There were tons of pacers. The music was probably good, but not quite as awesome as the sweet playlist that I had on my Ipod.

The best part was that I was able to walk home, shower, make a sign for one of my friends from graduate school (running the full marathon), eat a burrito and then go shopping with my roommate, all before 3 PM

My roommate and I with our sign for Jess.

Jess with sign.

Overall, today was a beautiful day--sunny when it needed to be, filled with really good friends, and a bit of Spanglish. The best part: my legs aren't killing me. (They don't feel good, but they don't feel dead either.) All in all, I wouldn't have changed too much about today. Only the time. I would have actually liked to have hit 1:45.00, but alas a new personal record (7 minutes quicker) is still pretty awesome. And I finished in the top 25% for runners in my division. Sa-weet.

Final Stats:
Time: 1:46.41
Avg. Pace: 8:09 mile
Division Place: 38/154 (24.67%)
Gender Place: 549/2941 (18.67%)
Overall Place: 839/8939 (9.4%)

So, overall I'm in the top 10% of runners. This + calls telling me that I'm athletic from Chrissy pretty much make my day.

Why I'm Bad at My Job: Fundraising Issues

2011-10-06T19:49:00.000-07:00

I am part of the progressive movement in Colorado. Feel jealous? Yeah, I would be too. I don't take any part of my life seriously, so it seems really fake that I could eventually work my way up to becoming a decision maker in Colorado politics.

Because I have ganas de volver, I never go above and beyond. My type-A personality is seeking intellectual stimulation by taking French classes and going to Spanish meet-ups. The likelihood that I will advance in my career is pretty slim, given my shitty work ethic and shittier attitude. (Don't get me wrong, I'm still doing my job...and doing it well....but, it's not the best that it could be. I could work exponentially harder. I know that. Whether my employer does is an entirely different issue.)

Anyway, since I am one of the three managers for my organization, I get invited to go to events and represent the progressive labor movement, blattity blah blah. Now, I should go. And I should network. As I said before, my Carnegie Mellon network helped me get tons of job interviews immediately following my abrupt and shitty end to the Denver Teaching Fuckers.

But my organization got a table at the Colorado Progressive Coalition's breakfast fundraiser. I spoke with the state director and he assured me that I would just be filler, namely rich people give a lot of money to make sure that people show up and look pretty. Or progressive. Or both? I don't know.

There was breakfast, and I wasn't pleased with it. I missed my morning workout/meal for this and I may have been feeling a bit snarky. But, the orange juice was watered down, the coffee had no soy milk for it, and the breakfast burrito was shit compared to the delicious Mexican stand next to my place. The speakers were good, but they were mainly focused on issues that didn't light my fire...namely financial reform.

Financial reform is legit and I think that something needs to be done, but I never had any problems. I'm in super debt and will be all my life, but I feel like that's just how Americans roll. We come with baggage, both emotionally and in the student loan/fancy-clothes-sushi-eating-credit-card debt variety. Is that so bad? No. But, you are also talking to someone who refuses to buy a bed and is still sleeping with a sleeping bag and air mattress.

At the end of the breakfast, there was the ask. And the ask was a range spec between $120-$250. Holy fuck my face. I don't have anything near that semblance of money.

So, I did what every clever yinzer would do: I wrote down my credit card number wrong, didn't sign my name, wrote the security card backwards and wrote down the wrong phone number. Then, I quickly ran away and talked about deadlines. Progressives have deadlines.

I will say this: I have been to a lot of fancy charity things in my life. This was not my favorite, by any means...and the majority of the awesome ones have been conservative with super rich people. Talk shit on what you may, but rich people know how to get drunk, give money, and then dance/make awkwardly racist comments. I miss those days.

How the Real World Validated my life

2011-10-05T22:19:00.000-07:00

For those of you that know me, you know that I am equal parts batshit crazy and Type-A ivy-league go-getter. For the street creds of being the Type A guy: I have it down. I went to a top 25 school (Carnegie Mellon, what, what), I worked for the UN, won a Fulbright, you know...did EVERYTHING that you were supposed to do that would provide me with a series of credentials to...land a job after getting fired from the one that I moved back to America for.

But, I never had an awesome thing that validated that I was crazy. I don't have an arrest record. I don't have paystubs from moonlighting as a stripper, and my parents are the one with the monkey...I'm just the one that lives with people who have it. So, on my never-ending quest for external validation, I decided to apply for the Real-World.

Applying for the Real World is ridiculously intense. The first step was to submit a bio and photos of yourself, and I made it past this round and got a VIP pass to go and audition in person.

Complaining about how far the audition was, I hopped in my car and drove off to see what could happen. I firmly believe in adventure and always asking "why not." (I can assure that Robert Kennedy probably was looking at my life on the real world when he said that famous quotation.)

I went to the audition..and it was a madhouse. Seriously, there were so many people there that it was fucking disgusting. Thank God I had the VIP pass because I jumped in front of everyone in line and was able to get in and audition in about 45 minutes of my arrival.

Whenever I was there, it was really strange to meet all of the other people auditioning. They were all so... similarly unique. I genuinely find myself unique. Do I think that I am the smartest, best-looking, funniest, any superlative? No, not really. But, I believe that my high range of various aptitudes and awesome life experience make me a pretty unique dude. I guess, externally, this allows me to take some liberties with how I dress and act.

Fucking everyone was ridiculously stylish and aloof at the interviews. The majority of girls had their titties pushed up to show off their Slovakian whore ancestry and all of the boys were super hipster-tastic. (Now, if you google Denver hipsters, my picture is in the top 10. So, Google even finds me awesome at all things hipster, but these homeboys were attempting to steal my thunder and clothing choices.)

I went in with a group of 9 other people and a casting director asked us two questions: "Tell me about yourself" and "If your life were a movie, what would it be called?" After that, she thanked us and told us that a lot of people audition several times or in multiple cities if it doesn't work out. She then asked two people to stay behind and fill out paperwork. The black guy should totally be on the show, the other guy? Well, I don't do the casting.

Now, normally, I would be pretty bummed about now. After all, this is just another way that America kicked me in the face when it was already crossing off dreams---you know reality TV was as equally ranked as solving the achievement gap. (Well, maybe one was a bit higher...) But, as I was talking to everyone in the line, I was amazed at how.....much of a fuck-up they were. Seriously, I was the only that had graduated college. The only one who had a full-time job, and the only one that didn't actually need reality television to be something with their life. (However, the people on the current San Diego season went to Stanford and Middlebury. How did they get past the cattle call?)

In any case, I won't be on reality TV anytime soon. I do still have a full-time job, ambition, and the ability to move to Korea at the drop of a hat. So, thank you Real World, you made me feel a lot more put-together...and that's not nearly as bad as I thought it would be.

Into the Wilderness I: Debby Does Denver

2011-10-02T16:42:00.000-07:00

My family lives on a huge farm outside of Chester, West Virginia. Chester? The Chester, West Virginia? Yes, I live on the outskirts of the world's largest teapot with a zebra, a camel, and a monkey. I know, I know, I'm kind of a big deal.

(If anyone asks, I say I'm from Pittsburgh. The city. And that I have never been to West Virginia. Despite the wild and wonderful slogan which also pretty easily sums up my life as well.)

Anyway, even though I spent a great deal of time on a farm. I suck at all things outdoorsy. I'm not good at them. Mother nature and I are not on friendly terms. She hates me. And to be honest, the bitch really isn't my favorite either. I would much rather be driving my car, dancing to Miley Cyrus, drinking a Starbucks, and trying to find parking for my bottomless mimosa brunch.

Alas, I live in Denver. And Denver is fucking healthy. Yinzers, I warn you: it is dangerous to celebrate our culture. My delicious pierogies, Klondike bars, and salads with french fries have been replaced with granola, organic produce, and french-fry free salads. I know, I know. I'm emotional too.

So, since I'm living in this strange city, I decided that I should partake in the culture and go hiking. In nature. Like with plants and shit.

My roommate and I met up with our friend, Rachel and off we drove to Red Rocks. Red Rocks was beautiful, and I thought to myself, "Ah..this is what normal people do. I can be normal. Weird things don't happen to me."

The Rooms and I in Red Rocks.

Then I walked onto the set of a porn. Not a joke.

Kayla and Rachel just walked right past it, but I reacted. I mean:

Two women
In underwear
with that connecty dinger from stocking to thongs
with a photographer
in a public park.

Wouldn't that give you, I don't know...momentary pause? I mean, not everyone has to blog about it, but the people that are hiking with me have to acknowledge it, take pictures of it, and stop trying to find lizards or whatever you do on a hike.

Cleverly, and with more slyness than any of the foxes dotting around Red Rocks, I decided to pose for a picture in front of the shitty natural scenery and the awesome plastic scenery. (Get the boob job reference, there?)

I found this to be the most awkward photo of all taken. I love it.

My plan did not work. As Kayla attempted to take pictures of me in front of them, they had a natural shield in the form of photographers....including another separate group that was going to get their family portrait done. God, nothing says awesome like a group of upper-middle class western folks in matching black tops and jeans walking past a group of girls with Daddy Issues and a photographer trying to exploit them.

The whole situation was amazingly awkward and I loved it. I think it is the only way that I could have survived a hike.

Afterward, the rooms and I continued our roommate date by going to Rio's, the land of glorious margaritas and free things. This time we got a free appetizer and the server was awesome..again! Seriously, it is amazing. If you are in Denver, go. With me.

Even without the awkward porn walk-ins and free queso, life is pretty good. But, you know, its even better with it.

When I say O, you say BAMA!

2011-10-01T19:15:00.000-07:00

I am being super-secretive about my employer, just in case they were to ever read this blog...but, I work for an NGO that focuses on labor legislation and ensuring that all workers have access to good jobs with good benefits. Sometimes, my job isn't the best: I spend a lot of time processing paperwork, triple checking work, correcting mistakes, doing data analysis, and doing interviews. But, sometimes my job is bomb.com...like, when I get to see Obama. VIP style.

Read that sentence fragment again because....shit. be. real. OBAMA... all up in my Denver biz-nass.

VIP tickets for Obama. No Big.

Obama is currently promoting the American Jobs Act, an act which pretty much directly correlates with my NGO's mission. It taxes the super rich (a group of 60,000 people) at a higher tax rate, works to increase infrastructure jobs, and also helps fund education initiatives. It's pretty fucking awesome, and I'm supporting it. Well, especially given the aim of my NGO and the fact that I am getting paid to support it. (Err...well, I will be getting paid to support it soon.)

So, I downplay my organization a little bit, but it is one of the largest in America, especially given it's relative newness to the whole community organizing scene. So Papa 'Bama slipped some VIP tickets our way, and because I'm a manager, I gotz me one.

I was pretty pumped to go, even though the line to get in was 3.5 days long. I didn't really mind that much because I was VIP, so I was already guaranteed my spot. I want to just keep repeating that I was VIP to see Obama speak. It sounds so funny.

Before the speech, there was an opener: Ken Salazar, Secretary of the Interior. Don't get me wrong, Salazar is awesome...but wouldn't it have been a lot been more awesome if it were Nicki Minaj? I suggested this to my coworkers and then started to rap "Super Bass." In fairness, this rapping was combined with a series of ridiculously unprofessional shimmy thrusts, and my coworkers stared at me in awe. Namely, I think that they were processing that it takes 1.5 months to formally fire me...and during that time I have made it clear that I would do no work whatsoever, because...I am a piece of shit.

So, after my dance-break to Minaj, Obama spoke...and he really is everything that you dreamed of. He has a presence...and it's so weird to realize that he is the symbol of the free world. He literally controls so much, and it's just absolutely amazing to see him in person...and to see him advocating for a policy that makes so much sense.

Unfortunately, I didn't shake his hand or give him a hug. He does look like he does on the television...except his head is really big and he is really skinny. So, there's that.

Papa 'Bama! The man that paid for my liquor in Poland.

Me, with Obama in the background. I was about 50 feet from him, but it looks farther.

Oh, Bama. Such a good Tuesday...and I only did office work for 2 hours. That'll do new job. That'll do.

Precipice to Update My OkCupid Profile

2011-09-26T21:40:00.000-07:00

I do not think of myself as athletic. Or fit. Or even attractive. To be completely honest, I'm pleased as punch whenever I don't smell bad and I remember to shower/brush my teeth post work-out. (I'm not going to lie, my bathing habits could probably be improved.)

Friends, pre 10K.

But, on Sunday, September 25th, I ran the Fans on the Field 10K in Denver. I don't really rock 10ks out, because they cost $30 and you are only running 6.2 miles. But, this 10K seemed a little bit different...you get to run through all of the different athletic stadiums in Denver, which seemed badass.

Am I a Denver sports fan? Hell to the nizo. But, I totally approve of sports teams and love going to football/hockey/baseball games.

The best part of the race is that you get to actually run on the fields! For someone who will never ever be a professional athlete or that ever had dreams of being a professional athlete, it is kind of badass to run on the fields and to see yourself on the Jumbotron. (Come on, narcissistic yinzer + Jumbotron = amazing 10K)

Anyway, I ran with 5 other people. Of the people I ran with, Sara placed 8th in females 20-24, Katie placed 10th in females 25-29, Lee placed 1st, Wes placed 4th, and I placed 11th in males 20-24.

What? I. Placed. 11th?

This race wasn't something that I specifically trained for...or something that I was really ready for...but I did well. It was really nice to be pushed by my awesome friends and I was really pleased with my results. Since I rarely am pleased with my running times, I took a screenshot of it.

Validation to update my body type to fit on okcupid? Got it.

Chip Time: 49:41
Avg. Pace: 8:01
Division Place: 11/67
Overall Male: 224/1,346

So....I was pretty pleased with my results, I should have been about 5 second quicker, but some butthead pushed me on the final dash to the finish line. Not bump, pushed. I called him a "FUCKING ASSHOLE" loudly. In front of the small children cheering me on. Eh, things happen.

Post 10K

Anyway, after the race, we got a really awesome gift bag. The gift bag included our t-shirt, tickets to a hockey game (uhm...2 possible dates to use, not the best), and some food vouchers.

For the food, we got awesome barbeque and this coupon for a free beer. Now, for those of you who have never lived abroad...you don't quite know the joys of getting things for free or getting a "bargain." Thus, whenever I saw my coupon for a free beer, I thought to myself...how could I possibly captivate on this opportunity?

Once again, please remember that I am the worst yinzer ever...so I really don't even like the taste of beer. Worse yet, I have been spoiled by drinking amazing beer in Germany and Prague...so, I never ever like beer in America. But, I really like free things.

So, I was a bit confounded when I took a swig of my friend's beer.

Holy fucking shit. Avery Brewery, located in Boulder, has some amazing beer. So much so that I may have drank 6 of them. In an hour. Immediately following a 6 mile run.

Best. Choice. Ever.

How did I get so much beer? A combination of raw sex appeal and drunken swagger. Namely, I made friends with the bartender and never gave her my ticket. Plus, I smiled. More people should smile.

Anyway, I had so, so, so much fun at the race. It combined my love of physical activity, friends, good beer, and free things. Truly, this race was pretty spectacular...and I think that I might train for it to actually kick some ass and take some names next year.

This race was a definite confidence boost for upcoming half-marathon. I haven't been training as much as I should (stupid lack of Nike+), but it was great to run this race to remind me that I have done it before. Plus, the same day I was running my 10K, my aunt was running her first half and my favorite gal in Philly was running her first half too. God knows I like to jump on the bandwagon, and if they can do it...I can certainly do it too.

Care Package Disaster

2011-09-24T11:03:00.000-07:00

Seriously, I am not good at being a kind person. I can't do it. Every time that I try, it ends in disaster and I get super depressed about the whole experience.

This year, I have sent out 4 packages. First, I sent a thank-you package to Rachelle for her help with landing me a job interview at Google, during my unemployment stint. The cookies for this care package were shit, mainly because I am still not good at high-altitude baking. Then, I sent a birthday care package to my little brother, my big brother, and then my biological sister.

Today, is my sister's 30th birthday, and I sent her a huge care package. I bought her 4 Sookie Stackhouse books, chocolate covered strawberries, this really kitsch wall thing that 30-year old Moms like, and this tea that is supposed to reduce stress. What my sister got was a sopping wet disaster. The same thing that my big brother got...and luckily, she opened it on the phone with me.

:(

I'm really bummed for a variety of reasons. Mainly, there should be giant disclaimers for chocolate covered strawberries, that you can't ship them. Second, I spent a ton of money on all of these presents, and it takes a ton of time to organize everything. Finally, I know that it's the thought that counts...but I have a Teach for America mindset, and I want fucking results..not some good intentioned bullshit. I also believe that kindness promotes kindness, but what if you got shit doesn't that promote shit?

I'm retiring from the care package business. I am sending one more in October because I already bought the majority of it/edited a photo. (Ignoring sunk costs? Yeah, I'm not good at that.)

Then, I'm being a mean person. I'll earn more money then, it's a fact.

Edit:// I am currently reading "Sway" and have come to realize that I am just suffering from the diagnosis bias. I have had roommates over the past few years that have gotten care packages or notes from home at least once a month. (My current roommate gets 1-3 care packages a week...not an exaggeration.) So, I have the inane hypothesis that if I send out kindness I will get it in return through either a thank-you card or phone call or something. But, people don't engage in kindness the same way as I do. My family (obviously) doesn't think that sending care packages/notes/encouragement is important. Though, I would love if people sent me a thank-you card for doing what I do, I can't really expect them to do it. Since I always "know" that people will never meet my expectations...they don't. Well, unless they are Lenny An....who is amazingly kind and sent me a care package when none was due. So, not sending out any care packages will probably be a good habit for me to get into.

Future Goal: Medical Tourism

2011-09-23T19:43:00.000-07:00

I am editing some photos and trying to make another care package for an upcoming October birthday. (In all selfishness/truthfulness, if I don't get any care packages for my birthday this year...I will probably be emo-tastic. Eh, it's normal, my birthdays always suck.)

Anyway, I edited a photo of me, and I really like how plastic I look. Is that bad? It just gives me the overwhelming desire to walk around with someone consistently photoshopping my life into better looking versions of the real me.

Also--is it bad that one of my newest life goals involves me doing medical tourism? I realize that I have no money, but I have a free flight from all of my miles...so why not combine the joys of Buenos Aires with a fabulous new midsection. And, best part, FINANCING IS AVAILABLE FOR AMERICANS.

Hopefully too, MTV will be looking for a True Life candidate. God, could you imagine how awesome my life would be if I not only got some awesome plastic surgery at Wal-Mart prices/quality, but also got to be on a shitty MTV reality show? Could a yinzer be so lucky?

Final thought: what if I did one of those kickstarter things (like my fraternity brother, Tim)? Do you think I could get other people to finance my insecurity and narcissism? Or am I not supposed to talk about stuff like this?

Week in Review: Sept 19-Sept 22

2011-09-22T20:54:00.000-07:00

For the first time, in a very long time, I have done things every single night. And by do things, I mean, not work out...but actually talk to people.

Monday.

I received a text at work to go to watch the roast of Charlie Sheen. My friend is absolutely amazing and she made a homemade roast and numerous healthy accoutrements. Awesome. We watched the Charlie Sheen Roast, drank red wine, and then wondered what an alcoholic drink called Tiger's Blood would consist of. My suggestion was shots of tequila with Franzia chasers.

We did not drink any Tiger's Blood. This Monday.

Tuesday.

I went to a "Young Worker's Happy Hour" sponsored by Working America and DALF. There was free food, which was pretty awesome. (Who doesn't love nachos on someone else's dime?) During this little mixer, I also thanked God that I joined SigEp. Seriously, people are ridiculously awkward and have no social skills. Hate on fraternities/sororities all you want, but we are famazing at small talk.

Oh, and I met Karen Nussbaum.

Wednesday.

I started my French class at Denver French Institute. Apparently, a prerequisite to the class was that you were a divorcee and about to hit 40 and/or menopause. I was surrounded by the cast of Eat, Pray, Love, but whatever I had fun. I mean, I can't say anything, but I know what things like "infinitive" and conjugations mean...so I'm ridiculously advanced.

Great news about this class: there is a gorgeous, married, super fun chica from Málaga there! We spoke in Spanish and she gave me a "Joder tio, hablas tan chulapo." (Woah dude, you sound Spanish!) It made me feel better, and I feel like I am going to double up my language capabilities. Win.

Thursday.

I took a half day of work today. (Seriously half days are the most amazing things in the world.) I went to the doctor's (because I collapsed two times in Denver...and this has been a pretty recent development). My doctor's appointments in Denver continue to be as awkward as possible...in the sense that my doctors have no social skills.

As I have stated before, I am on a lot of pills and supplements for my training. (Although, my marathon training is kind of...shit.) So, whenever I listed all of my supplements, my doctor kind of stared at me awkwardly. Then he saw my stomach, which is a glorious melange of strech marks and excess skin, and he asked when I lost all my weight, blah blah blah.

After we had a 2 minute conversation about my working out/eating habits, he asked me what my relationship with food was. I told him that if it were Facebook, it would be complicated. I laughed. He did not.

I spent another 8 minutes with him, and then had 8 bazillion tests done. In a few days, I should know that I am STD-free, have rocking cholesterol, and that the ole ticker is strong. Oh! And I got a tetanus shot and am starting on a string of hepatitus injections. I hope to become injected so full of drugs that I never die.

My t-shirt backwards...and me "repping" it? I'm not sure what I'm doing.

After my doctor's appointment I made nutella fudge brownies. They were REDONKILOUSLY expensive. Luckily, my job paid for them (hey petty cash!), but I'm still not sure how I feel about them. The brownies kind of collapsed, and I think that they would have been better spread out in a pan and not in individual cupcake liners. But, whatever, I still get credit for being awesome and breaking gender norms.

Following the brownies and my eating of more batter/frosting than I should have ever done, I went and did my 10th Irish Snug Run. What does my 10th run mean? This yinzer gets a free t-shirt. Glorious. I also got to run with a lot of my friends, and it was awesome to see them...again.

Epiphany.

Being healthy doesn't correlate to being social.

It's awesome to be young, and I can keep doing stupid, fun stuff until I'm 30.

I never want a child. Ever.

The End of Molasses Classes

2011-09-19T22:35:00.000-07:00

I sporadically teach...namely I give rich children private classes in either math or a foreign language. Is this how I envisioned my work with the achievement gap? No, not really. But, I am getting paid. Which is nice...and needed. #middleclassproblems

As I sometimes teach, but always have a vested interest in education, I read teaching books to stay up on the profession. Most recently, I read "The End of Molasses Classes" by Ron Clark. I am not entirely sure what I was expecting from the book, but I certainly was expecting so much...mess.

Here's the thing: I write a blog. My blog is informal, and the people that should read it are either TEFL teachers in Spain who want a strong reason to never return to America or hipsters living in Philadelphia. That's it. No one else. So, my writing style is geared towards recanting my own awkward interactions. Sometimes, I say fuck. Sometimes, I say things like "I'm a mess." But, sometimes I talk intelligently and use polysyllabic phrasing. I know, it's a cacophony of emotion going on. Deal with it. Soy como soy. BUT, I am not writing a book...that budding educators are reading. Jackass, use proper grammar. All the time.

Anyway, I was expecting Mr. Clark to drop some knowledge bombs and some really effective teaching strategies. And he did that. Several of his actual lesson ideas were quickly adaptable to the classroom and would be amazing for nearly all classrooms:

1.) Write math problems on balloons, have the winner pop them.

2.) Host weekly/bi-weekly parent nights with food to teach parents the content material

3.) Ask for donations from local restaurants to increase rewards with students

4.) Write thank you cards to the people that donate. (Uhm...I say this a lot. No really, a lot.)

5.) "This is the overarching message that we hope to instill in all of our students. Give back, make a positive impact on the lives of others, and the joys you feel within and the way it will uplift your spirit will provide you a lifetime of unexpected rewards." (p. 93)

6.) Like what your students like. (Pretty easy when it's Hannah Montana)

Those are all awesome things that each teacher should do, especially teachers that are actually committed to both the art and science of teaching.

Here's the thing, though. Homeboy was batshit crazy...and did things that went substantially beyond the scope of normalcy. I have no doubts that he is changing students' lives, but I wonder if he is a realistic example for any educator to follow. Should teachers sacrifice their personal lives completely to their classroom? Shouldn't teachers also be able to have a family, or maybe god forbid, get a beer on the weekend?

1.) It's completely unrealistic to fly to foreign countries with students. Do the benefits of foreign travel outweigh the intense costs of getting there for low SES individuals? If you can't afford the roof over your head, electricity, or food, should you be saving up to spend two weeks bouncing around Africa? As someone that dies of wanderlust, I question this.

2.) Working 80-100 hours a week isn't plausible. Most teachers leave the profession within 5 years. The pay isn't amazing and the work is really challenging. Expecting that teachers spend their entire lives with children isn't healthy. The student needs to have his own life, just as the teacher needs to have his or her own.

3.) Don't fucking remodel homes. That's just weird.

4.) Seriously, don't remodel bedrooms or houses.

5.) Jumping on a table is interesting the first time, but if you jump on the table everyday...doesn't it lose some of it's importance?

6.) Not every teacher responds to high-energy non-stop. Classrooms need to ebb and flow with energy and students CANNOT be amped up all the time.

7.) The entire book he never mentioned teaching to objectives, backwards designing, or teaching to standards. Uhm...big guy, those are the most important things.

Oh well, it was an interesting idea. And I really enjoyed the balloon thing.

Total Books for 2011: 20

PS: Is it bad that I was sad that it took me two weeks to read this book and I feel like I should be reading a book a week?

The Leprechaun and His Iranian Man Servant

2011-09-18T21:10:00.000-07:00

Remember when I was first excited to be in the middle class? You know what happened since then? I fucking became middle class. It sucks. I want to go back to my overpaid pseduo-glamorous life of being a TEFL teacher, where my life revolved around drinking palinka, eating paella, and hopping a Ryan Air flight to some far off country.

Since I'm back in America (at least until November 2012), and am forced to participate into the lunacy of middle class early-career life, I do my best to take advantage of what I can: namely for the first time in 10 years, I have vision and dental insurance.

So....I did what I thought was a responsible thing: I went online and found an eye doctor that was both walkable to my house and had relatively positive reviews on yelp. I called them and made sure that they took my insurance, and everything seemed great.

Then...I went there. The eye center was right beside a McDonalds and a homeless man's lair. I didn't want to let appearances deceive me, and thought that I was being a SES elitist. I was going to teach in the ghetto for fuck's sake, I shouldn't care about the location. Plus, rent anywhere on Capitol Hill is ridic, so it has to be quality, right?

Wrong.

Ridiculously wrong.

So mother fucking wrong that I feel stupid.

When I first entered, I was greeted by an elderly Iranian man servant. We talked for a bit and I filled out my insurance forms. His English was great, but it wasn't 100% fluent. So, he definitely had some issues in that aspect. As a budding linguist and someone who fucks up Spanish all the damn time, I totally respected him. Uhm....but, he was pudgy and awkward and strange and wasn't gentle with his instructions.

"Take out contacts. Now."

"Wash hands? Why you no wash hands?"

"How you not know type of solution? You like Opti-plus? Opti-plus we have special on."

Habibi, do you work on commission? Bring that shit together.

Anyway, I took out my contacts really early. I am blind as a bat and after 10 inches, my eyes lose focus. It's a really disconcerting feeling to be in an unfamiliar situation and not be able to see that well....you know, especially when an Iranian man is yelling at you.

As I sat down and waited for the doctor, I noticed something walking towards. I assumed that it was a small, morbidly obese child. It wasn't. It was my optometrist.

MY OPTOMETRIST WAS A FUCKING LITTLE PERSON!

His first words upon greeting me, "Oh, well you're a tall glass of water, ain't ya?"

OMFG. Real life.

Trying not to be sizist, I walked back to the eye room and watched him fumble around awkwardly. While I was secretly hoping that I could see in order to find the hidden pot of gold, we eventually started to do the "which is better, A or B?" routine. Because I hadn't seen my mini-doctor clearly, when I first saw him, I literally jumped back.

He was the fucking Leprachaun from that shitty 1990s movie, but with gray hair.

I'm not joking.
I actually jumped back in my chair and had to apologize.

I blamed it on suddenly seeing clearly.

Smooth? I like to think so.

After the eye exam, we went outside where the Iranian man servant tried to convince me that my contacts were wrong and that they were not comfortable.

I have worn the same brand of contacts with the same measurements for the past 3 years, across continents, working in front of a computer, and teaching small children. My contacts are awesome. Don't fuck with my awesome yinzer optometrist, sir.

I didn't let him fit me with new contacts, but he wanted to charge me a ridiculously high price for a "contact" exam. I paid part of it and am planning for some kind of a war to start between myself, the Leprachaun, and my insurance company.

Looks can be deceiving...

...but sometimes, that shit is spot on.

Black Eyebrows + Mexican Prom

2011-09-16T06:00:00.000-07:00

This yinzer is ridiculously narcissistic. I get super concerned about how I look and attempting to look my age. Everyone tends to up my age whenever they guess, and while that was sweet for going to PHI at 19...it sucks whenever you are 23 and everyone thinks you are about to hit 30.

So...strangely...the same night that I got yelled at for dumbing myself down, I also got my hair called out for graying. My father's side has a penchant for premature graying. And ugh...everyone is convinced that I am the younger version of my paternal grandfather. Shit.

Uhm...because of this premature graying, I decided to dye my hair black. Because I was dying my hair black, I also thought that it would be a good idea to have my eyebrows match my hair.

Fucking. Worst. Choice. Ever.

My roommate, who is awesome, dyed my hair. My roommate is awesome at teaching kindergarten...and she is also really good at dying skin.

I dyed my hair and eyebrows black...along with the skin around my scalp and everything else. Following this little dye job, I looked like an inbred Romanian sailor who had spent 4 years at sea and was able to find any type of manscaping utensil.

Naturally, I did the only thing that I thought was possible: I screamed. A lot. In profanity. Mostly in English profanity.

My roommate was getting ready for a date and ran into my bathroom to see me screaming at the mirror and lamenting about my situation. She tried to look on the bright side and told me that it was totally fine and that the dye would come off my skin.

It didn't.

She googled. I screamed. Over the course of the next 20 minutes, I washed my face 4 times. I put on vaseline, nail polisher remover, and I think like peanut butter? It was bad. Eventually, getting desperate, I tried the facial cleanser that I use every single day. The facial cleanser instantly removed the giant black stains that covered my face.

Uhm...that can´t be healthy.

So...why, might you ask, did I get myself all dolled up with beautiful bushy black eyebrows? That's simple friends, I had to go to Mexican prom.

Now, did I know that I was going to Mexican prom? No.
Was it a weird fluke thing that would only happen to me? Yes.

Myself at Mexican Prom...Hipsters did not fit in well.

I got a text from my friend whilst dying my eyebrows, that she was going out for the night and that I should come to meet her friends. Seeking every effort to practice my Spanish, I totally was down to meet up with some folks to have a little intercambio.

What I walked in on was a group of very attractive Latina women in 6 inch stilettos and skirts that covered up....nothing. When we switched from the bar to the club, I met a group of extras from Miami Vice. Large muscley tan man with guido-tastic hair awkwardly sipped overpriced drinks while women in fuck-me hills danced to PitBull's Spanglish raps.

Okay, that sounds like a normal Friday..right? Except the friends I went with (red dress above) knew every single person and then introduced me to..every single person in the entire club. It went something like this:

Red Dress: "Hola, q tal?! Este es mi amigo, James."
Stranger Looks at me.
Stranger: "Ehm. Hello. How are choo?"

After a solid ten times of this, I told her to call Jamie. Fuck that shit, I'm trying to fit in....I mean, my eyebrows were black for fuck's sake. With the name of Jamie and the convincing new 'do, I spoke in Spanish and made some friends throughout the night. I even stopped noticing that every ten minutes a group of women broke into a random sorority pose and smiled for a group photo. Seriously, I just met everyone, but I was probably in 25 pictures that night....which is just overzealous.

Also, sidenote I was completely underdressed...apparently, my hipster ways don't fit in with weekly Mexican proms. But, I mean, I also now know that I can dress like a character from a 1980s police drama and totally be cool. Really...isn´t that what I have wanted all along?

Chocolate Covered Strawberries

2011-09-15T16:30:00.000-07:00

The boy care package: Protein Bars & Red Bull

Recently, I wrote about making a care package for my little brother, Rob. Later, I talked about making cupcakes for MC Activism. Thus, you can presume that I am pretty much the most amazing BAMF that you will meet in the whole wide world.

While I am pretty amazing, I shouldn't say that my friends aren't equally as amazing. I have been helping a few of my college friend's with resumes and other stuff, mostly of them have been 20-something university males. 20-something university males are not the most ugh....thankful group in the world? BUT, I got a friggin' awesome care package/present from one of my friends that I helped with his graduate school application.

It was the most stereotypical male care package ever, actually, Asian male care package ever. Lenny sent me a care package that was filled with protein bars, red bull, and paper cranes. Seriously, that kid wins. (And he now better get into graduate school...with a scholarship. You hear me, Carnegie Mellon?)

Anyway, I didn't sent Lenny a care package. (That would be weird, right?) But, I did go to the Farmer's Market, saw an amazing sale on strawberries, and bought an epic amount of them to make a care package for my brother, Terry. I bought way more strawberries than I ever possibly should have, but they friggin' looked awesome...and I thought that it would be really easy to make chocolate covered strawberries.

Okay, whoever said that it was easy to make chocolate covered strawberries was a fucking liar. I spent about 2.5 hours trying to figure out how to get the chocolate to stick to the strawberries, how to mix the chocolate, and how to do tons of other stupidly simple things that just befuddled me.

Anyway, after my epic adventure in dipping, I finally got this:

Chocolate covered strawberries. Not the prettiest, but eh?

Anyway, the care packages were a small part of the birthday present, I also included a wand (Terry likes Harry Potter, even more than I do) and a bowtie. The bowtie was supposed to be a close tie of the Tartan Plaid of Carnegie Mellon, but uhm...well, it's really tough to find a Tartan Plaid tie. To get the one tie that I have that is Tartan Plaid, it had to get flown in from Scotland. (I didn't pay for it, don't worry.)

Ugh....I am making one more care package this month. Being a good person is friggin' expensive.

Gucci, Gucci: An Ode to Terrence Boyd

2011-09-13T22:55:00.000-07:00

Cristian (little 3), Myself, and Terry (big) in between countries.

Believe it or not, this awkward as shit yinzer was in a fraternity. Yep, I am an alumnus of Sigma Phi Epsilon and I am very proud to say that. To this day, I still rock my fraternity shirt-tie-pin combo and look for ways to help my house.

Now, if you also know me or...potentially some of the research I have done...you know that I fucking hate prototypical masculinity as defined by Western standards. So, by all means I should have hated my fraternity.

There were several reasons why my fraternity was bomb.com. First, we didn't haze and I instantly became a brother. More importantly though, I had the most amazing fraternal family in the entire world: Gucci.

Awkward.

Kreayshawn was right, they do be saying gucci, gucci. But, contrary to her suggestion, it was much more because Terry Boyd started this family, rather than those basic bitches (watch the video). Terry was a mentor, basically a big brother that watched out for me throughout my time at Carnegie Mellon.

I can safely say that I would not be the same person if it were not for Terry and SigEp. Why? Well Terry, is Terry. He is awkward as fuck. He is into fashion, dancing, and tiny Asian women. He is himself, doesn't give a fuck what you think, and will drop $800 on a pair of shoes and then not eat until payday. How fucking badass is that?

Terry taught me to follow my passion, to not be ashamed to read fashion blogs, to eat, run marathons, get tattoos, and not let people bring you down.

Currently, he is getting his masters at the Heinz School, finishing marathons, and generally being a badass. We are ridiculously far apart, but I am still genuinely proud to call him my best friend and brother.

Dancer.

Today is Terry's birthday, and I won't get to celebrate with him. Nor have I gotten to celebrate it with him for the past 3 years. However, I am confident that one day we'll be in the same place and get to celebrate a birthday together.

I am sure that Terry is going to have an amazing time, because that's all he knows how to have. So, if you see this boy out on the street, make sure to thank him for helping make my 21st birthday amazing, winning tickets on the ellen show with me, inventing a really silly handshake, or inspiring me to be true to myself and others.

Fashionable.

He is a much bigger deal than I am, and I say that every bit as conceited as I normally am.

Happy Birthday, Terry!

Gucci Family in SigEp's Pennsylvania Theta. These are the most amazing men I know, and I'm proud to wear strange costumes for charities with them.

10 Years

2011-09-11T16:00:00.000-07:00

I don't consider myself a blogger. At all. I'm not good at it, and I get genuinely befuddled that some people read my blog daily. But, I do read blogs and I read a lot of them. I have several amazing friends who update the world of their (mis)adventures through blogging.

As expected, a few of these people have posted blogs about the 10th anniversary of September 11th. Cat talked about her experience and added the Spanish 11-M perspective. My aunt talked about how my 4-year old cousin had a jolt into the real world when he heard about the day's events.

But, I'm not quite sure about how I feel about the whole experience and what happened. September 11, 2001 found me a child in nearly all aspects. My girth far exceeded my intellect, as I had no idea of the world around me. I had never been to New York City and had been into the "big city" of Pittsburgh a handful of times. My life was confined to county lines, and it was neither a bad nor good experience. It just was.

The events following September 11th, were the events that actually impacted my life. My first time flying solo meant that my parents left me behind a security line. My first time living in Pittsburgh and encountering Muslims jarred me and caused me a great deal of cognitive dissonance. Weren't Muslims the enemy? How could I enjoy crossing Gov. School boundaries and drinking a coffee with them?

Since September 11, I have grown as a person and our country has dramatically shifted. I worry that Paul Krugman is correct, and that the horribly tragic events of that day have been used for political grandstanding and an eventual creep into our civil liberties. I often wonder how much anti-Arab sentiment has been falsely spread throughout our rural communities, to people who rarely have the benefit of interacting with diversity. I question the role of TSA and security theatre. I wonder if immigration problems and the restrictions of J-1 visas are all done through a false claim of America's best interests.

I truly love America, even though I rarely have the desire to live here. But, I love America by questioning our policies, advocating for progressive change, being a good citizen, and helping my fellow neighbor.

I only hope that those who were actually affected have a moment of peace today. To those that were fortunate enough to simply watch the events on the television, I hope we have a moment of kindness to our fellow humans. Not simply Americans, but to every Arab, undocumented worker, and stranger across the street. Violence may have begotten violence, but that doesn't mean that every person needs to believe the vitriol, nor should it imply that we can't make substantial progress towards creating a more peaceful society. It would be ludicrous to label my childhood as a halcyon period, but I only hope that future generations can.

Intelligent Design

2011-09-10T02:12:00.000-07:00

What makes someone smart? Or more, broadly what is intelligence?

Tonight, I have come home from the bar and I am confounded by this simple idea of intelligence; namely, what it means and how it translates from the abstract to the practical world.

I find it amazing that we, as humans, can't seem to agree on a definition of intelligence. Nor can we even define what skills or attributes someone has to become intelligent. Am I intelligent because my IQ is 164? Am I intelligent because I can read gender theory and talk rationally? Or am I dumb as fuck because I would be hard-pressed to change my car's tire or oil?

Whenever I was in Budapest, I worked in the UN. It was a really great experience and I learned a ton about various thoughts and ideologies. This, combined with my teaching gender studies, exposed me to a whole new world of thoughts and ideas. Namely, it challenged me to focus on an abstract theory, rule, or principle and apply it to the real world.

During this experience, I learned a great deal, but my boss consistently told me that I wasn't challenging myself and that I should be learning more. She was an absolute genius, but she had faith that I was clever. She told me that I was able to translate things and move between the intangible to the tangible much quicker than other people. She also argued that I should move my nexus of concern from Justin Bieber to South Sudan. (I think she might have not realized my case of Bieber fever)

But, as someone who has been like this my entire life...I don't know any other way of thinking. If someone presents an idea to you...you figure it out. Go get it. If you don't, then you fail. And, I friggin' hate to fail.

Tonight, I was presented with a similar conversation. One of my friends told me that I consistently dumbed myself down and that I didn't challenge others or engage in higher level thinking. Though I attempted to defend myself, I felt a majority of his accusations rang true.

But...the main part that concerned me was that I was completely fine with the situation. I don't want to be smarter than other people. I don't want to challenge other's thoughts or force them to think in new ways. Is that bad? Should I work on grandiloquence and engaging with others in a more positive manner? Should I present theories and ideas that others have labored extensively over? Moreso, does it make me a jackass if I challenge people with political rhetoric? (PS-If Michelle Bachman or Rick Perry become the next President, I'm seriously peacing out of this country.)

I tend to avoid rigorous debates for a variety of reasons: namely, I always think that I am right, and will never change my opinion. Secondly, I tend to think that most other people are as similarly stubborn and bullheaded as I. Finally, it doesn't give me joy to discuss issues that others know little about or to those that rely on suppositions and illogical fallacies to base their beliefs. I choose not to engage with these people, but does that make me less intelligent?

Sure, I have a high IQ. Sure, I graduated from a top 25 school with honors. Sure, I taught myself a second language. But, I don't know if any of that makes me smarter than the average bear. I'd much rather present myself as a mess, a drunk, and a complete and utter fuck-up. Whenever I can discuss a variety of topics, answer you in multiple languages, or talk about my life abroad (an experience that taught me more about the world than any book) than I think that I can demonstrate my intelligence or...putting it frankly, lack thereof.

After all as Shakespeare put it, "The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool." Maybe I am just acting the part of a fool now....but, now that I have had it questioned, I guess I'm a bit worried about it.

P.S. This post is rambling. I literally just stepped in from the bar. And this talk. *sigh*

Lies I Tell My Boss

2011-09-09T15:00:00.000-07:00

I don't want my employer to know that I have a blog. True, I work for a very progressive organization that advocates for worker rights, but I don't really have the overwhelming desire for them to know that I occasionally punch people while jogging, piss myself, or have Single Ladies dance-offs with middle aged biddies. You know, it just doesn't reek of professionalism.

Anyway, I stupidly friended MC Activism on Facebook and homegirl fell in love with my blog (normal, right?). I came in the next day and she was super excited to bring it up to me and talk about how amazing and hilarious I am. I instantly gave her a Hungarian death stare and told her not to tell anyone that I have a blog. Never. Ever.

She did. And my boss asked me about it, in front of the regional manager (big deal in organization woman). I didn't know what to do, so I said that it was a really boring fashion blog. Which is kind of true? I do take pictures of my clothes. Just not all the time. Truthfully, have you ever seen a really depressing fashion blog? Like the one with a 40 year old fat woman who shops at Target and blogs about the newest halter tops that don't accentuate her muffin top? It's just not good. (I feel to bad to link to one, but I am thinking of a very specific blog. I clearly have improved my niceness since high school.)

Since the people in my office now think that I am a glorious fashion blogger, I now make audacious and bold-faced lies all the time to cover up the fact that I am bojanks as shit. (Although, I have recently been reading MidWestStyle and been pissed off by the one man that is clearly stealing shit from my closet.)

"No, you're always supposed to miss a belt loop. It's like..the newest trend in men's clothing."
"You should only eat carrots for lunch. It helps your hair and makes it easier to tan."
"Wearing three watches isn't a sign of conspicuous consumption, but rather an awesome homage to our ever-dwindling time on Earth."

I pretty much suck at my job, but fuck it, at least I look good doing it.

How Britney Spears Almost Caused a Bar Fight

2011-09-06T17:00:00.000-07:00

As discussed previously on my blog, I sometimes lose control of my bodily functions when jogging. (NO! I did not piss myself...again.) But, as I was jogging, my nose started to run intensely. So, I stopped for a second to try to figure out why I'm not Hungarian and carry a handkerchief with me at all times...when out of no where, my body/mouth/soul just started to drool.

Not a little bit of drool, like special-needs-stroke-victim-who-is-salivating-from-an-unquenchable-hunger type of drool. What the fuck!?

Drooling on yourself is just weird.
It's even worse whenever it is combined with the running nose situation I had going on.

Trying to get the lead out of my legs and the drool off of my face/shirt/shorts, I put on some Britney remixes and started to run to the beat. I was feelin' pretty damn good because I was able to pick up the pace and run a little bit quicker and my drooling had momentarily subsided.

If you've never seen me run...you should. First off, I wear shit like this. Second, I dance when I run. Unabashedly. If I could somehow drop low and get me eagle on and continue to run at a decent pace, I would do it. So, sometimes, when I run...I lip sync and I do some really sweet upward punch-y dance moves, count with my fingers, the occasional verbal phrase in ASL, or run like Phoebe.

Anyway, during the Glee version of Stronger, I punched outward and hit another runner. Apparently, homeboy even did the "LEFT" thing. I didn't hear him. I had just hushed, but hadn't stopped. (Get the witty Britney Reference)

I apologized and then explained to him that I was dancing to Stronger and that it was my pump-up song, and that I was really really sorry and I didn't mean to....I think that I had so much word vomit stream out of every orifice of my body, and this combined with the drool/snot on my face just let him leave him be.

He was a really good sport and super nice about the whole thing (yay! Denver niceness!), and even told me, "It's okay..I'm sure it's not the first or last time, you'll get possessed by Britney Spears." Was that an insult? Potentially. But I was just happy that we weren't having some type of bar brawl running showdown. So, I thanked him and then went frolicking back to my apartment.

Alas, getting possessed in Denver is better than the Eastern European version. And...I totally learned my lesson: don't punch to the side when dancing, only up.

Labor Day 2011

2011-09-05T19:46:00.000-07:00

I work for an NGO that focuses on the labor movement and ensuring that workers, at all levels, are respected and treated fairly. (I also don't name my NGO on the blog, so I feel all responsible and like a mother fuckin' boss.) Anyway, labor day should be pretty meaningful because my life is all about reading the news and getting depressed about the economy and how little job creation there are for individuals. So, I do appreciate the holiday...and having a three day weekend is friggin' awesome whenever you work full-time.

Like any true yinzer, my ketchup will always be Heinz.

Since it was a holiday weekend, I decided that I would have a special dinner on Sunday night (this is the first long weekend in the past two years that I didn't fly off to another country). I had red meat, and I was pretty pumped about that....and wait...are there two kinds of cheese up on that burger? With some garnishes of spinach and tomatoes? And in the background...a Diet Pepsi Max? Yeah, I know... I'm kind of a big deal. I have many leather bound books and my apartment smells of rich mahogany...and sometimes I eat like a normal human being.

I had a really good day off. I cleaned, folded clothes, and spent a great deal of time at the pool. I lamented about serving a greater purpose and helping others....but, to be honest, it was really nice to have this weekend to be selfish and just be content with my life.

Oh! I also finished We Have Met the Enemy, and it is the perfect book to get from a library. It has some really interesting economic studies in it, but is overall poorly constructed and without a central tenant. Plus, the writing was a little too folksy and scattered for my taste. Do I feel like I learned something? Uhm....maybe? Do I think that I would have learned something if I hadn't extensively studied inter-temporal choice and decision biases in university? Definitely. And, that dear readers, is why you should check it out (but, not buy it).

I'm currently reading Ron Clark's "End of Molasses Classes." I'll get back to you on my thoughts about it/tips/education. So far, there have been some really interesting and quickly applicable tips to the classroom, but there has also been a shit ton of epically unfeasible, unrealistic, and completely inane propositions. (Rebuild a student's house? Uhm....what?)

Total Books for 2011: 19

A Taste of Colorado. And then Alcohol.

2011-09-04T14:55:00.000-07:00

So, I may have recently told the blogging world how I am committed to fitness and being a real fit person. But, I also mentioned that I really missed cheese and vodka.

Do I want superfantabulous abs? Yes.

Do I want to get crunk on dairy? Double yes.

Thus, when I stomped on over to a "Taste of Colorado" a foodie festival right beside my house, I was convinced that I would totally be fine with resisting temptation and shit.

I bought my tickets (15 for $10), and then walked around the food vendors with 3 of my friends. They beelined for the beer, and I stood like a beacon on the mother fucking hill of willpower. As they were drinking, I had some awesome simosas.

As I was savoring the awesome simosa experience (one was coconut flavored---I didn't even know that was possible), I was pretty content with my life. After listening to a band and watching an elderly man spinning in circles until he fell down (not judging, I've been there), two of my friends realized they had coupons for free margaritas at a bar called Rios.

Now, if you know me, you know that I am equal parts spendthrift and miser. Thus, when my friends also want to save money...how can I possibly deny them this joy? So, off we went to Rios, and I saw the cost of margaritas and scoffed. $6.50 for a margarita? Pshhh...who would ever pay so much for a margarita?

Then, everyone ordered one. And everyone talked about them. Apparently, Rios is the Mad Mex of Denver and is the place for commercial margaritas. But, unlike Mad Mex, there was a limit of three margaritas. You could only have three margaritas in a day, and that was it. No mas. What?! Really? That seems like a challenge. And, I for one, hate to back down from challenges.

So, I ordered one, and broke my fast from alcohol. And it was glorious.

The problem with these awesome margaritas, is that they were fucking amazing. This means that the actual taste of tequila was just glorious. The whole margarita was bomb.com. So...I had another.
And another. And then, I drunkenly flirted with the server to get a 4th (I'm a badass rule-breaker). My flirting was ridiculously successfully as she comped the whole table a round. Best. Waitress. Ever.

I left the server a $12.00 tip, and the above note.

After writing the waitress a love letter, (because seriously who the fuck comps a round of margaritas?) we stomped over to Pint's Pub.

Pint's Pub is this super pijo British pub located directly by my house. I never went in, because I assumed that it would be bojanks as shit. Seriously, British pub located across from the city jail? Uhmm...no bueno.

Until you try one of the drinks.

Holy fucking shit.

True, I was already pretty schnockered. (I slowdanced with Krista to Spice Girls songs.) But, it reminded me of Embury a lot (only sans the awesome library bathroom magic thing), and I loved it.

At Pints Pub, we met up with other DTF-ers and I took numerous photographs with them. During this time, Brock told me that I was an excellent teacher and it made my heart a flutter. I still might be go back into the teaching.

After Pint's Pub, we went back to A Taste of Colorado and watched an awesome concert.

I don't really remember it, but I do remember Mariel (pretty girl pictured below) that she yelled at me.

Mariel: "Stop making eyes with the old woman in front of you."

Me: "What?"

Mariel: "I'm a teacher. I see everything...and the boy she is dancing with will fucking kill you."

Mariel was right. As per usual.

After the concert, I went to play air hockey. Two minutes into air hockey, I realized that I was hungry (didn't eat since the 4 baby simosas), and so I ran to Wendy's. Before I ran to Wendy's I was concerned that Wendy's would be closed. Mariel, in all of her genuisness responded, "James, it's not even 9:00."

Apparently, my dancing on the hill of moderation came crashing down like a mother fucker. 5 Junior Bacon Cheeseburgers later, I ran back to air hockey...at which point Wes told me that I probably need an intervention. Dubs e.

As I was talking to randos, I got an SMS that there was a surprise birthday party for an acquaintance. ("Dresser" for my real friends.) I ran over. Surprised and then danced until 2 in the morning. Como las fiestas españolas, someone else bought my drinks. This was just stupid.

Recap:
Time Spent Drinking: 10 hours
Total Money Spent: $66.44
Total Calories Ingested: Metric Fuckton

...and yet, I totally think it was worth it. To be honest, I don't want to live my life super rigid and acting all Mormon for my health. Today, I felt better than I have in a long time. I woke up super early, gave my private lesson, and was ready to take on the world.

I'm a grown up. And sometimes grown-ups drink....and that shit is awesome.

Google Doc Godsend

2011-09-02T21:15:00.000-07:00

My job consists of me using Google Docs all the time. Literally, when I am not spending my time whiting out documents and analyzing trends in data, I am on google docs filling things out. Seriously, I am confused about how businesses used to function without google docs.

Anyway, since I am increasing my tacit knowledge about google docs, I thought that it would be ~~fun~~ worthwhile to make a google doc to monitor my finances. Though somewhat simple, I'm pretty proud of this sucker. It will change colors when I go over my budget and everything is updated so that as soon as one thing gets updated, I get all kinds of information about it.

If you look really closely, you can note two things:
1.) I bought sushi and Naked Juice for dinner tonight. I used a coupon and it was still $20.31. (At least, I already have next week's Naked Juice?)
2.) I didn't budget entertainment into this month at all. This will be something else to improve.

Is it so bad that being organized gives me all kinds of warm fuzzies. Well, that and getting three pay periods in one month. Hey, September, you be looking mighty fresh...

Spend Free September

2011-09-01T14:29:00.000-07:00

I do my best to challenge myself to become a better person. I believe that working towards self-improvement and self-actualization is a critical step in my development as a human. While I fail sometimes (Ramadan), I also kick ass sometimes (No-Sweet November). Without goals, I feel complacent. Frankly, I find compacency mas asquerosa que nada.

Last night, I was evaluating my credit card bill. It was multiple pages long and filled with loving memories: $5.00 trips to Starbucks, care packages to my brother, a French class, and a ton of money on online shopping. So, in an effort to be a bit more fiscally responsible, I am going to reign in my spending habits and attempt to be a bit more fiscally conservative. (Me...conservative? I know. I'm just as shocked.)

Thus, I have developed the following budget:
$800 month on rent/utilities/parking/grown-up stuff
$380 on student loans
$200 on health/beauty stuff
$200 on food
$50 on gas
$40 on telephone
$30 on kindness

My budget does not include any money for the following:
Starbucks/fancy coffee drinks
Clothes (this also includes belts, shoes, and watches.)
Books
More than one Naked Juice per week. (I am kind of emotional about the Naked Juice, no joke)

The rest I hope to throw into savings. (There isn't too much left. Don't think I'm balling.) I overbudgeted for the rent section, but I always get worried that some random fluke bill is going to come and punch me in the face. As for the health and beauty section...well, as Dolly Parton suggested, "It takes a lot of money to look this cheap." Mainly I budgeted so much, because yoga is super expensive. Currently, I have a bangin' groupon for my first month, but I feel like I will want to start going with higher frequency. And, my vitamins/pills/protein powder is also RIDICULOUSLY expensive. Seriously, I might have to cut down to like 6 pills a day. I'm all kinds of emo about it.

My main precipice are the following:
1.) I feel that I am being myopic in many versions of my life, and I need to start thinking about my long-term goals. I have to get some long-term goals, but at least I have goal of getting goals...that's good, right?
2.) I am almost done with "We Have Met The Enemy." It's good, because I love the discussions of inter-temporal choice and it's effects on individual preference. (Seriously, the book made me realize that I really love SDS and might consider getting a Ph.D. in it.) But, one of the central discussions in the book is that Americans are being excessive in their lifestyle, which is ultimately killing us. Am I dying? ...aren't we all? But, I don't need to be dying in room full of Starbucks cups and designer denim.
3.) I talked to my Grandma, and she told me that I should try to save up $12,000 as a safety net. She was serious. I laughed for a while, but I think that I do need some things saved up for a rainy day.....uhm...I'm just not ready to play on my gram's level.

To honor my commitment, today I will be teaching a private class and then doing the 100% free Irish Snug Run. 29 days left.

Purple Peppermint Cream Cheese Frosting

2011-08-31T18:33:00.000-07:00

Last night, I was at a job interview to be a part-time adventure coordinator. Do I have a full-time job? Yes. Do I want something to do on the weekends other than not-drink and crunch my stomach into tightness? Fuck yes. The job interview was really fun, because it was a happy hour and the job was to be an adventure coordinator...so, literally everyone was gorgeous and hilarious.

I probably won't get that job.
Fuckers.

Anyway, as I was at the job, one of the questions was: "What do you do at your other job?" My answer: "I white out a lot of shit....and I online shop. Oh, and I scan things. Actually, I scan things like a mother fucker."

Technically, I am doing all of the administrative/data analysis for an NGO. Technically, I am developing campaign strategies for earned media events. Technically, I am doing progressive work for the citizens of Denver. But, to be honest, I tend to feel like...I white out shit and wait for the clock to click to its final stop. Visions of November 2012 are dancing in my head and I am pondering (quite seriously in fact) whether or not I will be able to make it until then.

I think the part about my job that I don't like is that I have to be ball of fucking sunshine all the god-damn time to stupid mother fuckers. Oh, you fucked up your shit? Here, let me pretend that it was my fault and then reforward you the earlier e-mails that specifically detailed everything to do. Oh, you decided to hire someone as I was leaving to go the fuck home? Please, let me work overtime (god-damn salary) and get that person all filled up. Oh, you don't believe in Western medicine and think that I should go to a chiropractor who will give me a good deal? Bitch, who the fuck is you talking to? Yinzers don't do that shit.

Don't get me wrong, there are some people that are bomb.com. I love MC Activism and our state director is the awesome kind of awkward that reminds me of Carnegie Mellon, but our interactions tend to be limited. You know, cause I'm scanning the white outted paper and stuff.

Gah. In other news, my niceness event this week was baking cupcakes for MC Activism's 29th birthday. (Hey huge age gap between myself and all the other managers, whaddup?)

I made my own purple peppermint cream cheese frosting and it was like a mouth orgasm. To be extra dick, I made sure to wear ridiculously tight fitting clothes and then say, "Oh my gosh, I could never eat those!" and then proceed to munch on carrots. Did I slam 5 in my face before I walked in the morning? Yes. But, I don't think calories count if no one can see them, right?

And also, it was peppermint cream cheese frosting. Fuck it. You need to taste your awesome mouth orgasm recipes sometimes...you just don't need to tell people about it.

How I Spent My Saturday Night

2011-08-28T11:57:00.000-07:00

Saturday nights, when 23 year olds are supposed to be at bars gyrating to Ke$ha, I spent my night doing extra work for MC Activism...and I had a ton of fun.

As I mentioned before, my really awkward skill-set combined with my Carnegie Mellon-can-I-please-have-more-work? attitude has allowed me to get new responsibilities that other supervisory office managers aren't supposed to get.

MC Activism was talking about our earned media events coming up and how we need a mascot, she showed me a picture of a bojanks germ costume and lamented about how she couldn't order one online. In my overzealous pimp swagger, I suggested that I could make a pretty sweet costume. She immediately phoned the big deal woman that is in charge of the Coalition.

Big Deal came in the next day and, while hugging me, gave me a check for supplies.

1 trip to Wal-Mart/Dollar Tree.
3 bottles of glitter.
1 roll of shipping tape
10 hours later

makes:

Check that homemade germ costume.

I found that as I was making the costume, I approached this near manic state of involvement. I haven't done anything artistic or creative in so long, that I found that I genuinely miss it. I don't consider myself an artist. Or creative. Nor would I ever want to label myself those things, but it's funny how much teaching little kids uses all of your various skill-sets. (Math-data analysis, creative-lesson plans/crafts...).

Oh well. When making the costume, I recycled a ton of shit. Is a huge chunk made out of pizza boxes before I stopped eating that devil food? Yes. Do I now have validation that I am "green" and not just a hoarder? Second yes of the night.

I recently read an article about time perception in children v. adults. It said that new things make your brain take note of what is happening and therefore you make more significant memories. (it's why going to a new place is so exciting, even just ordering a coffee/breakfast...your brain has to process everything in a distinct manner and has nothing to rely on previously.) Thus, I think that by making my costume and watching some telenovelas, I was able to have a new experience...and do some social justice.

Although, next Saturday...I'm going to throw some glitter, make it rain on them. (I get to keep the extra glitter. You get to keep the Ke$ha reference.)

Pills, Pills, Pills

2011-08-25T21:03:00.000-07:00

I was going to rewrite the lyrics to Destiny's Child "Bills, Bills, Bills." Then I realized that I would actually have to think about things...and who likes thinking? (Fun Fact: As I was watching the video, I had an epiphany: Beyonce circa 1990s taught me how to dance. That...and bitch has always had a bangarangin' weave. Check that shit.)

In exciting news: I apparently have made a noticeable change in my physique. (Two DTF-ers commented on it today.) I really hate the "I'm a fatass and am going to blog about my life, while taking photos of me eating chips and ice cream" blog. But, I have been working out with a pretty high frequency and taking a bajesus amount of supplements to give me an added boost. So, dear reader, this yinzer is going to talk about it...and also because....I ain't doin' too much else.

I take 10 pills a day.
I don't find that problematic.
Some people....like the producers of Intervention...may find this strange.
Fuckin' weirdos.

What pills do I take and why so many? The actual answer is that the huge bro from GNC kind of scared me into it. The other part is that....I think they kind of work?

First, I take the GNC Mega Men EXTREME Men's Athlete pack. Because, G-d knows that I'm both EXTREME and a MEGA MAN. Sadly, with my Fulbright and masters degree, I still didn't know when I was supposed to take the pills...and actually had to google how to take them and in what order. (There's actual a very "crucial" time sequence.)

Thus, I take 4 before I work out. I take 1 after.
Sometimes, if I'm feelin' frisky, I take the red one.

Each morning, I take:
Vitamin D gummi bears
Vitamin C supplements
Vitamin B6 (energy boost)
Cayenne Fruit (metabolism boost)

I combined these supplements with a pretty intense workout session of running (training for denver half), hot yoga, and weight lifting. My diet is high-proetin, high produce, low carbs...but I still eat them. (Free spaghetti dinner post Irish Snug? Hell yeah.)

Because the GNC bro wanted to earn a commission, homeboy also got me to buy this special protein powder that has special protein formula or something. I don't know what it is or what it does, but I bought two bags of it...and eat it everyday? I fail at being an actual healthy person.

In other news: still no drinking.
In more exciting news: I have a two-pack.

And finally, I really miss drinking. And dairy. I think this Halloween I am going to trick-or-treat for vodka and queso. Is that so bad? I think not. So long as I show my abs.

Also, potential costume:

THUNDERCATSSSSS

Do you see that slight showing of my two-pack? That coupled with my glorious costume making skills, should be...pretty fucking awesome.

Hungarian v. American Yoga

2011-08-21T21:45:00.001-07:00

I hurt. And I'm not 100% sure, if it's in a good way yet.

Yesterday, I signed up at CorePower Yoga, and I was totally smug as I sauntered in the studio. They ask you how long you have been practicing yoga and how often you work out. From my answer choices, you would totally think that I am a budding yogi and pretty active little yinzer.

I thought the same thing...until I went to two of these yoga classes. First off, this isn't my namaste-spirtual-enya-listenin'-Budapest-hot yoga. Oh hell to the nizo.

This yoga has bangin' tunes and does a really intense core section. With equipment. And an instructor that is...ugh.....kind of a bitch. Sure, they say those silly things like, "Lead with your heart" and "You are loved." But they also say things like, "BE THANKFUL YOU DON'T HAVE EIGHT LEGS FOR ME TO PUNISH!"

It's kind of my scene.

Also, since I am in America: I have noticed that I take yoga like an American man does. I, for one, am pleased to note that I do yoga like an American, specifically an American man. It makes me feel like I bleed red, white, and blue or some shit.

Advantages of American man yoga:
1.) No creepy old guy in European-style underwear.
2.) Mixed gender ratio.
3.) I'm just going to reiterate the no old man in slutty underwear point. It's really kind of a big deal.

I feel like it's normal for an early 20 year old dude to be in the yoga class. Do I feel completely inadequate because the skinny bitches around me kick my while chaturanga-ing it? Maybe just a little.

***

Just finished Club de los Muertos (Sookie Stackhouse...en castellano!). Total Books for 2011: 18

Does Every Life Have to Have a Purpose?

2011-08-20T15:28:00.000-07:00

"The tranquil current of domestic happiness affords no materials for narrative. The joys sprung from chastened affection, tempered desires, useful employment, and devout meditation must be felt--they cannot be described." -Mary Brunton

This post is going to be philosophical. I apologize in advance.

My life is boring now. Sure, sometimes I fall down naked. But, I fall down naked in showers now. Gone are my glamorous days of falling down naked in front of other people. (At first, I wrote that sentence jokingly...and then I realized that I have indeed fallen down naked in front of people...several times. Jesus, I am a mess.)

Anyway, I have been thinking a lot about purpose, because my life doesn't seem to really have one at the moment.

Is that okay? At work, I do a lot of paperwork for initiatives that are important, but my specific task is just heavy on data analysis. I make sure that t's are crossed and i's are dotted. I get paid well for what I do, and never have to work outside of 40 hours. I am able to pay my rent, buy my overpriced vitamins, pay my student loans, and have some semblance of a social life, but I just feel like I should be doing more.

In my free time, I have been trying to do one extra-special nice thing for the world/larger community each week. At first, I did something that society tells me is good, but didn't feel genuine. Then, I did something to make a loved one happy. But, I realized that I'm not nearly self-actualized to do nice things and not expect nice things in return. Immediately. I am selfish. Fuck it, I own that shit.

This week, I donated 5 pairs of my kicks to a service worker who is going to Haiti and wants to give material as well as his time. For a man who loves his clothes and shoes as much as I do, this was exceptionally painful. But, Haitians probably need it more than I do. And, some of my kicks are straight up gangstaaaaaa...they are going to be so fucking lucky.

These acts of kindness are kind of expensive and I don't know if I am becoming more thankful of my privilege or reminded of what I am both giving up/don't have (i.e. college friends in Denver).

Thus, I am trying other venues to maximize my time.

I have signed up for a French class.
I attend Spanish meetups, in an attempt to maintain fluency.
I work out, more than I possibly should and am starting yoga.

But, I just feel like all of this is my churning the water, if that makes sense? Is my purpose in life to stimulate the economy through my frivolous spending? Check paperwork? Get an awesome tan?

I just feel like I should be doing more. But....haven't I always felt that way?

The Best Things in Life are Free

2011-08-17T21:13:00.000-07:00

Yinzer, I am on a budget like you would not believe. Gone is my frivolous traveling to foreign countries at the drop of a reminder e-mail. Hello, to my slow descent into welfare and coupon clipping.

The thing is though: I totally feel like I am leading a damn good life. I am just never spending any money.
Here's the best part; none of my hipster friends are doing it either.

Every Thursday, I try to run the Irish Snug Run in Denver. The Irish Snug Run is this awesome weekly 5k event. After each race, the bar offers a free dinner...AND if you run 10 runs, you get a free t-shirt! FREE. It's pretty much the coolest thing ever...and since, I no longer drink it is friggin' awesome...and...you know, actually free.

I have also started to enter all of those stupid and weird contests that you see in papers. Tonight, I won 2 free movie tickets to go see Fright Night.

First off, the movie hasn't been released yet, so I'm totally glamorous for having seen it.
Two, the movie was actually pretty good.
Three, I went with someone else...and they drove. Thus, I even saved on gas and felt popular.

All in all, I find it pretty easy to live super cheaply in Denver...and not feel like I'm going without. From Jazz in the Park to entering free contests to get movie passes, my life has been pretty awesome...and not horribly expensive. Don't get me wrong, my student loans devour my soul every month...but, hey...free movies are pretty awesome.

Care Packages

2011-08-15T18:07:00.000-07:00

I have started the process of being thankful (ever since I read that stupid book). So far, it hasn't transformed or uplifted my soul. It has been expensive and made me wonder if I should write a book about being thankful after. Could I justify that my life was in ruins and that the power of gratitude changed my life and shit? Maybe. I'd have to add some dramatic license, but I bet that I could. I just wish that I had also just broken up with the "love of my life." Yet again, being perma-single ruins my life.

Anyway, I was actually kind of excited because I just made a really huge and awesome care package for my little (fraternity) brother's birthday. He's turning 22 and is going to graduate school. (My little boy is all grown up!) Homeboy is totally awesome, and I was excited that I would get to kill two birds with one stone; surprising him and being a good big bro.

I kind of love care packages, even though I never get them. (I don't count a care package as something that I asked you to mail me. That's mail.) Anyway, his care package was pretty legit and it let me develop an awesome new recipe that is assured to get my friends fat.

Here's the thing: I live in the gym. It's not because I want to be fit, rather, I just want to be better looking than the guy next to me. If that means that person gets fatter from my cooking, well then...that's pretty damn awesome because it means that I can spend more time streaming True Blood on my Mac, and not stressing about running mile after pointless mile.

These are the start of my awesome peanut butter cups. There were two other super-secret ingredient layers (hint: nutella and Hershey's chocolate). They are super awesome and the rail thin man at my office had two today. I think it may be the first thing he has eaten in 2-3 months.

It was fun to develop the recipe, and I hope that homeboy likes them/the other presents.

Little bro last year. His cake is from cake boss or ace of cakes or some TLC show.

And in case you were wondering, my dream care package:
1.) something homemade
2.) Red Bull
3.) protein bars
4.) photos

Next month, my sister/big brother get their own care package. I'm excited for this turn of kindness, it feels a lot more genuine than feeding the homeless. Is that bad?

If Frasier were a 20-something yinzer...

2011-08-13T22:15:00.000-07:00

Hey baby, I hear the blues a' callin'
chipped ham and old pierogies.
And, maybe I seem a bit confused.
Well, maybe, but I got you pegged....as a douche.

Recently, I have come to terms with my complete and utter hipster narcissistic tendencies. Dubs e. I have a ton of fucking free time and if I want to make sure that my belt, shoes, hat, watch, and underwear all match or are complementary colors, then fuck it. Dejame en paz. I do what I want.

The one thing that I'm not really used to is that in the States, I am a total douche. But, a Frasier-style douche. I mean, I don't want to be, but I just don't fit in with the other 23-year olds that live in my apartment building and that I come in contact with. It's not just me though, apparently other returned ex-pats experience the same thing.

I try to be normal, though. I have tattoos. I tan. I work out. All of these are normal, right?

But, I also read a lot...in multiple languages. I have a full-time job that I like, but that doesn't consume my life. And I go to the library once a week to check out documentaries and foreign films. Whenever I have a conversation, I tend to jump onto my profound turf and prefer if people can follow with me.

Frasier douche-bag moment last night:

I was at a bar and someone came up to and was very nice and said, "Wow! Your shoes are awesome! Where'd you get them?"
"Mango."
Their response, "Oh...where's that at? 16th Street?"
"No, Barcelona."
"Oh...."
"Yeah, I bought them when I was getting my masters. In Spain."
"Oh...."

While I wish that I could blame that shit on the alcohol, it was all me. (still no drinking! 3 weeks in!)

Douche-bag epiphany today:

As I was doing a brief cycling workout and reading my pretentious alternative press magazine (checked out from the local library), I was captivated by the focus of the magazine: Generation Y's obsession with themselves.

I scoffed, surely no one could be as vain as they alleged.

Then, a group of 8 bros strutted in with two sorostitutes. They were drinking beer, shirtless, and taking photos of each other, while wearing sunglasses inside. The bros started to lift weights while the girls giggled and took cell phone pictures.

It was literally such an awkward display that I assumed they were joking and being all hipster ironic. They weren't. They were just dicks and literally stopped mid afternoon delight circle jerk session to come in and have a weight lifting contest.

*Sigh.*

I guess I don't want to be a normal 23 year old after all. Especially if these are the people that would be my friends. Graduate school, here I come. Again.

Naked Dancing into Promotions

2011-08-12T17:10:00.001-07:00

I recently downloaded Spotify. For those of you not in the know, Spotify is this awesome European version of legal Napster (and it's streaming!). I'm pretty pumped to have it in America, because I can listen to Ke$ha's music without having to buy it (well, buy it in public).

Anyway, I was listening to the new Ke$ha album in the shower. (I wasn't fucking joking, I kind of love that no-talent skandadoodle dandy.) Ke$ha has this song called Sleazy, and it has this very hump-y boom boom beat.

Fun Fact: If I hear a hump-y boom boom beat, I have to dance to said hump-y boom boom beat.
Fun Fact #2: I still have to dance, even if I'm in the shower.
Not Fun Fact: Dancing in the shower is not a good option.

Anyway, as I was getting it sleazy and dropping down low, I slipped on the surface of the shower. As I was mid-power thrust, I fell forward, through my shower curtain (didn't rip it down though!), and then fell hard on my floor.

Naturally, my pride was bruised.
But...so were other parts of my body.

I went into work and the Member Coordinator (MC Activism = new nickname) of our organization stared at me awkwardly. (She is also newer to the organization, only starting 3 weeks before me.) She had the cojones to ask what was off with me. I told her the story and we laughed that it was probably best for my professional image, if I didn't tell people that I hurt myself ghetto booty poppin' to Ke$ha or any second rate femme fatale.

Today, in the office this really professional older woman that is leading a 54 non-profit campaign came into my office.

"Are you James?"
"Yes. I'm sorry, are you scheduled for an appointment with me? I didn't have you updated on my schedule..."
"No, but I've heard so much about you."
That is never good.

Flustered, MC Activism runs in and introduces the two of us. Apparently, she told the older woman that I was an amazing choreographer, singer, and super creative. (How she got that from me FALLING DOWN WHILE DANCING NAKED IN THE SHOWER is beyond me.) But, since homegirl was beyond both of our collective paygrades, I totally affirmed the situation.

She then asked, "Can you make up a flashmob to promote our initiative? We want as much attention as possible, so anything that you think might make people notice us"

Whaaaaaaaaa....? Paid to get people to notice me? It's every only child/younger child's dream.

I stared at MC Activism and she gave me a fuck-this-up-for-our-NGO-and-I-will-punch-your-face look, so I affirmed that I was a bangin' dancer and could totally kick some ass for the cause.

I can't fucking dance for the life of me, that's why I do it naked in the shower.
I do, however know one dance.
Yep, that's right: Beyonce is all up in my professional career...for the third fucking time since I grew up and graduated university.
(For those of you who may not know: Single Ladies started in Spain, moved to Budapest and UN dance parties, and then got transferred to Berlin to pwn forty year old bitches in dance-offs.)

Anyway, I had about twenty free minutes around lunch, so I looked up the lyrics to Single Ladies and then changed a few of them to be relevant to our initiative. I spent a solid twenty minutes on it and then explained a super basic idea of how to do it. I sent the e-mail to MC Activism and finished my carrots while daydreaming about the day when I can eat pizza again.

MC Activism retitled the e-mail to something like, "Formal Activism Plan for blah blah blah." Within the hour, non-profits from across the Denver area were e-mailing in about how excited they were for the initiative and asking how people can be a part of this.

Uh....what?

Now, MC Activism is trying to get me to choreograph a dance number, teach the lyrics to someone else, and then call the media so that we can stage some kind of activism flash mob in Denver.

Is it bad that I'm mainly concerned that my abs won't be ready in time and not that my professional career has been thus far dominated by Beyonce, Tyra Banks, and other batshit crazy female pop icons?

Gah, I have to go practice my power thrust.

How to Not Dress for Success

2011-08-11T20:48:00.000-07:00

Today, I finally got around to going to a volunteer orientation for Big Brothers, Big Sisters. I was pretty pumped because I was finally going to give back to America. I am pretty concerned about community service and making sure that I actively contribute to the community. Giving back to the world is why I decided to do Denver Teaching Fellows and since that didn't work out, I was going to volunteer my time with Big Brothers, Big Sisters.

After a 2.5 hour orientation, I found out that if you got a speeding ticket within the last year...you can't volunteer. I only have gotten one speeding ticket in my entire life. I drive like an old fucking man. But, I am now ineligible to volunteer my time with the organization until next March.

Jo-der.

The main reason I came back to America was this whole bullshit helping people thing.
I can't teach at a school (America doesn't accept my masters).
I can't volunteer.
Grrr....I'm sure there is something to be thankful for, right?

In other news, I really planned out my little ensemble for today's meeting. I wanted to look super modern and cool, but like I could totally handle a 10 year old little brother.

My reading of Midwest Style has been pretty awesome for my personal style. Today, I was super excited when I saw that I was wearing the exact same shoes as the style dude.

All I do is win, win, win...even when I fail.

Those are so high-falootin shoes. I know; I know.

Crouch shot to see all the colors.

Another glorious thing about that fashion blog: they totally explain why fashion blogs do crouch shots. This makes me feel comfortable enough to take a picture of my crouch and post it on the Interwebs.

Maybe this comfort level with crouch-photo postin' is the real reason I got rejected, and it has nothing to do with my speeding ticket. Who knows?