"God of Wine" by Third Eye Blind

I have been making lists all of my life and sometime during high school I wrote:
1. Win Wimbledon
2. Publish book by 24
3. Be an astronaut
4. Win first of three Oscars by 30
5. Buy oceanside home at 35
6. Be well-spoken by 19
7. Know what I want to be by 17, and if not then, definitely by 21

Today the goals I listed were:
1. Save 1/3 of annual income for emergency fund
2. Save a rotating $3000 for vacation
3. Save for downpayment for a house (look into low-down payment options, duplex, condos)

This list appears in an Excel spreadsheet where I have planned how my money will be spent through four phases of my life (paying off credit card and buying car; paying off 1/2 of car and preparing to move; moving and paying off the remainder of car; saving for home).

The first is a list of dreams that all kids growing up should have. The second list is a plan.

I saw people this past weekend and growing up seemed to be a theme. Men handle it worse than women. The decisions we've made--sometimes the decisions we continually fail to make--are causing a divergence. Sometimes I am happy when I see this happen, for example, when somebody seems to have really found their voice, their confidence. Sometimes it makes me sad, for example, when somebody is controlled by the same issues they had when they were in high school and just can't seem to find their way. Friendships change the more we get to know ourselves. I wonder how the value of shared histories will diminish, I wonder how new ones will be born.

"Angeles" by Elliot Smith.

OK, nothing about unemployment but I am literally sick to my stomach.

I have diarrhea, I haven't been able to eat and In-N-Out is the culprit.

When I ordered my #2, Animal Style with Root Beer, please, I devoured it. I also had the close-your-watery-eyes-and-take-a-deep-breath urge to throw up when I was chewing. I thought I was eating too fast. But no, there was badness in the burger and the deft skills of my olfactory and tasting faculties knew better. But I kept at it anyway and this is what I get.

But I also find this really exciting!

"Year of the Rat" by Badly Drawn Boy

The HR lady called me today and said my initial requests were a bit high and would I consider proceeding with these adjusted salaries? It was about 3K less than what I wanted. I tried my best to plead and whine but it did no good. She will call me back with a finalized offer. Good news is that they're putting me in a higher position than the one I applied for. Also they are making me "exempt" which is code word for being on salary and not paid by the hour. This is good for them because I tend to work way too much. And this is good for me because it means my April bonus will then range from 1-3 months' worth of pay. And then there is a June bonus where they take the number of months I've worked and multiply that by some magic number that's related to investment returns and market conditions and pork bellies and shuttle foam and Mad Cow disease and whether or not that blonde girl is still missing in Aruba. (That is to say, it is an arcane process.)

I think in worst case scenarios. I still believe at any moment I can lose everything. In fact I am preemptively mourning the loss of so many things.

"Datura" by Tori Amos

I had a group interview with two Koreans last week. One of them said I was "dishonest." This almost lost me the job. I was not dishonest. Last night I had this dream:

I am part of the End-of-the-World-Great-Flood-Emergency-Medical-Save-the-World-Team. We are rehearsing through evacuation procedures, which involves battening down hatches, tying some eight-figure knots, running through an obstacle course. I do not have medical expertise, but I have a gun. The rest of the team has gone through the course. The only ones left were me, and two Korean guys. The last part is sliding down this rubber-mesh chute, a tunnel of interwoven rubber bands. I manage to go through, but the two Korean guys got entangled and were held up.

I looked at my gun, but decided to put it back in my pocket. I waited for them.

The two men finally extricated themselves and we returned to the headquarters inside the ship, where the rest of the team was already waiting.

"Bad news," said the captain, "the British team beat us. They did this course in 6 minutes. We were almost two minutes slower."

The two Korean guys panicked, fumbled for words, could not explain themselves. But I spoke up.

"I think there's a problem with the chute. I think we should consider replacing the rubber with a kevlar material. It would be just as flexible, light and durable. And it would have less friction -- we wouldn't get stuck."

The Korean guys looked at me. They didn't care that I had helped them. But the captain and the rest of the team nodded at me.

The end.

I believe this dream is about forgiveness and about perspective.

A few hours later the HR lady at CG called me and said they'd allowed me to proceed to the next step of the hiring process. She talked about what those two guys said about me.

"One hour [of interviewing] probably isn't enough time to get to know somebody," she said. This is as close as I'm going to get to an apology in a corporate environment.

"I'm fine with it," I said. "I'll trust your judgement on this. If you say it's nothing to be concerned about, I'll just drop it. I don't want to make a big deal about it."

"I wouldn' t be concerned," she said. "We feel you won't have problems fitting in with the team."

And then we started talking about compensation and I gave her my desired salary, which is probably not a lot of money to a lot of people but is plenty for me. When I was a kid my standard for being wealthy was having the ability to buy any CD and two pizzas on a whim. I reached that point a couple years ago so everything since is icing on the cake. My idea of luxury is sweating a lot and being able to take a good-scrub hot shower and having a glass of orange juice right after. And of course my ideal vacation is being stranded in a third world country and coming across a cafe where I can have me a nice cigarette and a little bit of something to eat and drink.

"Ave Maria, D. 839" Franz Schubert, composer


This is the Jesus in our living room. Before we had Jesus, we had Santo Nino, who is kid Jesus. I prefer adult Jesus because he has better clothes and has better physical proportions. (Santo Nino's head was way too big for his body.) My mom sometimes writes requests and prayers on Post-Its, folds it up and inserts them into Jesus' wooden hands. He never lets her down, she says. I say maybe her memory is selective.

At Catholic churches, you have this thing called Confessions. You go inside an enclosed booth. There is a priest hidden behind a wooden partition. You bow and kneel right next to the partition, make the sign of the cross and read aloud a prayer that they've typed up on a piece of paper and taped onto the side:

“Forgive me Father for I have sinned it has been [x] days since my last confession. I accuse myself of the following sins.”

And then you begin.

Last night, my parents asked if I was available to drive my mother to work at the end of this week through next. I said, yes, but I may have a job. They asked me what job, I said it's in downtown. And my mom said, you're going to leave me again? And my dad said, my advice is to stay here as long as you can so that you're prepared to move out when you finally do. Save your money. Do what you want to do, but this is my advice, he said. I think they feel like I'm a burden to them. So I said, maybe I just think it's time for me to leave. That's fine, my dad said, but my advice is to try to save your money before you go. Then we said thank you to each other.

When I was a kid, I'd lock myself up in a room and play with toys by myself. When I won writing competitions in high school, I'd run straight from the driveway to my room so that nobody would see the trophies. I didn't like telling them about my scholarship. I didn't tell them I have spent all of this time writing a book. I haven't told them anything about my job search.

"Strange" by Built to Spill and "Where is My Mind?" by The Pixies. They're almost the same song.

I had a dream last night that the brakes on my car would not work, that the woman I was with had gotten her job only after three interviews, that I was playing tennis with a bottle of water, that we owned two houses that faced each other, that there was a sudden rainfall, that I was sitting Indian style.

I woke up thirsty and with a distaste for local news.

Today, my ambitions continue to rest in the hands of strangers who don't owe me shit. Today I will avoid feelings of failure and unproductivity by:

1. Washing my whites, my darks, and my blacks
2. Finding another Bikram yoga studio that will sell me a one-week pass for $20
3. Revising one of the last five chapters that remain unrevised
4. Sharing a photo with you:

"The Bracelet Store" Jaipur, India

"Impossible" by Figurine

I have been getting up at these times all week: 6:03, 6:04, 6:02, 6:01. When it seems I am developing real human qualities, a pattern of robotic behavior like this emerges.

Right now I am just waiting:
1. Will I get this job? and will I accept it?
2. What do those two literary agents think of my work? and will they want to represent my book?

I was told traveling and taking time off to write a book endangered my career. I knew it was a risk. It is reassuring then that these two experiences have become assets during my interviews. They said it shows that I know what I want and I'll do what I need to get it done. They said it shows that I can start something and finish it. I did not anticipate they would react this way. When I was younger I didn't really know how my life would turn out. I still don't. But living is pretty easy now and I use these questions to guide me:

1. Will you regret doing or not doing this five years from now?
2. Would you have your son do what you are about to do?
3. Is your choice respectful to others and to yourself?

Everytime I feel like not doing something, everytime I have a hard decision to make, everytime I'm stuck, I think of these three questions and it usually makes things very easy.

"Spring Sponsor" by Subtle

Two guys that interviewed me this past Monday felt I was "dishonest." This made me sad. Dishonesty is a very serious word to use. I do not even like to use my old student ID card when buying movie tickets. According to the big wig I interviewed with today, I was almost kicked out of the hiring process. I do not know if I will get the job. I do not know if I want to work there.

I got over it hours later. I watched "Mad Hot Ballroom." I had coffee. I had one cigarette. I did all of this with a friend, I guess that's what she is, and she and I decided that regardless of how much time passes we will still be attracted to each other. But the relationship would be unsustainable and we would eventually destroy each other as we have several times. We said it isn't fair, but it's what it is and better leave it that way. Should we make a pact never to see each other? No, we decided. Should we be OK to say in the future, 'Hey, I don't think I can see you right now"? We said yes, that's a good plan.

"The Golden Age" by Beck

Associated memory: Overnight bus ride from Cuzco to the Bolivian border. Being awakened at 4am on the bus and being told I had to get off. Not knowing where I was. Waiting for dawn.

I love making mistakes. But I do not tolerate repeating them. My final interviews are tomorrow and I want to be well rested. So here are the steps I'm going to take today:

1. Assume that I won't fall asleep tonight: I will need to nap throughout the day.

2. Induce food coma: I will eat an Indian buffet for lunch and nap in the afternoon; I will have a decent restaurant dinner of which half will be taken home and consumed 15 minutes before bedtime.

3. I will engage in only moderate physical activity: Full set of sun salutations but with half the push-ups.

Last night I went out with a couple guys from work. We had dinner and then went to a bar. It was nice.

I'm going to nail these last interviews.

"Ni Tu, Ni Nadie" by Moenia

"Do you see yourself doing desktop support ten years from now?" said one interviewer to me.
"No, I don't," I said.

This is a really stupid question. This interviewer had a mole in an awkward place on his face, and hair that sprouted incorrigibly.

"It's clear that you are confident about your communication skills, but how are your troubleshooting skills?"
"They're fine."
"So can you tell us how you solve a problem."
"What kind?"
"Any kind."

Like how to open the lid of a jar that won't budge? Or how to deal with heat exhaustion? Or how to make yourself happy when you're blue? This interviewer, I realized, was placed as The Bad Cop and my answers were less important than how I dealt with his attitude.

I like interviewing because it is like a very fast chess game. The moves are irreversible and you've got a bunch of weapons--knights, humor, rooks, assertiveness, bishops, charm--to win the game. Capturing their queen is addressing their biggest concern about your qualifications; knowing you've left no doubt in their mind is when their king can no longer move.

I just have two more interviews left for this company, which will bring the grand total to 10. I will be meeting with big wigs. They will be scheduling it for the morning, which means another sleepless night of anxiety, more rehearsing answers out loud in the dark.

"Oceania" by Bjork

How I try to solve insomnia, which is a problem I've had all my life:

1. Physically exhaust myself throughout the day: Yesterday this involved 13 iterations of the sun salutation, interspersed with 101 pushups and then 90 minutes of yoga in a room heated to 104 degrees. The irony, of course, is that this never works and yet I insist on doing it. It's not physical exhaustion, but mental, that allows me to shut down.

2. Mental exhaustion: Last night I counted by sevens. 7, 14, 21, 28. I kept messing up and had to do division in my head. I got to 518 before I realized I had been doing it for too long.

3. Visual distraction: Keep the TV on CSPAN or a Spanish station. I particularly like sleeping with The West Wing.

4. Aural distraction: Listen to Dido's "Life for Rent" album. This was the soundtrack of a particularly restful time of my li. This usually works. I've also slept to streaming BBC news broadcasts. Their accent is soothing, unless it's that gross, poor-people Cockney or Newcastle drivel.

5. Read: There are books I continue to borrow from the library that I just cannot finish. This includes John Irving's "The World According to Garp", Graham Greene's "The Quiet American" and Herman Hesse's "The Glass Bead Game." They are great books but ones that require a more tranquil mind to digest.

6. Emotional purge: Write in a journal the anxieties I feel. This is helpful, because these entries ultimately turn into pep talks. I did not do this last night.

7. Mantras: "Do not worry about falling asleep, this will only keep you up," or "You will be able to function even on little sleep," or "It's alright to be anxious; tomorrow's an important day." These are desperate, desperate measures. I know I'm kidding myself.

8. Induce food coma: Take a trip to Denny's and eat their super breakfasts for $4.99 (limited time only) and then come home and lay myself on my bed. 100% effectiveness, but not without side effects.

I had my second round of interviews today at CG. Interview time was 9am. I went to bed at 10pm, fell asleep at midnight and was then so anxious I got up a full two hours before my FOUR alarm clocks went. That was at 3:30 in the morning. I got to the office at 7:30. I napped in the car.

Tomorrow, nothing is on the line. I will sleep well tonight.

"Catapult" by Counting Crows

Associated memory: Overnight train ride from Hanoi to Hue. Watching unknown sources of lights, of unknown villages of unknown people with untold stories and thinking to myself how much I love the feel of actual, physical progress. The act of moving, the idea of my body moving through space. I stuck my head out of the window and screamed. Nobody heard. The air moved violently through the corridors and swallowed my sound.

Today I:
1. Washed the dishes.
2. Ate a burrito and thought it was too much food.
3. Rented a couple of tennis rackets for the weekend.
4. Visited a yoga studio to see if I might be interested. I am.
5. Revised a chapter on Ecuador and realized the rhythm of it is languid. It's a story told in ellipses. This was intentional, and I hope it isn't overlooked if/when it is read.
6. Was attacked by the Koreans, who had signed a mutual agreement pact with the Celts.
7. Felt residual sparks from my time last night. I enjoy spending time with good friends.
8. Am thinking about big plans, new goals.

At this age, our lives have already taken shape. Nothing short of trauma, or the intense exertion of discipline, can alter these vectors.

"By This River" by Brian Eno

This is what a rejection letter looks like:

From:	"R.S."
Subject:	your book query
Date:	Thu, 14 Jul 2005 16:53:19 -0700
To:	"J Lustre"

Dear J. Lustre:

Thank you very much for your query; I appreciated your being in touch.

Books along these lines don't fall among my areas of focus, but I encourage you to continue seeking representation. Every agent has a different set of specialties, and another may very well be interested.

Thanks again for giving me a chance to consider your idea.

Sincerely,

R.S.

I sent a query to four literary agents. Two have asked to read my manuscript. They haven't gotten back to me. R.S. is responding only to that initial email query, and not to my manuscript.

Of course I want every agent I contact to respond positively. But I have learned to treat successes and failures with the same casual manner. Becoming a great runner doesn't mean winning every race. I could muddy my sentiment with more sports analogies; instead I'll just say I'm pleased with my progress.

Writing this book was never about getting it published; it was an exercise in discipline, in pushing myself, in removing the safety net of hypotheticals ("If I really wanted to, I could...If I really tried, I'm sure I'd be able to...). I wanted to see if I could write a book. So I shut up and did it. I put the thing I'm most self-conscious about on the line to be judged. I'm proud of this. Allowing yourself to be vulnerable speaks volumes about a deeper kind of confidence.

Keeping on...

"Circles" by Mariah Carey

I had a great deal of trouble sleeping last night, as I became obsessed with my first meal. I looked up Denny's online and stared at their scrambled eggs and bacon for a good five minutes. I woke up this morning -- waterless and foodless for over 36 hours -- feeling light and refreshed. As if my reset button had been pressed. The headache was gone and I felt an increased awareness. My body felt young. I had even more energy this morning that yesterday.

My first sip of water scared me. It almost made me vomit.

I drank a liter of water. I had approximately 8 saltines. I had a small banana. I felt fine so I charged to the kitchen and found leftover meatloaf and I ate an amount equal to the size of my fist. I regret this decision. I should've worked up to that.

I have enjoyed this experience. I'd like to find a way to incorporate this into my lifestyle.

Watching "Sesame Street Presents: Follow that Bird"

I am 24 hours into my fast and here is what I've experienced:

1. Hunger has more to do with the anticipation of food than the body's need for it. I did not feel hungry at all today because I knew I was not going to eat.
2. Thirst, however, is harder to ignore.
3. I have fallen asleep four separate times. Points 1 and 3 corroborate my long-standing suspicion that sleeping is more vital than eating.
4. My hearing has been more sensitive, particularly to higher frequencies.
5. Short-term memory and motor skills have suffered.
6. A light headache has had a dulling, even anesthetic effect.
7. Most surprising is the stability of my mood, which has been casual and happy. I believe I simply do not have the energy to give a shit.
8. My weight last night before the fast was 146. Currently it is 143. I am wearing the same clothes. I attribute this to the loss of water and waste (I have urinated twice and pooed once) and not reflective of long-term weight loss.
9. I had to change my daily routine. My activities today have largely been indolent: Read several chapters of Orhan Pamuk's "Snow"; completed two games of Civilization III; watched a video of the 1995 Wimbledon Finals; watched "Sesame Street Presents: Follow that Bird"; chatted online and had several phone calls.

This experiment outlives its novelty first thing tomorrow morning when I intend to have a light and proper break-fast.

"See the Sun" by Dido

The Capital Group HR lady called and said she needed to schedule 6! interviews for next week that would have to take place over 2-3 days. This means that by the time this entire process has finished, I will have talked to 9 people.

What this means:
1. I need to buy or borrow a couple more ties.
2. I need to buy a couple more shirts.
3. I better get this goddamned job.

I'm fasting today. It'll be my first time.

"I am an Illusion" by Rob Thomas

Today is the start of another week which I'd like to start assertively. Here are my goals for today.

1. Contact the Capital Group and ask if they've "filled the position" or "inquire" about the "status" of the job "to which I've applied." If I manage to include the phrase "in regards" I will give myself an additional 5 Stupid Office Lingo points. The question boils down to: "Are you giving me a job or not?"

2. Email resume to friend for a position at KPMG, which is adjacent to the Capital Group building downtown. Primary objective in getting a job is financial, certainly, but geographical is a close second. It's time to move back to the city and be my own man.

3. Email same resume to TekSystems representative.

Here are some peripheral goals:

4. To NOT exercise. My body is exhausted.

5. To super revise another chapter. To further debate the folkloric opening to one of the chapters. Interesting device but sketchy execution and it probably doesn't serve the greater good of the story. The secret to telling a good story is the same for telling a good joke: setup has to be proportionate to punchline and the entire thing must be taut.

6. Resend one of the chapters to WorldHum, this time addressed properly.

7. Wash my whites.

Last night I slept listening to Dido's "Life for Rent" and staring at a photo of sunset at a certain place. The things that we keep to ourselves. These experiences we don't share, these little tricks up our sleeves.

"Mojo Pin" by Jeff Buckley

Being up at this hour is a luxury and burden only the unemployed can fully appreciate.

Last time I watched news like this was during the Pope's deathwatch. Before then, the South Asian tsunami. Before then, there was 9/11, there was the 2000 Presidential Elections, there was the death of Princess Di, there was the LA Riots. I'm addicted to breaking news. I start and end my day with CNN. Aaron Brown is my mentor. Paula Zahn is the MILF and Larry King is the annoying guy at work I have to put up with. Anderson Cooper -- we play drink and play pool Thursday nights after 360. In this life of unemployment, of shrinking social circles, these guys keep me company.

I devoted the last eight months to the completion of a book whose publishing fate now teeters with the discretion (or whim) of two complete strangers. The experience was isolating. My world continues to become more and more internal.

I'm afraid that I will end up at Denny's again, making it three times in just as many weeks that I've ended up there during these kinds of nights. Once is a novelty, twice is an experience but three times is a trend I'd rather not start.

I am waiting for:
1. One or both agents to say I've got a dud on my hands, or a goldmine.
2. The Capital Group to decide whether or not I am worthy of more interviews. The anticipation feels like being handcuffed.
3. WorldHum to finally publish one or both chapters I sent them. I don't really care about this because I've already achieved my goal of publishing three different chapters on three different sites. Remember, three is a trend.

Today, my goals are:
1. To add a round of 11 push-ups to the final iteration of my sun salutations.
2. To revise another chapter, perhaps one of the longer ones.
3. To write one of the short guides BootsNAll has requested, perhaps the one on responsible tourism or how to avoid lonliness as a solo traveler. (Hate others, be selfish.)
4. To play tennis, and hopefully run into Michael, who is a good player. (Reliable forehand, severe western grip; runs around backhand, which is his obvious weakness.)
5. To conquer the Aztecs in Civilization 3.

I'm going to Denny's.

Listening to: "Fighting for It All" by Mindy Smith

The worst part about my interviews yesterday:

Mr. Interviewer #2: "So can you tell about some professional challenges you expect in this job?"
Me: "Hmm."
Mr. Interviewer #2: "..."
Me: "You know what, I just don't know."
Mr. Interviewer #2: "..."
*
Mr. Interviewer #3: "...it was actually my supervisor at the time who approached me about becoming a team manager...."
Me: Feeling the collar of my shirt on fire, sweat beginning to pool around my hairline.
Mr. Interviewer #3: "...so that's how I got here to the Downtown offices. We really work hard to make sure..."
Me: Considering the pros and cons of interrupting his thoughts. My eyes begin to cross, I feel I'm about to lose consciousness. My peripheral vision begins to narrow. I feel last three hours of interviews hinges upon this moment.
Mr. Interviewer #3:"...that all our associates feel like they are--"
Me: "I'm sorry, I am getting really hot. I'm just going to take off my coat--"
Mr. Interviewer #3: "Oh, oh, sure no problem."
Me: Wiping off the sweat that has streamed across my forehead. I meter my breaths and enter clutch mode.
Mr. Interviewer #3: "We try to make it so that all our associates feel like they are progressing..."
Me: I tell myself, "Don't blow it. You can blow this all right now. Relax. You can still turn this around. This is all in your hands." I cool off, force myself to stop sweating and regain composure.
Mr. Interviewer #3: "I actually just lost an awesome associated because he wanted to move onto another department. I talked to him and asked him if that's what he really wants and it was..."
*
Me: Having just said something I regret, I stare off into space.
Ms. Interviewer #1: Waiting for an answer.
Me: Staring off into space.
Ms. Interviewer #1: Waiting for an answer.
[30 seconds pass]
Me: "Uhhh..."
Ms. Interviewer #1: Waiting for an answer.
Me: "OK, I'm going to have to take back what I just said. I created a trap there that I almost walked straight into. You knew it too!"
Ms. Interviewer #1: Laughs

These were the three mistakes of my three-hour interview.