Circumlocution/Enumeration
Occasionally, to keep the drudgery of life at bay, I come up with a Theme of the Day. Sometimes, these ideas come up extemporaneously, in the shower, and I decide to live the day by that theme (e.g., Weenie day, in which all things I eat must be Weenie-shaped: hot dogs, bananas, Twinkies, etc.). Other times, I come up with a batch of themes, then assign them to arbitrary days.
January 23, 2009, was such a day. I had previously designated that day to be Circumlocution/Enumeration day, meaning that every conversation I had had to be circumlocutory, and to the best of my ability, statements I made had to be lists. And so it was unfortunate, that January 23, 2009, quite by happenstance, was also the day fixed for my interview at a prestigious business school.
A lesser man would have given up the theme for the day, all things considered, but I am not a lesser man. By contrast, I am a greater man, and besides which, the challenge of sticking to the theme, regardless of the day's events, is what makes Theme of the Day fun. Needless to say, the interview, which was only 30 minutes, was extremely challenging. Because of my circumlocution, the interviewer only got through half the questions. Here is an excerpt from the conversation:
Interviewer: It's good to meet you, Geoff OMG, and I'm so glad you've decided to apply to -------. Your qualifications are impressive, but so are the qualifications of all the applicants, and because of this, we've invited you to interview to help us in our decisions.
Geoff OMG: Well thank you, Interviewer. Thank you very much. I have to say that this for me, that is to say, this interview, here, which by way of course I am here to say that I have applied to -------, is an honor for me, for several reasons, but mainly, because:
- I have always wanted to attend -------, but owing to circumstances outside the scope of this conversation, I did not attend ------- as an undergraduate,
- ------- is a highly esteemed institution, both nationally and internationally,
- I have several interests in business school, and ------- is renowned in all of these interests, which, by the way, are:
- Logistics
- International business
- Strategy
- Real Estate
- Entrepreneurship
Interviewer: Well that's great. It sounds like you've already done a lot of thinking about your career and your future.
Geoff OMG: Well certainly I have. I mean, you really have to, and by that, I mean, I really have had to. I think anyone who wants to go anywhere in any field needs to.
[silence]
Geoff OMG: I'm done talking for now.
Interviewer: Oh! Yes, well I have a number of questions for you, as I'm sure you have a number of questions for me.
Geoff OMG: Most definitely I would say that I do, and I would like to have the opportunity to ask them, for several reasons:
- I want to make sure that ------- is a good fit for me
- I want to make sure that I'm a good fit for -------
- I wanted to know more about several of your programs
- I wanted to know whether you went to this school, and if so
- How it has helped you
- What your concentration was
- What you would do differently
Interviewer: That's great! Well, gee, where did the time go? It looks like we're completely out of time! Do you have any final questions for me?
Geoff OMG: No.
Interviewer: Thanks for coming in!
Misfit Mistep
Michael came back a few months ago from a conference on bankruptcy at NYU. He brought with him a canvass tote bag, and I, being a 4-time subscriber to KQED and recipient of a delightful KQED canvass tote bag, jealously ogled his official NYU School of Law Bankruptcy Workshop tote. Graciously, Michael agreed to gift it to me. I use it several times a week now, and it has displaced my KQED tote as my primary Whole Foods shopping bag. I still carry around the KQED tote as a backup.
I appreciate the NYUSoLBW tote bag not only for its utility (I carry groceries in it...and sometimes books, too!), but also its sheer hipster irony. For starters, it says "NYU" and "Bankruptcy" on it (ha ha! get it? How could you be bankrupt if you could afford to go to NYU? Or are you bankrupt
because you went to NYU? ha ha!), but besides this, I live on the west coast, and NYU is back east!!! Finally, it is funny, because I am not bankrupt (yet!), never went to NYU (ha!), nor have I ever studied law (hahahaha!).
When I shop at Whole Foods, I am sure to show this irony off, and I proudly display the bag with the logo-side on display. It is a badge of irony, like my bright red American Apparel track jacket, or my bright green Pele-insignia Pumas (retro-irony!). But the NYUSoLBW tote irony is lost on other Whole Foods shoppers! They generally keep their distance from me, or they give me furtive looks of disdain!!!
One checkout-bagger commented on it as she loaded my purchases: 1 bottle of Malbec, 1 lb. of organic grass-fed tenderloin, 4 Belgian endives, 1/2 lb. candied walnuts (in bulk), 1 pomegranate, and 1 quart of Strauss organic full milk, in the glass bottle. She said, "NYU...wait...what does this say?" And I said, "I know! It's funny, huh? I'm not even a lawyer! And I'm not bankrupt!!!!" And then she put aside the NYUSoLBW tote bag and exclaimed, "I love KQED!"
Dystopic Dream
All the doom-and-gloom about the economy and world affairs has gotten to me lately. I think the constant rain hasn't helped. I had the weirdest dream last night, a post-apocalyptic vision of things to come. In my dream, society was just beginning to unravel. I was living (or at least staying) back in LA with my parents. They had a large SUV, one of those American kind that are far larger than anyone needs. My mom was also running a liquor store-type arrangement, and despite reports on the news of looting and mass unrest, she insisted on going to work. I had the sense that she was also wanting to leave the family.
In my dream, the unraveling of society was characterized by several things. First, the phones were down. Second, there were no more civil authorities: no national guard, and no police force. There was a mania surrounding everything. Finally, the trash was no longer being picked up, and I distinctly remember taking several large garbage bags to the street. In my dream, I passed by the bags on several occasions and noticed the grass beneath the bags was turning brown.
My mom did end up going in to work, and she was there long enough for my dad to get worried. I took the large SUV in the driveway, and I drove to her liquor store. I remember driving down the hill and seeing large plumes of smoke coming from all the refineries in LA, as if they were furiously rushing to produce the last bits of gasoline before the end. When I got to the store, there was a crowd of people waiting in line to buy what remained: several empty garbage bags, lunch-sized bags of salt-and-vinegar chips, and not much else. I insisted that my mom come home, but she was ecstatic about all the money she was making. I was relieved that the scene hadn't gotten violent. Just then, a frustrated man who managed to buy nothing screamed about how ridiculous my mom was by counting all her greenbacks. He pointed out that the money was worthless, since there was no more government to back the currency. I had a sinking feeling that he was right, and I was upset for not realizing this sooner. I felt vulnerable, and then I woke up.
Tonight I will up my Xanax to 2 pills before bed. I'll take a Tylenol PM also just in case.
On the subject of certitude
Since I was talking of
certainty, I have to relay this story. I was crossing a large boulevard on Saturday. This boulevard is so large and busy, in fact, that were it in most modern cities, the walk/don't walk signal would have had a countdown timer, with about 30 seconds to cross the street. As it happens, though, this boulevard was in a town that doesn't covet walking or any other type of physical activity unless within the confines of a gym, and its pedestrian signal was probably from the 1950s -- you know, neon, like, and left over from the war.
As I began to cross the street, a woman in what I call a jalopy (but others call a 1966 Ford Mustang -- you can tell by the three decorative "fingers" on the side panel of the car) came right towards me, trying to turn left. This woman was blue-haired and obviously ornery, and 1966 was probably the last time she felt anything but moral certitude and supremacy. She had a dog in the front with her, perched with its front paws against the dash. It was a miniature poodle (the worst kind of poodle). I hesitated, fearing for my life, because I happen to know that blue-haired ornery old women don't have the greatest peripheral vision. Finally, as her path was perpendicular to mine, she saw me, and she slammed on her brakes. I say "slammed," and I'm not at all overstating her speed. Despite the jalopiness of her jalopy, the boulevard was wide enough for her to build up sufficient speed to cause a body like mine significant injury, especially when traveling at balls-to-the-wall speed.
When she came to a stop, I proceeded across the cross-walk, but by that time, the white "Walk" sign had turned to a flashing red "Don't Walk." The ornery hag noticed this, too, and began gesticulating wildly at the signal, indicating that I was in the wrong to be walking when the sign
clearly said "Don't Walk." This was most unreasonable of her; yet rather than feeling animosity, I only feel jealousy at how right she feels. She must be unwavering in her certainty in everything that she does, and that's something I haven't felt since I was 16.
As she drove on, I looked back at her, and I swear she mouthed the words, "you fat fuck!" which I think is uncanny.
How did she know? Lately I have given up whole milk altogether in favor of half-and-half. It's just butterier. I prefer the butteriness with my cookies, with my cereal, and with my chocolate cake. Still, I don't think it's right for that old cow to be calling me that.
2008 (*the year in review)
It's amazing the older I get, the less certain things are. It's true -- I haven't been certain about something since mid-2006, and even still, it turns out I was wrong. I think I used to be regularly certain about things up until I was 20, and after that, certainty began to wane. This is what they call wisdom, I suppose.
2008 was in many ways my annus mirabilis (and believe me, I am well aware that I may have peaked prematurely). From January through June, I occupied myself studying and taking the Zertifikat Deutsch, studying and taking the GMAT, helping to plan a non-profit benefit gala, planning Matt's 30th birthday bash, training and riding the ALC7, and variously kicking ass and taking names at work. In July, I started a new job and begin learning to read and write Chinese. In October, I wrote my b-school applications. In November, I interviewed, and in December, I got word of my first acceptance. It's somewhat astonishing, then, that I should generally feel so deflated after all this.
I don't intend this post to be a downer, really, because it's not. The other day, while I was fighting a women toting two toddlers at the Mervyn's going-out-of-business sale for a 10-pair-pack of ankle-length socks for $1.99 (and I had in my hand a 30% off coupon, which would have made it more like $1.39), I realized that my life is often a string of activities that are all temporary in nature. Let me explain: Nothing ever seems good enough for me, because nothing ever is. I'll do some things for the time being, then move on to the next thing when I get bored. I bore easily. My ex-boss agrees. He said to me once, "You bore easily." He said I have vocational A.D.D. I don't know about that; it might be true, but I've asked my anaesthesiologist for a ritalin prescription (just in case).
If anything, or if nothing else, 2008 exemplified this boredom. It's been a restless year for me, and while everyone else is boo-hooing about the 100-year flood that is the current financial crisis, I've moved on. I've moved on to the more tangible side-effects of this crisis. Like how it affects families. Working families like mine. It used to be that I would shop wantonly. I used to buy shit I didn't need -- hella shit -- but I don't do that any more, and I wish I had been more prudent in the heady days of '05 and '06.
Gone is my budget for reblochon and other soft cheeses (Philly creamcheese is an exception). Gone is my budget for Napa wine, replaced instead with torpid vintages from the likes of Lodi and Hemet. Yum. (Although I splurge on the occasional Malbec when I feel rich, or when the Argentines are in a greater crisis than our own, which lately, is more and more often.) Last week was undoubtedly my nadir, when I mixed half a tank of 89-octane in my premium-only Cooper.
Here I go again, being a downer. The tide is changing though (is it "the tide is changing" or "the time is changing?" Being that English isn't actually my first language, I get a lot of these sayings wrong. A friend has told me that these are called "eggcorns," a term coined by Geoff Pullum, who coincidentally enough used to profess at my university), although it might be more appropriate to say the time is changing. Still more appropriate would be to say the year is changing, because it is, tomorrow.
I had a tarot reading done last week by an expert tarot reader, who wrote a Java applet, which was then open-sourced, then ported to run as a flash plugin for a website. So really, it was the flash application that gave me the reading. It said that 2009 will be a year of calm and tranquility for me, that I will finally be at peace with what I'm doing, albeit temporarily.
So looking ahead now, thanks for putting up with another year of ridiculous OMG tonterías.
My custom Internet ad
As many of you no doubt know, I've been nose-to-the-grindstone hunkered down preparing to get into business school since about October. Even before that, I had taken the GMAT in April, which means I was studying for the exam as early as February. I don't really recall the winter and spring of 2008, however, since that was my semi-annus mirabilis.
Anyhoo, the pressure really began to intensify when I started working on my applications in October, as I mentioned. As I was occupied writing the applications, I didn't have too much of an opportunity to worry about acceptance. I am not typically one to worry about such things -- I take such things in stride, and if you know me, it is this confidence that no doubt attracts you to me. I have noticed this before.
Because I have
lately caffeinated myself more intensely, my nerves are not as steely as they used to be. No, they are now made of a somewhat less rigid metal. Say, somewhere between mercury and gold. I don't regret this; this penalty has its rewards (the other day, I
saw the Higgs boson. Don't ask me to prove it; you wouldn't be able to see it anyhow).
But back to my point. Nerves not as steely. I wouldn't exactly say that I'm nervous about acceptance, really, but I am sort of sick of thinking about b-school. So with that in mind, I give the finger to the brainiacs at internet-ad-search-placemenet companies who tailor their advertisements to my life. Why is it that every page I load on Facebook, on Yahoo!, on NYTimes.com, on WSJ.com, all serve ads inviting me to consider the BerklyMBA? Why do I get inundated with offers from NexTag to compare online b-schools? Why aren't these computers smart enough to know that I'm not in the market for a school like Capella University? Why is it that every time I see an ad for the Keller Graduate School of Management, I think, "Oh, that sounds prestigious," forgetting that it's part of DeVry?
Perhaps when I'm done with b-school, I can answer some of these questions.
The Most Perfect Chip
The following is an excerpt from my up-coming cookbook,
Cooking is Delight!About ChipsEarly American histories date the arrival of French fries to the early 18th century. At this time, the term "chip" was most widespread, owing to the fact that the food arrived with Anglo-Dutch traders chartered by William and Mary to capitalize on the promise of the colonial fur trade. The word "chip" actually derives from the Dutch "tjilpen," which means "chirp," a reference to the seabirds that often circled sailors eating the dish of battered fried fish and potatoes (fish and chips) during their transatlantic voyage.
Many early settlers in the Virgina colony mistook the Dutch arrivals for the French Acadians, who were of course much farther north. For this reason, the term "French fry" was introduced into American usage, while the more traditional term "chip" remains dominant in Britain, where the dish was popularized by William of Orange.
In the British Isles, the majority of chips is consumed with battered and fried fish, and this remains true despite the popularity of American fast food establishments. In the United States, where fish and chips is considered an oddity, most French fries are consumed with hamburgers. It is because of this that the variety of potato used for chips differs.
In Britain, the Jersey Royal is the most esteemed potato, owing to its high starch content and mild flavor, which gives easily to the stark fish-flavored grease in which the chips are cooked. Within the last decade, a renaissance of Anglophilia in the United States has led to a new popularity for fish and chips. Because of the difference in climate, however, Jersey Royals have never been grown on a large scale in the United States.
For this reason, the Yukon Gold potato, with its mellow creaminess, remains the best choice for chips to be served with fish (we purposefully differentiate the term "chip" from "French fry," the latter reserved exclusively to describe the insipid, mass-produced item served for seventy-nine cents at fast food chains). A new generation of more experimentally-minded fusionists have also begun serving fish and chips with other tubers such as sweet potatoes and yams. Their levels of success are varied, however, and it remains to be seen whether or not this fad will endure.
Best Chips for Fish and Chipsserves 6 - 8For those on a reduced fat diet, refer to chapter 4: Salads and Legumes for a suitable meal alternative to Fish and Chips.
We have discovered that the best chips are produced using the same oil used to deep-fry battered fish. The slight fishy flavor, while off-putting for some, reminds us of ocean excursions along the north Atlantic coast. The best oil to use is one that has a high heat tolerance but is also low in flavor. For this reason, we prefer Connecticut Light Walnut Oil (the "light" signifies its lightness in color and flavor,
not in calories or fat). If this is unavailable, you can produce a tolerable, though less flavorful chip using common peanut oil.
In a deep fryer, bring to 375 degrees:
1 1/2 quarts, Connecticut Light Walnut OilIn a large mixing bowl, whisk together until thoroughly combined:
1/2 cup, rice flour4 teaspoons, Hungarian paprika2 teaspoons, ground nutmeg3 teaspoons, black pepper1 teaspoon, white pepperTo more fully evoke the seafood flavor of the fish, we prefer a good sea salt, but a less perfect chip is also possible with standard Kosher salt. Add to the above dry ingredients:
3 teaspoons, Fleur de SelCut lengthwise to form wedges 1/4 - 1/2 inch thick:
2 pounds, Yukon Gold potatoesSee the section above entitled "About Chips." Toss the potatoes in the dry mixture to form a good coating. The moisture in the potatoes will ensure a good coating. Working in batches, cook the potatoes in the oil for 4 minutes, or until golden. Do not overcook the potatoes. Although visually more attractive to some, a golden brown potato will be overly crispy and oily.
Serve immediately with battered and fried fish (p. 392) and malt vinegar.
