Rochester

Five Life-Lessons the Polar Vortex Taught Me

Rochester has been cold. Very cold. The East, it would seem, was sprayed by Mr. Freeze’s Ice Gun. You’ve probably heard about it or have experienced the frigidness yourself. It’s my first East Coast winter and, well, it’s living up to its reputation.

A coworker mentioned (and you never know how true these things are) that, right now, ten minutes of exposed skin will earn you frost bite. I’m not sure what frost bite is, but it sounds delicious. They don’t sell those in California.

Here’s five life-lessons I’ve learned from living through the Polar Vortex, or as I like to call it, “The Unholy Coldy”

1. Cuss Creatively: If caught outside, unique cussing patterns can keep your brain functioning and from freezing over. Some of my favorites from the other day include, Butt-Face-Twinkie-Stealer!; Alabama-Harp-Farter!; and Mr. Bojangles, the Asshole.

2. Park Near the Entrance: I usually park far away; it saves time and I don’t mind walking. However, the other night I parked on the far end of the grocery store’s lot. By the time I reached the store, I had to borrow an ice scraper for all the frozen tear drops on my face.

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New York State: (Three Month Recap)

What a year it’s been! I woke up in Idaho on January 1st, drove to California where I lived for six-months, and then ventured to upstate New York where I’ll finish out the year. I say “I” but I really mean we. We means my wife and me (I). Yeah. That’s a lot of driving. Our Prius is a champ. I think I’ll buy my car a wizard’s cap for Christmas, considering he did such a good job leading us across the continent (like Gandalf!).

But New York. Man, sometimes, I still can’t believe we live here. New friggan York! What a long way from home. There’s good and bad, but we like it; Rochester is growing on us. Constant unfamiliarity can be quite exhausting, but we’ve been using our GPS less and less, so that is good. A big step to accepting a new home, I think, is learning the street names.

Without further ado, here’s my three-month recap (or review!) of NY State:

August

Humidity and lots of fruit flies. But it could’ve been worse. We came in on the tail-end of the humidity; we’ll have to wait till next year to fully experience it, I guess. With no jobs or school in session we were bored out of our minds! We were broke too. Moving is ‘spensive.

However, we did manage to see Niagara Falls after a terrible, no good-very bad day. Megan landed a job pretty much right off the bat! And speaking of bat, we woke up with a bat in our room and almost contracted rabies. August was… well, it was… a stretching experience. Oh, I also saw mewithoutYou (my favorite band).  (more…)

Failing: Not as Cool as It Used to Be

The weather changed today. More than temporal, it was a grotesque change. It’s cold now. Everything is cold. In response, I’m listening to depressing music and protesting the pile of dishes in the kitchen, taking pity to their grime.

Yes. This is a “I got a bad grade” and I’m going to whine blog. I suggest you leave now.

My economics professor handed back the class’ mid-terms today. When I took the test, I left with an “Uh-oh” queazy feeling; from the moment I first set my eyes on the paper I knew I was a goner. You win some, you lose some, I guess. But I expected some grace. After all, the only different between grace and grade is a “D.” Partial credit can save a semester, man.

I suppose economists don’t believe in partial credit.

Gung-No

My favorite person, so far, on campus at my new school is a chinaman named William. He chose the name “William” when he came to America. I can’t pronounce his real name. He didn’t tell me to stop trying; I just don’t care for the sick look of anguish on his face when I attempt the pronunciation. He also says “Bitchin'” quite a bit which endears him to me.

William is a smart kid. I don’t want to tote the line on stereotypes; I’m sure he’d be smart whether he was a chinaman or not. But he’s bitchin’ smart. In homework, I first refer to him for answers instead of checking the back of the book.

We sit next to each other in Econ. He received his mid-term and nearly jumped out of his skin. “One hundred percent!” He high-fived me and the kid behind him. “What did you get?” I looked down at my paper which was folded and hidden from his view.

Twenty-six percent. “Not a hundred,” I replied. He smiled and nodded. He’s so damn smart, he probably ran the odds ahead of time and guessed it. I felt like a buzz-kill, so instead of focusing on myself I smiled and said “Congrats!”

Picking Up Where I…

This sounds oddly trite, but I’ve never had an F before, not in college, at least. Straight As are what got me in to Rochester! What can I do? Pick myself up and move forward, I guess.

My gut tells me I need to take full-responsibility for the grade. It’s too tempting to compare myself to people like William and say, “It’s not fair.” But it is fair. I’ve received more than a fair share of advantages. Today I feel like shit, but tomorrow I’ll pick myself up.

Here’s what I can do: 

Drop the class and try again… Remove the class from my major and declare a Pass/Fail option… Forget GPA and squeak by with a passing grade… Dress sexy and try to seduce my professor…

Any suggestions?

In high-school I failed my courses quite often. It was “cool” then. You know, to not care? Failing is, definitely, not as cool as it used to be.

Anyway, thanks for staying with me. I know I told you to leave earlier, but I was just a little down and, truth be told, a little hangry.

I’m going to make some food now. Leave me alone. I love you.

Letchworth State Park: Beautiful Place, Ugly Name

I was hoping to write something meaningful today. But I wont. Three things have happened which deterred me from writing a “normal” blog:

1. My wife’s previous blog, “When We Were On Fire” is wonderful. How can I follow that up?

2. I have a mid-term for my Econ class today. Leisure and Hours Worked have been taxed.

3. Yesterday, I finished reading “The Great Gatsby.” It was just so good. I feel both inspired and incompetent to write. I’ll need time to reconcile.

4. My neighbors have sex really loud at 9am, almost every day. I’m trying to get used to it. However, I feel one is never suppose to get used to the sound of strangers having sex.

5. We went to a state park the other day, and it was so beautiful that I want to share some pictures. Here you go!

NOTE: Letchworth is a State Park about an hour-ish from Rochester, NY. Hit it in the Fall and you’ll see all the beautiful colors we did. There’s some great waterfalls and bridges and canyons. Everyone here calls it “The Grand Canyon of the East.” We also went to the Grand Canyon this year. Though beautiful, it is no Grand Canyon. That said, if you’re ever up this way, it’s worth your time.

On the way…
Tromping
Mets
Water
More water
Water under the bridge
Go away
View
Canyon

The Hunt for Red Jobtober 2: Turning Down Work While Desperate

Job hunting is an unfortunate business. Combine the awkwardness of junior high-school dances with the continual let-down of door-to-door sales, and you start to get the picture.

“Hello, do you want to dance/hire me? No? Thank you for your time.” (Yells) I would never dance with you ANYWAYS!!

The last time I posted about job hunting, I spoke about my wife’s adventure of finding a job right after moving to Rochester. That was pretty cool. Since then, we’ve afforded to pay rent, utilities; I bought some new boxers the other day.

But I need a job too. My full-time school schedule allows for more than enough time for a part-time job. I’m sure I’ll regret this decision once finals come around. That’s okay.

My school offered me a healthy portion of money for work-study, but I couldn’t land a position with which to earn it! So far, my luck has been less than stellar. I’ve applied to Halloween stores, cafes, co-op markets, grocery stores—most recently, a music store.

Officially, I’ve been offered one job, and no, it wasn’t the Halloween store. I guess I didn’t fit their qualifications this year.

It was the local music store. Weird though, because I turned it down.

Kevie Don’t Play That

There’s just something about minimum wage that says, “If I could pay you less, I would.”  And I’m not down with that. You’ve got to value me, Sir Employer, just a little more.

The music retail situation was also unique in that the business structure was strikingly similar to what I interned at in California this year: retail, lessons, get more students, get more students, get more students. In the interview, I spoke to the owner about what I accomplished in California, and how I could grow his business. I looked around and saw a sad state of affairs, a local business in need of help, and I knew how to help it. He was looking for someone with an entrepreneurial drive to take his business to the next level, someone with ideas, spirit, and experience.

Great!

I was a damn valuable candidate, damn it. And I was on board, too, up until the point where he offered to pay me $7.25/hour to turn his business around. I told him that wouldn’t work for me, and then he offered $8.00/hour. I said I’d think about it, shook his hand, and left.

It’s so strange to turn down a job, especially when you really need it. But there’s no way I could’ve worked there. You need to be careful when job hunting. There’s a difference between undervalue and robbery.

I can work undervalued, no problem, if I have to, especially in new industries with little moral compromise. I recently read a book by a guy named Mike Michalowicz. He talks about, in business, never compromising your immutable laws, whatever those are to you. My job-hunt laws include never getting taken advantage-of and always working for people I respect and who respect me.

I mean, the music store guy had a ponytail and a gold necklace. I couldn’t do it.

So I’m left with a few open applications, an interview today. My school schedule (thanks to the last dibs I received as a new transfer student) is not very kind to employers.

But I’ve started copywriting on the side which is excellent. It’s not regular, but it’s a start. Maybe some more of that will come my way. Until then, wish me luck as I step back on to the dance floor.

“Excuse me…”

What are your immutable job-hunt laws? Any good job-hunt stories?

How I’d Spend my Saturday (If I Were a Punk-Rocker)

I’ve been fairly poor lately. Staying away from specifics such as budget and purchasing power, I will mention Mac N’ Cheese has been a substantial portion of my daily diet. Mmmmmmac.

This whole “poor” thing has got me thinking existentially. What is life? What is happiness? What control does money have over myself, the individual?

I had one more thought, and it brought me here: Who is better at being poor than punk-rockers?

Punk-Rock is a music genre, scene, and way of life. The punk-mentality doesn’t need money, nor does it need an excuse. Punk-rockers just are. They walk the streets. They smoke. .. Well, who knows what they do. But it seems they get through life being poor pretty alright.

Some of my favorite friends from high-school were the punk-rockers: the mohawks, the black clothes, the best music. I’m not sure what happened to them. Some, I’m sure, looked at the holes in their jeans and turned and headed back. Others turned into philosophy graduates; others, still, traded their jeans for suits and probably work as tellers in local banks.

Regardless, I find myself today, penniless, stuck inside an apartment in Rochester, NY with a cupboard full of Marconi and Cheese and nothing else to do. But it’s Saturday, and I want to do something! Think, Kevin! Think PUNK!

Punk-Rock Saturday

Idea # 1. Demotivate 5K Runners: There’s this 5k Run in Rochester today. The route wraps around both ends of my block; I can hear the clatter and cheer as I write. I’m thinking about going to the end of the block and yelling:

“Slow down!” “You won’t make it!” “Get over yourself!” “You’re fat!”

In this vision, I also hand out tiny water cups filled of cheap vodka.

Idea #2. Celebrate the Government Shutdown with a Parade: The parade, obviously, would consist of punk-rockers walking down main street blasting Bad Religion from their 80’s boom-boxes. This vision works best when everybody has their own boom-box and plays a different song. Total anarchy.

Idea #3. Shoplift from Goodwill: My punk-rock friends used to say this: “What are they losing if they get it for free?” I’ve never been able to answer that question in full confidence. Goodwill, more like good steal!

Shoplifting in New York is trickier than it is in the West Coast. Here, almost every store has a security/loss prevention guard. What better way to exercise my beliefs against the man? (and exercise!)

Idea #4. Argue Music Selections at Record Stores: 85% of punk-rock is hanging out. What better place to do this than in a record store? Just walk in and browse, wait for someone to choose a bad record and you have something to do for fifteen minutes. Start with this, “Are you serious?”

Music establishments generally encourage this type of behavior.

Idea #5. Start a Punk Rock Band: The best punk-rock comes from having nothing to do (and no purpose to do it with!). This is me! I think I’ve realized why the Lord sent me to Rochester. Obviously, it’s to hate the man and make loud music.

And if the band doesn’t work, I’ll just start kicking people.

Any additional suggestions?