If I Get Laid Off

Phlips Dead

2012-01-27T11:18:00.001-08:00

The Republican primaries are in full stride, and they've been damn entertaining. Fairness, taxation, wealth creation, and jobs are at the tip of everyone's tongues and we just finished up the winter of #occupywallst. I've always been left-leaning, but yes, I did work as a trader for seven years. It was quite a wakeup call, as I had never realized people might not revere JFK or might actually hate immigration (I grew up in a bit of a liberal town).

Life as a trader only strengthened my liberal foreign policy views, but I have to admit, my economic views inevitably started creeping to the center. I was surrounded by some characters: one guy would give his four-year old daughter $5 a week for allowance, and then take back 50 cents, so she "could get an understanding for having your money taken by taxation." When he told us this, someone responded that she wouldn't have been in that tax bracket. Yes, this really happened.

Money can be a strange thing.

It was 2006 when I first got out of the red. Life as a trader expedited the process of paying back my undergrad loans and it was the first time I ever had any disposable income. There are many stereotypes of traders: some on the floor who would show up with Gucci loafers and Rolexes, maybe return from a lavish vacation, and some even made sure to pop the proverbial bottle come the weekend. I tried to avoid these things, but I was definitely not immune. The first time my bank account could carry me over longer than a few months, I managed to express my newfound doucheiness by buying one of the first 50" plasma TVs in the market, the Philips 50PF9966.

I read for days about Plasma vs. LCD. I'd go from Best Buy to Circuit City (R.I.P) and convince myself that I could see huge differences in quality. I might've even scoffed at the idea of a Zenith. Remember when people would just watch nature shows and sports in HD....when HD itself was so mesmerizing?

Philips sold me with absurd features like 'Ambilight', that lit up your wall with colors supposedly complementing what was on the screen. In retrospect, this might've been a bit idiotic, as I lived in a convertible one-bedroom apartment. For non-New Yorkers, a convertible 1br is where you take a regular 1br apartment, and add a fake wall to split up the living room, magically adding another bedroom.

(you'll notice the lady is not even watching the TV)

Yup, my roommate and me set up a 50" TV in a living room that was 8ft x 10ft. As someone who's never really been part of either, I never quite got the negative implications of "new money." I guess this kinda captures it?

We'd sit there playing Madden and feeling like we're actually in the game. We convinced ourselves we were somehow being responsible by watching HD sports at home and not a bar. Our guy friends were pretty excited, while girls generally reacted with a "what's wrong with you?"

The Philips just flatlined this week, flickering itself to the television graveyard. I'm amazed it lasted this long. It's moved four times, usually sitting in the back of a uHaul only covered by a comforter. It sat alone in my parents basement for almost two years, even surviving a flooding that destroyed the surrounding. It even found a friend in another gaudy showing of technology at my current apartment, The Stack. The Philips served me well.

This week happened to also be when my old bank told the trading floor their bonus numbers. I was fairly curious the first year after trading, but then realized it was just kind of weird to discuss with my friends still in the industry. If not for the annual outrage over bonuses, I might even forget that entire world exists.

If this blog was never born, would I be in Best Buy staring at the new Sharp 70"?

Ctrl + Alt + Delete

2011-12-30T10:46:00.000-08:00

I've always believed you can find absolute magic in the most mundane of situations. I'm not exactly the guy from American Beauty watching a plastic bag fly in the wind, but I feel there's greatness often overlooked in the idiotic.

Which logically brings us to the film New Years Eve.

Post-Tilt, I've been going back and forth whether to search for a conventional job or pursue some sort of independent venture. During this period, there are those days where you genuinely believe you can motivate yourself, strike out on your own, and take over the world. Then there are those days where you find yourself in a theater at 1pm watching New Years Eve.

I'm not going to get into how I ended up there, but the only other people in the theater were some high school girls who shrieked every time The Efron came on screen, an elderly, Woody Allen-worthy "New Yorky" couple, and a solo middle-aged guy whose story I'd really like to know (or maybe wouldn't).

Yes, the movie was as absolutely atrocious and my hathos quota was more than fulfilled. I'm genuinely curious what Hollywood agent is such a salesman that they convinced Robert DeNiro, "Trust me...THIS is gonna be a hit!"

(Spoiler Alert!!!)

All that being said, the meathead in me that's a sucker for climactic movie speeches from Al Pacino to even Bill Pullman, somehow found myself weirdly non-ironic (or perhaps "reflective" as normal people might say) as Hilary Swank delivered the crescendo. As the Times Sq ball is stuck, she tells us that:

It's suspended there to remind us before we pop the champagne and celebrate the new year, to stop and reflect on the year that has gone by. To remember both our triumphs and our missteps, our promises made and broken. The times we opened ourselves up to great adventures or closed ourselves down for fear of getting hurt because that is what new years is all about- getting another chance. A chance to forgive, to do better, to do more, to give more, to love more. And stop worrying about what if and start embracing what will be. So when that ball drops at midnight and it will drop, let's remember to be nice to each other, kind to each other, and not just tonight but all year long.

Trust me, as I re-read this, I cringe. Yet, I'll admit for that brief moment, I managed to forgive even yet another horrific Ashton Kutcher romantic closing line (rivaling that of No Strings Attached). Somehow this awful movie made me remember what I love about New Years Eve.

It's easy to forget this in New York City. There's a graveyard of $150 "open bar" tickets where you waited in line for hours and missed midnight. There's an endless roster of friends who visited with impossible expectations placed squarely on your shoulders.

I forgot that I love New Years Eve simply because I love the idea of a fresh start.

Maybe I value fresh starts because I know I'm not perfect (understatement of 2011?). Some may wipe the slate clean by with religion and being born again (George W.) but that's not happening. Some may move on by literally moving on across the world, but I'm pretty tired of visa offices (and I guess already did that). I just love that we all agree that an arbitrary event on the Gregorian calendar gives us all the chance to try to be just a little better.

You just survived another 365 days, you must've learned something. Even if you don't keep your resolutions, at least you're making them. You may have lost touch with people you care about, and you're given an excuse to get in contact (though please don't send out on of those mass text messages). How often does the entire world have a chance to collectively reflect and try to improve?

….or maybe I just love the fact that there's globally more drunken revelry on New Years Eve than any other night?

Either way, I can't believe at this time last year I was on a plane from India to Singapore, getting ready to travel Vietnam. Tilt had not yet even officially launched. If 2011 was that kinda ride, I'm a bit excited for what 2012 has in store.

Emoting with Kindle Highlights

2011-12-07T13:50:00.000-08:00

I'm a technophile. I probably shouldn't be allowed within 100 yards of an Apple store. I could be wrong and the last vestiges of our privacy will soon be usurped and the robots will win. I accept Facebook has forever changed the definition of 'friend' and texting just isn't a phone call. However, there are moments where technology facilitates the basest of human emotion, in wonderful, undeniable way.

One battle in the technophilic war where I occasionally retreat is the printed book. I do get it when people say "there's just something about holding a printed book." But, I also remember when friends argued there is just something about opening a CD case and reading the liner notes or putting an LP onto a record player. I argued that at a certain point, convenience outweighs that limited emotional attachment. Having your entire music collection in your pocket is just better.

After last night's discovery, I have to warn my friends who define themselves by what sits on their bookshelf and love the smell of paper: It's time to accept the world has changed.

I bought the Kindle 2 in Feb 2009, right before leaving NYC and moving to Asia. After one look, I donated most of my book collection to the public library (saving a few for the same reason I save concert tickets). The idea that while wandering Asia, I could have dozens of books in my backpack was too good to be true.

When I read, I highlight. I used to do it physically, and began using the somewhat clunky Kindle 2 highlighting functionality right away. I rarely went back and actually reviewed the highlights and notes, but felt someday it could be worth the effort.

It's happened.

I'm not even sure how long this has been available, but if you go to kindle.amazon.com and click on 'Your Highlights' it's right there: every highlight and note I have taken since Feb 2009. Reading The Man Who Loved China while fresh in Beijing. Nervously reading Shantaram on my Kindle in Dhaka, worried someone might steal it. Waiting to read Growing up in the People's Republic, about the Cultural Revolution, til I got to Thailand because I was afraid somehow "they" would know. Reading The Vietnam War: A Concise History but being too spoiled an American and not visiting because I had to get a visa. Bedridden with a bad back and reading Too Big to Fail, vividly being brought back to September 2008. It goes on and on. Not only did every book and the related setting come back to me, every quote I loved is right there (I'll hold off on getting into the potential for the social elements they've already began building).

Imagine every book since you were a little kid, every inspiration you jotted down on a notepad, every lesson, every character...all on one scrollable page.

I'll take my chances on the robots.

(a few favorites)

"This set the pattern of the next decade: Europe struggling with the legacies and burdens of the past, the United States wrestling with the excess bonuses of its good fortune." - Too Big to Fail (referring to 1919)

“You were born in a shirt” (a Russian expression meaning that someone has very good luck) - Darkness at Dawn

"It was big enough to be useful, small enough to be possible" - Bloomberg by Bloomberg (on the first terminal)

"“But it wasn’t just a nice car,” I said. “It was a Lexus. A Lexus. That’s a specific kind of nice car. Everyone knows what owning a Lexus means. To Cobain, a lavender limousine would have been preferable to a Lexus, because at least that would have been gratuitous and silly. The limousine is aware of its excess; a Lexus is at ease with it. A Lexus is a car for a serious rich person. There are no ironic Lexus drivers, or even post-ironic Lexus drivers.” - Eating the Dinosaur, Chuck Klosterman

"Econometrics is essentially the art of finding statistical methods to extract information from data—or, as a lawyer friend of Stefan’s likes to put it, taking the data down into the basement and torturing them until they confess." - Soccernomics by Stefan Szymanski

"I told him once he’s so shallow that the best he can manage is a single entendre" - Shantaram

"Sometimes, in India, you have to surrender before you win." - Shantaram

"'It’s funny you say that. A girlfriend of mine once told me, a long time ago, that she was attracted to me because I was interested in everything. She said she left me for the same reason.’" - Shantaram

"The sign, simply and starkly, states: “Without Haste. Without Fear. We Conquer the World.” - The Man Who Loved China, Simon Winchester

“There is no such thing as becoming German. You either are or you are not.” - How to Win a Cosmic War, Reza Aslan

Tilt Esta Muerto (self-indulgent reflective edition)

2011-11-14T20:49:00.000-08:00

With those simple words, it was in fact, The End. The past year has been the most intense professional experience of my life. The first six months of my emerging markets trading life were certainly not without drama as daily dressing-downs from a dodgy boss nearly broke me. The beauty of trading was that, deep down, you never really cared. You wanted to make lots of money and your ego wanted your name to have large black numbers next to it, but in the end, the non-monetary joy and pain were fleeting. It sounds kinda weird speaking of a financial news website in an emotional tone, but the difference with Tilt was that I actually cared.

The adventure began last September while emailing a bunch of media-related INSEAD alumni. A high-up alum at the Financial Times told me about a startup project underway. At that point I would've taken any semi-reasonable media job, just to get in the door, but the group the alum described instantly tattooed "dream job" onto my brain. The project would be focused on emerging markets, with a strong emphasis on social media (whatever that meant), and was being created by the founders of one of my favorite finance blogs, FT Alphaville.

For those who know me, I tend to get a bit excited sometimes. I'm talking foot-tapping, eye-bulging, repeatedly uttering "are you kidding me?!" excited. It's been described as both my most endearing and my most annoying quality. When I heard about Tilt, I hit the same level of hyperactive energy that elementary schoolteachers once complained to my parents about. I was initially told they weren't hiring, but a tip to job seekers everywhere: always have some vague industry-related project you're working on. If you're told there are no positions available, insist on meeting under the guise of said project (mine was an arrogantly titled media strategy class project, "The Future of Journalism"). That project, combined with a last minute Eurostar ticket to London, got my first foot into the door of One Southwark Bridge.

I was lucky. The exact right combination of people were involved with Tilt to convince them to take a chance on me. There were introductory calls in French supermarket parking lots, phone and videoconference interviews in Singapore, a post-casino job offer call I'll never forget, preparatory calls in Calcutta, and finally, moving back to my beloved NYC and walking into the offices of an organization I always held in complete reverence.

Naturally, real life is always a bit dirtier than less exciting than your dreams. A satellite newsroom ain't what you see in the movies and a startup product certainly doesn't go as planned. The next 10 months were kind of a blur. Weekends and evenings were no longer off-limits, web savviness made it so we could work anytime and anywhere, and the idea of vacation days became a joke.

Even more stressful was that feeling of always playing from behind. Whether it's being down in sports or trading after a bad run, calm is always that much more difficult to achieve. After a lackluster launch, it became an extended game of catchup. I remember when I began trading that feeling of being overwhelmed existed, but then one day everything clicked. There was that moment where you saw everything with clarity and the right results magically began falling into place. Odd confession: during the torturous initiation period of trading life, on the subway ride in, I'd often listen to Dreams by Van Halen. I acknowledge the sharp cheese factor, but fuck it, I was trying to be a trader and was probably wearing a blue button-down.

I kept waiting for the moment of clarity. Sammy Hagar never answered the call.

The vision of what both Tilt could be, and what my job could one day be, was what made that constant battle worth it. Twenty years from now, if you tell me my career combined news, digital media, finance, emerging markets, technology, and entrepreneurship, I will 12-year old girl FREAK OUT. It's not exactly Hefner-ian, but it's the piece of the pie I want. Comfort can be a damn nice thing and it kept me trading for a long time. Taking a chance is not only scary, it's a bit of a pain in the ass, and I kinda miss the days of professional cruise control.

Unfortunately, I'm hooked. That feeling of trying to figure out what people want, trying to create that product, and make it an actual business is just too damn interesting. That connection with the first customers who took a chance on you was too rewarding. The people I met during the adventure were too fascinating. That realization that the market for what you want to create is just too huge and the space is too personally interesting....it's easily enough to make one take another shot.

It's been a few years since my last stint as a severance kid. Well, I'm back. Last time it was a bit cheeky (words I now use after working at the FT) as it was always just a break til b-school. This time I know what I want but have no set plan in place to get there.

I'm actually kinda excited.

The 107th Floor

2011-09-10T17:48:00.000-07:00

There aren't many constants in this world, but one thing you can count on is that every June a squadron of blue-shirted, bright-eyed college students descend upon New York for a summer finance internship. My life in trading began with one of these, an internship at Citigroup in the summer of 2001 (well, it was Salomon Smith Barney, who had just been bought out by Citi).

I got into a generalist program but was randomly placed in the "Fixed Income Index Group" and never really quite figured out what exactly they did. More problematic, for some reason one of the main requirements for this group was a computer programming background. Other than a intro CS class that may have tested my interpretation of "knowledge sharing", I did not have one.

It was my intro into the absurd possibilities of a large corporation, as my managers and me mutually agreed the placement was a mistake, but HR refused to consider a change. Luckily, the team was made up of genuinely good people and they let me meet different groups across the bank, taught me about markets in general, and assigned me some minor projects. The bad news: I knew I'd never receive, nor even wanted, an offer from them. The good news: I pretty much had no responsibility or deadlines. What does one do when you're main responsibility is to just show up? Naturally, at 5:30pm you run for the exit to take part in that institution that you only truly understand the value of once you begin your working life: happy hours.

It was convenient that one of my fellow NYC newbies, who would soon be my first NYC roommate in 2002, worked down the street and became an instant partner in crime. We were told by the "cool, older people" about two bars to check out in the area. The first was Moran's, a bar by the waterfront that featured a cast of decked out gold-diggers being wooed by 80s movie villain-like bankers and traders.

You can always tell who the summer intern is at the bar: they're the ones who are actually really, really excited to be there. The rest of the people, while flirting, drinking, and slapping fives (this was pre-"fist pounding" days), are still secretly exhausted from work underneath. For an intern, it's your first time in the mix. It's your first time wearing grown-up clothes, the first time you pretend you have an "important job", the first time exposed to a corporation, and most importantly, your first time experiencing the wonder that is New York City. Like certain other things, the first time isn't necessarily the best..things certainly get better in those subsequent years when you finally learn how the city works. But that combination of innocence, idealism, and complete obliviousness make the first time something different, something unforgettable.

The friend I'd mentioned worked for Lehman Brothers, in the World Trade Center. That second bar we were told to check out was Windows on the World, located on the 107th story of the North Tower.

A bar, a douchebag-in-training, a respite from a desk....it's not exactly the deepest of things, but it's just what I remember about the World Trade Center. When you were at the base, the buildings were so large that they ceased to be buildings. You couldn't clearly see to the tops...it just felt like you were at the bottom of a canyon at dusk. You entered the buildings, and got into the right elevator. I can't remember exactly, but I think you might've had to switch elevators once. Then you arrived. You walked out to the bar area and were surrounded by a panoramic view of New York fucking City in all it's glory. You were surrounded by people you thought were important. Even if the old guy in the suit next to you was a pissed off, passed over, middle manager, the aura of the place convinced you that "he could totally be a MD" (Managing Director, the holy grail of the banking world). That girl next to him, she must be a model. It's a phrase said too often, but there is no way to characterize that place other than larger than life. No place captured the intern's dream that is New York City better than Windows on the World.

I was back at school in Atlanta on 9/11/01. I was at my then-girlfriend's place and got woken up by her roommate who yelled "they're attacking New York". She wasn't exactly Seinfeldian and I thought this might be some ill-executed joke. I groggily walked out to the living room and just stood there staring at the TV. Only the first plane had hit. I texted one of my friends whose dad worked in the buildings. I actually had a flight scheduled to NYC the next morning for my final interviews with Bank of America and guessed I wouldn't be flying anywhere.

I had only spent about nine weeks in New York, but I really felt sick. I called up my friend from the Lehman internship and he told me that everyone from his office (which was on the 4th floor) was okay. I got an email from a teacher insisting we still show up to class, but didn't go. I met up with one of my friend's who was as obsessed with politics as me and discussed Al Qaeda, the Middle East, and national security (yes, we were both nerdy debaters in high school and love this stuff). Talking in the abstract about something makes it a lot easier to deal with.

I called my parents and my mom told me something I wonder if she ever imagined herself saying when she first immigrated to the US, "be careful, people might react because we look like them" (and I really do look like "them", probably more than I look traditionally Indian).

I didn't know people who died and almost had a twisted sense of survivor's guilt. I got on a plane a week later and flew to NYC. I was out late the night before and running a bit late (surprised?) and I was the last person on the plane. I hadn't shaved for a few days and the fearful looks I got walking on the plane were genuinely hilarious. My twisted sense of humor had me wanting to yell "boo". I'm glad I didn't.

After the interview, I went down to visit the group I interned for to see how they were doing. I smelled the burnt air from the taxi, and found out the Citi folks had seen the planes crash from their windows. I walked around Ground Zero a bit and then got on a plane back to Atlanta. I found out in late September that I achieved every intern's dream and got an offer with BofA.

I moved back to NYC and worked in midtown and found a whole new world of happy hours. Suddenly downtown seemed so far away. For that first anniversary of 9/11, the trading floor went deathly quiet for the moments of silence, 8:46 and 9:03. Most of my group had come over from Merrill, which was next door to the WTC and saw everything firsthand. Many knew people who died. The guy next to me shed some tears. It was pretty intense.

I think it was the fourth anniversary when I first heard someone still on the phone and yelling about a stop loss during the moment of silence. People looked at him in horror, trading glances and thinking "is he insane?" Each progressive year it became less and less of a moment until it faded into a background CNBC montage while people went about their daily work. I still haven't resolved if this was a just a trading floor disrespecting the dead because markets "still were moving", or if this was in fact a realization of the very goal we were supposed to strive for, to move on with our lives.

I know that I was spared the true horrors of having been in the World Trade Center on 9/11 or having lost someone close to me. I've also been politely told by friends from other countries that terrorism and tragedy happen all the time, all around the world. However, whether it's my eternal luck in being "randomly selected" for airport security checks, my first real adult anger towrads the Iraq War, or most of all, the attachment I developed towards New York City over the eight years I've lived here, I do think about 9/11.

I had the extremely weird experience of almost crying on a treadmill yesterday while looking up at the TV's to watch a ESPN documentary about one of the victims (their production quality just gets better every day)...

The girl next to me was.

Everyday I'm Shuffling

2011-06-19T19:27:00.000-07:00

Trotting around the globe for close to two years certainly opens one's eyes to a whole lotta new experience. Whether it was Ladyboy shows, racist toothpaste, cured meats or singing in a room alone with a Chinese man, I found a world that was well beyond my realm of normalcy. Going to school with hundreds of classmates from over eighty countries also opened my eyes to concepts I'd never heard of nor imagined. The weird thing was, as every new international experience was undertaken, I completely lost connection with what had always been near and dear, American Pop Culture.

For those two years, I never knew what was the latest trend, whether it was in clothing, in music, in television, or even just the latest internet meme. I'd get inklings here and there via facebook (I still wasn't integrated into the twitterverse) but there were a number of times I'd be wondering things like, "Who and what is Justin Bieber?" or "What is Glee and when did acappella become cool?"

Now being back in the US, it finally dawned on me to actually experience and appreciate pop culture, there has to be sufficient context and grounding in a country. If there was some new craze sweeping the island of Singapore, I'd have no clue…I was busy obsessing over Chicken Rice and Singlish. If there was a new type of music taking over the French scene, I'd be more concerned with how much chocolat there was au my pain and marveling at the number of cheeses at the hypermarche. Getting Rickroll'ed only makes sense (and that's still questionable) and is hilarious if Never Gonna Give You Up strikes a nostalgic chord for you.

I think about all this because the other day I was out at a LES lounge with an active dance floor. A song came on that had all the crowd-pleasing elements of a Black Eyed Peas opus, that had an interlude that went "Everyday I'm Shufflin'". People around me were all kinda running in place and dancing somewhat absurdly. The song was LMFAO's "Party Rock Anthem".

The next morning I youtube'd "Shuffling". I'm not sure whether this song was the genesis of the shuffling craze, or the shuffling craze was what inspired the song, but apparently in high schools across the country kids are shuffle battling. The dance mesmerized me as it basically took the Running Man to a place the early 90s never dreamed of. I couldn't stop watching videos, and confession, the hyperactive child in me was attempting my first shuffle the moment the hangover wore off.

I'm back in the US and this is what I wonder about. Is this the next big dance craze? Is this already the current dance craze? Is it actually over and I just missed it (I did turn 31 the other day and can see this being a "those kids today" moment)?

The only thing I can say with certainty is that this summer, like it or not, I will be shuffling.

P.S. A great new site / community for people studying Mandarin posted this video the other day of a little Chinese girl shuffling in front of famous Chinese landmarks. I will fully accept that she is cooler than I'll ever be.

The Viola

2011-04-20T19:20:00.001-07:00

I've always had dreams of being a rock star. In reality, I don't think I'd actually have the will to pay my dues as a starving artist and would probably die at an early age if I was in fact a rock star, but I've had maybe two moments that made me feel like I was almost there.

The first was at age 14. The band I was playing with was kicked off stage while we played a teenage version of Purple Haze and our lead singer freestyled some not-so-kosher lyrics. The assistant principal ("you just don't understand me Arthur DuLong") came on stage and actually grabbed the mic from him and told us to get off stage. Check.

The second was probably in the most opposite of settings from the youthful, pre-sellout, high school "band night". It was a MBA black tie event that involved playing a set full of songs that the wannabe hipster in me will refrain from mentioning, but deep down am okay with in the way that I feel that "I'm Yours" is okay. We played in front a group of a few hundred classmates and it ended with me rapping.....okay, I'll admit it, Flo Rida and finishing with....yes, I'll admit it again, Bad Romance. Check.

During my world-renowned career as a guitarist one thing always struck me: bassists are damn interesting, and somewhat odd people. I was always puzzled at the decision to play the bass. Lead singers are generally attention-hungry folk that love the spotlight. A lead guitarist likes a little bit of spotlight, probably can't sing very well, and is generally just nerdy enough to sit down and spend the hours it takes to become technically proficient (laying out these qualities just made me realize: is what drove me to playing guitar the same thing that drives me to blog?). Drummers are just fucking nuts and full of rage.

The bassist though...I always wondered what would possess someone to actually choose an instrument that will imprison you at the back of the stage, not stand out in general at any point in the song (Red Hot Chili Peppers and a few other bands aside), and require extreme discipline to play somewhat repetitive riffs over and over and over again.

With much love to my bassist friends, if I stop and think about famous bass players that come to mind, it's a somewhat odd bunch. John Entwistle from the Who, Jack Bruce of Cream, Cliff Burton of Metallica, Bill Wyman of the Stones, Duff from GNR, Nikolai Fraiture of the Strokes, etc. etc.....what do you think of when you think of these guys? The level of relative anonymity for major rock stars is unbelievable. Are they just quiet, nice guys? Do they just like an instrument that hangs a bit lower? Are they quietly insane and behind the scenes are emotionally and physically abusing their bandmates? What are they up to??

This has always been a fascination of mine that recently was extended into an entirely different realm. The other night when I met someone who plays the viola for a string quartet. It never occurred to me, that in this completely parallel universe, there are almost equivalent dynamics. "Violists are the stoners of the string quarter" she exclaimed before saying "I've always kinda had a thing for violists". At first this seemed somewhat random, but then I remembered back to my brief, disastrous stint as a violinist from ages 8-9. Even at that tender age, a chubby little Ranjan wondered, "Why the hell would anyone play the viola"? In what capacity would an eight year old make a decision to choose an instrument that was just one string down from the ever popular violin? Apparently, the same decision calculus used by a young Flea is utilized every day by hundreds of pre-teens being who are joining orchestras. It is something I don't know if I'll ever understand but weirdly very much respect.

"Oh....you're NOT into Olga Goija?"

Sign Language St. Pattie's with a Side of Beef

2011-03-21T18:25:00.000-07:00

There are certain things that you think are completely normal while growing up, until you try to explain it to a friend from another country. St. Patrick's Day is one of those things.

When you're a kid you wear some green clothing and maybe eat a green-frosted cupcake. The holiday only takes on a bit more significance once you hit that tender age of 21 (or maybe 18, or maybe 15 depending on your hard coreness) and realize, "Wow, there's an entire holiday surrounding drinking". Suddenly, you might still wear a green sweater, but the focus becomes taking down Irish Car Bombs, pints of Guinness, and graduating from cupcakes to corned beef and cabbage.

It's 2011, I'm back in the US, and back in NYC, a land where St. Pattie's Day is serious business. Often called "amateur hour" by self-proclaimed serious drinkers due to the hordes of ill-trained drunks roaming the streets, from as early as 10am in Midtown you can see people stumbling around.

Wandering through the mess and looking for a place to eat with a friend, I remembered a new concept that can only exist in my fair city: the nearby Bowery Poetry Club recently began serving much buzzed about Roast Beef sandwiches....and trust me, they are just plain amazing.

There are two things I have to bring up about this. First, why? How? What the fuck? How does a place where I'd previously seen the most intense spoken word...where the hip and intellectual emoted on rape and racism...how does a poetry club decide it would get in the beef business?

Secondly, and I guess less of a wtf moment, when did "Boston style roast beef" become a concept? I do remember Kelly's Roast Beef in Boston, and thought they did make a great sandwich, but was this enough to coin an entire genre of food? I'm proud of my hometown for many things, but is this for real or is this some cynical marketing ploy (yes, the MBA in me has become somewhat suspect of all things business)?

We sat down and ordered. As we waited for the piles of thinly sliced beef, melted che

ese, horseradish, mustard, bbq sauce, and an awesomely branded bun, we decided to check out what was going on in the stage area of the venue. I walked up to a curtained area, where a man who probably says he is not a hipster, thus cementing his credentials as a hipster, told me "Sign language poetry slam, $4 cover".

He said this without a hint of irony or absurdity. Yes, there was a sign language poetry slam. I peeked in and was just too overwhelmed by the combination of things going on at this given moment and didn't have the wherewithal to take any footage for you so all I can give you is a generic Youtube clip.

I acknowledge this story is a bit rambling. It's a bit, to use my favorite word in the English, random. However, coming across a sign language poetry slam + while seeking out a Boston style roast beef sandwich + on St. Patrick's day = my kind of bliss.

Glassesblogging - Countdown to Lasik

2011-03-10T18:57:00.001-08:00

"It's like suddenly seeing the world in HD" - my roommate.

Is the term "four eyes" still an insult? Has anyone avoided a punch in the face with the ol' "you wouldn't hit a guy with glasses" line recently? Is the librarian look still sexy or has it not been since the world realized Lisa Loeb was over 40?

Back at work only six weeks and as my vision became more and more blurred, the realization became clearer and clearer: I needed glasses. I went to the optometrist and this was instantly confirmed. Farsighted with astigmatism and a +1 power (I'm not even sure if that's the correct way to say it as I'm new to being a 'glasses guy').

My whole family has glasses, with my dad and sister both having had them since a very young age. I had always kind of enjoyed the fact that even though I was no Goose or Maverick, I could technically be a fighter pilot at least in terms of vision. The sight of people who wore contacts actually touching their eyeballs completely freaked me out.

Well, they arrived this afternoon and I'm wearing them as we speak. I'm still not terribly excited about this development as coupled with back problems of the past, it's yet another symptom of eight years of sitting at a desk.

The bright side however is, I can now sit in a Think Coffee shop and ponder really, really deep things. I can talk about how I'm not hipster but make people secretly think "that guy must be hipster" all the while actually convincing myself I'm hipster. Finally, I can already picture at work now someone coming up to me and yelling "what do you know about the the Consultative Assembly and legislative process in the House of Saud?" and when I respond "um, I work on the business side of the news" their natural response will be "But...but, you have glasses! You must know."

These are the only logical things that can happen in this brave new world I have entered.

Life Officially After Trading

2011-01-20T05:37:00.001-08:00

It's been nearly five months since the last post. Another few weeks in South Africa, two months in France, and a final two months in Southeast Asia, concluded my world tour. After the whirlwind that was, in the ultimate deja vu (not sure if that is the correct usage of the term), I'm sitting on a Bolt Bus heading from Boston to NYC. The next few days I'll spend crashing on a friends couch and looking for an apartment. After that...it's back to work after almost exactly two years. It was January 22nd, 2009 that I last sat in an office and paid homage to the corporate overlords. On January 23rd, 2011 it'll be back to work....

This time it will be a little bit different. I named this blog Life After Trading even though I had no idea exactly where I'd turn up post-MBA. Well....I'll be starting a job with a startup group within the Financial Times called FT Tilt as their Commercial Director. Those who have known me for a while know my longtime obsession with the new media world. Whether it's writing this blog, somehow letting Arianna Huffington and Matt Drudge affect my daily mood, or trying to get myself on a food blog discussing the midtown lunch scene. I'm amazed to have found an opportunity that somehow lets me stay in the world of financial markets while moving into the new media side of things (and more specifically "news new media" if that's even a term).

It's been a ridiculous two years. Life as a severance kid took me places I'd never been before. I wandered all around daytime New York City, had a mohawk and a mustache for about a day each, tried learning Mandarin, I traveled the world, I had the first major medical disaster of my life, lived in four different continents, became okay with Jason Mraz (within reason people...within reason), gave up on Mandarin but learned a whole new form of English, went into the Heart of Darkness, and finally managed to come out with a MBA that in my B-school programmed mind, fully justifies the time off on my resume.

As I hit my 30s it's be a whole new challenge....and at least until I fail spectacularly in a blaze of glory, it truly will be a life after trading (cue the music from the end of Layla by Derek and the Dominoes).

Dangerous Quantities of Biltong

2010-08-13T02:06:00.000-07:00

I don't consider vegetarianism a disease...just an ill-conceived life choice. I sometimes feel bad thinking this way, considering my Indian roots, but meat is just so damn good. If dinner is being served, no matter how good the starches and vegetables look, my eyes and stomach are waiting for the real deal.

South Africa has introduced me to a whole new level of meat happiness: Biltong. It's basically beef jerky on steroids. The beef jerky you find in the US is usually leathery and bland (disclaimer: I still like it for long road trips for some odd reason) and I had always wondered, "Can they make the beef jerky experience just a little bit closer to consuming cooked meat?"

Ladies and gentlemen, South Africa has answered this question. Biltong is a cured, dried, and often spiced preparation of various meats (usually beef, but also ostrich and kudu out here). In the process, not only do they use much thicker cuts of meat, but the inclusion of vinegar in the drying process creates a product that balances chewiness and softness in the absolute perfect combination. Some of the cuts even retain a little bit of somewhat dried fat on them, which might sound a bit disgusting, but adds this insanely good texture and taste. You basically feel like you're eating a great piece of steak, on the go.

It gets even more decadent. The other day I was introduced to 'rare beef biltong'. They somehow dry the outside of the meat while keeping the center a sandwich roast-beef dark red, that amazingly is just dried enough that it doesn't need to be refrigerated. Combining this with a glass of local Pinotage (a spicy wine from a grape unique to South Africa) makes you feel like you've discovered a Zagat's guide to the African bush.

Safari Randomness

2010-08-03T10:15:00.001-07:00

In my former life as a trader, there were sometimes over-the-top steak dinners that resulted in what I call the "meat sweats". That feeling where you don't really feel overly full or nauseous, but you wake up in middle of the night just feel uneasy as you kind of feel your body digesting. It was interesting to see that apparently I eat meat in a similar manner to lions, as we found a lion who had a half-eaten buffalo next to him absolutely in pain. He was breathing hard and just on his back with a huge tummy, rolling around. He looked completely content and awful at the same time.

The different animal collective nouns are absolutely insane. By this I mean the word for a group, i.e. herd of elephant or pride of lions. Some amazing ones I had never heard of were:journey of giraffe, tribe of baboons, murder of crows, crash of hippopotami, clan of hyenas,leap of leopards, and troop of monkeys. I now can imagine the conversation that spawned Animal Collective's band name.

The most common animals around were the Impalas. They're a type of antelope that somehow, someone from Chevy heard of back in the day. It was almost ritual that on everyone's first day of safari, they'd get really excited when they saw a group of these pretty boys, and everyone else would kind of roll their eyes.

Apparently they're called the "McDonalds of the bush" for a few reasons:

1) They actually have what looks to be a big 'M' tattooed on their backsides

2) They're so common that they're basically the low-quality, easily accessible "game" for people on safari

3) They actually are the easiest prey for lions and leopards. They can barely fight back and are so plentiful that predators can easily take out a few in any given attack.

My favorite random fact: Rhinos penises are actually "recurved" meaning that it kinda curves back through their legs. This allows them to spray pee backwards to mark their territory. Both rangers I came across made the exact same awful joke when pointing this fact out (in both safaris we observed them reverse-spraying)…saying "it took me a few weeks to learn how to do it myself!" Hey-o!

Apparently when female buffalos are ready to mate, they will actually mount another female to demonstrate to the male that they are ready…not dissimilar from a drunk, heterosexual coed making out with another girl at a party (I am using the term 'coed' because I am now over 30).

Hippos used to hold the title of the killer of the most humans for years until very recently in South Africa. Lions have taken over due to a very random geopolitical development. Illegal immigrants from Mozambique apparently have been flooding over the border and the least guarded route is through Kruger National Park. They cross in middle of the night to avoid rangers, but unfortunately lion's are mainly nocturnal hunters. Unfortunate.

Rangers and trackers speak to each other in a mix of Sangaan, Zulu, and English. Leopards are called "ingwey" and a lion is an "ingala", while a male is "madodo" and female is "mufazi". The entire time they'd be speaking to each other about what they thought might be around and say things like "mufazi ingwey on bellway peak chasing madodo kudwa". I feel like I now understand the lyrics to the opening song in Lion King.

Where Cargo Pants Are Still Okay

2010-07-26T03:38:00.000-07:00

I want to begin this entry with the disclaimer that I've never been a particularly outdoorsy guy. I've definitely never tried hunting. I always suspected that bird watching was just a cover for child molesters. Even factoring all this in, the experience of an African safari is up there as one of the most amazing of my life.

What exactly constitutes a South African safari? It seems like it should be obvious but I wasn't completely sure what I was getting myself into. The objective is to see or find "game", a term that I thought was only used in hunting. In South Africa, there's a collective called the "Big Five" that's made up of lions, leopards, rhinos, elephants, and buffalo. The more of these you see, the "better the game" in a given area. One evening we saw a leopard eating an impala (a type of antelope) that had dragged the body up into a tree to protect it from hyenas and was busy ripping into it. That game would definitely be considered lekker (an all-purpose South Africanism for "very cool", "tasty", or even "sexy").

There are two ways to do a safari in the Kruger National Park area in South Africa: one is to "self-drive" around the park. I attempted this for one morning and considering I was flying solo, between trying to concentrate on driving and having absolutely no clue what I was looking for, I didn't see much game.

The other way is to book a stay with a Private Game Reserve. North of the park, there are large plots of land owned by resort-type lodges. After the self-drive disaster, I booked a few nights and am eternally glad I did. I'll post later about the specific lodges, but basically, you wake up around 5:30am for the morning game drive. You load up on a large, open land cruiser that's outfitted to seat up to 9 passengers in addition to the driver and a 'tracker'. You then drive around all morning 'tracking game'.

The whole tracker concept was absurd and amazing at the same time. I went to two different lodges during my stay, and both times the tracker was a local African who grew up in a surrounding village or town, giving them a solid knowledge of the bush. As you drive around, the tracker is seated up in front of the vehicle on this extension seat thing. The coolest part was he'll coolly sit up there as we're driving around, and occasionally, when none of the passengers would notice anything, make a little rightward hand flick and the driver would stop. Without fail, there would be a lion or some other game hiding between trees or hidden in tall grass. Often he'll tell the ranger to stop driving when he sees tracks in the dirt and then inspect those tracks to decide where to head next. When the sun went down, he'd shine a spotlight around and sometimes spot animals just by the reflection of their eyes.

Cruising around with Tracker Gideon and Ranger Chase

The one main rule, which still blows my mind, is you have to absolutely stay seated the entire time. Apparently, the animals are used to seeing the shape and hearing the sounds of the land cruiser with seated passengers from birth so are not threatened at all by it. If you're to stand up, and especially if you get out of the vehicle, then you're just a human and it's dinnertime if they're hungry or threatened.

I seriously cannot describe how crazy it is when you're about four feet from a lion ripping apart a buffalo, or even a leopard stalking in the grass hunting a kudu (another antelope). There are moments you even begin to be convinced that the animals are somehow in on itand are taking a cut. However, we were about ten feet from an elephant at one point who suddenly turned around towards us and snorted a few times and stuck his ears out. The ranger absolutely floored it in reverse and later told us that is a definite sign of an impending charge, and that occasionally the animals do charge if a ranger is careless. Enjoy.

After the morning drive, you eat a huge breakfast and then chill out for a few hours. They have optional "bush walks" where a ranger will take you around on foot to parts deemed safe to walk and talk about plants and animals. I went on one which featured Jeffrey, an African ranger, who was extremely animated and somewhat incomprehensible. As we walked he kept telling stories about animals attacking irresponsible rangers and tourists and then would laugh heartily at the end of each one.

After a smaller lunch, you head out for the sunset drive that lasts for another 3-4 hours. The experience is similar to the morning one, but you see certain animals more frequently and in different situations. An added benefit of the evening drive was as the sun is setting, the ranger finds a relatively open field and parks. You jump out and they set up a table contraption attached to the land cruiser. It's 'Puza' time. Apparently, 'puza' is a term for drinking/drinks and can be used as a verb or noun. They'll pull out a bunch of booze and some biltong and other snacks and you puza as the sun sets, before heading out for another hour or so. (Fun Fact: Apparently liquor brands will sponsor nights like "Puza Thursdays" at bars and clubs in cities)

After the sunset drive, you have a large dinner in a fairly communal setting. I have to say, you can only imagine the cast of characters you'll meet at one of these. Throw in a bunch of wine and the conversations were absolutely unreal.

As I mentioned above, I generally don't crave the outdoors (I did live in New York City for over seven years) but the safari experience is something I'd recommend to everyone. Seeing animals like lions and rhinos from mere feet away is something you can barely process. Even driving around in the open land cruiser through the bush was somehow relaxing. It's a pain in the ass getting out here and the whole experience isn't exactly budget, but I'd strongly, strongly recommend everyone at some point in their lives to experience an African safari.

The Time Has Come

2010-06-11T09:33:00.000-07:00

It is undeniable that women have been subject to centuries of patriarchal oppression. The glass ceiling continues to be broken, but we are decades away from true equality. However, there is one space in which men have secretly coveted the life of a woman: society encouraging her to carry a purse.

Social mores have dictated that a man with a handbag or purse is simply unacceptable. Somehow, there is a fine line between a hip, cool, smaller messenger bag and a ridiculous, absurd, man purse; a fine, gay line. This seemingly trivial distinction has caused years of pain for men. The more technology progresses, the more devices we must carry. From the patrician in the Middle Ages who had a set of really big-ass keys, to the modern man who has keys, a wallet, phones, blackberrys, and iPods all tucked into his pockets. Jeans get tighter but the objects needed to carry around become more plentiful.

In 2005 I thought there was a moment where I thought I would be forced to take the plunge into manhandbags. I had a phone, a blackberry for work, an ipod, and a wallet (or money clip, being the trader that I was)….my denim was just not equipped for such an arsenal. The advent of the iPhone saved me from this pain by consolidating devices, but I never gave up the dream. During these years the gays and the hipsters have made futile efforts at executing the manbag, but never with great success.

Now…it is time. When Steve Jobs says the iPad will change everything, it really will. After a few weeks with my iPad, I want to take it everywhere with me, whether for a day of school or a casual trip to a café. At the size of a slightly larger book you definitely don't need a backpack or even messenger bag, but it doesn't stand a chance of fitting in your pockets (maybe in a pair of Cross Colors from the early 90s). It needs something in the middle, and that middle ground is the man purse. While a self-professed Apple fanboy, I genuinely believe tablet PCs will become the standard. It really, truly is time for the man purse.

Me Like Asia - Political Edition

2010-03-16T22:18:00.001-07:00

It has been a while. What can I say, school finally came around and started kicking my ass and blogging has spiraled to the bottom of the the to-do list. If you ever are contemplating business school and attend one of those presentations where some peppy ex-banker tells you, "There really aren't enough hours in the day for all the AMAZING activities," for better or for worse, it's definitely true.

At the conclusion of our first set of exams I visited Cambodia. I would strongly recommend the temples of Siem Reap as one of the more amazing sites I've visited, but also wanted to relay a story I heard along the way.

I had just finished a visit to S-21, or the Tuol Sleng Genocide museum, and needless to say, was in a somewhat reflective mood. We went out to dinner, where I sat near a classmate's boyfriend who currently works in Phnomh Penh. I was still somewhat confused regarding the timeline of the Khmer Rouge rule and he provided a thorough explanation of how events unfolded over the years. It made the idea that this city and nation were fully operational and alive even having been absolutely ravaged during my lifetime. What was even more fascinating was learning about the transition in Cambodian leadership over the years.

Even after the Khmer Rouge was officially was defeated by an alliance of Vietnamese forces and disaffected former members in 1979, they maintained a share of power until 1993 when after years of negotations, King Sihanouk returned to power (he had originally ruled form 1941 to 1970). King Sihanouk ruled until he suddenly abdicated his throne in 2004, citing health reasons and leaving for Pyongyang and Beijing to receive treatment. I found it somewhat odd that someone would leave their own country to fly to North Korea for medical treatment, but I won't judge.

Which leaves us with Cambodia's current ruler: King Sihamoni. His Italian mother was one of King Sihanouk's "companions" when he met her at a beauty contest sponsored by UNESCO. I question the shadiness of a 1950s UNESCO beauty contest that leads to a Cambodian King impregnating an Italian woman, but again, I won't judge. Sihamoni lived outside of Cambodia most of his childhood but did return to Cambodia during the Khmer Rouge rule, thinking the regime would be friendly to the former royal family. He was however placed under house arrest and remained in Cambodia until 1981, where he moved to France to pursue a 20 year career as a ballet teacher.

Yes, the Crown Prince of Cambodia became a ballet teacher in France. This is certainly where the randomness of the story was taken to the next level. Apparently, throughout Cambodia it's an unspoken fact that their current King is gay. I was amazed that this nation that less than 30 years ago was being destroyed by an authoritarian regime was tolerant and reverent of a gay King. Perhaps it's my frame of reference with US values, but against the backdrop of what I had just seen at the Genocide Museum, this liberal attitude was simply unreal.

The former King Sihanouk has shown a tremendous progressiveness himself, declaring in 2004 after watching gay marriages take place in San Francisco, that he fully backed gay marriage. When commenting on his son Sihamoni's bachelor status, he said that Sihamoni, "loves women likes he loves his sisters." I'm not sure exactly where the King was going with that, but once again, I won't judge.

Hurts So Good

2010-02-15T02:46:00.000-08:00

One of the best parts of living in Singapore is the ethnic enclaves. New York definitely had its fair share, but around here, when you go to Chinatown, it really feels like China. When you're in Little India, the smells and the sweat are just like you're walking the streets of Calcutta. I went down to Little India the other day to witness the Thaipusam festival.

Thaipusam is a festival originated by the Tamil people of South India that's celebrated widely by the Tamil expat communities in Singapore and Malaysia. The story is standard: A people (the Devas), were losing battle after battle to a stronger enemy (the Asuras), and prayed to the Lord (Shiva), who then enabled them to victory. The festival is supposed to be an offering of gratitude.

Standard story, not so standard offering of gratitude. My experience with offerings in Hinduism have been throwing some flowers and repeating lines given to me by a priest. These guys? This isn't just "going to church on Christmas and Easter". They take it to the next level. Bodily mutilation and adorning oneself with a massive decorative canopy supported through hooks attached to your body? If that's not an offering, I don't know what is.

As the Olympics have just begun and in the spirit of international competition, I've been wondering how there isn't any sort of international event that pits religious bodily mutilators against one another. The Shi'ite expressions of Ashura, the Firewalkers honoring Draupathi, and even good old fashioned Catholic self-flagellators all engage in extreme activities that test the bounds of human thresholds for pain. Isn't this just asking for a ESPN production team to jump on it? They've made everything from the Worlds Strongest Man to Poker become big television events, can anyone get on this?

Thank you to my new iPhone 3GS and "Genesis" by Justice for the following video:

Me like Asia, Part 1

2010-01-30T05:10:00.000-08:00

My new toothpaste:

Darlie toothpaste has a somewhat absurd and amazing past. It was started by a Taiwanese company and called 黑人 or Hei Ren...which means "black people". Yup, that logo is exactly what you think it might be. A somewhat minstrel-like throwback that promises Asians a smile as bright as 'black people'. The logo has actually been toned down from its slightly more intensely racist past.

It gets worse...Darlie became the new name for the brand after the Taiwanese company was acquired by Colgate-Palmolive in 1985. Can you guess what its name was before?

Yup...you guessed correctly. It was "Darkie".

Thinking 'bout music

2010-01-24T00:51:00.000-08:00

It was a few years back...I had just discovered the Shazam iPhone app which "recognizes" songs just from a short clip. A few of us were watching a video on MTV that featured scenes from a tropical paradise and a very laid-back song. The song seemed that much more amazing as there was snow outside and it was one of those NYC days where it gets dark by 5pm. One of us pulled out an iPhone and "Shazam'ed" it:

Jason Mraz - I'm Yours.

Now...the natural reaction of the three guys in the room was "no one must ever hear of this". Our entire masculinity and musical credibility was crashing in front of our eyes into American Idol style awfulness. At the time, I never questioned why there was such a visceral anti-Jason Mraz reaction for 28 year old New York males who like to think of themselves as musically and culturally knowledgable. Somehow, we managed to survive the incident with our collective heterosexuality intact.

Fast forward two years...I'm at INSEAD and have met a big Arabic dude who also plays guitar. The guy is solid at guitar and has a great taste in music, even possessing an extensive knowledge of jazz and classical. In addition, he smokes a pack a day and is a hard drinker..overall, not what I'd picture of a Jason Mraz fan.

We sit down to play guitar together and the first song he suggests is I'm Yours. I was a little in shock, and even commented that I would've guessed in his native country, if he were to make this suggestion, there might be a fatwa issued against him. His only response was, "it's a good song, man." I instantly thought back to the wintry, NYC Shazam incident and was baffled how differently the song was perceived by relatively similar types of people.

It then dawned on me how refreshing it is to listen to music without preconceptions about the artists. When I would get excited about "The Mouse Loves the Rice" in Beijing, my friends who were longtime residents would scoff, but damnit, I loved the song. I can't imagine that Spanish hipsters would've looked positively on my friend and I going crazy everytime we heard Dragosta Din Tei in Barcelona in '04, but we still jumped up and down. Even my Dad, who is very into music, has to look the other way when I come back from India blasting some random new Hindi movie song.

I've realized that's the best part of picking up new music while traveling. You listen to the music with absolutely no idea of what 'cool' is. Chances are, you'll be listening to some uber-pop song, and the only question you ask yourself is "do I like how this song sounds?" It basically transports us back to the time where you're 10 years old and you only take in music from Top 40 stations and older siblings. There's no additional value in talking about your latest underground hip hop or soundscape album, and attempting to discern deep house from soulful trance has no meaning. All that matters is, do I like it?

I think I'm gonna go put on some Coldplay.....

Singlish Lah!

2010-01-12T21:26:00.000-08:00

I'm finally back in the sweaty paradise that is Singapore. Minutes after stepping off the plane and having the customs agent ask me for my passport, I heard it: the sweet singsong of Singlish.

Singlish is the Singaporean version of English. The core of the language is the same as any other version of English, but the pronunciation is somewhat insane. Basically, the tonal nature of Chinese and Malay languages creep their way in, and create this crazy mix that sounds kind of like a rastafarian Chinaman. The weird part is, unlike native Chinese speakers who speak English with a heavy accent, for many Singaporeans, English is in fact their native language. It's just their own special flavor.

(and yes, this is all in English)

In addition to general pronunciation there's a bunch of phrases and words that are completely different from American or British English. A few basic ones to help anyone practice some Singlish:

- "Can" and "Cannot": To answer a yes or no question, Singaporeans answer with can or cannot. It technically makes logical sense, but definitely sounds foreign and random. For example, if you were to ask "Can I take the subway all the way to the airport?" the answer will be "can". Not only do they say 'can', but similar to the American style of saying "yeah, yeah, yeah", they will actually say "can, can, can".

- "Lah": I constantly hear people adding the phrase "lah" to the end of sentences and the practice was explained to me as basically making direct, abrasive statements more polite. Instead of telling someone "No, I dont want to buy that" you can simply say "Cannot buy, lah". The simplest, and most common usage, is in an affirmative response saying, "Okay, can lah".

- "Stylo Milo": One of my favorites, if something is just really cool you can call it "stylo milo". A taxi driver explained to me that back in the day, the drink Milo was only drank by rich British and Australians on the island, hence its association with something fashionable. "Stylo" can also be used by itself to indicate something is elegant or fashionable, and if something is just that damn cool, it's "Stylo Milo".

I imagine there is going to be a good deal more to learn of Singlish, but for now I am just adding Lah to the end of every sentence until everyone gets so annoyed they just cease speaking to me.

Here We Go Again

2010-01-07T11:28:00.000-08:00

"You going home, or away from home?"

That's what the middle-aged, goateed dude, with a Tacoma Rainiers minor league baseball cap asked me as we landed in the Seattle airport. It could be the ultimate "starting small talk" on a plane question, but I was more surprised by my inability to answer. 2009 was year of ridiculous flux and 2010 will be just as transitional. It'll be a while before I'm settled in one location and can answer the question definitively.

I'm finally done with my 3 months of back rehab in Lexington. I managed to avoid any downward spiral worthy of great art, and am heading back out to Singapore for my MBA, Take 2. The plan is to stay in Singapore until the end of April, and then out to France for at least the summer and potentially through graduation in December (the INSEAD MBA always sounds absurd when writing out decision processes like this). INSEAD has an August intake that graduates in July ('10J), and a January intake that graduates in December ('10D), and due to the injury I'll just be switching to the '10D class.

When I first came home in my Quasimodo-like state in October, I was nervous both about the recovery, and also just hanging out in Lexington for 3 months. It turned out to be a pretty amazing time, as conveniently (albeit, sadly) it seemed that there was no shortage of other friends who nowadays had plenty of "free time" on there hands. Campaigns were ran, debates were judged, fancy cocktails were drank, clues were found, holidays were had, football was watched, and culture was got. I just wanted to thank everyone I got to see in the past few months for making my time on the disabled list not only bearable, but damn enjoyable.

As I cycled through these memories, I turned to the pasty, goateed Northwesterner and could only answer, "brother, I'm leaving home."

*That actually wasn't my answer. I just got kinda awkward and somehow parlayed his deep question into a conversation about minor league baseball and Seattle-area snowboarding, but still, it sounds so much better and I would've meant it.

Onto the IMAX - Avatar

2009-12-28T22:31:00.000-08:00

When it comes to movies, I've always been a sucker for an 'epic' film. Grandiosity and hype are two elements that will always get me excited about a new release. Hell, I get all worked up in Independence Day when Bill Pullman gives his climactic speech about fighting aliens. On the flipside is the massive disappointment I experience when an epic attempt doesn't live up to the hype. Needless to say, I was very curious which way Avatar would go.

There was a nutcase I used to work with who would shout insane exclamations like "Sweet Mary Mother of Jesus" and "Good Night Nurse" when he got riled up at work. Well...even these amazing exclamations couldn't do justice to the feeling I had as I tossed away my 3D glasses and walked out of the theater. My friends who had seen it earlier had all been tremendously positive about it, but a facebook status update of "Avatar = Awesome" didn't really tell me what I was getting myself into.

It really is difficult to explain the experience that you undergo during the movie, but that's the only way to describe it: an experience. You literally are transported to another world that was only been previously accessible in the parking lot of a Phish show. The 3D took a few minutes to get used to, but after maybe 15 minutes you completely forget that you're even wearing the glasses and just indulge yourself in Pandora. You soon encounter weird animals, sparkling shrubbery, epic battle scenes, and even alien creatures doing it.

The only way I can try to describe the experience is what happened after the movie. I was with my mom and two cousins and we all went across the street to a Chili's. Everyone sat there and wanted to talk about the movie. I've been in similar situations after a great movie where afterwards you can dissect the plot, characters, acting, etc. However, over this El Presidente Margarita, there was just nothing to say. It completely affects you without having any trace of a remarkable story. You can't even call the acting really special.

But that's not the point. Nowadays, with massive home tv's and surround sound systems, it's been a while since I felt the grandeur of the movie theater. Things like having popcorn in your hand, a dark theater, the previews, the anticipation walking in followed by the awestruck smiles walking out...Avatar reminded me what "going to the movies" is all about.

I saw the film in regular digital 3D. I am very curious as to how people are feeling about it in a regular 2D showing. I'm also most definitely going to get tickets to a 3D Imax showing, making the first movie ever, where I will see it in a theater twice.

Also, now that I have my own Avatar in FIFA, I've decided that if the humans try to invade the world of the soccer playing FIFA characters, I will probably side with them in the ensuing battle.

The Triple Peanut

2009-12-28T13:52:00.000-08:00

Is it the big man on campus of the peanut world, or the genetic freak that is shunned by the rest of the peanuts in the bag?

Finis SwiMP3 Review

2009-12-20T15:31:00.000-08:00

Along with doing a whole host of weird stretches and exercises on the mat for my physical therapy, I've had to return to an age old nemesis for cardio: swimming. My sister always was part of our town summer swim team and loved the sport so much she went on to captain our high school team. My mom made me join her on the town team when we were kids, and I would find any excuse I could to get out of the practices.

Once my ph

ysical therapist told me that I'd need to get back into swimming I decided I'd need something to help out with the monotony of going back and forth in a pool indefinitely. Naturally, I turned to my loves of gadgetry and music to help me through these dark times and found the Finis SwiMP3 underwater mp3 player.

The Finis SwiMP3 is not your standard iPod. Rather than a mp3 player with headphones, it's two connected pieces that you press against your skull (attached through your goggles). According to the website, the technology "is revolutionary in that it relies on bone conduction of sound. When the device is placed on any bones of the skull (i.e. the cheek bones or the mastoid tip) it leads to vibration of the fluid in the inner ear."

Yes...you read that right, it relies on 'bone conduction' technology. After reading this absurd description and some positive reviews I decided to try it out.

At first, it was a little difficult to comfortably set the pieces up with my goggles. After a good deal of arranging, I turned on the player. It is seriously one of the most odd and amazing sensations with technology I have experienced. Above water, you barely hear the sound...only as though its being played through a really crappy cell phone speaker. The second that you submerge yourself, the sound instantly becomes crystal clear. It was almost jarring how weird the sensation was at first. After a lap or two of total amazement, I got into the rhythm of things.

The device is almost "Apple-like" in its user-friendliness. Between the two ear/temple/skull-pieces is a little USB connector with a waterproof cap that you can plug directly into your computer. It reads just as an external hard drive, and you can drag over an iTunes playlist.

Swimming with music can go on forever and is almost relaxing. I realized early on that, unlike running, rather than intense techno type music, you can go through even Radiohead or Sigur Ros albums. The only caveat is I attempted a podcast and spoken word doesn't really translate to well to the swimming experience. Other than that, I would strongly recommend this device to anyone looking to add a little life to the repetitive world of swimming.

Grassroots

2009-12-14T19:07:00.000-08:00

Doing volunteer work with the Obama campaign last year gave me an opportunity to try to translate my obsession with reading about politics into actual tangible activism. However, the extent of my work was limited to Manhattan, and it can get a little difficult to get that warm, fuzzy grassroots feeling while phonebanking from fancy hotels or checking in Anna Wintour at a fundraising fashion event.

Well, there's a special election to fill Ted Kennedy's Senate seat, and my friend Josh had been volunteering for the campaign of the US Rep Mike Capuano. I was a little on the fence about Capuano as a candidate, but last Tuesday was the big Democratic Primary and I was excited to help Josh out on voting day. It was grassroots time, baby.

We began the day at 6am, driving to donated political office space in a small city I'd only known of from seeing exits on the highway. The goal of the day was purely a Get Out the Vote operation: Phone calls, organizing rides, reminding voters, providing information, etc. As we set up the office with some munchkins and coffee, our first two volunteers showed up: Two guys from the Bricklayers Local 3.

They assumed they'd be given some signs and told to just hang outside in front of a polling booth, but the campaign specifically had said they needed everyone making phone calls. It was kind of awesome watching Josh, in full "young hotshot politico" mode was in a suit (no tie, you know, to be relaxed), try to explain to them the complicated phone banking system. Somehow we were soon cranking out phone calls and within minutes began getting both lauded and berated by voters.

The Bricklayers soon filtered out to get to "a job", and there was a steady rotation of some extremely random people. There was a 65 year old guy who had to use scissors to push phone buttons due to a lack of feeling in his fingers, the daughter of a local politico who I imagine will soon be seriously on the scene, and a few random older women in business casual. Most entertaining was probably the mid-life divorcee who had apparently once lived in the grandeur of D.C. in with her British diplomat husband. After "cleaning her husband out", she now does volunteer work to meet people and repeatedly asked me to friend her on facebook.

The phone banking technology was surprisingly much more advanced than that used during the Obama campaign. The technology around us, however, was not. Proudly displayed on the shelf was a Netscape Communicator box, now with "Internet compatibility" and to be used with Windows 3.1....about as grassroots as it gets. Another favorite piece of technology I found was a document shredder that had an option for "CD/DVD/Disk" shredding as well....only in politics.

Capuano lost by the margin expected and we missed the concession speech as we rushed to get over to the hotel where the main campaign event was taking place. It was fairly anticlimactic as we knew the results via Twitter way before arriving. I guess sometimes real-time information has its drawbacks. In the end, one similarity existed between the grassroots organizing of a local race and big-city, fancypants politicking. Win or lose, everyone involved in the campaign went straight to the bar in the aftermath.

Josh in fancy pants suit

It's All Relative

2009-12-05T07:52:00.001-08:00

A bunch of my classmates were partaking in the time-honored Movember tradition last month, and had me "remotely mustache" for a video they were making. I have always had a soft spot for ridiculous mustaches and couldn't turn down such an opportunity.

I only had nine days to grow it before they needed the submission, so took the standard route of growing a beard and then shaving it into a mustache at the last minute. During the process my mom was complaining every day about my beard...labeling me both "terrorist-like" and "homeless". However, the day I shaved it into a mustache, she said "okay, well now you at least look proper".

Only then did it occur to me, she is an Indian woman, and consequently a mustache is completely normal to her (we all know the Indian population is not lacking in mustaches). It then hit me, there are entire generations of women who would consider a man more attractive with a mustache. If a woman who came of age in the 1970s or 1980s (I'd consider this late teens to your 20s) does she still find a man with a mustache to have an irresistible appeal to him? How can there be such a discrepancy in the continuity of what is physically attractive? Shouldn't biology somehow control for growing hair on your upper lip ever being attractive?

The 3rd eyebrow

*Disclaimer: I will concede this is a standard "I will philosophize about mustaches to post mustache pictures of myself" blog post. I feel it must be an institution among bloggers.

4th and 2

2009-11-17T17:37:00.000-08:00

Sunday night wasn't fun for Boston sports fans. Bill Belichik's call to go for it on 4th and 2 from our own 28 will seemingly be debated for weeks. When it happened I was completely shocked. However, with a few days of reflection and obsessive reading I'm slightly more okay with the decision but still confused with the overall play-calling around the series.

The Monday after had Boston in an awful mood. One thing that I'd forgotten since living away from Massachusetts was the ability of a tough sports loss to palpably affect the entire mood of the state. The Boston Sports Club Locker room where I've been going to the gym was no exception.

I've been going to a BSC location in Waltham with amazing facilities, especially compared to the kinda dingy city locations I'm used to. The clientele is definitely different, as the daytime scene at the BSC is all retired old people who make the gym their hangout.

One thing I've learned....old men don't fear nudity. The majority will walk around with a reckless naked abandon. I've unfortunately come to realize that the ageing process shrinks one's frank while exponentially growing the beans; in ways I never thought medically possible. If any medical folk have any insight into this, please let me know.

Normally I've found the sauna is off limits for conversation with strangers. Monday was definitely an exception. There were five of us...the other four all old men sitting towels unfolded and totally relaxed. One guy started it simply with, "I can't believe he went for it." That was it, a solid 10 minute discussion analyzing the minutiae of 4th down percentages, clock management, and Peyton Manning followed. The intensity of emotion in everyone threw any awkwardness out the door.

It made me wonder, after seeing the NFL pregame shows trying new angles like broadcasting from Afghanistan, would the public be receptive to this as a new angle of sports shows? Cris Collinsworth in there with Shannon Sharpe (naturally with a super flashy towel) and Herm Edwards all sitting around bantering? It really could be the Best Damn Sports Show. Period.

My Life is Complete

2009-11-10T14:14:00.000-08:00

My physically induced house arrest has naturally led to very little person-to-person interaction in my daily life. After moving from a job where you are constantly surrounded by people to the massively social b-school environment, my Thoreau style solitude has definitely been an interesting transition.

Luckily, Electronic Arts and the PS3 have resolved this dilemma for me. I've been a huge fan of the FIFA franchise on the gaming system, playing obsessively for the last three years. The recently released Fifa '10 has a new feature where you 'become' a virtual player in the game. After uploading a front and profile image of yourself, you enter a 'lab' online to create a 3D rendering of player based on yourself. The final output is both freaky and amazing at the same time.

The first draft that you edit

I've been playing FIFA against my friend Corey online for years now, and he instantly joined me in the excitement of creating a virtual player. We've since consistently been playing against each other (usually Roma vs. Liverpool) with both of our virtual players on the field. Corey and me played soccer regularly in New York, and now this is pretty much exactly the same. I find it no different than meeting up Sunday mornings in Brooklyn for pickup or playing in a league at Chelsea Piers.

From a "gamer's perspective" (and I gladly will wear the label 'gamer') having 'yourself' in the game adds an unreal level of experience. I'm pretty convinced that the future of video gaming will head in this direction. I will not deny that I hit a dangerous level of excitement when I scored my first goal and Fernando Torres ran across the field and jumped and hugged me. Yes, my life was finally now complete.

The Wall Came Tumbling Down

2009-11-09T12:18:00.000-08:00

Today is the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. Much like most foreign geopolitical events of the 1980s, I don't really have concrete memories of "where I was when it happened", but have vague recollections of various moments throughout the chain of events.

It was only years later that I first discovered quite possibly the most earth-shattering of footage from the time. There are few moments in the annals of history that so perfectly capture, and I can't think of how else to phrase this, "what I like", better than the video below.

The most significant of geopolitical news. Large, jubilant crowds. Barriers, whether physical or mental, being broken down to allow people to again remember our common humanity. Music and performance. One man, wearing a jacket made for a god, singing to the people about their quest for human freedom.

If we can only weave this absurdity into the tapestry of the history we record, we will eternally prove our generation worthy of 4.75 stars.

One morning in june some twenty years ago

I was born a rich man's son
I had everything that money could buy
But freedom - I had none

I've been lookin' for freedom
I've been lookin' so long
I've been lookin' for freedom
Still the search goes on
I've been lookin' for freedom
Since I left my home town
I've been lookin' for freedom
Still it can't be found

I headed down the track, my baggage on my back
I left the city far behind
Walkin' down the road, with my heavy load
Tryin' to find some peace of mind
Father said you'll be sorry, son,
If you leave your home this way
And when you realize the freedom money buys
You'll come running home some day

I paid a lotta dues, had plenty to lose
Travelling across the land
Worked on a farm, got some muscle in my arm
But still I'm not a self-made man
I'll be on the run for many years to come
I'll be searching door to door
But, given some time, some day I'm gonna find
The freedom I've been searchin' for

Damn Yankees

2009-11-06T06:57:00.000-08:00

Living in and loving New York City as a Red Sox fan is a complicated situation. 2003 and 2004 were the absolute height of emotional intensity and conflict as I was still new to the city and it was the apex of baseball drama for the rivalry. My mother's friends sometimes ask me if I became a Yankees fan from living in New York for so long. My stock answer is, "Do American soldiers who come back from Iraq come back with a love of Iraqi culture?" Maybe a little extreme, but I hope you get the point.

Living in enemy territory is additionally complicated, because there is the part of you that realizes the absurdity of some of your more closed-minded friends. I've had friends from Boston argue that Derek Jeter is a terrible player and "no way would I every sign him", which is simply a ridiculous statement. You learn to be more impartial in your appreciation of the game.

However, you're also on the front lines and deal with Yankees fans on a daily basis. As a coworker who's a Mets fan once put it, "Yankees fans are all dicks. There are lifelong Yankees fans who were formerly nice people that became dicks during the winning 1990s. Then there are people who are just dicks and don't give two shits about baseball. However, they became Yankees fans as another channel through which to express their dickishness". Truer words hath never been spoken.

This year felt a little weird. In the past I would've been rooting with every ounce of my being that the Yankees lost. However, after seven years in NYC, I have enough friends who are lifelong Yankees fans who I knew would be genuinely ecstatic over a win. There was a part of me, that as Mariano took the mound in game 6 that actually thought, I guess I'm happy for them. Picturing an old boss with his family, watching his son's first Yankee championship, or close friends who are intense baseball fans celebrating with their friends and families, or even friends in Asia rooting away in their mornings, made me for a brief moment actually think that I didn't mind the Yankees winning. Maybe its the painkillers, or the yoga and meditation I've been doing in physical therapy, but I felt I'd achieved an internal peace that made me happy for everyone.

Then, high in the stands, I saw a massive sign, "New Home, Same Destiny!"

I hope it pours down rain on today's parade.

Saturday Night Fever

2009-10-26T08:00:00.000-07:00

I've found my current status as a quasi-invalid has escalated my former game of Red State - Blue State to a whole new level, a sort of exotic destinations vs. sedated suburban amusement. This past weekend was the first break of classes at INSEAD, and accordingly, most of my classmates facebook status updates involved statements about Hong Kong nightlife, trekking through Burma, or dining on Balinese beaches. Would my Saturday night rival these adventurous journeys?

Well...kinda.

My back is getting better but not to the point that I'm ready to go, as they say, "out out". Saturday night I decided to revisit a destination I hadn't been to in a long, long time. The Boston Science Museum. What exactly is the Saturday night science museum scene? Well, I'm here to tell you.

First up was the 7:30pm "Laser Queen" show. The Planetarium has a series of laser shows where they coordinate a fairly elaborate laser display to a specific type of music. The last time I had been to one of these was sometime in high school when a group of us went to the Pink Floyd Laser Show (I will allow you to interpret the inspiration for such decisions). As I stood solo in line for the show, I realized that if I had a mustache, I might be attaining true child molester status. There were three distinct groups in line with me:

1) The semi-"cool" music parents who were taking their pre-teen kids to the event to get them more into music. Having been involved with music growing up, I've often seen this parental type, wearing a vintage rock t-shirt (and by vintage I mean actually from 1983, not pre-faded and selling for $200) under a sensible Gap woolen pea coat, brimming with enthusiasm about when "music was good"....and to these parents, I salute you.

2) 30something French tourists. Maybe this was a random coincidence and not too common, but somehow it made total sense. There were two distinct groups, both identically fashionable and eager. I'm guessing a French version of the Lonely Planet strongly recommended this as a pre-going out activity.

3) Hipster / Stoners. I'm not sure whether I was observing more of a hipster contingent or pure high school stoner contingent, but there was a large group of skinny jean, mod haircut types. This group did not disappoint, as , one of their clan passed out and had to be carried out of the planetarium after the show. He then proceeded to puke everywhere once they got outside, totally unironically.

The show itself was amazing and reminded me how great of a band Queen is. I was a little disappointed that there wasn't a large Saturday night gay contingent considering the band, but I guess you can't have everything.

Being the aggressive partyer that I am, I didn't stop with the Planetarium show. I stepped it up and got a ticket for the 9pm Omnimax showing of "Adrenaline: The Science of Risk". For anyone who hasn't been to the Boston Science Museum IMAX theater, I'd strongly recommend it. Instead of just a large IMAX screen, its a huge domed screen that dwarfs the traditional variety.

The movie was perfectly suited for the medium as it's all about adrenaline junkies, mostly focused around skydiving and BASE jumping. There is a number of intense scenes of jumping off planes and cliffs which in that environment which were not for the weaker of stomachs. I left with a few observations:

1) The introductory sequence is still similar to when I was a kid, with Leonard Nimoy still providing a bit of comic relief. However, I noticed that instead of the narrator just asking "Leonard Nimoy, what's he doing here?" had to clarify "Leonard Nimoy, the guy who played Spock in the original Star Trek series, what's he doing here?" I guess they're working under the assumption that the hipster who puked everywhere has no idea who Leonard Nimoy is.

2) There really wasn't any science involved other than providing about 2 minutes of explanation of how adrenaline works via neurotransmitters. Are all IMAX movies just an excuse for gratuitous nature and adventure footage, labeled as scientific in order to justify school field trips?

3) I feel an IMAX movie has to be the ultimate creative date. It's only an hour so not too long, it shows some demonstrated interest in science/knowledge, and it's certainly different. Please feel free to take this advice next time you've run out of ideas and feel free to implement it.

4) As cool as the whole BASE jumping thing appears to me, I still don't get that whole scene, at all.

How to Eat a Pop Tart

2009-10-19T11:44:00.000-07:00

I've always been a fan of Metrosexual Manorexia, the act of always talking about how you should be cutting back on calories and complaining about 'feeling fat', while still working out regularly and consuming pretty much whatever you want. I believe this general obsession about what I'm eating is the result of a little bit o' chubbiness in my earlier years.

During middle school, the purgatory of schooling, I definitely carried a few more pounds than I should of. While not exactly the type of fat where you constantly breathe heavily, my pants were bought in the "Husky" section (for those who don't know, back in the day there was a size above XL called "Husky").

I imagine this was partially the result of the standard, awkward puberty years, but it was also helped out by an Indian culture that shows it's love through food. Not only is not finishing your plate the biggest insult you could give, but an Indian mother will often show her affection by allowing her child to eat whatever they desire.

Mine was no exception, and a favorite routine of the eleven year old Ranjan was having two Frosted Brown Sugar Cinnamon Pop Tarts before school. Every day.

During this time I perfected a technique to achieve optimal enjoyment from each individual Pop Tart. It has laid dormant for years, but I will share it with you this morning:

1) Toast the Pop Tart

2) Eat the edges off, much as some people cut the crust of bread while making a sandwich.

3) Carefully peel the back, "bready" layer off, maintaing the structural integrity of the front side. This is the most difficult step and should be undertaken with caution.

4) What you are left with is a large piece of hardened frosting, covered with brown sugar and cinnamon, and ideally piping hot from Step #1. What better way to start your day?

It's Soooo Cute

2009-10-14T09:57:00.000-07:00

As one may have noticed from my posting all summer, I was a huge fan of Asia. I am also a massive carnivore and believe that vegetarianism is often an irrational decision made by those with the luxury to do so.

However, sometimes even my limits may be tested. This summer I saw dog on the menu only once, at a Korean restaurant in Beijing. I tried scorpion and snake but just couldn't get myself to do it. I think the idea of discriminating what meat you eat based on the cuteness of the animal is ridiculous, and often just the decision is often just the result of cultural differences. I still feel at some point I may try it out, but a web discovery may have forever repulsed me from such a path.

I told you I'd be searching the far corners of the web, and this discovery came as the result of the following conversation. My friend who runs the pizzeria in Kansas was telling me how people often come into his store and just ask for "meat" on their pizza. He'll ask what kind of meat, to which they will simply reply "No idea, just meat." I joked that he should keep a supply of dog in the back for these very situations, maybe call it the "AJ's Special". Naturally, the followup question was "I wonder how much dog meat costs and if it's available in the U.S.?"

It is available...and the top google result could very well have not only turned me off from trying dog meat forever, it's so intense that for a split second, I may understand where vegetarian's are coming from.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you:

www.puppybeef.com

I won't include the pictures here, but I would recommend (or maybe warn you) to check out the "Recipes" page.

Also of note, is their sister site: www.kittybeef.com

Where, if you're buying a whole spit roast cat, you can differentiate between fish-fed cat or chicken-fed cat. Apparently, much like the grass-fed beef craze hitting high end restaurants, the true kitty connoisseur is extremely selective about what their cat eats before consuming it.

Crazy, crazy Asians.

God Bless America

2009-10-13T16:41:00.000-07:00

As a self-proclaimed connoisseur of television, I plan on spending my time under house arrest catching up on some quality shows that I never had the chance to watch from the beginning (Dexter and Mad Men come to mind). In the meanwhile, I'm trying to avoid the trap of just watching random, retarded television. I found myself watching about 15 minutes of some horrible new VH1 show called "Real Chance at Love", featuring the "Stallionaire Brothers", Real and Chance. Yup, moments like that definitely kickstarted the East Coast, arugula-eating, latte-drinking, elitist liberal in me and had me worrying about the state of American cultural exports.

But then...god bless the NFL. Not only did it allow me to watch about six straight hours of television (plus Red Sox playoff baseball which I care to not speak about) and not feel guilty, but it reminded me of one of America's greatest products: television advertising.

While it sometimes became a little annoying watching old men talk about their erectile dysfunction, it only occurred to me after about my fourth hour into the marathon that I was seriously craving three products that I had seen repeated ads for (and Taco Bell's blackjack taco is absolutely not one of them):

1) Sometimes technology and utility converge in such a manner that makes one truly wonder about whether mankind's potential is limitless in its nature. Such an instance was shown to me this Sunday. The Bud Light Speaker Box. A 24 pack that has a speaker built-in to its side that you can plug your iPod/shitty, generic MP3 player directly into. Instant party. 24 beers and music. What more do you need? I mean, this could be the most genius product combination of our lifetimes. It will revolutionize packaging and could create an entire new culture of instant, random parties. I wonder what my parents would think if they come home to find me about 16 deep, blasting the new Mika album out of a cardboard box.

2) You may see a pattern, but another Bud Light product...their new Golden Wheat beer. I'm definitely not a huge beer guy, but have always a soft side for a tall, Hefeweizen. I have to try this product before I can believe it (it's a light beer as well, making it even more suspect) but I won't deny the strong urge the entire day to head out and grab a six-pack of this.

3) KFC's Grilled Chicken. I have no idea how this will actually be, and it doesnt really make sense now that I'm at home and have unlimited access to a grill, seasonings/spices, and Costco bags of frozen chicken breasts. However, I always was a little annoyed that getting a basic grilled chicken breast seemed an impossibility in any fast food place other than Boston Market and am glad they took up this strategy. Has anyone tried this?

J'ai un Hernie Discale

2009-10-11T11:07:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since my last post and the past six weeks have seen some highs and lows. The first month and a half at INSEAD exceeded all expectations and my experience with the program will be documented going forward. Unfortunately, I'm sitting in Lexington, Massachusetts currently watching the Red Sox try to stay alive against the Angels on a crisp, New England autumn day.

Three herniated discs (with one being prolapsed) and severe sciatica put me on the MBA Disabled List. I started having problems early in the summer, which progressively got worse and worse. I'm not sure if this was some extension of the corporate atrophy that I mentioned way back when, but after strong recommendations for surgery by Singapore doctors and pain that is almost fascinating in how strong it was, I made the trip home to the U.S. to try to figure everything out. INSEAD has been great during the entire process as they will be letting me restart this January, assuming a normal recovery, with no problems or additional costs.

I imagine I'll let you all into the world of orthopedics, chiropractors, herniation, and the American health care system as time goes by. In the meanwhile, I'll be documenting how I work to entertain myself while in suburbia over the next few months. It's been a long time since I've spent an extended time in Lexington, and as I'm unable to drive a car at the moment, my PS3 and DVR will be used like never before. I am looking to exhaust every corner of the internet as well, add a few blogs to my Google Reader, work on my Chinese, and maybe get into some really esoteric interests. I invite you to join me as I devolve into maybe madness, perhaps greatness, and hopefully along the way, the owner of a straighter spine.

The Asian Squat

2009-08-12T09:13:00.000-07:00

We've all seen it in Chinatown. We've all wondered could it possibly be comfortable. Well, it's everywhere out here; from Thailand to China to Hong Kong to India. The Asian Squat.

Artistic Squat, 7/10

The squat technique involves both feet being firmly planted on the ground to provide a solid foundation of balance. Both knees should be pointed at an ever so slight outward angle, just obtuse enough so one's elbows can be rested on the inside of the knees. The butt should be pretty much as low as possible to the ground without touching and still maintaining balance.

Hang off the stairs and look mod squat, 8/10

Knee strength is one crucial element as I can maybe put it 2-3 minutes top of squatting before my knees start killing me. The most crucial element is however balance. If you attempt the position you will notice a tendency to either fall forward or backwards, depending on your back's position. I believe a straight back is required though adds a level of difficulty.

Climb and Squat, 9/10

If you reach that exact point, where somehow you fall neither backward nor forward, where you can either rest your elbows on your knees comfortably with a straight back, where you can smoke a cigarette, read a newspaper, drink a coffee, drink a beer, play cards, play mah jongg, maybe even take a dump (if you're in India), or just squat around and discuss the latest bout of political oppression inflicted upon you, my friend, you have learned the Asian Squat.

Mother and Child Squat, 10/10

Welcome to the Ladyboy Cabaret

2009-08-12T09:00:00.000-07:00

We've all heard of the famous Thai ladyboys. I never quite understood what the fuss was about until you actually see a few of these fascinating creatures. My first exposure was in a touristy strip of an island, Koh Samui, where as a solo male traveler walking around, the harassment was fairly constant. Many of them would be quite beautiful women, but a British dude provided me the sage advice "always remember....no Thai woman should be above 5'6".

A family friendly element of the Ladyboy experience is the Ladyboy Cabaret. I attended them in both Koh Samui and Koh Tao with the safety of female friends, as the idea of heading into one of these solo would be a little nervewracking. The cabarets themselves were tremendously entertaining. Basically, the ladyboys perform a series of song and dance numbers, minus actual singing. They chroeograph fairly complex dance routines and costumes with music ranging from popular hip hop to Bollywood, to naturally, a ton of disco.

The dancing and costumes definitely ranged in qualty as the Koh Tao ladyboys were definitely minor leaguers compared to Koh Samui. Timing was off, dancers looked nervous, and man, some of those ladyboys really looked like kinda scary men (and lets not even start with the 'tuck jobs'). I am still curious to this day if there are any Frank Bruni or Rogert Ebert style "Ladyboy Cabaret Critics" as after two viewings I felt I could distinguish what was quality.

The highest quality moment came in the Koh Samui show, as a ladyboy came out in full ladyboy regalia to Frank Sinatra's "My Way". As heshe danced and lip-synced through the number, they removed articles of clothing and put on men's clothing. Towards the crescendo-laden finale of the song, they even wiped off their makeup and combed their real hair, and became a very regular looking Thai man in a suit. An example of the postmodern Ladyboy arthouse performance genre at its finest.

(I randomly found a clip on Youtube of the conclusion of I think the same performer)

The Koh Tao cabaret however did provide one interesting twist. With about 100 people in the audience, at the conclusion they needed just a few 'volunteers' (or victims more accurately). I was sitting kind of near the front and as one of the manlier ones scanned the audience with those Thai ladyboy eyes, heshe locked in on me and walked over and tapped me on the shoulder. I provided the obligatory hesitation, but as most of you who know me well would know, I figured I could handle whatever was in store. They picked me, two British guys, and I think an Aussie and took us back to the dressing room. We were provided costumes involving, with mine involving a purple wig, long purple skirt and some sort of bra top. We were brought out behind the curtain and told to stand there as a familiar disco beat found its way through the speakers. Yes, the curtain opened to the words "young man" and it was our time to walk out and dance to YMCA with the ladyboys.

We rocked it.

The Island

2009-08-12T08:10:00.000-07:00

Picture this: Crystal clear blue water, white sand beaches, cheap but good food and drink, and a place composed solely of young hippies just hanging out. This place does exist, and it is called Koh Tao.

Much like the passengers of Flight 815 and their journey to "The Island", my journey to Koh Tao was somewhat of a disaster. It involved a 1.5 hour ferry ride from Koh Samui that was a horror unlike anything I've ever experienced. The high-speed ferry ride was absurdly choppy and created a situation that was so disgusting, it was almost funny. About 30 minutes into the ride I heard the first heaving vomit from the back of the passenger area. What happened next was unreal. If you've ever seen one of those Family Guy clips where everyone starts puking, this was the closest I think I'll ever get (hopefully) as one person's vomiting led to a chain reaction with at least 20 confirmed vomiters out of maybe 100 passengers. I've never experienced motion sickness before and thankfully avoided it, but as I witnessed lady directly to my right puking into a bag, I definitely didnt feel awesome.

Once we got there, everything changed. The beaches are beautiful, the island isn't overdeveloped, and there's one long strip of beach that has a bunch of bars and restaurants. Each bar has a large outdoor seating area of bean bags and lounge chairs that are full of people, probably with an average age of 22, hanging out all day drinking and just relaxing. At night there are fire jugglers everywhere and all the restaurants open up dance floors. There are fire jugglers and fire limbo and booze is served in buckets. The beaches are that idyllic crytal blue water and white sand you only see in brochures. What more do you need?

Bean Bags on the Beach

Fire Limbo

Fire Jugglers

I don't know if its the sarcastic New Yorker in me, but I was convinced the entire time something had to be wrong. It was just too perfect. I even shared this theory with a number of people we met, and most people almost agreed when confronted with my theory. A few running theories were: the bathwater occasionally literally smelled like crap and some people were suspect as to how sewage is treated on the island. Another guy was convinced that the volcanic nature of the rock on the island somehow was slowly giving everyone cancer. The easy theory was we'd all be the murder victims of Thai drug lords, a la The Beach. Other than that, maybe this really was paradise. Maybe this was a never-never land for the hippie in us all.

.,...and just maybe, The Island heard me questioning its worth, and that's why it cursed me with a perforated eardrum.

Perforated Eardrum

2009-08-12T08:08:00.000-07:00

.....is not the name of my new band. It is the disastrous result of my attempt at scuba diving certification. This endeavor began with an extremely interesting few classrom sessions, continued with an introduction into the world of Finding Nemo, and ended in temporary hearing loss and "ear discharge".

While spending time on Koh Tao in Thailand, I decided I would (horrible pun alert) take the plunge and sign up for a scuba certification course. I signed up with the Phoenix Divers group, after a solid sales pitch from an American who worked there and saw me inspecting a brochure. The class is four days long, with the first day solely in the classroom, the second day split between the classroom and a pool, and the third and fourth days spent in the ocean diving.

I was anticipating the classroom time to be fairly boring but important, but it was nothing of the sort. I was never a huge fan of physics and science in general in high school, but the direct real world application of physics to scuba diving was fascinating. If nothing else, I finally have a solid understanding of why one's ears pop on a flight, after a lengthy discussion on water and air pressure. The physics perfectly translated in the ocean as how heavily you breath and fill your lungs with air notably affects how you rise and fall in the water due to the changes in your density.

Unfortunately, the real world application of the physics became all too real for me. The 45 minute dive was spectacular, the feeling of suspended weightlessness in the water is unlike anything I've felt before and swimming along with schools of fish and seeing all the life of the coral reef up close was spectacular. The second dive, well, that was where the disaster took place.

While we've all learned the lesson to listen carefully to the teacher, I had about five minutes of waiting at the beginning at the surface of the water while other students were taking "skills tests" you need for certification. I decided to kinda screw around to the side and practice one of the skills, "filling the mask", that involves allowing water into your mask and blowing it out with your nose. It happened fairly quickly, but I basically descended too quickly into the water with a mask filled with water, and BAM, I felt a shooting pop through my right ear.

After a few seconds of total disorientation, which was admittedly kind of cool in a crazy way, as with no center of gravity and surrounded by water I literally had no sense of direction or space for a few seconds, I surfaced. I went over to the teacher and said "um..something might be wrong". I told him what happened and as an examination, he took me underwater and had me "equalize" (which is basically holding your nose and blowing, like on a plane to clear your ears). It definitely wasnt a good sign that small bubbles were coming out of my ear, but he reassured me it was the most common of diving issues but I couldnt finish the course.

Even with the subsequent "ear discharge" (which is not a fun or pretty occurrence) and annoying slight temporary hearing loss, that is thankfully coming to an end, I still fully intend to finish the scuba course and get my license. I long to get back to the world of Nemo.

I am a Flashpacker

2009-07-31T06:26:00.000-07:00

Me: "Can I take your iphone off the charger and use the outlet for my netbook?"
Friend: "Hold on, I'm syncing some new music I just bought. I want to take advantage of our guesthouse having wifi"

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to flashpacking. What exactly is flashpacking? It's a way of traveling for quarter-life crisis types and beyond. You've worked a few years. You've saved up some cash. Suddenly you have a chunk of free time to go see the world.

Many remember summers or semesters spent abroad as broke college students, backpacking around Europe and Southeast Asia. The crucial limitation on these travels was a dependence on parents or a finite savings account that forced one to carefully budget out dorm-style hostels, drink specials, and limited tour activities to the penny/ However, as a 29 year old who's just left the workforce, you've earned the luxury to stay in remotely liveable accomodations. You've not looking for a penthouse suite, but chances are, you'll spring for a private room at a hostel rather than the dorm style beds. You can now afford a variety of day tours and activities that are offered. You're old now; staying out til 4am and waking up at 8am for a day hike just doesnt seem to work anymore.

The other major change from the backpacking lifestyle is the introduction of somewhat comfortable travel. If it costs another $15 to upgrade from the 3rd class sleeper train to the 2nd class one, you'll take it. Southeast Asia has proven itself to be a flashpackers paradise with a bounty of low-cost airlines that allow for the ultimate flash-packer luxury: heavily discounted, last-minute airline tickets. While still slightly more expensive than an "18 hour bus ride + ferry", these airline companies have created an extremely comfortable way to quickly travel around. You also can avoid serious planning as you no longer have to follow a logical geographic plan, as you would traveling by bus or train.

The final, and most crucial characteristic of a flashpacker is an arsenal of technology. Hostels and guesthouses appear to be in tune to this trend, as majority of these places now have wifi in their lobbies and sometimes even rooms. On that budget flight, you'll find flashpackers listening to their ipods, viewing digital pictures, and uploading them to their netbooks. The travel journal / scrapbook that was so common as a collegiate backpacker is now replaced with the blog or the extra-long group email. When you meet other flashpackers, you instantly facebook friend them on your smartphone for which you've bought a local data SIM card.

The other crucial question for the flashpacker is that of luggage. We've all seen the oversized hiking backpacks, complete with Canadian flag patch and multitude of buckles and straps; the more buckles and straps one's bag has, the more intense a backpacker they are. I felt the standard large backpack was no longer my bag of choice. Instead.,I found a large suitcase type bag, with rolling wheels, but that has a strap compartment to convert itself into kind of a backpack. The flashpackers place in life is exactly that, not quite ready to travel the world with a Tumi suitcase, but no longer wanting to be associated at every juncture with the hippie backpacker. A friend asked a poignant question, "Is that a suitcase with straps, or a backpack with wheels?" That truly is the question.....

If you've recently found a good deal of free time and want to see the world, but aren't quite ready to sign up for a bus tour of 60 Japanese adults. If you've saved a little bit of money and are looking to travel cheaply, but don't want to be the "creepy, old dude" at the hostel. If you're somewhere between Under the Tuscan Sun and Eurotrip, fear not. Join the flashpacker movement.

My flashpacking tech list:

HP Netbook
Unlocked Blackberry with local SIM cards
iPod Nano (stolen, replaced with an "iPop" ripoff, bought in Bangkok)
Amazon Kindle
Casio Exilim digital camera

La Vita e Bella

2009-07-07T08:34:00.000-07:00

I knew the day I accepted the offer from INSEAD for business school it would present some unusual "international" situations. Some friends joked that my likely occupation after graduating would be carrying briefcases full of cash across oil fields in Africa. I will admit though, I was a little surprised when I found myself studying Italian, in Singapore, on a streetful of brothels.

For a little background, INSEAD has a requirement of knowledge in three language, including English. After some last-minute debate, I decided to pursue Italian as my 2nd as the test was heavily grammar based (I had originally planned on using Bengali which I speak at home, but I'm fairly unfamiliar with the written language). After not paying attention to deadlines, I had to cut my Mandarin lessons a week short and headed to Singapore to take the Italian test. The plan was simple, I had 8 days to do nothing but try to relearn a language. I had started perusing a textbook while still in Beijing, and found a budget hotel in Singapore and actually made a plan, day by day, of what I'd need to cover.

Things got interesting when I arrived in Singapore. Now, I had been here before for work never really left the financial district area. I'm not really familiar with names of neighborhoods and found a great looking budget hotel on tripadvisor. It got great ratings, had wi-fi, air conditioning, a full-size bed, and was about $35 USD a night. It seemed perfect for the task at hand so I booked it.

The taxi driver looked at me a little oddly when I gave him the address and told him I'd be staying there a week but I didnt really think much of it. When I got to the hotel it definitely looked to be a shady area. In other areas I seriously might have rethought the reservation, but I figured that it's Singapore, if you can't chew gum I probably won't get shot.

There was a strong stench throughout the air that I couldn't place as I walked up to the check-in counter. In front of me was an old, kinda pasty white guy with a young Asian girl in a short skirt and heels asking about "transit rates" which apparently means by the hour. Things were getting sketchier. I held my belongings close and checked in, and headed up to the room, which turned out to be as nice as advertised. I was still weirded out by the entire situation but the room was perfect for the week so figured I'd stay here but take a walk around the neighborhood.

It turned out I was staying in a neighborhood called Geylang, which is apparently a famous Singapore red light district. It's a series of numbered blocks, with apparently each block being run by a different ethnic Asian gang and with a different ethnicity of women (according to wikipedia this would include one block of ladyboys). The area was definitely not full of Eliot Spitzer style establishments as it's pretty jarring to walk around. There's trash everywhere and that smell wafting through the air. It turned out the smell was a tropical fruit, Durian, that has an unbelievably strong odor and is really popular through Singapore and especially in Geylang....I guess a delicacy among Johns?

There was a subway station close by and I managed to make it out around 9am every morning to a nicer area with great coffeeshops for studying. Yes, there are guys standing outside at 9am trying to get you into their brothel. Even through the stench of durien and hookers, I was able to get in about 10 hours of review a day and eventually passed the test.

Welcome to INSEAD. Welcome to Singapore.

Some random thoughts:

- for practicing listening and speaking I found a really good language podcast on iTunes: LearnItalianPod.com. For all my love of technology, I've never really gotten into Podcasts but this series was amazing. I would like to thank Massimo and Jane for their help in the process.

- Not only do people here drive on the other side of the street, while riding escalators, the "standing/slow" line is on the opposite side from America. I wonder how that stuff gets communicated.

- I'm convinced you can tell the level of freedom of political expression in countries by how observant they are of Don't Walk signals. There can seriously not be a car in sight and people will wait for the Walk signal here. I dont want to get caned and don't really know the territory yet, so even with the agitated New Yorker in me, I wait out the signal.

Walking Tours

2009-06-27T22:00:00.000-07:00

While roaming "off the beaten path" could be the most cliched phrase in traveling, I did not exactly seek to make my way to the Empire State Building every Sunday while living in NYC. One summer, a friend recommended a mp3 walking tour by a company called Soundwalk.com, geared towards Ipods which were just getting popular. Their tagline is "Walking tours for people who don't like walking tours" and I was instantly intrigued by the idea of hipster-tourist activities. I'm not sure if this foreshadowed my current travels, but I began with the Chinatown NY walking tour.

It was downright amazing and I strongly, strongly recommend the NYC tours to anyone living there. They begin with a disclaimer that removes them from the responsibility of any physical harm you may experience during the tour, which of course made me more excited. It takes you through different neighborhoods and into very random situations. One of the first things on the Chinatown tour had the speaker say, "okay, keep walking. Do you see a grey door with Chinese print on your left? Open it. This is the (forget the name) coffee shop. Look over in the corner, is there an old Chinese man reading a newspaper," and YES there was an old Chinese man reading a paper, "that's Mr. Chang, he's been sitting there every day for over twenty years since his sons have taken over running the shop from him." Basically, throughout the tour there are these amazing situations that seem to almost be coordinated just for this tour. The legitimacy is almost made more real as some doors are sometimes in fact locked or people or stores on the tour aren't there.

I've since done the Little Italy, Meatpacking District, Wall Street, and Lower East Side tours, each having its own highlight. You have to be somewhat mentally ready to approach the tours as some of the situations are extremely awkward. For example, walking into a tiny butcher shop in Little Italy where there's a 90yr old Italian guy chopping meat, and just standing in the corner with your ipod silently, isn't for the faint of heart. However, if you're willing to engage in a little conversation and step out of your comfort zone, they've resulted in some amazing conversations. Supposedly there's a great Yankees tour (no way in hell for me, but I figure some of you would enjoy this) as well as a "Bronx Grafitti Walk".

I was happy to realize they've extended their tours to international locations, randomly partnering with Louis Vuitton for a series of Chinese tours. The Beijing tour was unbelievable and Soundwalk apparently has taken the previous tours to a whole new level. What they've done is add a new element of a running play for the duration of the tour. As you walk around, you actually learn about different sites through seemingly a movie script, narrated by a famous Chinese actor. Gong Li narrated the Beijing version that takes you through the Beijing Hutong, which are villages that have been around for hundreds of years and still very much occupied. I could not get over how well they created the feeling that you are essentially walking through the set of a movie as its happening.

Louis Vuitton Soundwalk --- Beijing with Gong Li
Uploaded by LouisVuitton08. - Explore exotic destinations and travel videos.

You learn about the history of the neighborhoods and meet some crazy people. My crowning achievement was introducing myself in Chinese to a 90yr old man with a long white beard who raises crickets that was mentioned on the tour. I also climbed a ladder that was mentioned and actually there, and found a huge pigeon farm. Apparently in the Hutong, people train their pigeons for flying contests, just because that's how shit goes down in the Hutong. By the end you actually feel like you've just witnessed an amazing play or show. The Beijing one has the best reviews and won some awards so I'm not positive that the quality of the storytelling in the other tours is as high, but this one wa definitely intense.

Naturally, the more popular these tours get, the less effective and interesting they will become. Well.....as all good hipster tourism goes, it's always better to have been there "before it went mainstream".

Language Observations

2009-06-23T00:10:00.000-07:00

Six hours a day. It's been a good combination as Alan is fairly understanding of my beginner status, while Zhao You (and of course, her English name is 'Zoe') is the she-devil. She barely speaks English and my two hours every afternoon with her are fraught with fear and nerves. However, I've definitely been picking up a decent amount of Mandarin and would consider myself able to "order at restaurant", "direct a taxi", "ask for directions" and "order at a bar" which are the four fundamental building blocks of any language instruction.

Some observations of the Chinese language during my study:

I'm a big Diet Coke person. I think it was late in college, due to a general distaste for coffee, that I began to utilize that artificially refreshing taste of Diet Coke for caffeinating purposes. I would consider myself enough of a connossieur to rate the quality of the mix of syrup and soda water at a foutain dispenser. I asked Alan about how to translate Diet Coke, and apparently, the literal translation is amazingly "Wu Tang Ke Le", with Wu Tang literally meaning "without sugar" and "ke le" obviously meaning cola. I can't tell you how excited I've been at every opportunity to be ordering Wu Tang soda. Apparently what the RZA and GZA actually meant to be involved with is written is more closely pronounced and written as Wu Deng.

If someone asks you a qualitative questions and your answer is "eeehh" or "so-so", the word is MaMaHuHu, which translates literally to "Horse, Horse, Tiger, Tiger"....because you're actually telling the person, "not quite a horse horse, not quite a tiger tiger". In a thick Chinese accent it's even better.

The most interest and somewhat controversial observation: the first few days I incessantly heard people, old and young, saying "Nei Gah" almost every sentence. I definitely felt a little uncomfortable and was wondering what the hell was going on. I've since found out that it is just another language transitional phrase. I've seen from Italian, Spanish and English there are many random phrases that are said constantly while people are thinking/transitioning thoughts. In Italian, the number of "allora"s or "comunque"s, or in Spanish the "entonces" or "pero"s, or in English I guess the "like"s or "umm"s are far more frequent than basic grammar would demand. "Na ge" translates to 'that there' and is pronounced 'Nei Ga' in Beijing. It's still kinda uncomfortable and racist in my mind, but the idea of looking at a menu and then looking at a waitress and saying "nei ga, wu tang ke le" is still weirdly exciting.

As the foremost trader of the Hong Kong Dollar during my epic days as a trader, I was naturally curious to find out the translation in Mandarin. Turns out, it's "Gang Bi" (pronounced Gahng Bee). I won't get further into it, but I found this funny.

That first day of Alan playing a song for me was no fluke. His Asian love for the crooner song has definitely made class much more interesting, as early on in class I noted that I wouldn't mind learning some Chinese songs to belt out during karaoke. Alan has taken this to the next level as every day, at least thirty minutes are spent going through two songs. The first translates to "I Love You Like a Mouse Loves Rice". This one, as ridiculous as it sounds, was pretty easy for a beginner in Chinese to learn and easy to sing, and was actually a major hit apparently about four years ago. We've since been working on a more intense song about a historic battle of the Three Kingdoms in about 250 AD that is kind of a Rock Opera by a group named "Tank". The best part of this song is that there's a bridge that, well let's just say, is meant to be sung by either a woman or an eunuch. Alan does not hold back as in that quiet classroom and with only the faint sound of his budget speakers backing us, he'll belt out those ever so high notes as I cower to the protection of a lower octave.

This is the "I love you like a mouse loves rice" song that we sing together. Just picture it, Alan and Me, alone in a classroom, heartfully singing these words:

Man-dating

2009-06-23T00:06:00.001-07:00

Note: the next few posts were from a few weeks back. Blogspot is blocked in China and I had a Kansan post the last two entries, but have now left Beijing and am working on catching up on the blog.

June 14th, 2009

Beijing has certainly more than lived up to expectations up to this point. One aspect of traveling I had completely forgotten about was the ease of socializing and making friends while abroad. I planned my trip here with absolutely no expectation or contacts in Beijing, and of course assumed, "I'm gonna just study the entire time and maybe have dinner out a few times." Well, one after the other, friend of friends keep popping up via facebook and word of mouth and its taken this from simply language study to truly experiencing the city.

I imagined this past weekend would have me eating dinner at some Lonely Planet recommended restaurant, followed by some random wandering and heading home around midnight. I'd wake up early and go sightseeing all day long. Well, it turned out someone from my high school had been living here for the past six years and his work in PR allowed him for both an extensive network of both locals and ex-pats, along with knowing a good deal of local bar and restaurant owners. My quiet weekend turned into two nights of three hour-long dinners, drinking at a series of bars, and of course, karaoke (Yes, I did get some sightseeing in).

What I was reminded of from this past weekend was the ease of the "man-date" while abroad. Nowadays, movies like "I Love You, Man" have brought man-dating and bromance to the forefront of pop culture but this is certainly an issue I've thought about since I lived in NYC. I remember my first year there, a good college friend was in town, and his best friend from high school also turned out to be living in the city. We all went out as a result of my friend's visit, and at the end of a great evening, that fateful question was asked, "um dude...this was fun. we should hang out. um...can i, um...get your number?"

Now, this was a new phenomenon. In college your friends are just "kinda there" via classes, dorms, greek life, etc. Suddenly this seemingly intrusive question had an immense utilitarian value. I knew a decent amount of people thanks to an analyst class and other random connections, but I realized that this new, non-school life, might actually demand exchanging numbers with guys you think you might enjoy hanging out with, and yes, go on man-dates with. It became even weirder realizing that the early part of a man-tionship was even similar to dating a woman.

What I've remembered is, man-dating while abroad is an entirely different situation than in your permanent city of residence. If you're out with a group, if you remotely hit it off with another guy in the group, it's totally not gay to ask them for their number. Everyone understands your situation, and, I think helped out by an intense concept of hospitality that's part of the Beijing culture, is extremely willing to hang out or keep you informed with stuff to do. Many of the people I've met are either ex-pats who are downright excited to help you out, or are locals who are of the variety that enjoy meeting westerners. I'm fairly excited as I've been able to experience Beijing the way I would show NYC to any visitor: the West Village or Soho vs. Times Square and the Circle Line. Only one week left and not sure I want to leave.

Other observations:

In total contrast to my entire post above about experiencing the 'local' culture, is the awesome fast food I've been eating. McDonalds has a "Spicy McPork" sandwich, which, I'm not going even begin to compare to a Momofuku Pork Bun, but it's a world better than your basic McChicken. I imagine to a native Chinaman it could be just as bland a taste as the aforementioned McChicken, but damn is it good to me. The fast food highlight has to be the "KFC Peking Chicken Wrap". To those who have had the pleasure of proper Peking Duck at either any Chinatown establishment, or the trader version at Mr. Chows, this is definitely something to be experienced. Hoisin sauce, sliced cucumber, a thin wrap, with flavorful fried chicken strips instead of duck. The Colonel always did kinda look Chinese.

As evidenced by the subject of much of my writing, I've been eating a lot. The metrosexual in me had defnitely been feeling disgusting and I'd decided I needed to exercise in some capacity. The nearest gym was about 45 minutes via public transportation for me so that was absolutely not happening. I decided I would just need to get back into running, but running shoes had not made the cut due to limitations on packing. I went shopping in a mall that had a Nike, Puma, and Reebok store in addition to a few random Chinese atheletic brands. I never thought my size 12 feet would be of a freakish quality, but let's just say, I'm currently the proud owner of a really ugly pair of black Reebok running shoes.

Alan and Me

2009-06-04T07:00:00.000-07:00

Alan and Me

Studying language abroad can go any number of directions. For those who attempted this endeavor in some capacity during college, you understand the massive spectrum of experiences that can take place. Some people go the homestay route and spend their time in a small town with a family and come out fluent. Some go in with no knowledge of the language and come out having learned basic conversational skills. Some just go to Australia and don't even try. My junior year, I went to Rome having taken a good deal of Italian. I studied incessantly before leaving, with high aspirations of coming out fluent. Well...I drank a lot, made some lifelong friends, had one of the best experiences of my life, and came out of the semester having forgotten much of what I had previously known

I kept this in mind while choosing a Chinese language class. I heard Shanghai was the coolest city in China, but a friend who lives there gave her earnest opinion that if I really wanted to try to learn any Mandarin, I needed to spend time in Beijing (or maybe she just didn't want me moving there and pestering her). I decided to take the plunge and looked up language classes here in Beijing. Much like many other well researched decisions in life, I basically took the route of "highest google result" and "best website" to choose my school. I read some reviews that said that the school was full of "hard partying Koreans and Japanese" but figured that I'd already chosen Beijing over Shanghai, and it wouldnt hurt to have some fun people around.

I arrived in Beijing on Sunday night and the school had a car pickup service at the airport. They helped me get set up in my room (which is adjacent to the school) and I went to bed with that giddiness that comes before the first day of school. What crazy ass Asians would I meet out here? Would I learn any Mandarin? Would the hard partying Koreans cower in fear of a large brown person?

I reported to the school office in the morning where my teacher was waiting, and he told me "let's head over to the classroom." We walked over and I began wondering, would the Jet-setting Japanese be already in the class? We walked in and sat down. Yup, it was just us. I nervously looked around wondering if I was about to get Hostel'ed or Turista'd. It then got even more awesomely weird. The teacher's name
was Alan, and he's a local Beijinger who was wearing a pink t-shirt that said "Volunteer Blood Donor" with an olympic logo on it. He attached some old school Labtec looking speakers to his laptop and said "we'll start your experience with a song". He then played this song, "Beijing Huan Ying Ni" (Beijing Welcomes You) which was apparently the song 'sung' by the cute little girl in the Olympic Opening Ceremony controversy. We sat there, just Alan and me, for the full 7:03 of the song, just kind of looking at each other. This was definitely his routine normally and he was not diverging. I sometimes forget that the gawker.com sense of irony, or Bill Simmons "unintentional comedy scale" certainly don't exist in the minds of the Chinese. There are generally 3-5 students in the other classes, but I am the only beginner starting in June. Four hours a day, just Alan and me.

Needless to say, my Mandarin is coming along splendidly.

Some other observations:

A major style for men is to sit outside in the heat and roll your t-shirt up to the chest area and just let your sweaty belly hang out, often patting it, with a cigarette hanging out the side of your mouth. I'm not gonna deny, they really look happy in this pose and at the rate I'm eating the amazing food here, I may be able to join them in a week's time.

Walking around Tiananmen Square on Tuesday, on two separate occassions I was stopped and people took pictures with me. They looked to be kinda the 'country or redneck' version of Chinese, and I guess they were just fascinated and perhaps never seen an Indian before? The city/rural distinction is definitely large here and I wonder if there's currently people playing Red State - Blue State, the Chinese edition.

Normally, if you're heading out for the afternoon and look at your window at a sea of people with umbrellas, you'll make sure to grab one. Definitely not the case out here.

Outbreak

2009-06-03T12:31:00.000-07:00

While the H1N1, Mexican Flu,Swine Flu scare, or whatever Sanjay Gupta is calling it these days, may have subsided in the U.S., my flight to Beijing proved a different environment. Now, the sight of an Asian wearing a germ mask in Chinatown is probably as regular as an umbrella on a 90 degree day, I definitely noticed a large percentage of passengers wearing them on the Tokyo leg of my flight. The fear is alive and well here in Asia, and they are certainly playing a strong defense. What was remarkable was the difference in defensive techniques among Japan and China, a dichotomy more intense than the Prevent vs. the Goal Line.

Last time I made the east coast of U.S. to Asia trip I was flying business class and loving every minute of it (work trip to Singapore). Now that this is my life 'after trading', I had the pleasure of a coach flight with two layovers (in NYC and Tokyo). When we landed in Tokyo, after a 14 hour flight where I of course had the middle seat, they didn't let us get off and announced that there would be members of the quarantine team coming through. Two guys walked through the aisles with masks on and some weird outfits and machinery. It struck me that they just walked up and down while the announcement said that "if you are experiencing any symptoms like fever, swelling of the glands, nausea, or diarrhea, please raise your hand and identify yourself." Ummm...okay. I guess things just worked a little differently out here. I could just imagine raising my hand and informing them, "yeah, on that last point, I don't want to jump to conclusions here, but I did eat your airplane Japanese seafood curry for my dinner. I'm just saying." Needless to say, no one raised their hands and we were out within minutes.

China...a different story. A similar announcement that the quarantine team would board the plane when we landed. This time it took a little longer. The 'quarantine team' representing the People's Republic of China went through, and had this weird plastic gun-like thermometer that they stuck in front of everyone's forehead one by one, and I think it took your temperature (I hope that's all it did). Someone near the back either had a slight temperature, or was suffering from Ebola, as about six members of the Q.T. all congregated back there and talked very seriously. In the end, we were all given a card saying "you may be exposed to communicable diseases. if you experience flu-like symptoms in the next 7 days please take this card to a doctor." Ruthless defensive efficiency.

If I'm not blogging in a week from now, please email or call to check up on me.

Other observations:

It was pretty awesome on the car ride to the airport, hearing my Indian parents make amazingly sweeping generalizations on China and Chinese people. Exchanges like, "It's disgusting, they eat absolutely everything over there. I heard they eat dogs." "But mom, you've told me in India you guys have eaten goat brains." "Yeah, but that is SO different, those are good." My father also warned me they will probably confiscate my hard drive upon entry.

I heard Keri Hilson's "Knock Me Down" three times in the Tokyo airport. Watch out for this to be the official song of the summer.

I was telling some people during my last flight that SkyMall magazine is definitely a 'boom time' magazine as I can't imagine during a recession people are buying a 20 ft. x 10 ft. world map for their child to practice world capitals. That being said, if you thought SkyMall had some ridiculous shit in it, you should see the Japanese Airlines version of SkyMall. I don't even know where to begin.

Is it the same woman working at every Hudson News location? She is about 40something and looks maybe Moroccan or a darker Arabic? She looks like she might've been pretty back in the day in an exotic way and I swear, at the JFK location it looked like she was working with her twin. I think she also works at most Dunkin' Donuts locations in
the Boston area.

Say It Ain't So, Doc

2009-05-29T09:15:00.001-07:00

Part of the fun of planning for a global excursion has been the number of doctors visits involved in the preparation. Between blood tests, vaccinations, and a general checkup, the costs and time spent have been high. Singapore even requires you to get a chest x-ray to determine if you have any previous exposure to tuberculosis. Now, I know I'm headed outside the U.S., but do people even get TB anymore? My trip to the Travel Health Specialist for typhoid and malaria vaccines even ended up with me even paying an extra $65 for a Polio vaccination. It got to a point where I was waiting for a doctor to prescribe me an antidote for the Plague.

Anyways, as I was scheduling the chest x-ray, I had informed the doctor of my ITBS-symptomatic hip problem that is still annoying the hell out of me even four months later. He recommended I get a hip x-ray as I was going to the radiology department for my chest already, just to be safe.

On Tuesday I went back for the followup, and thankfully, no tuberculosis. Then he pulled out a sheet of paper with the hip x-ray results and told me that there was absolutely nothing wrong. I asked him if he could provide any more color as to why, even after easing off the capoeira and running, I was still having regular pain and "pins and needles" throughout my leg. He calmly turned to me and uttered words that, short of being informed of a terminal disease, are the words that no one ever wants to hear. "Ranjan, you're in great health. What you have to be aware of is that you're heading towards 30 and not getting younger. The body can't do what it did at 20. You can still play soccer, go running, and be completely active, but if you maintain the same level of activity as before, it's necessary to compensate with more stretching and rest. You just can't ignore those physical necessities and get away with it anymore. It's just natural."

Fuck.

Kansas Blogging Two: Red State - Blue State

2009-05-25T18:07:00.000-07:00

AJ's New York Pizzeria is based off a simple premise: getting a NY style slice of pizza in the middle of nowhere Kansas. I have to say that before moving to New York, even living in suburban Boston, pizza to me was Pizza Hut or Papa Gino's, and the differentiation in quality was generally based on the toppings included. The idea that there was a real difference in two slices of just plain cheese pizza was completely foreign. As pizza has certainly been on my rotation of "kinda meals/snack" and late night drunken eating, I became familiar very quickly with a number of places throughout the city and have of course, in NYC fashion, strong opinions about different places (Frank's on 1st ave and 20th st still being my favorite).

As Adam slowly realized that he didn't really want to pursue his career as a fashion buyer in women's denim at Barneys (I kid you not, that was the pre-pizza career) he started mulling other options. He eventually settled on the idea of trying to bring quality pizza by the slice back home to Kansas. Second row seats during Fashion Week and mornings spent looking at models showing off jeans in SoHo showrooms was to be replaced by brick ovens and quality cheeses. Adam very randomly found one of the nation's leading experts on pizza dough, the Dough Doctor (completely serious), himself a midwesterner, who helped him plan his business-to-be. While a great idea, we were all definitely curious as to whether he could pull this off.

As the restaurant was getting built and we began that battle that happens every four years called the Presidential Election, Adam and me came up with a game called Red State / Blue State. Often on Friday mornings, via gchat (which somehow for all my time at BofA was never blocked...thank you Steve Humble) would talk about our previous night. One of the best instances was when, going first as the Blue State (warning: obnoxious trader sentiment ahead) I recounted a Nobu dinner, followed by cocktails by a 'mixologist' at some trendy new bar, followed by meeting a bunch of eurotrash at some club. The Red State response was about as contrastingly awesome as it gets: Adam had spent the day getting a car sawed in half at a junkyard to be used as decor in his restaurant, then offroading in his 4x4 as part of an offroading club, finishing off with a six-pack while watching tv at the end of the night.

Red State / Blue State went on all throughout the rest of my working days, as even with a physical move to One Bryant Park, my gchat was never blocked (maybe this has a connection to why I'm now writing a blog called life AFTER trading?). As of last summer AJ's NY Pizzeria opened and after my epic travel across the state of Missouri, I finally had the opportunity to sample a slice.

*The pizza was actually very good and very comparable to what I'd consider above average NYC slices. I'm definitely curious as to whether Adam is able to franchise the concept across the midwest. I have to say it was pretty impressive to see the mostly finished product that was built from scratch, and hopefully AJ's will do for pizza what Chili's did for Tex-Mex. As Adam said, I'd rather own the Darden Group (owners of the Olive Garden among others) instead of Cipriani's.

**The meat-lovers pizza Adam affectionately calls the "18th and 8th", to pay homage to a block right near where we lived. The Kansans hopefully will never get the joke.

- Street signs used as table markers so the food runners know where to send which orders. A little bit of NYC kitsch.

***You know you're in the midwest when: after a night of drinking at the K-State bars I woke up on Adam's couch to what smelled like urine. Now, as most of you know, I enjoy a cocktail or two. However, I've so far been spared the indignity of waking up having, as the kids say, pissed the bed. After slightly panicking, I thoroughly researched the couch and vicinity with no sign of dampness anywhere, yet the smell of urine still wafted through the air. Adam walked out and I asked him if he had any theories. He calmly responded that this had happened before and, "I think the neighbors might be making meth." Kansas, I will miss you.

Kansas Blogging

2009-05-22T11:39:00.000-07:00

Before heading out for an Asian adventure, I figured there was only really one place I had to visit to get myself prepared. Only one destination could ready me for the culture shock and traveling challenges I will experience as I start in Beijing on May 31st. Naturally, the land of enchantment I speak of is Kansas.

My connection to Kansas is one that runs random and deep. For starters, I was actually born in St. louis....not quite Kansas, but close enough. Then, one my best friends from college from college was from Topeka. Then, randomly one of my roommates when I studied abroad in Rome was also from Topeka (Adam...more on him later). He moved to NYC in '02 as well and we ended up roommates for a few years. One day in 2003, with the college Kansan friend visiting and between the two of them inviting people over, I had nine Kansanites in my tiny West Village apartment in one day; That has to be a record of some sort.

Anyways, my whole family was traveling out to St. Louis for the weekend for my cousin's high school graduation (yes, this is something Indian people often do). Adam was now living back in Kansas running a pizzeria, so I figured I'd fly out a few days early and visit him to check out his new business. And so began the adventure...

I bought a roundtrip ticket to St. Louis, as I was flying out of there with the family at the end of the trip. My plan was to rent a car in St. Louis and drive on over to Manhattan, KS (yes, Adam now lives in a town/city called Manhattan in Kansas). One thing I completely forgot about the midwest: Things are really fucking far apart. I google mapped the drive and much to my chagrin, 370 miles. Mind you, I had gotten up at 6am for the airport, the flight had a stopover in Pittsburgh, it was now about 4pm, and I had at least a five hour drive ahead of me. Adam had definitely made it sound like this wasn't a big deal, yet this was like driving from Boston to almost D.C., after a whole day of flying. I'm convinced that this could be the average commute of a midwesterner.

The first thing I noticed was how much easier things are vs. New York. As anyone who's ever tried doing any basic life task in NYC, they're always a pain in the ass. I got off the plane, while waiting for my checked bag, I was able to get my rental car processed at the counter which was conveniently right next to the carousel. Right as I signed my credit card receipt for the car, my bag came out, I grabbed it and walked over the to rental car shuttle. There were no other passengers, but the driver, with a big smile offered to take me over right away. I got dropped off, went up to my car and was on the highway. I am not kidding, from getting off the plane to being on the highway, including getting a checked bag, was all done in around 20 minutes. I was getting to like this magical land already.

I was on the road and exhausted. The road from St. Louis to Manhattan, through Kansas City, is straight, flat, and long. You take I-70 the entire distance, and my Ford Focus, of course without cruise control, could barely keep up with the 18-wheelers overtaking me. Being exhausted, I undertook a steady cycle of stopping to get Diet Coke, stopping to pee, buying more Diet Coke, and repeat. This process, while time consuming, did take me into some pretty amazing truck stops.

Kansas City is about 250 miles along the way and on the border between Missouri and Kansas. As I drove through, I definitely got a second wind when I saw that Welcome to Kansas sign. I had finally reached this world I had heard so much about and Manhattan, KS was only an hour and change away (yes, my Ford Focus could go 90, which I guess isn't "really considered speeding" according to most people I talked to)

The last two hours were a pretty amazing drive as literally there is nothing around. Even flatter and straighter than the previous stretch, I am convinced I could've driven the entire thing just steering with my knees. If I had cruise control I imagine I probably could've taken a nap, woken up, and would've been fine. The main thing I noticed at this point was how massive the sky was; there is nothing blocking the horizon in any direction. One amazing part of this was I was driving through here as the sun was setting. As I was driving west at a high speed, it seems like I was chasing the sunset (I really did feel like I was living out a classic rock song at this moment) as it lasted almost the entire hour and a half of the drive.

I was right outside of Manhattan and called Adam to let him know I was close. Here's where it got interesting. I was a few miles away from his place and he told me to stop at a gas station and he'd "come get me". By coming to get me, he meant he'd drive over and then I'd follow him back to his apartment. I had GPS on my phone, but he insisted. I guess this would be like telling someone you'd pick them up at Grand Central...definitely the polite thing to do and helping the traveler avoid that last little bit of confusion? Except, being in the midwest this involved being in cars instead of walking.

I had finally arrived.

Rock of Ages

2009-04-21T19:14:00.000-07:00

While indulging in the world of grunge during my middle school years, playing Nirvana songs with my fellow 12 year olds in a band called Kamikaze (yes, this is true), I always wondered about what it would've been like to have been an 80's rock star. This wonderment became more of a dream when I actually came of an age where girls and booze were exciting things. Fast forward to when I'm nearly 30 and 80s rock sometimes seems to just be a bunch of "those finance people" singing Don't Stop Believin' at the Joshua Tree at 3am. The problem is...that song and many others like it, really are still amazing.

Rock of Ages is a new musical that attempts to harness that dream of 80s rock stardom and package it in an art form that is in some ways does represent the idea of bands like Poison, but in some ways seems the very antithesis of everything that movement supposedly stood for: The Broadway Musical. I was a little skeptical when I first heard about this endeavor, but after a strong recommendation from someone who not only was in their 20s during the 1980s, but has a combination of a great taste in rock and a great disdain for music for "pussy music" (two concerts I've seen with him: Godsmack and George Thorogood). I figured, even with the inclusion of American Idol's Constatine Maroulis as the lead, it couldn't be that lame?

The crowd was, as one would imagine, an interesting one. There were barely any kids and you had your combination of people in suits, tourists, 20somethings, but most importantly, there was some representation from that crowd that I was hoping for...the guy sitting in front of me:

Yes, motorcycle vest, biker's gloves, and as the picture can't show you, a goatee about a foot long. With this guy there, I figured out of concerns for the safety of the cast, this had to be legit.

The show started off a little slow, and as I worried, it was somewhat tough sitting there watching a bunch of broadway types dancing around to choreographed routines with moves reminiscent of The Producers, to songs like Sister Christian and the Final Countdown. Even more disturbing was the combination of these songs into medley formats. At one early point, the Sherrie is on the phone with her father. The father, of course back at the farm in Kansas, doesn't believe in her dreams and hangs up on her, when she just wanted to tell her dad, she just wanted to....."Saying I love you, is not the words I want to say to you." Yes, there were many moments like this in the first 20 minutes that worried me.

Then...enter the "arrogant rock star" character, Stacee Jaxx. The character changed the entire direction of the show. One of his first actions was to sign an autograph for a fan with a pen sticking out of his fly. The guy was absolutely absurd and almost every word out of his mouth was hilarious. Suddenly, it became clear the writers had a tremendously self-aware perspective of what this production was. Having a bunch of performers who normally perform in lion king or cat costumes, trying to recreate the aggression of an Axl Rose, was an impossible task. Instead all the stars displayed a good deal of self-aware, self-deprecating humor between spectacular singing performances. They made clear they knew this was not supposed to be a legitimate representation of the 80s....and it was definitely the raunchiest musical I've ever seen.

I did become a little worried though, as the bald dude in front of us looked very pissed. He constantly turned to his wife and looked to be complaining. I did wonder: if you truly were living the rock n' roll lifestyle in the 80s, watching a broadway bastardization of it might disgust you. If everything you held dear, if the memory of friends who actually died in drug overdoses, was now being mocked by a guys singing soprano in makeup (no offense to Bret Michales), wouldn't you be pissed? The guy grabbed his bag and his lady at intermission, and we guessed he wouldn't be back.

Right before the curtains came back open, him and his guest actually did make it back to their seats. The show only got better and better and we kept observing him, but saw absolutely no reaction. As everyone around us started clapping, including a 50 year old Asian guy who was there by himself and pumping his fist to Pat Benatar, the bald dude showed no emotion and only clutched his beer.

After the last number, a massively climactic rendition of everyone's favorite Journey classic, the last chord was struck, there was maybe a moment before the crowd erupted in applause.

The bald guy, violently raised his arm to the rafters, and clenched tightly in that leather fist....a lit lighter.

Absolutely. Fucking. Awesome.

What I Want to Be When I Grow Up

2009-04-15T13:18:00.001-07:00

I'm currently sitting at Fiddlesticks, a fine drinking establishment in the West Village. It's the day where the taxman cometh and hopefully, unlike Geithner, turbotax won't screw me up (though as my biggest asset is my television my taxes really should not be too complicated). I came here as the advertised combination of Champions League soccer and free wifi were just too tantalizing to turn down. The daytime sporting bar scene is an interesting one, as there's definitely a good combination of drinking choices, from some folks drinking a cup of coffee, an orange juice, and a guy wearing a suit drinking a martini.

What has caught my attention is at one table is a trendily dressed British guy sitting with his two kids, who are in similar fashion, dressed way cooler than I think I'll ever be capable of (they both look to be about 11 or 12 years old). As I watch Cristiano Ronaldo repeatedly dive and hopefully see Porto come back here, I have to wonder, what job allows this British guy to take the afternoon off, bring his kids to a bar, and watch soccer? Is he obscenely wealthy and just retired by 40? Is he from money and never worked a day in his life, introducing his children to the life of leisure at an early age? Is it just as simple as he planned ahead, took the day off, and let his kids play hooky for the match? Could he be, dare I say, a fellow severance kid? All I know is, while I'm not sure what I'll be doing post-MBA, I want to do what he's doing. Oh, and he's drinking a Guinness.

Spy Wednesday

2009-04-08T18:20:00.001-07:00

When I was laid off on January 22nd, I had a vision of what April would hold in store: 60-70 degree days, playing soccer in Central Park, margaritas outside, and wandering the streets endlessly. Well, that happened on Sunday, and now by Wednesday we're back to sub-40 degrees with some snow flurries this morning.

I was a bit restless this morning as my laptop is currently being repaired for a hard drive failure, preventing me from accessing the lifeblood that keeps me going, wifi and rosetta stone. I woke up fairly early, went to the gym, and after starting to check emails realized that this weekend is Easter and Passover is apparently tonight. As a general agnostic, and part-time Hindu, I never really keep track of this stuff but decided that maybe I should head up to a weekday church service; see what all the buzz is about.

As the saying goes, go big or go home, and I went big. I made my way up to St. Patrick's Cathedral on 5th ave in midtown for their 1pm Holy Week mass. The scene when you walk in was the very definition of breathtaking, and by breathtaking I mean I actually gasped and under my breath uttered "Holy Shit!" The ceiling soars above you and the amount of ornate gold structures and statues throughout definitely humbles you. I remember visiting the Vatican while in Rome with a Catholic friend, who as we walked in and were both just dumbfounded, smirked towards me and said, "this stuff really does kind of make you think we're the right ones, no?"

I've never attended an actual Catholic mass before, but been to numerous Catholic weddings and I never have absolutely any idea of when I'm supposed to do things like sing along or kneel. Luckily St Patricks is so immense that you can have a good view but kind of hide to the side and keep to yourself. The mass was actually really interesting as today apparently was "Spy Wednesday", the day Judas cut the deal to sell out Jesus. They described the Last Supper at length, during which I realized that the recent South Park on the economy actually was fairly faithful in its depiction and the different interactions that take place during the event. The priest also somehow calculated that Jesus was sold out for today's equivalent of $19.27, don't ask me what shekel exchange rate he used or inflation he calculated this off of, but he hammered this point. While the whole experience was somewhat somber, it definitely reminded me that religious services are definitely a good indoor activity to do if the weather continues sucking like this. I wonder if countries that suffer from terrible weather (i.e. Britain) are much more devout.......

Gaga for Geithner

2009-04-01T15:59:00.000-07:00

The past few months have definitely seen the turbulence of last fall's financial crisis continue, and one of the central figures in the battle against that invisible hand that is beating the global economy like Rihanna (sorry....sorry, too soon? ) has been our Treasury Secretary, Timothy Geithner.

Right now America needs its whipping boys, and the while bankers are the easiest of targets right now, Mr. Geithner does exert a tremendous amount of influence and is thus naturally the target for much of the ire. Economists from the left and the right are on the attack, even 90 days into the job. I became curious about Sir Geithner's own background and after some digging, and by digging I mean googling and wikipedia'ing, there were a few standouts that definitely secured my faith in both Geithner and the choice of keeping him around. A few points:

1) The whole idea that he is not 'exciting' or 'charismatic' enough is absolutely insane. Are you fucking kidding me? I think the American public has become a little too used to Obama's rhetorical flourish. Do people even remember what Paul O'Neill looked like? Do you remember John Snow's crazyass eyebrows? These men were not particularly memorable, and the position does not demand it. I want the head of my banking sector and planner of the economy to be the most boring guy around. The guy who is excited about analyzing capital ratios, the guy who would much rather be reading Cecil Pigou / Adam Smith debates than at a Yankees game boozin' in the box and making us all laugh.

2) Have you read this guy's background? Forget Dartmouth, his dad was the Director of the Ford Foundation's Asia program. He grew up in Zambia, Zimbabwe, India, and graduated high school in Bangkok! (Fun Fact: His Dad met Barack Obama's mom in Indonesia years back as part of a microfinance initiative). He speaks Chinese and Japanese. Please do not forget that China is currently America's sugar daddy, and while our marriage has worked out so far and China still wants his trophy wife, he might one day find a younger, hotter commodity to spend his money on. We need someone exposed to that part of the world, with legitimacy, to make sure any such troubles or transitions are orderly.

And can you imagine Geithner and Obama talking during the hiring process? "Hey man, were you beat up by the local Asian kids for being an American?" "Sweet, so was I. Let's talk banking." When we elected Obama, we gave a mandate for more a more worldly administration full of people with real international experience, and we got it.

3) I think the "Bank Stabilization Plan" as it stands is the perfect strategy. The Krugmans are strongly calling for some sort of receivership or nationalization of insolvent institutions. What I have never quite understood is that the Geithner plan does not preclude this from ever occurring. It rather lays out a specific attempt at revitalizing the troubled market, and if, even with all the government support, an institution is deemed insolvent rather (than just a liquidity issue), then have Sheila Bair grab Vikram Pandit by the nuts and twist away. The only real argument has been the urgency of the "moment", but I feel a more cautious strategy that leaves nationalization as the last resort will be deemed much more legitimate. The worst outcome we could have would be a nationalization deemed by the market and public as illegitimate, completely negating any progress we've made.

4) The idea that Geithner is in "bed with his Wall Street buddies" is both ridiculous, and somewhat visually troublin. The guy could've easily left at any point and joined the revolving Rubin-esque door and made millions. But he didn't, he stayed in public service. Admittedly, the NY Fed is not paid like a non-profit, but he could've made many times more at any bank with his background and he chose not to. That very decision should give him the benefit of the doubt in decisions like the AIG bonus brouhaha. The fact is, he did not realize the political implications of the bonus issue because he was concerned with much broader issues regarding the survival of the banking industry. If anything, it should indicate a serious approach to the problem rather than a pandering, political approach.

Bonus: For any of you who have read this entire entry, I am in a coffee shop and there is a apartment broker negotiating with a potential tenant, but spending more time trying to ask her out. He definitely did say "there's a gym right down the block, but you don't even need to go you're so fit!"

Everyday Hustlin'

2009-03-31T09:15:00.000-07:00

I've recently decided to put my Spanish on hold to launch a new, more ambitious pursuit: learning Mandarin. I'll be pursuing my MBA next year through an international school, INSEAD, where you are required to learn "proficiency" in a new language as a graduation requirement. This could've easily been achieved with either Italian or French, with which I have prior experience, or continuing my amazingly successful Spanish strategy outlined earlier. Instead, I decided to "go for it" and learn Mandarin. This could be one of the more stress-inducing decisions I've ever made, but I feel if achieved, will be far more beneficial professionally. Moreover, there is just nothing in this world like someone of non-Asian descent speaking Chinese. It just warms the heart.

As this task was far more difficult than a foray into yet another romance language, I decided the Tim Ferriss strategy would not suffice. I had to get serious, and how else does one get serious than to go on craigslist. I arranged a purchase of Rosetta Stone's Mandarin level 1 via the site. I'm sure in a completely legal fashion, I met a guy named Tariq at a Starbucks near me. He pulled out a massive external HD, plugged it into my computer, and gave me the goods. After using the product all week, and realizing how much better a learning system it is than traditional language education, realized I should probably get Levels 2 and 3 for the longer term (each level I assume will take close to a few weeks). Again, I went to craigslist, and this time met Jose at Bryant Park. Rather than an external HD, Jose gave me a series of CDs to install the software with.

I will get more into how Rosetta Stone works, which I'm still amazed by, but first I need to address Jose and Tariq. The amazing part of these interactions was their absurdly sketchy nature. Tariq brought in the first hit, but once I needed the more potent version, in came Jose. What's more ridiculous, is that I tried sparking up conversations with both of them about learning languages. Tariq indicated he had dabbled with Level 1 in order to "learn to holla at the mami's", while Jose said "I speak Spanish, but nah, havent touched it". It was a good reminder, that Jose and Tariq weren't involved in the game out of a deep drive to democratize language education for the masses and bring the joy of multiculturalism and global understanding to people everywhere. It was just another hustle.

Which makes me wonder, how does a hustler choose educational software as his game? Is it just a question of profit margins? Do they slang other software (perhaps gaming, or the hardest of the hard, office productivity software)? Would Rick Ross approve of such a hustle, and has he himself, ever been involved in the nerdier side of the hustling world? Finally, is there a hierarchy of hustlers, and while spending an evening at Larry Flynt's Hustler Club (naturally), do the drug and arms dealers bully the software and pirated DVD dealers?

Damn Fine Cooking

2009-03-23T11:46:00.000-07:00

The entire inspiration for this blog was to document different endeavors I am undertaking while laid off (and occasionally rant about politics). Last week I found the ultimate laid-off experience. The class was entitled "The Art of Fine Cooking" and taught by Richard Ruben at the Institute of Culinary Education. I like to eat. From that interest came a love of cooking. This class was five days long, about six hours a day, and between the history and lessons, the professor, the other students, eating a five course meal with wine daily, and getting inspired to go home and cook more, it was probably the best of the free-time activity I've tried so far.

I walked into the lobby on day one and saw a group of relatively attractive middle-aged women assembling. The receptionist informed me "oh no, that's Cooking 101. You're in Fine Cooking down the hall." I continued walking and as I entered the classroom, naturally, was a group of almost all men around 25-60. Not that I expected a crowd of supermodels at a cooking class, but the gender makeup was a bit surprising. Of course, as I walked around meeting people we all came to the realization that over 50% of the class was laid off bankers, including an older English guy I worked with for the past five years (neither of us knew the other would be in the class)! I guess in all these efforts to go out and do original activities I had become the ultimate cliche. The teacher also informed us that until last fall, the class generally had been mostly female, with the 101 class being mostly male. In his words, "half the bankers are laid off and want to really learn to cook. The other half have told their gold-digger wives that the days of eating out every night are over and it's time to learn to boil pasta."

Basically every class consisted of approximately an hour or two of lecture that covered a variety of topics focused on the food we would cook that day. One day we were going to braise lamb shanks and we learned about how the actual process of braising works with regard to the liquid used, how the air interacts, and how different types of meat break down. One day we made souffles and learned that instead of just buttering the sides of the small pans you add sugar, which acts as the rungs of a ladder for the souffle to climb (yes, that is ridiculous to know but I love random knowledge like this). Another highlight was learning how to make compound butter...that stuff if you go to Les Halles or Pastis that they'll top of your Steak Frites with.

The lessons were great, but the teacher made the class. Richard was definitely on the, how do you say, gayer side of the spectrum and started off the class with one sexual allusion after another, and a barrage of attitude-filled hilarious comments. At the end of the first day I turned to one of the older guys in the class, who was a retired steel mill worker who recently discovered a love of cooking, to say how funny I thought Richard was. The only retort was a gruff, "I don't really like his style". Richard's knowledge of a kitchen, technique, and food culture was amazing. What was even more impressive was his self-proclaimed specialization in "food history". At one point I was talking to him about Indian curries and he gave me a whole history of how meat was introduced to Indian spices and curry from when the Assyrians invaded, and then how the Imperial British rule changed the flavors of many dishes. I'm definitely hoping the guy writes a sass-filled book on this stuff some day, and even the steel mill guy was thoroughly won over by week's end.

The class was a pretty amazing composition as well. In addition to the laid off banker crew and the steel worker, there was an awesome older man from Korea named Dean. He didn't really cook much or seem to pay attention, but he had a tremendous smile on his face at all times, took pictures incessantly, and would just get drunk at lunch every day. It turned out that his daughter had a baby recently, and Dean and his wife came to help out. Dean was apparently getting in the way of grandma and mother, so they signed him up for the class to get him out of the house. Now that is childraising we can all believe in.

Roast Chicken with Rosemary Compound Butter (I felt a little sick after this one)

Flank Steak, a bunch of salads, and Richard (center) and Dean (I will let you guess which side of Richard is Dean on)

Braised Lamb Shanks in a Red Wine Reduction

The highest-rising souffle of them all

Nicoise Salad (with fresh seared tuna...a little better than that Cosi version)

How I've Missed You

2009-03-23T11:39:00.000-07:00

I have always wondered how many all the political and economic blogs I read are updates so frequently, and then I remember: that is their job. Admittedly, I currently have no job, but nonetheless, distractions are aplenty and it has been many days since I have last updated my obscenely vast readership. It's been a busy few weeks and I'm back to waking up with nothing on the agenda.

Glory Days

2009-03-10T12:02:00.000-07:00

Watching a classic movie like the Breakfast Club on a Tuesday afternoon at 3pm is definitely one of the perks of this new lifestyle. I dont think I ever really appreciated just how awesome that scene at the end where the five of them are sitting around and emoting with one another is. A few questions about the movie though:

1) We randomly were shown this in high school yearly during our mandatory "Life Skills" classes. Is that more a statement on the teachers at the time and their lack of preparedness with a curriculum or just the sheer power of the movie?

2) Is Molly Ringwald actually hot?

3) Is Judd Nelson still alive?

4) How many makeovers a la Ally Sheedy, administered by the popular girl, have occurred in real life? I feel there have to have been at least a few documented instances.

5) Do "the kids today" still relate to this movie? And is this movie actually just yesterday's High School Musical 2? And how depressing is that thought?

6) Are each one of us really a brain? and an athelete? and a basket case? and a princess? and a criminal?

7) How awesome is the dance scene at the end of the movie? (and question #2 may have just been answered by Molly Ringwald's awesome dancing)

Mohawk Blogging

2009-03-07T08:51:00.001-08:00

Controllerism

2009-03-06T15:01:00.000-08:00

Now that I'm no longer one of those "corporate sellout banker gordon gekko wannabe" and have instantly gained all the hipster credibility in the world, Wednesday night I naturally headed out to the Delancey in the Lower East Side, to attend the Warper Party.

I will provide the disclaimer, even with all my hipster credibility, I wasn't exactly invited to this event that is described as a "for us/buy us event to create a community amongst electronic musicians and forward thinking artists in the NY metro area and beyond". Rather, I was shown a website, FreeNYC, by another severance kid, and this event was listed for Wednesday night. A few of us headed over, not knowing what to expect. Needless to say, we were not disappointed.

The first act we saw was basically a singer and guitarist, both dressed as though they were out of Mad Max, who called themselves Prez Powers. The music was okay, but they had two guys, who were wearing hoodies and masks from V for Vendetta, breakdancing as they played, who were both massively entertaining. One of the people in our group was visiting from Wisconsin, and there were definitely those moments where he looked at the rest of us with one of those "is this how you spend your average Wednesday evening????" looks.

What came next absolutely blew my mind. As a big fan of both rock and electronic music, I realized long ago that the two types of artists you really see hero worship towards are DJ's and Guitarists (perhaps a little biased here). I can't count the number of times you hear the word "god" associated with "guitar", and if you've ever seen a big-name DJ perform, the way they control the room is nearly messianic. I have always wondered if any group or band could somehow combine both of these roles. I may have just seen someone who fulfilled this challenge, but even more amazingly, he does it all by himself.

His name was Moldover, and he began the performance with a guitar swung around his back and the most ridiculous electronic contraption in front of him. The music with this insane machine seemed so complicated, yet pleasing, that a few of us were convinced that there was no way it was real and he was just pulling an Ashlee Simpson. He would then alternate, leaving a track playing, and switching over to guitar. His abilities on the guitar were equal to the electronic music creation, as he definitely was shredding in the mode of an Eddie Van Halen.

I went home thinking it all might've been a figment of my drunken imagination, but after some solid internet'ing, it turns out he actually was a student of guitar from childhood and a grad of the Berkelee School of Music. The electronic contraption he had is one of a number of crazy contraptions he makes, and this whole genre is called "controllerism". Basically, rather than DJ'ing with just turntables and basic mixers, he modifies keyboards and other electronics to allow for much greater control in live remixing. I still really don't know how the fuck any of this actually works, but am definitely going to further research this potential land mine of success.

He also invented something called the Octamasher, which is some sort of collaborative mixing device that allows a whole group of people to simultaneously create music. One thing I absolutely find hilarious about electronic music, if you watch the video below...where else could you find this AMAZING mix of people (Wayne, I'm hoping you're reading this):

And of course, if he becomes popular, I only really liked his older stuff.

Under the Sea

2009-03-06T14:34:00.000-08:00

After not leaving my couch on Monday and just watching Mad Men, playing FIFA, and trying to learn "Against All Odds" on the piano, I decided I should get out and get back to exploring the world on Tuesday.

I met up with three other fellow severance kids, and first stopped by a new place called Bagouette on 25th and Lexington. If you're in the Curry Hill area, definitely try out their amazing Spicy Pork Banh Mi sandwich. Yes, I did find out about it in Time Out NY. I dont think I've bought a copy of it since I first moved to the city, but with a cover like "750 cheap things to do in NY" I couldn't resist.

The star of the afternoon, however, was technological and not gastronomical. We went to the Lincoln Square Cinema to watch Under the Sea: 3D on IMAX. As a lover of technology (I did, after all, get really friggin' excited by Bolt Bus wifi) these are two technologies I was totally wrong on. I think it was 2003 that I became convinced all theaters would become IMAX-format after they begin releasing some "normal" movies on them. Of course, this didn't happen. When I was 14, I watched a 3D movie at Universal Studios and could not believe how advanced the experience actually was, with birds seeming to be literally inches away from me. Of course, that was 1994, and we're not exactly living Back to the Future 2 right now.

I was excited to find this movie as I always loved field trips to the Science Museum as a kid and the IMAX movies that accompanied them. I strongly recommend Under the Sea: 3D to anyone who has the opportunity to go. It's only 40 minutes, and at $16.50 a ticket, not exactly recession friendly, but the movie was unreal. The undersea scenes are just beautiful* (there really is no other word for them) and the music and production makes each cent spent extremely worthwhile. Jim Carry is the narrator, and is extremely normal (not pee on the set Jim Carrey). The visual experience is unparalleled, but I'm not gonna deny, when the closing third of the movie gets into environmental damage and its effects on species, I was definitely transported back to being an idealistic eight year old wanting to save the ocean.

*I will address the general discomfort of guys using the word "beautiful" with regard to describing natural beauty. I will never forget a moped excursion with three male friends in Corfu (a Greek Island) during my semester abroad. We had taken our mopeds out to a cliff and were watching a spectacular sunset over the ocean. As a testament to the sunset's raw beauty, here you had four meatheadish 20yr old Americans abroad waiting to go drinking at the hostel, but there was at least a minute of pure silence as everyone reflected on the scene in front of us. Of course, rather than anyone saying the scene was either "beautiful" or "awe-inspiring", a chorus of "that is fucking sweet" or "goddamn, that is a sick sunset" were the only words uttered.

Corporate Atrophy

2009-03-06T14:11:00.001-08:00

I would recommend for everyone, if you're not already, go out and befriend a doctor. After the first two weeks of freedom, between capoeira, more gym-time, and bollywood dancing, I had been hitting the activity bottle pretty hard. I had noticed a recurring pain in my right leg. I was naturally convinced that amputation was the only solution and my life was over. Amazingly, over g-chat, a friend of mine who's a resident in NY seemed to diagnose exactly the problem.

The chat is included below for your viewing pleasure, but basically I have become yet another tragic victim of ITBS (Illotibial Band Syndrome). It is a condition mainly experienced by people running their first marathon, as it is experienced after a "sudden increase in level of activity" and accompanying lack of proper stretching. As a heterosexual, red-blooded American male, naturally I dont stretch properly and after reading a good deal about it, it all made sense. It was a very common condition that can easily be treated with standard running injury treatment (resting, iceing, and stretching).

What I also realized was a major contributor was what I like to call "Corporate Atrophy". Bollywood and Capoeira aside, my body had become accustomed to sitting in a chair for probably 60% of my waking hours. At this point, not only was I way more active, rather than just walking around NYC two days a week, it had become seven and my legs had atrophied to a point to be unable to handle this.

My only word of advice to my newly minted fellow severance kids, ease your entry into this newfound freedom. Relax, sit in a chair a little longer, stretch a little more. Judging by the market this week, that freedom will last a long, long time and you don't want it to be painful.

12:15am me: i think i have a pinch nerve
a little worried
in my right leg
can you diagnose me

Jaymarc: huh, y u think that

12:16 AM
me: dude, my right leg, is kinda bad, i'm trying to deny it

Jaymarc: is it numb

me: there's some tingling and pain, started around my knee, now goes down the outside of my shin
and where my ankle meets the foot kinda

Jaymarc: does it start in the back, is it shooting? get worse with sneezing, or taking a shit?

me: there are long portions it doesnt hurt at all then randomly, like when sitting on the bus, part of my front ankle would feel really tight

Jaymarc: does it hurt afater you walk a while

12:18 AM
me: it started in my hip like two weeks ago, thats the problem, i walk so constantly

Jaymarc: have you been running alot recently

12:19 AM
me: yeah, been running a ton, capoeira

Jaymarc: sounds like IB band syndrome

me: whats that? I'm not shitting, IBS?

12:20 AM
Jaymarc: i mean IT band Syndrome

....and just like that, diagnosis complete. After further checking it out with a doctor and a physical therapist, it is in fact the case. Luckliy this early diagnosis allowed me to still go snowboarding.

Days go by...

2009-03-06T14:09:00.000-08:00

It has been a little while since my 'stache post graced the airwaves. My week has been an eventful one, made all the more busy as a whole new influx of fellow laid-off friends have made stepped up my daytime activity'ing. A flurry of posting to follow. Enjoy.

Mustache-blogging

2009-03-01T09:04:00.000-08:00

It really doesnt get much grosser than this.....

Hey Mom, It Was EPIC!

2009-02-26T07:24:00.000-08:00

For those of you who have read or seen the Namesake, you'll know that it was heavily focused on the immigrant experience and more specifically, the challenges faced by their children. Growing up as the child of Indian parents definitely has had its share of ridiculous experiences. There are some concepts and ideas that are simply impossible to fully communicate to your parents. This divide among generations and the funny moments and conversations they produce I dubbed "Jhumpa Lahiri moments" in honor of the author of the Namesake.

A classic Jhumpa Lahiri moment of mine was centered around skiing culture. Growing up outside of Boston, most kids definitely spent weekends and vacations at the slopes. I never really understood why their winter jackets would have these random tickets hanging off of paper clips, or what "fresh powder" meant, if not something to cure a rash. Slowly, especially as my friends in high school started snowboarding, I decided this was something I could really get into.

Bringing this up with my mother was an amazing conversation. To those who have grown up skiing their whole lives, it probably makes all the sense in the world. However, just picture someone straight out of a tropical climate and explaining to them skiing. Her response was effectively, "So...you're telling me, you want to go out in sub-zero temperature. Put on a bunch of layers of uncomfortable clothing and shoes. Then, go down the side of a steep mountain at speeds approaching that of a car, and you achieve this speed with two little sticks on your feet, potentially seriously injuring yourself and even potentially dying. And to top it off, you spend hundreds of dollars on those sticks and the tickets for entry to the mountain??? No thanks." (and remember, she didn't even address trying to drive a 2-wheel drive sedan into a treacherous mountain trying to get to the mountain).

Needless to say, I never really got into it until post-college when I decided to try to bring some happiness to the otherwise dreary NYC winters by learning to snowboard. The past few days have been amazing, as the major snowstorm from the weekend translated into absolutely ridiculous conditions all week, with mid 30s sunshine, blue skies, and powder. As I'm still getting the hang of the culture, and only recently learned things like what a Hot Toddy is, I'm still amused by some of the lingo. I heard the word "epic" used by five different locals (both during lift chatter and at a bar) and I guess that's the only word to describe some of these past few days. I conquered my first double-black diamonds, and then after getting cocky nearly did break my arm. When my Mom asks me how the week was, I can now legitimately answer her with, "hey Mom, it was epic."

'Bama

2009-02-24T18:16:00.000-08:00

I thought the State of the Union isn't for a while? I guess I'm still watching.

A friend of mine who's black a few years ago asked if I had heard of the then Congressman from Louisiana, Bobby Jindal. I answered with "He is my Clarence Thomas". I don't love the guy, but I can't deny, between Jindal on the stage tonight and Slumdog on Sunday..go India!

Really Rick?

2009-02-24T08:34:00.000-08:00

One of the most amazing times working on a trading floor is right before a major economic indicator comes out. The floor is in absolute silence for the few seconds before, and then explodes into hyperactivity when the number is out. CNBC always has had a correspondent, Rick Santelli, who's energy level matches the moment as he opines on the data right after its out.

Rick has made himself a bit famous after a major rant last week about the Obama housing plan. After watching it, he has suddenly become the "face of the opposition" for conservatives and right-wingers who are opposed to bailing out homeowners. To all those who have legitimate gripes with the Obama housing plan (and I have my own doubts but think it's a necessity in the the overall comprehensive approach), this is NOT the youtube you want to advertise. Really Rick? I imagine his life is fairly sheltered, but yelling among a mass of derivatives traders about the government being unfair is not the best PR move right now. "This represents a cross-section of America"?

I was a little surprised when Robert Gibbs (Obama's press secretary) answered the rant at a very personal (and kinda funny) level, but then it once again dawned on me. Just watch: Santelli will naturally escalate the situation and continue to yell and will be the de facto spokesperson for "fiscal conservatives", and these clips will be aired on every news show and just make the average American hate the vague concept of "Wall street trader" even more. You are basically going to make "trader" the new "fundamentalist christian crazy" and a rallying point for the general population. To Rick and the guy who whistles and yells "moral hazard" in the video, please shut up..you're making us all look worse.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Get me a Gas Guzzler

2009-02-23T17:06:00.000-08:00

The annoying liberal in me was always somewhat indignant about people buying massive SUV's and trucks who had no real use for them. After this weekend, I have resolved that I will never attempt to travel through northern New England in a vehicle that isn't in the crosshairs of Greenpeace.

Friday night I was headed up to Sugarbush with a bunch of friends in two cars. After seven hours of driving and a McDonalds super sized extra value meal (isn't it funny how when you're on a road trip, fast food is suddenly totally fine?) my rented "full-size" Nissan Altima was about two miles from the condo. There was a major blizzard slowing us down for the final 30 miles, and just when it looked like we were there, enter the infamous West Hill Road.

For those who have never driven in snow and ice, there is an art that one is educated in if you grow up outside of Boston. A good deal of the time you have no control over the car and you just work to control how the car skids. However, as we took one of the final lefts onto West Hill Road (which is in fact a massive hill) and Google Maps told us we had about two miles to go, an ominous yellow sign appeared: "Snow tires and 4-wheel drive required. Steep and winding road ahead".

"This shit is easy, I grew up in Massachusetts" was what went through my mind so I plowed up the hill, probably endangering the lives of the three of us in the car. Probably 100 yards up the hill it was apparent, we had absolutely no shot. As the smokey scent of burning rubber and sound of spinning tires surrounded us, we decided to back down the hill and rethink our strategy. Of course at this point, even with all three of us having omnipotent iPhones, no one had service.

After a bit of consultation, the decision was made: We were going to hike it. There was amazingly a large driveway at the bottom of the hill we could leave the car in, and two miles didn't seem to be the end of the world. As we changed into ski/weather resistant clothing, I asked for the printout of the directions to see exactly what we needed to hike. Already this seemed to be somewhat of a ridiculous adventure. Looking at the directions only confirmed this, as, I shit you not:

29. Turn left to stay on W Hill Rd - 1.3 mi
30. Turn right at Inferno Rd - 1.0 mi
31. Turn left to stay on Village Rd - 144 ft
33. Turn right at Middleearth Dr - 312 ft
34. Sharp left at Hobbit Hill - Destination will be on the right 174 ft

That's right, we were entering into a two mile hike in a torrential blizzard and Google was telling us that we were to travel Inferno Road to Middleearth Drive to Hobbit Hill. After being somewhat suspect that we had been dropped into a reality role playing game, we began the trek. Amazingly, small town America came through big for us. Within five minutes, a very sturdy-looking SUV headed the opposite direction stopped and someone picked us up and drove us to the condo (if anyone is in Sugarbush and eating at Timbers, please look for Chris and continue to thank him for us).

We finally made it and ended our Fellowship. Unfortunately, the other car in our group wasn't so lucky trying to get back to NYC last night and got stuck on Highway 89, ending up at a motel. I'm in Vermont the rest of the week and hopefully the Altima doesn't end in death, but lesson learned: If you're not willing to shell out the extra cash for the SUV rental, just don't go snowboarding.

BOLT!

2009-02-18T07:34:00.000-08:00

Thank you to those who suggested I take Bolt Bus rather than Greyhound. Dear lord this is glorious. Apparently Bolt Bus began service in the Spring of 2008, but you have to book at least a week ahead in general for peak hour buses. As someone with very little planning skills, this was the major roadblock for even considering Bolt Bus before and forgetting about it as an option. Well, I dont need to travel peak hours anymore! Bolt bus it is.

First, the driver provided a Southwest/Virgin Airlines style funny introduction, including the ever hilarious "Introduce yourself to the person sitting next to you. It's early in the morning and you should know who you're sleeping with", which led to a pretty awkward smile between me and the fat dude next to me. Secondly, the bus left completely on time and the process was very, very orderly in leaving.

Most importanly, Wifi on the bus!!!! Everyone, slowly sing along with me: Wifi on the Bus!!!!Wifi and a laptop can pretty much keep me entertained for days on end. There was once a somewhat "philosophical" question a roommate conjured up about the relationship between man, technology and privacy. If there was an invasive surgery that implanted a chip into your arm that meant you could get solid wifi reception wherever in the world you are, would you allow for the surgery?

No question about it, yes. Oh, and there are AC outlets on the back of the seats. Forget world travel, I may just re-discover Americana, Bolting across the country.

Suburban Dreams

2009-02-17T21:37:00.000-08:00

One thing I love about being home in suburbia: Costco. Where else but home would your Mom ask you, "Do you want some soup?" and then pull out the most absurd, yet great tasting massive box of congealed, frozen french onion soup packets?

Domo Arigato

2009-02-16T21:28:00.000-08:00

A few may know, I have long held a goal of mine is to attend a Davos summit. For no real particular reason other than I enjoy having a somewhat random goal to consider when evaluating shorter-term life decisions.

Man, I picked the wrong venue. At this weekends G-7 the Japanese Finance Minister Shoichi Nakagawa apparently showed up at a press conference looking drunk. Upon closer examination of the video, he doesn't just look like "I've had a six-pack over the course of a football game" drunk, he looks "its 4am and I'm about to eat three slices of sausage pizza" drunk. He defended himself saying it was the unfortunate combination of "exhaustion" and "cold medecine". Now, I know Nyquil can knock the hell out of me, but if you have just met with the six other preeminent financial leaders in the world, shouldn't you have taken Dayquil? Either he is lying or my next laid off task is moving to Japan and starting my own high-profile medical practice.

First video is straight footage of Mr. Nakagawa, the second is a news report.

I guess if your country's GDP just declined near 13% annualized one may resort to some liquid courage to face your counterparts. Also, it cannot be a splendid time working for a Prime Minister who's current approval rating is 7%. That's right, 7%....and we thought Americans were unhappy with Bush.

Writing on the Wall

2009-02-16T13:23:00.001-08:00

As one who hath drank the Obama Kool-Aid, I was a little shocked by the Geithner testimony and plan and fully fell victim to the day's "lack of details" talking line that permeated all news shows. However, while the insolvency debate is a convoluted one on which I don't have all the facts, I had my light bulb moment regarding nationalization while reading over Geithner's plan again and a number of comments made by Obama officials in the past week...I now believe there is a plan.

I began volunteering with a grassroots Obama group right after the Dem primary was finishing up, and I was amazed at the plan outlined by a campaign official at one of those first meetings. So many factors like the message discipline of 'No More Bush', hope and change, and not getting too dirty were held to like religion. Focusing intensly on fundraising through the internet and grassroots mobilization of volunteers to swing districts (we were told from day one that as New Yorkers we would be deployed to Pennsylvania). Even targeting a single electoral vote in Nebraska (which they eventually won) was clearly outlined. The intense discipline was astounding and throughout the campaign, even as polls shifted and others doubted. There were many crossroads where the punditry complained that Obama "did not win the day" which always appeared to me to be a ridiculous sentiment. However, don't get caught up in the day-to-day appeared to be the mantra; focus on the bigger picture.

Watching CNBC has began to be a cringeworthy exercise, as a hungover-looking and angry Maria Bartiromo constantly yells about how "the Dow is down 400, the market hates Geithner's plan". I was at first a little surprised by this 'lack of detail' as the meme went, and began to wonder myself as to how there wasn't any bold, clear course of action after a month's worth of supposed preparation.

Then in the past few days, as there has been a coordinated message from the entire political world: some form of nationalization isn't off the table. Obama and Geithner's original resistance was somewhat weak-willed I felt. The more I have read about 'stress tests', I now believe they are just an euphemism for "yeah, we know things are fucked up, we just dont want to completely freak you out and fake having a ready solution, Hank-style" and some form of nationalization is already in the works as we await the results of these 'stress tests'. As much as the 'market' didn't like Geithner's original questioning and plan, I think he realized the utter disaster that Hank Paulson's piecemeal approach wrought on markets (We'll buy toxic assets, no we'll capitalize banks, oh yeah, buy some assets, etc.). If a longer-term nationalization of sorts is in the works, there was no reason to indicate that this is the intention if the specifics have not been worked out. So what that the Dow was down 400, in the past six months that's become a blip on the radar, not a black swan. Lawrence Summers even said:

The president has really asked us all to focus on the medium term, the long term, not to focus on market movements on a day to day basis, that’s not really the test we’re going to apply in judging whether this plan works.

Suddenly the word nationalization is on everyone's tongue, from the usual suspects like Krugman to GOP old-timers like Lindsey Graham. The more the establishment and American people become okay with this idea, and read articles talking about how the Resolution Trust Company worked in the S&L crisis, I believe it will soon be made apparent that there will be some level of a large-scale nationalization of insolvent banks. Maybe I have drank too much of the Kool-Aid and the administration really has no idea what their eventual plan is. However, while the punditry continues on with "First Month Report Cards" and the actual solvency is a heavily debated topic on which I don't have all the numbers, I believe a carefully crafted nationalization plan and related press narrative is slowly in the works. And now....we wait.

Sunday Morning Greyhound

2009-02-16T07:48:00.000-08:00

The Boston-NYC trip is one that I have traveled many times. Both when I interned and subsequently moved to New York, I would take either the then nascent Fung Wah (or rival Lucky Star) Chinatown bus, which was priced at $15 originally, and then after what we deemed to be a "SARS discount", was knocked down to $10. Greyhound used to be about $35 each way, but slowly to compete with those ever resourceful Chinese knocked their price down to where it now stands at about $25 roundtrip.

Now, as money became a little less tight over the years, for some reason the economist in me has still taken the bus. This decision rather surprises many who easily would shell out the extra cash rather than enter that horrible, dingy basement of Port Authority. However to me, the price differential with the $180 Amtrak roundtrip just doesn't make sense. The difference in time is maybe 20-30 minutes barring obscene traffic (Thanksgiving Wednesday or other holidays I'll take the train). The quality difference is not small; Amtrak you get AC outlets for electronic devices, leg room, and most important, a sterility in the environment that does not exist in the bus. But as my mind works in a constant calculations of price and utility, the nearly 500% price increase isn't properly compensated. For some reason spending $100 on a bar tab or new electronic gadget makes all the sense in the world, but four cramped hours apparently does not rate high in my guns and butter graph.

Now, all this said, sometimes the Greyhound service and experience can still serve to shock and awe (ever since I've lived on the west side, Port Authority is super accessible and a cab ride to chinatown would cost more than the bus itself, so Greyhound it is). Planning to come home for a few days, I headed to Port Authority at about 9:45am on Sunday morning. Normally that would be fine for the 10am bus. I was one of the first 10 people in line so felt confident I should be departing soon. No 10am bus as scheduled. No 10:30am bus. No 11am bus. The line slowly morphed into more of a crowd. The beauty of Greyhound is they know they got you by the balls. You are taking the bus to ride the absolute cheapest possible option. They know that either you stick with the bus, or you're just not going.

Amazingly, as people got more and more angered, there was still no communication from anyone (The Chinatown buses function with a similar lack of customer service, but I always just assumed "they don't speak English"). Finally after a near riot in the basement of Port Authority and people swearing in about 30 different languages, the bus finally arrived at about 12:45pm. I finally managed to get on after three hours of sitting in a crowd at Port Authority, just in time to sit on a bus for five hours. I guess in my cost-benefit comparative analysis, I should also begin to include the money it will take to get drunk to forget about the whole experience. And yes, all the people below are waiting to go to Boston....

Some days

2009-02-12T09:21:00.000-08:00

I'm not gonna lie, while it's been a great time so far, there are some times when the recession really starts to get to you. The Iron Claw of the Layoff now seems to be extending into other industries. Seemingly every conversation, whether with parent, friend, colleague, or guy at the deli, seems to be another tale of the Claw clamping down. Last night I met up with a few former co-workers and realized, everyone who is still working seems to be miserable as well.

It's on days like this I think we should all learn something from our friend, Joaquin Phoenix. Yes, it is okay to quit acting to pursue music after learning a few chords on the guitar while emulating Johnny Cash. Yes, it is okay to withdraw from society, grow a beard and long hair and wear sunglasses. And Yes, it is okay to appear on David Letterman and act absolutely fucking nuts and somehow get away with it. Yes, yes we can. Some days we all just want to

It's 68 degrees!

2009-02-11T13:24:00.001-08:00

That's all I have to say about that.

USA-Mexico World Cup qualifier tonight at 7pm.

Capoeira'ing

2009-02-11T12:47:00.001-08:00

Sometimes you have to eat your words. I tend to enjoy making bold statements and have learned the fine art of this practice well. In about 2002 I made the statement repeatedly that "capoeira is the stupidest thing I have ever seen. You would be better off spending that much time learning to hacky-sack". Well, last Saturday I took a capoeira lesson.

First, the statement was made as I was walking around Union Square with a girl I was kinda seeing who personified a lot of what I hate about rich, overly liberal and privileged types. She was one who would talk about the plight of African children yet ignore the poverty that was a few blocks east of her apartment. She went on that day about how "amazingly beautiful the capoeira demonstration was" and how it truly was "poetry of the body". As I tend to be of the cynical variety, I decided I had to take a stand against capoeira. I wont deny that this might have also been influenced by the fact that all the guys were shirtless with six-packs and I probably was hungover and had eaten 2 burgers at 4am the night before.

Anyways, I realized that I want to get in better shape, improve my flexibility, balance, and 'real' strength as opposed to just lifting weights and running the way I have in the past. In the end, I love dancing, am not exactly a fighter, and like music of all types, so capoeira actually seemed a natural fit. I looked up classes and found one at the Alvin Ailey dance school up in midtown west. For those who don't know what Capoeira is, it's a Brazilian dance-type martial arts where two people perform in a circle and essentially improvise a series of acrobatic moves that dont involve contact, but rather avoid contact skillfully.

Bringing two soon-to-be victims along with me, we went into the class and were greeted by four people in 'capoeira outfits' which are basically ass-tight white pants that I generally find really hot on girls and shirts of varying style saying 'capoeira' on them. The instructor, well, his shirt was naturally sleeveless, and he could be one of the most beautiful people I have ever encountered. It actually became a joke afterwards of how almost absurd a character he was as his English was broken, his muscles were massive, but the guy could also do insane things like spin on his head and do side flips. Of course at the end of the class we found out he could also sing and play this crazy instrument called the Berimbau.

The class was brutal but fulfilling. It was a little nerve-wracking that about 10 minutes into a 90 minute class we did some exercise where you steady your body on your elbows and destroy your abs. This was after doing a series of really slow push-up type exercises and a variety of other crouched type poses. I thought I might have to just remove myself from the class and give up, which would've been a bit embarassing as there were a few somewhat chubby people in the class as well. I've basically realized I have no actual core strength and think my body atrophied after sitting down for seven years.

The class slowly got more fun as we practiced something called a 'ginga' which is the basic side-to-side move that all capoeira is based off of. After a little while one starts actually feeling their balance improving, and starts throwing a little rhythm and sass into their 'ginga'. Of course just as we were getting comfortable, the instructor said "now its time for handstands". Now, I have certainly not even attempted a handstand since I was eight and thought this might end in serious injury. Luckily there was no real pressure to execute a handstand and I just kinda messed around trying to throw my body slightly up. Apparently a lot of capoeira moves are based from a handstand type pose and it's important to slowly develop a proper handstand. Well, we'll see about that, though it would be a cool party trick.

We ended the class in the circle or 'Roda' and the teacher started having people go in and try to engage in capoeira fighting. Of course, when people were apprehensive, he said "ok, ok, I guess I'll participate" and proceeded to do some of the most insane, acrobatic shit I've ever seen up close. I was pulled in for a brief second and threw out some fierce 'ginga-ing' even though I could barely lift my arms.

It's now Wednesday and I think I'm just starting to feel healed from the pain of the class and probably will head back very soon. I will say that over the past few days, when you read about ex-NFL players getting addicted to pain killers, I think I felt a little empathy.

Nuevo Narcocorrido

2009-02-06T11:38:00.000-08:00

So yesterday afternoon began my attempt at transcending my Playstation 3 Rock Band stardom and actually playing the real guitar with people again. A good friend who I played in bands with from literally age 11 to about 17 (just picture four 6th graders rocking out in a band called 'Kamikaze'. Yes, that was us) plays bass and is a full-time musician in the city. After telling him about getting laid off, he brought up us playing together and I was definitely excited at the prospect.

He just acquired the keys to some studio space located actually near me, so we met up around 1pm. I hadn't carried my guitar around in a gig bag in ages and hate admitting it...it felt AWESOME. The studio was an interesting deal: apparently someone owns the entire building, the first floor is a performance space, the basement is the practice area, and the top few floors are apartments that are rented out. Apparently Jeff Buckley was living in one of them right before he died...now that his hipster cred.

It was great playing again in a semi-band situation but the sad realization was my playing stalled somewhere in 1998 whereas Chris has definitely evolved for the past ten years, which I guess would make sense as he actually is a musician. To compensate, we went right back into covers of a bunch of 90s songs like Smells Like Teen Spirit, Patience, etc. The basement was freezing and occassionally I'd have to put my hand directly on the tiny space heater just to get it warm enough to play...again, more hipster cred. From trader to starving artist trying to play in a freezing basement studio in a matter of days.

The other great introduction of the afternoon; when I asked Chris what other music he's been playing, a friend of his from Mexico recently introduced him to Narcorrido music. Apparently there's a genre of Mexican music that romanticizes drug dealers as the modern day cowboys, and draws up 'corrido' music which is the music of classic Mexican ballads. Apparently they're trying to take these old songs and make rock versions of them. Nuevo narcocorrido...it's all I listen to now.

Compliance, it's Everybody's Business

2009-02-06T11:11:00.000-08:00

Who knew? All those awful compliance exercises about money laundering we'd have to sit through and complete or else be reprimanded by management; who knew it'd come in handy?

This might be very obvious, and maybe I was just blinded by wishful thinking, but I nearly fell victim to a craigslist scam:

I am trying to sell a second guitar of mine (a Gibson Limited Edition Flying V Silverburst if anyone has any interest) and advertised it on Craigslist. Someone responded a day later indicating they wanted the guitar, were located in Washington State, but would send a certified check and arrange for a pickup/shipment.

Sounded great and I was happy to have the transaction essentially over with. The check then comes with a corresponding email from "craigleo2000@gmail.com" indicating that his "secretary screwed up and sent a check for $3200 that should've been divided up for a few purchases". I should just cash the check and send the remainder to the recipient of the guitar via Western Union:

Anncy Graziano

51 Amherst Ave

Waltham, MA 02451

Now, having been trained by the Bank of America Compliance Team, the number of red flags this raised was innumerable. Did a quick google of Ms. (or Mr.) Graziano, and apparently a student at UMass Medical....seemingly credible.

The check actually came. It looked legitimate, but my anti-money laundering training had me very suspicious. I continued to email craigleo, asking for either a phone number to contact him, or for the number for the shipper so I could organize the pickup properly.

After much resistance, he just emailed me back saying I can contact the shipper at "fastshippinguy@yahoo.com".

After already giving up on the transaction, a quick google search led me to the a whole post about this scam.

After the recent Facebook "London mugging" scams, I am convinced the entire Western Union business model is based around money scams from Nigerian princes, London muggings, and Craig Leo. Anncy Graziano, if you're an innocent victim in this, I wish you the best.

Morning Realizations

2009-02-05T08:26:00.000-08:00

I've noticed that the first hour or so of my day is spent still in bed, but surfing all the same news sites, financial and political blogs, and sports sites that I would've while at work, but now instead of sitting on my chair I am just on my back all morning. Basically, I switched from trader to prostitute (but what's the difference? HEY-O! that joke brought to you by the Taxpayers for Common Sense)

I also realized that in the last 4 nights I've slept about 40 hours. In the past in a full week on average I'd say I slept exactly around 40 hours. Does that mean I can now just not sleep til Sunday night and my body will adjust fine? I mean, it is Thursday; others will start going out now.

Musings over the #B6 Basil Chicken

2009-02-05T08:16:00.000-08:00

One of the little things I realized I had never partaken in while in NYC is just a plain and simple lunch special at a restaurant. The reason being for the seven years I've been here, we ate lunch at our desks every day, and on the few occasions we'd go out for lunch with clients, etc. it would be to a fairly fancy establishment. I feel of all the tasks on my agenda, this surely must be one of the more accessible ones.

I went to Pad Thai where I saw the sign "Lunch Specials starting from $6". I got the Basil Chicken, extra spicy, which was in fact $6 and came with a choice of appetizer, from which I chose the Fried Dumplings.

Some thoughts:

- What exactly is in a Thai Iced Tea? I dont really want to look it up because they are just so damn good and I dont want to see a composition of ingredients like "pure and unadulterated heavy cream", sugar, sin, more sugar, maybe a drop of actual tea, and half and half. But of course I had one of these with the meal

- An interesting group of people around me. Down the row was a group of "The Gays" (as this is the heart of Chelsea) getting absolutely wasted on Bellinis. Oh, the Gays...how you make my neighborhood so much more lively.

- Directly to my right were two people who looked very goodfellas-ish, and still using Nextel walkie-talkies. I didnt know they even had those anymore. More importantly, I did realize the first thought that went through my head was "I wonder what those guys are up to?" But I then realized that was more borne of the idea that anyone who has time to go sit down and take an hour lunch is "obviously not working hard enough, so must be scamming".....oh, how work had warped my thinking.

- I also see two women with their children in strollers next to them chatting away. These must be the stay-at-home mom's who meet up over Thai food and walk their children around the neighborhood. Why do they look younger than me? Could they be nannies or au pairs? Or could it be that I'm almost 29, and yes, there are mothers younger than me.

- The food is absolutely amazing. If you are ever looking for quality food at a very cheap price, in a setting that makes you feel somewhat "New York-y", I'd strongly recommend the "Gay Chelsea Thai District". I dont know how they all survive, but there's four places (Nooch, Pad Thai, Room Service, and a new place I think called Shilom) that all have great food, drinks, decor, and a lively scene and are inexpensive all within a few blocks. I guess there is one fundamental truth in life: "The Gays" love their Thai.

Spanish'ing

2009-02-03T18:54:00.001-08:00

I have just commenced Season 1 of Mad Men....with Spanish subtitles. The show is amazing, let's see if this also will count as homework.

February 3rd, 2009

2009-02-03T12:11:00.000-08:00

My second INSEAD interview has been delayed yet again, now moved to tomorrow. Hopefully I can just get this over with successfully as it's been delayed now three times.

So my new task: learning Spanish...and as this is a somewhat cliche endeavor, I am excited by a new method my roommate pointed me in the direction of by the guy who wrote 4-hour Workweek, Tim Ferriss. The basic synopsis is: completely absorb the 300 most commonly occurring words in print, and then study the language and additional vocabulary through an area of great interest. In English apparently the 300 most printed words constitute about 65% of printed literature. Basically, rather than learning through the grammatical way they try to teach you throughout high school that you forget instantly, you effectively learn in a similar manner that you learned your native language, and most importantly, you learn in the context of something you're genuinely interested about. I spent the afternoon at Barnes & Noble going through a book list of the most frequent Spanish Words and put the top 300 words into an iphone flashcard program.

Of course the weather sucks today and its a major blizzard. I dont anticipate I'll be leaving my apartment anytime soon. Starting my studies by watching a full replay of the Chelsea v. Liverpool match from Sunday on Fox Espanol. Suddenly homework is fun.

A few days late

2009-02-03T12:06:00.001-08:00

So as with most of my attempts at blogging, I have naturally been thoroughly unproductive on creating entries. However, a quick recap for my own records:

Last Thursday night went and saw Kings of Leon at Madison Square Garden. Decent show and have never seen so many attractive, hipster type girls at a large concert. I think we know who are the current 'it' band. I will be obnoxious and say, they were a lot better at the Bowery Ballroom in 2003. Yes, I said it.

Weekend was a lot of drinking. I guess the main difference now with weekend and weekday is suddenly there's just more people texting you about what you're up to. Hopefully I can build out my network of daytime people.

Sunday was an amazing Superbowl. I hate the Steelers but dont really have any love for the Cardinals after they made it and the Pats didnt after that Week 15 game. I won my bet (line was Steelers by 6.5, they won by 4) and it was a great game, so I really can't complain. I do love me that Larry Fitzgerald.

Monday was gorgeous out. Over 50 degrees. Of course I was sitting there thinking "man, if every day is like this, this could be the greatest two months of my life" only to see snow and freezing temperatures in the forecast for the remainder of the week. C'est la vie, I got some errands done and made it back to the Bhangra class. Also spent a lot of the day sitting outside in Union Square and Madison Square Park on my computer and reading. I am a little disappointed as I thought both parks were fully wi-fi enabled, but it doesnt seem so.

Day Three: Extra in a Music Video

2009-01-29T13:41:00.000-08:00

The email was forwarded on, "hey, my friend's band is filming a music video in alphabet city and is looking for extras". How could I refuse? The band is called Plush Gun. I hadn't seen them before but my interest has certainly been piqued after Wednesday night and a little internet'ing. It turns out the drummer is a fellow Lexington High Schooler (was three years younger) even though I hadn't known him before.

Free drinks for a few hours, massive hipster-dom, and...well, i'll let the instructional email do the talking:

Hello,
I'm Giuseppe De Angelis, producer assistant for Oikos Films.
I Know from Ana that you're available to be in the video as extras.
The call for extras will be at 5.30 pm tomorrow Wednesday 28th @ MAMA'S BAR 3rd Street and B in the East Village.

Please try to come with 2 items of clothing.
1. a dark jacket: ideally a leather jacket, or a big army duffle coat, or your big winter coat, OR FUR. Something intimidating and dark.

Something that says "We're cool and you're not."

2. Underneath wear something sparkly or happy or friendly or fun. It can be your most comfy vintage t-shirt, or fuzzy sweater! Or your favorite flannel, or a fun necklace, or ear muffs!

Something colorful that says "I'm approachable and cute!"

If you have question or request do not hesitate to contact me.

Looking forward to work with you.
Have a good night.

Giuseppe.

OIKOS FILMS, LLC
www.oikosfilms.com

Day One: Operation Bhangra

2009-01-29T13:25:00.000-08:00

Out at dinner last Sunday night, it finally hit home. Around 9:30pm everyone else at the table started getting "that look", and everyone knows that look. Someone yawns, someone checks their watch, and suddenly everyone starts thinking Monday thoughts. The weirdest feeling ever was, after seven years, this was the first time I didn't have that feeling.

Monday morning was all about sleeping. I lived as much as I could over my career in trading, and sleep was the element that was sacrificed for so long. My computer alarm that plays "Intervention" by the Arcade Fire on my desktop went off (an amazing alarm song if you're looking for one), but it was a great feeling to fall right back into bed.

That evening was Challenge #1. I worked out for a few hours and then walked over to the classroom at the NYSC near me. I had seen many times a bunch of women in there dancing Bollywood style, and saw that the class was a 5:30pm "Masala Bhangra". Around 5:15 I nervously paced around the classroom and saw the lady who instructs the class with two other women doing some absolutely insane looking bhangra shit, and got a bit apprehensive. After standing there and telling myself the entire tone of my "severance kid" period came down to this singular decision, I walked in. I told the teacher that I had never done any formal dance class like this and after a standard "are you Indian? you don't look Indian" conversation, she said "as long as you have no shame you'll be fine". Jackpot.

The class was amazing and will definitely stay on the roster. After an exhausting 45 minutes where I'm sure I look ridiculous, she closed out the class playing that song from the very end of Slumdog Millionaire and you do the whole routine you learned throughout the class to it. Three days later, my legs are still sore, but I'm definitely headed back as this was exactly the absurdity I seek. Next Monday at 5:30pm if you're around.

The teacher, Sarina Jain, on Youtube

Severance Kid

2009-01-29T13:05:00.000-08:00

Having worked at the same company for nearly seven years, and getting laid off for non-performance related issues meant one thing: some decent severance. BofA fairly gave me around six months on the payroll and I certainly am not planning on wasting this opportunity. Ever since I've lived in NYC there's always been a slight jealousy at the stereotypical Trust Fund kid who somehow doesn't work yet partakes in all that the city has to offer. Well, for at least a brief while, I may not have rich parents who spoil me, but what I do got: severance. I plan on staying in the city at least a few more months before undertaking a long-awaited Flashpacking journey (I just learned this term and it absolutely describes what I want to do). During that time I plan on just "getting involved", whether its trying to learn a language, yoga, get in shape, or learn any other sort of ridiculous craft or engage in any absurd experience, I'm game. If anyone has any suggestions, please keep me updated and I'll be sure to join. In annoying trader talk: I'm short work, and massively long free time.

The End and the Beginning

2009-01-29T12:56:00.000-08:00

It finally happened. Since the day Ken Lewis swooped in and bought up Merrill Lynch, we all knew the day would one day come, and it finally did. Last Friday was the day, the call came in with a caller ID of a Conference Room on the 5th floor (we're on the 2nd). At first my boss turned to another co-worker Max and just said his name and the office number. As Max was walking back onto the floor, the boss answered another call from "Conference Room" and turned and said "Ranjan" while shaking his head. It was time.

I began July 7th, 2002. I ended January 22nd, 2009. It was truly an amazing ride, with my career at BofA set against the backdrop of the wild ride of Wall Street itself.