chez moi.

Either due to the granola habits I picked up in Moab, or the vagrant habits I picked up while traveling, some of you seem to be worried about where I am living. NO NEED. First of all, my roommates are studs.

Meet Clément:
(hey man, if you take pictures of yourself with my camera, you're just begging me to post them online)

He is a graphic designer for a record label and is also Gab's brother. (Gab was my studly French roommate at BYU for three semesters. Remember, the one that plays soccer and got addicted to ballroom dance? The one all the girls had crushes on, remember?) Well Gab was an awesome roommate, but Clément's even better because he has a girlfriend and thereby doesn't steal all my prospects. (Gab, je plaisante. Tu sais que je te kiffe GRAV.)

Meet Christophe:
This is his headshot I stole off of facebook--j'espère que ça te derange pas trop, Christophe. C'est juste que t'es tellement beau...

He is an actor and is Laetitia's brother. Laetitia and I met at BYU last summer and quickly became good friends. Christophe is an awesome roommate because he is kind of the reason I ended up in Paris. You see last May, Gab and Laetitia were telling me about how Laetitia's brother, Christophe, was going to this acting school in Paris that he really liked... and the rest is history. Well, actually the rest is the present. You follow me?

The apartment is great. It's cozy, like most Parisian apartments, but it's nice. Two rooms, separated bathroom and toilet, and a kitchen. All you need, including a WASHER.

Here's me making pancakes in the kitchen. FYI, if you want to really impress French people, make pancakes:
We live in the 20th arrondissement of Paris, which can be a little shady, but our neighborhood is nice, as you can see by this view from our window:
It's right next to a métro stop and a bus route that goes right to my school. And we live by the famous Père Lachaise Cemetery which is home to the graves of Chopin, Molière, Balzac, Proust, Jim Morrison, Edith Pilaf, and this person's:
First person, who hasn't been to Paris, that can name who resides under this strange statue wins a free French pastry of your choice. Redeemable only in Paris.


Oh, and here's a picture of that rally I went to on the anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall:
Look familiar? I may have failed to mention that it was not in Paris.
It was here:
More to come on that subject.

and the wall came tumbling down.

Twenty years ago today, the German Democratic Republic (East Germany) announced that its citizens could travel freely into West Germany and West Berlin. That day, thousands walked around, over, and through a wall that had divided a nation for nearly thirty years. It was the beginning of the end of communism in Europe.

Today I wore my Berlin Wall t-shirt and went to a public rally, wanting to share in the celebration and wanting to acknowledge my awareness of and gratitude for the events that led up to and the events that followed the fall of the Berlin Wall and the subsequent fall of the Iron Curtain. Few contemporary events have had greater impact on my life than this one. That might sound strange, but it is true. Having had the blessing and pleasure of serving a mission for my church in a post-communist state that is still coping with its totalitarian past, I pray, along with billions of others, that human rights and the rule of law may someday be available to all. Prior to the events of 1989, Spencer W. Kimball urged church members worldwide to pray and prepare for the possibility to share the Restored Gospel with those behind the Iron Curtain. Recently, in a world where regimes continue to withhold religious freedom, Thomas S. Monson has recommissioned that call.

May the walls continue to fall.

la vie en rose.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then decided that I didn't feel good about taking either one--that, when I really thought about it, what I wanted was something different out of life. So I sat down where I was and scratched around in the dirt a while to sort things out, turning down an offer from Teach for America. Twice. And canceling my law school applications. Leaving to Nauvoo not knowing what I was doing with my life and coming home still not knowing. Then I picked myself up, brushed myself off, and tromped through the woods in pursuit of a road that was only dimly lit on the horizon.

At the end of this rainy Tuesday, 2 November 2009, I find myself at the end of another awesome day in Paris. And I can't believe I'm here.

I still wonder what I am doing. What was I thinking? What AM I thinking? I still believe not going to law school was the smartest dumbest thing I have ever done, but I would have loved to contribute to Teach for America--it just didn't feel right. So running away to Paris was the RIGHT thing? As ridiculous as that sounds, yes. YES.

I admit that I may be wrong. That maybe I am putting off life, chasing pipe dreams. After all, no matter how well I justify going to acting school in Paris, it is still acting school in Paris. And I can understand what it looks like from the outside looking in. Some have described it as "crazy", "spontaneous", "reckless abandon", or as one friend put it tonight over dinner, "so you're just doing this for fun now, right?"

No. I want to make a career out of acting. There. I've said it. Film and theatre. I am passionate about people's stories, and about my stories, and I love learning how to communicate those stories, and what can be learned from them, through the arts.

I am not completely naive however, and I recognize that I may need to have a more stable plan B if I am going to feed a family. Thanks to Florent, I know that I would also love to be a Professor. But first I need some training. So I am doing my best to acquire a set of skills while also getting an unique perspective, international experience, and intensive language work at the same time.

Yes, I may be wrong. I may have been fooled by my own self-indulgence and wanderlust. But things have worked out miraculously (stay tuned for more info on my ideal apartment situation and a part time job starting on Thursday), and I would be an ingrate not to attribute it to Divine Providence. Whether that means I am following God's will or He is simply saving me from my own stupidity (or a mix of both), I can't say. But at the end of this beautiful, rainy autumn day, I am moved to believe that I am just where I should be. And I love it.

be true to your school.

So what is le Cours Florent? Well, it's a school for the "dramatic arts" created by Francois Florent in 1965. But not just any school. At its best it has rivaled the National Conservatory and produced some of France's most renowned and respected actors. While it's recently been criticized for increasing class sizes along with tuition, it's still considered to be the best private conservatory in France. I have yet to meet a Parisian that doesn't know what the Cours Florent is. In the spring they hold auditions for "la classe libre". Over a thousand compete, through a three-round audition process, for twenty spots--a few of which are reserved for international students whose maternal language is not French. Those who get in are put through a rigorous training program with twice as many class hours, the best professors, and twice the workload. And tuition is waived. Yes, come March, I will be auditioning.

In the mean time, I have class Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday. Plus outside rehearsals that are becoming more and more frequent. Our last assignment was the series of monologues I mentioned earlier (the tout seul). Now we are working on the parcours d'un role--basically a ten minute breakdown of a play focusing on the development of one of its characters. I am doing Octave from Les Caprices de Marianne, by Musset, for mine, and participating in Le Diable et le Bon Dieu by Sartre, The Seagull by Chekhov, and The Taming of the Shrew, amongst others, for some of my classmates' projects. We have also been assigned three other scenes from differing plays that we are supposed to be working on.

I've been wanting to get pictures to share, but pulling out a camera seemed to be too American or touristy or something. And I found out that we aren't allowed to take pictures in class. I finally snuck a couple the other day, but because I couldn't use my flash, this is the only one that really turned out:
All the classrooms are similar. Lights on the 'stage' part, dark in the seats.

My professor is Valerie Negre. And she is amazing. And really blunt. And never has a play (written before 1995) been mentioned in class that she doesn't know about. Never.

It gets better. My classmates are awesome. They are passionate, intelligent, incredibly talented, and cool. I know that down the road I am going to be saying, "I went to school with that guy" all over the place.

For example:
That's Marius. Stud. One of the coolest people I've every met, and not just because he's originally from Romania.

And this is Hannah:
She does awesome work and has consented to play opposite me for my parcours. Her and Lisa, whom I don't have a picture of, love to make fun of my American accent. Merci, les filles.

And I could go on, but I don't have anymore pictures. Except for this one of a few of us at a Vietnamese Restaurant after class:The girl closest to the camera is Katya. She's originally from Bulgaria and her father runs an acting school in L.A. She just applied for a green card and her English is great. Almost as good as her acting.

I don't know what else to say about school. I love it. Any questions? Did I mention that I love it?

deux pieds pour marcher.

This photo series was taken while on a day trip to Deauville with the wonderful Paulet Family. More photos and more information to come.

bonne semaine.

Things have been great.

So after institute last Thursday, I was invited to go on a last minute temple trip to Frankfurt. I guess someone had bailed out leaving an empty seat in one of the cars. The deciding conversation could best be translated as follows:
"Hey, what was your name again?"
"Jeff. And you are...?"
"Cecile. We're planning a temple trip and there's an extra spot in one of the cars--want to come?"
"When?"
"Tomorrow night."
"When are we coming back?"
"The next day."
"TOTALLY."
And so the next evening I found myself road-tripping to a temple in Germany with these wonderful people:

We got there around 3am, slept in the car for a few hours then went to the distribution center, and made it to the temple for the 8am session. Which was auf Deutsch. Which was awesome because I was always kind of jealous of the people that got to where those remote headsets. It was great. Then I sort of kind of fell asleep in the Celestial room but woke up in time for the next session. Which was in English. And was also great.
Afterwards we had to head back pretty quickly, so what I did see of Germany was basically the passing countryside. Which was beautiful. It was fun however to be with the German temple workers. I was reminded how incredible different they really are from the French. It's amazing to me that these people have lived next to each other for centuries without either 1. completely annihilating each other or 2. gelatinizing into one. They hold fiercely to their vastly differing cultures and identities, along with the rest of Europe, which produces an incredible diversity that is furthered by the massive influx of immigrants from all over the globe. And all of them are crammed into a couple peninsulas that hang off of Asia. Fascinating. And man, do they know their chocolate. From Scandinavia to Sardinia, these Europeans work magic with the cacao bean.

We got back to Paris around 10pm and I drove the last leg. Which was fun. It's always good to remind myself that Paris does not equate France.
This week has really been great. So many good times, but I will skip to the big events.

Wednesday night I hung out with these guys:
here:

(neither of those photos are mine, obviously--I left my camera at home...)

Yes ladies and gentlemen, I went to my first big football game. It was awesome. I knew it would be cool to be there in that huge stadium, but I had no idea how into it I was going to be. I loved it. And while we beat Austria 3-1, it doesn't really matter because Serbia already has the direct ticket to the World Cup. But come November, France will have a second chance at getting in. And there will be blood. And while I might not be a die hard, I am now a fan and I will be watching.

I am also a fan of classical opera being accompanied by marimbas and African drums, underscored by genuine African choral harmonies. Yeah, you heard me. The day after going to the match, I went to see this:

Mozart's Magic Flute performed by the South African Opera Company in English and Xosa. It was incredible. Not only could they sing traditional opera with the best of them, the entire company also took turns filling in on the instruments and dancing. In a deeply African vein, it was a communal effort. And when I say underscored by African choral harmonies--well, if I was a musician I could explain it better, but it was haunting. And beautiful. And moving. I loved it.
Man, I gotta get back to Africa.

Amidst all of this, I promise I have been going to school. And it has actually been really busy. I had to break down a play into ten minutes and find people to play the other characters for my next project. And also start learning parts for the projects of other students. But the more we get into it, the more I enjoy it. I promise I will give more information about class and living conditions and the like, but this post is long enough. And I have some camembert in the fridge calling my name...à la prochaine.

a bientot.

It's been a week since I came back and I am still loving it. Much has happened and there's much more to come. I didn't crash and burn during my monologue proficiency Friday morning despite not having spoken French for the entire week. Tuesday morning our work load was doubled at Florent as we prepare for the next assignment which requires working as partners and small groups--which is great. I continue to be impressed and intrigued by the awesome people in my class. Wednesday, after class, I went to two plays with some of them, one of which was starring one of our classmates and the other was directed by our professor.

I am also having an awesome time with the young adults--FHE at Edouard's, institute class in downtown Paris, parties at Miro's, and watching General Conference at the chapel in Nogent--some were rebroadcast due to the time difference (which made for four sessions on Sunday, but it was just what I needed). And tomorrow, after class, and after checking out a possible room to rent, I am going on a road trip here:

c'est vrai.

Yep, it's true. I am flying home tomorrow only to get back on a plane next Wednesday and fly back. Why? Well, I bought my ticket not knowing whether or not I would be accepted into Florent. And then when I was accepted, I found out it would cost me over $1500 to change my ticket. So, I am coming home. And this way, my visa restarts and I can stay until Christmas. And don't worry, I am making the best of it--on Friday morning I am flying to Houston to visit eight of my most favorite people in the world (6+2). I haven't seen them for a LONG time and one of them I have yet to meet. Can't wait. I am coming back to Utah on Monday night. And Tuesday night Matt is graciously throwing me a little birthday gathering at his house. Come. Last chance to see me until Christmas. Unless of course you are going to be in Paris in the next three months, in which case, you might get tired of seeing me. Or at least tired of seeing me sleep on your couch.

Class has been great. I love it. Je le kiffe GRAV. There is so much to learn and so much to work on and I love it. Right now we are working on our tout-seul assignment--each student selects five monologues, one from each of the five centuries since the 17th, and performs them in five minutes. It's great. My professor is brilliant and my class is filled with many extremely talented, bright people. The day after I get back is when we have to pass them off to a panel of judges. Wish me luck, or as I was culturally informed of today, merde.

je me suis inscrit.

It's done. I am now an enrolled student of Le Cours Florent. I went in this morning and filled out the paper work and paid my dues. I was introduced to everyone in the office as "le jeune homme americain" (the young American man) and later "notre americain" (our American). Everyone would start off talking to me really slowly and clearly, not knowing if I spoke French very well, and probably because I had that nervous, puppy dog, am-I-really-going-through-with-this? look on my face. They made sure to show me around and answer all possible questions. All the while I couldn't believe I was actually doing it and left in somewhat of a state of shock.

Walking to the metro, it hit me that I had actually gone through with it and I started laughing.

I start class tomorrow morning at nine. Still don't know where I am going to live--but with the way everything else has fallen so miraculously into place, I am not complaining.

now what?

When I get nervous, my heart rate skyrockets until I can feel it pounding out of my chest and I usually end up talking so fast that you can't tell what I am saying, and, this might sound weird but my hamstrings get shaky--just ask Ben about when I sang at his farewell. All of this used to happen every time I had to audition for something. It's a miracle (literally) that I was ever cast in anything, but the more I auditioned, the more I got used to the whole experience and eventually I was able to keep myself relatively calm and focused. Well, in case you're wondering, all that goes out the window when you have to audition in another language. Along with your ability to speak that language. Oi. I basically had to READ my first monologue. Luckily, they asked me some questions before moving on to the second monologue. This helped me catch my breath and calm down a bit, but I still lost track of what I was saying. Twice. Nevertheless, for some reason that escapes me, they accepted me into the school. I was even more shocked when they told me that I would be admitted into the SECOND year of the program. Excuse me? I'm sorry, did you...wow. Uh, MERCI.

So now that I am in, What do I do? Do I stay? Do I move forward trying to find an apartment and continue to drain my savings account? Before I left, I didn't realize how low the dollar-euro exchange is right now. That turn things upside down a bit, but it would still be possible...

Oh, and they want me to start on Monday.

?

More importantly, the meeting with Elder and Sister Bednar last night was absolutely inspired. After Sister Bednar shared some thoughts, Elder Bednar changed the format of the meeting to a question and answer session. It was incredible.

A few thoughts from the meeting:

Seeing is not believing. We can receive a special witness of Christ by the power of the Holy Ghost in a way that transcends the five senses. Each member has the responsibility to stand as a witness of Christ.

The number of conversions will not increase until we, as members, stop relying on the missionaries to find people to teach. "You are full-time finders; the missionaries are full-time teachers." Pray for the discernment to recognize missionary opportunities, then be prepared to act when your prayer is answered.

A young boy asked, straight up, "How do you know God exists?" Seeing Elder Bednar testify to him, and share ways in which he has seen the arm of the Lord revealed in his life, was a beautiful experience.

To sacrifice is to be willing to give all--to be willing to die for the gospel. To consecrate is to be willing to develop and dedicate your life in such a way that you will live for the gospel.

When we come unto Christ, He shows unto us our weakness, not our weaknesses or shortcomings but our mortal, fallen state, and the necessity to depend on Him. When we know we must rely on Him, and have the faith to know we can, He will grant us strength in Him.


The Church is TRUE.

lemme esplain...

Some of you seem shocked to learn that I picked up and moved to Paris. Don't worry, no one was more tripped out over the whole experience than I was (that's two bad pun-entries in a row).

What was I thinking? Let me explain. Well, let me sum up:

Not going to law school. What am I doing with my life? Who's going to want to date some guy with no career prospects? Being a professor would be cool, but as Dr. Sprenger told me, that means I need to find something I want to study for the next 27 years... wow, that's a long time. Could anything keep my attention that long? What have I been really into lately? . . . buh, acting? Film is especially interesting to me. Maybe I could get an MFA (Master of Fine Arts, which is a terminal degree) in acting or film... but I don't have any technical training and it might be hard to convince a good university to take a chance on me based solely on my audition. So, I need to take some acting classes. Don't want to stay at BYU. Don't want to get ripped off by some lame classes in LA. I am curious to see what would happen if I just starting auditioning more. Maybe get some more experience. ...Hey, Laetitia (a French friend of mine)'s brother is at that acting school in Paris. It's supposed to be good and is cheaper than BYU... I wonder... no, that would never happen... hmmm. My French could use some work and I do love Paris. Maybe I should call them just to find out some more information...

The next day I bought a ticket. Five days later I sold my car. A week and a half later I got on the plane. And here I am today:
views from Mont Parnasse
love street musicians

the infinite staircase at Porte des Lilas--and one more reason why I wish I had one of those big red foursquare balls with me at all times. Anyone? At least a bouncy ball...
leaving church with Irene

Clement, Gab's wickedly talented graphic designer brother who lives in Paris, and Irene walking in one of the many Parisian parks.

My Nikon D90 was the best impulse purchase I have ever made.

from Paris, safe and sound

First of all, if anyone decides to come visit me, the direct flight (SLC->CDG) is the new best thing that ever happened to trans-Atlantic flying. Adam West, the ORIGINAL television series BATMAN, was on the flight and Gareth, one of the flight attendants who is Welsh and a stud and is going to start his doctorate in poli sci at the U next year, brought me an extra fruit and cheese plate from first class. I guess Mr. West wasn't up for a midnight snack. I also had the biggest carry-on bag in the history of flying--the guy at Skycap told me to try and take it on the plane, saving me fifty bones. So I only checked one bag and then somehow got on board the plane with my laptop bag, camera bag, and a fatty duffel bag.

I couldn't have made it very well from the airport with all my bags if Irene Kim, my friend that I taught French with at BYU (and who is now a nanny for some wealthy French family that takes her on vacations to Italy and the Riviera), hadn't come to pick me up. Thanks IRENE.

The idyllic glamour of living in Paris faded a bit when I had to make my first big purchases, buying a metro pass and a cell phone (if you feel inclined to call, send me an email and I will send you my number). Big cities are really only luxurous for those who have lots of money. With that being said, Paris has a lot to offer even those who don't have loads of cash and I am LOVING it. It helps that I am staying with three Romanians. Everyone knows how much I love those people and these ones are especially cool. Despite not having much room for themselves, they have taken me in, fed me (Romanian style), and given me a place to sleep by pushing their kitchen table aside to squeeze in a mattress on the floor.

This morning I caught up on some much needed sleep then headed out into the city to visit Le Cours Florent for the first time. It took me a while to find it because I didn't have the address and only vaguely remembered where it is from having seen it on Google Earth. When I saw it, I got really nervous and almost kept walking. There are things about French culture that can be intimidating (i.e. the language) and piling that on top of a sticking-your-neck-out situation made me want to tuck my tail between my legs and whimper away. But I didn't. I threw up a very humble little prayer, crossed the street and went inside. I looked around the entry for a bit, gathering up a bit of courage while trying to look nonchalant. The three women working just inside the office seemed nice enough, so I went in. I was invited to take a seat at a desk where I explained myself and learned that in order to get into Florent, you have to do a three week workshop (that costs 365 euros) before being able to audition, unless you have already had a full year at another acting conservatory. I told her about my acting experience, explained more about my situation, my experience, and the fact that I had hoped to avoid the cost of the workshop, and she waived the requirement. Bless you, Ode!--that's her name, though I might have spelled it incorrectly. Either way, I went from Ode, to JOY (pun intended).

With the workshop waived, I suddenly began to worry that maybe I won't do so well in my audition and that maybe I needed the exposure of a three week workshop in order to get in. I expressed my concern to Ode and she told me not to worry about it. So she signed me up for an audition on Friday, September 11 at 2pm. When the office realized that "l'Americain" had been signed up for an audition on 9/11, they were worried, but I assured them that I would be fine.

So, at the end of my audition next Friday, I will be told whether or not I have been accepted, and if I am, into which year of the program. In the meantime, I might travel around a bit, but Elder Bednar is giving a fireside for the Paris area next Thursday and I want to be there for that.

Well, I have been sitting in this McDonald's leeching off their free internet for a while and this post is far too long, but just so everyone knows, I did check in with both of my grandmothers before I left, and, despite everything, they STILL believe in me.

Most importantly, I am the proud, new uncle of this little guy:

(Thanks for the picture Steph!) From what I understand, he hasn't been named yet, but I think he should be named Anthony, maybe Anthony Jeffrey Dickamore (you could call him AJ!), because I think he looks EXACTLY like Tony. Before I left, Tami reminded me that this is the third baby she would have while I am out of the country. Depending on what time exactly he was born, I may have still been within the US air territories...

I love you all!

o blah dee, o blah da...

life goes on.

I have decided not to go to law school and I feel great about it. What I haven't decided is what I am going to do instead. I'm not even sure if I will be graduating anytime soon because a broken toe is preventing me from doing a half credit required gym class. But I will keep you posted on any changes. In the mean time, I start rehearsal for Nauvoo on Monday and will be flying out on June 24. If you want to come out, the Pageant runs from July 7 to August 1. So come discover your true sweating capacity in the most beautiful bend on the Mississippi. I am sure you will not be disappointed.

?

waitlisted at columbia. ha, ha, ha....wait--what?

even grandma's gonna have a hard time with this one...

i'm a mumbler. especially when i am tired, have to ask my dad for something, or when expressing any sort of emotion to the opposite sex. or when confessing anything. such as the fact that i don't really eat meat anymore. well at least not pork, beef, chicken, or lamb. still eat fish. and it's not because they don't have feelings or because Jesus ate them.

anyway. so the point is (besides the other point which is that i can't sleep and haven't slept for some time now)... ya know how i've spent lots of money and time and stress and stuff on trying to get into law school and have been validating all of my actions and meanderings by stating that i was going to go to law school and save the world and make something out of myself and all that? well... (insert here that nervous laugh i do when i don't want to say something) well, what if i don't go to law school? at least not this fall. what if i realized that despite everything i really don't have to go to law school and that things just might still be ok...and that since that realization i have felt, dare i say, relieved? i'm not making any rash decisions and i haven't ruled anything out. it might just be a matter of money and timing. i'm not sure. and i know i'm almost twenty-six and don't have any marketable skills yet (we all know how i love them business terms) but please, bear with me grandma. keep on believin' and prayin' and crossin' them fingers. and i just might make something out of myself yet.

rejection's cold

rejected at:



















waitlisted at:

update.

in at gw.

life. at present.

still want to go to law school. still no responses. yet. from anyone. maybe getting a little nervous. but due to the fact that i turned in my applications during the second week of january, i'm not holding my breath. yet. i got really worked up about it on thursday when i was trying to do my homework. so worked up that i couldn't accomplish anything and decided that i should go see slumdog millionaire instead. which was amazing. it gave me my humanity back.

going to washington, california, and maybe france on byu's tab. after feeling like the university's stuck it to me a few times, particularly with books and housing, this is especially nice. march 6-8 i will be in seattle for a model european union conference, representing byu as the romanian head of state. april 16-18 i will be presenting a paper at a european union conference at scripps college in sunny claremont, california. and it's looking like i will be doing an internship in france during the spring term--april 25-june 14, that is likely to be covered by both byu and the humanitarian organization i will be working with. thanks uncle samuelson!

honor's thesis? what honor's...? oh. yeah. crap. that romanian thing. still have a lot to work on for that. but luckily the deadline for it was moved to may 2nd. hallelujah. i should be having a public screening in april, so keep an eye out for that anouncement.

student films are fun. and it's a nice creative outlet. it looks like i will be doing a total of three this semester. more like two and a half, but it has been going well so far (you can see a clip of one on my facebook videos). so well that sometimes i think i might forget the whole educaiton route and just move to l.a. and make it big. screw prudence, it's part of my strategery.

due to some recent accommodations, i need to make a shout out to teach for america. first, hawaii didn't fit with my schedule, and i didn't feel good about it, so they made me a second offer: baltimore, teaching secondary french. second, because of the law school factor, i asked for an extension on my decision deadline, which they granted. now i don't have to decide until march 23. again, hallelujah.

all in all, life is good. visiting t'n't and the wee ones down in arizona was awesome. just what i needed. family is about time. especially time spent bruising each other's ribs and mutually inflicting whiplash on unregulated go carts. that's what brings us closer together.

excuse me?

let's throw a wrench into things, shall we?

i just heard from teach for america and where do you think they offered me a position? maybe to my first, second, third or fourth preference? nope. any one of those would have landed me in a big city on the east coast. instead they offered me a two year teaching position here:

the rural, west coast of oahu.

...i, uh...what? i thought i had decided against doing teach for america and just moving right on to law school. but can i really turn down to years in hawaii with a full salary and benefits, teaching english (grades 6-12)? on the other side of the fence, i don't know if i could i handle the laid-back lifestyle. and marriage prospects on the island might be slim--two more years of solitude?

so there you go. just when you thought you had narrowed it down and figured things out...

law school apps: check.

they are finally submitted. and now we play the waiting game. [patience is a virtue.]
where did i apply, you ask? well...

first, the two "reach" schools:

NYU (Downtown NYC)

Columbia (Uptown NYC)


a "reach" school refers to a school that you apply to without too much hope of getting in. for me, these are more like "stretch until you tear your ligaments and pull your bones from your sockets" schools. in other words, the only way i will get admitted to either is if someone on the admissions committee makes a mistake or Divine Intervention causes someone to look past my depressingly low LSAT score. with an application fee of $80 dollars per school, i limited my reach schools to two. here's to hoping.

second, still a "reach" but slightly more of a possibility:

Penn (Philadelphia)


Georgetown (D.C.)

Duke (Durham, N. Carolina)


third, the "safety" school:

George Washington (D.C.)

usually a "safety" school refers to a law school that is sure to accept your application. this isn't exactly the case with gw, which is a great school, but it is my best chance.

that totals six schools. yes, $80 times six equals more than you want to pay for rejection. i chose to apply to these schools because of the opportunities they offer in public international law (and obviously their proximity to provo). i should hear back from them between now and april. [patience is a virtue. patience is a virtue.] in the mean time, i should hear from teach for america next week which could throw another wrench into the cogs.

so, where do you think i'll end up?

why i resisted the pressure to major [or minor] in business

1. business lingo--some h.r. or p.r. guy (i honestly don't know the difference) comes up with a convoluted connotation of a formerly abstract word by 'thinking outside the box' and suddenly it's the holy grail of human exploitation. it quickly makes its way into every sentenced uttered within earshot of management and soon finds itself plastered on coffee mugs and office walls, coupled with a cheap stock photo, and eventually immortalized in a kitschy bronze sculpture.

perfect example: synergy. don't you see? it denotes the cooperative action of multiple parts--SYNERGY! give me an S! give me a Y!...

give me a break.

what's most bothersome is that they are presented as a motivational revolution when in reality nothing is internalized and nothing to do with human behavior is affected. but this doesn't keep anyone from using the word as though it actually means something.

2. networking--while also a prime example of business lingo, this word actually does mean something: to make acquaintances with the sole purpose of benefiting from said acquaintances. this seems to have permeated all forms of social interaction. sure, it can be defended by saying that it is meant to be mutually beneficial, but even still, you're only scratching someone else's back because you are expecting a scratch in return. what happened to making friends?

3. mission statements--whether it's for a corporation or for a newly-wed couple, mission statements make my skin crawl. their business origins are clearly manifested by the fact that they are meant to appear important and professional, efficient and organized, and yet are unable to manifest themselves by producing any significant result. so, take time to write one, print it on sturdy paper with the little flecks of grass and feathers in it, frame it, place it prominently on your wall, and forget about it.

4. business conduct--there's something unsettling to me about reading books like How to Win Friends and Influence People and How to Sell Anything to Anyone. call me crazy, but it seems that business encourages you to pretend to be someone you aren't so you can get people to do something they don't want to do. yes, i am interested in promoting communication and compromise, resolving conflict, and facilitating understanding between adverse groups and i might very well benefit from such training, but i don't want to improve my ability to manipulate and exploit. and i get uncomfortable when i can tell someone is pursuing an agenda with me, not really listening to what i am saying nor trying to understand my point of view.

i must say that i greatly admire business people who manage to be good at what they do while avoiding such behavior. when i visited my brother at the assisted living center he managed. he introduced me to everyone we passed and he knew the name and situation of every employee, from the head nurse to the $8/hour janitors, and they in turn knew and appreciated him. sure, this can be seen as a brilliantly crafted, conniving affectation scheme, but the point is that tony wasn't getting to know his employees for the purpose of controlling them; he actually cares about people.

i guess it's the uncertainty of sincerity that gets me about business.

and that's why i am going to law school . . . ?