Notes to Self

Sometimes, I forget things. I forget to take the keys out of the keyhole when unlocking the front door and I forget to write down my password for online banking. Once in a while, I even forget my recipe for katsu-don. Does the flour come before or after the eggs?

Sometimes, I forget to write; luckily, someone reminded me this time.

Though, honestly, I don’t think I remember how to write. Somewhere along the past seven months, I seem to have lost several socks, a pencil, and my writing voice.

And what a hell of a past seven months it’s been!

In short, I accepted a job offer at a financial firm and have been busy learning to analyze risk metrics and read programming scripts. But while understanding derivative products and memorizing basic computer commands has been an awesome challenge thus far, I find myself thinking less and less about other things – like writing! So, before I forget, let me jot down a few thoughts and memories. At the very least, maybe this will help me get over my lost socks.

Things to Remember

Following graduation from my university last summer, I scribbled my goals and values on a few pieces of scrap paper:

“Don’t ever feel sorry for yourself and always hold yourself accountable…and be an athlete!” – Wise words from my lacrosse coach.

“Never forget the spirit that you started with.” – A reminder from a friend in Japan, whose artworks has always inspired me for that very same reason.

Remember family and friends, especially those far away.

Be optimistic.

Travels to Come

Between my friends and I, I think we spend so much of our 20s trying to figure out life that it can become a fleeting decade if we let it. And since the length of a minute is a bit difficult to stretch, I might as try to make the most out of what time’s available. So, in addition to gorging on cheesecake, here are some trips I must absolutely take!

Pakistan – An old roommate and I promised to travel there sometime in the next five years, as another old roommate will likely be getting married. Depending on the situation, we’ll either have to save him or the girl.

Nepal, Bhutan, India, Sri Lanka – If we’re in the area, might as well, right?

San Diego Comi-Con – To be clear, I do not own any homemade Batman costumes, but part of me thinks it’d be really cool to share an experience with about fifty other Ironman suits (which, to be clear, I do not own one).

Bora Bora – In another life, I’d like to think that I am enjoying the crystal clear waters of these French Polynesian islands, shamelessly sipping on a strawberry daiquiri and writing poetry. Well, at least I can start with one of these things…

Pour mon amie*

Mon amie,

Nous avons voyagé dans de nombreux mondes

Et chaque fois,

Nous avons vu les choses différemment.

Mon amie,

Ce que tu manges, ce n’est pas ce que je mange

Ce que tu portes, ce n’est pas ce que je porte

Et mon amie,

Ta religion, ce n’est pas ce que je crois

Ta couleur de la peau, ce n’est pas la même que la mienne

Mais mon amie,

Quand tu ris, c’est comme mon sourire

Et quand tu pleures, c’est comme mes larmes

Ça, mon amie,

Ça c’est pourquoi nous avons voyagé dans de nombreux mondes.

*I wrote this poem for a French class a couple years back. Only, it wasn’t my French class. It was for a friend who is my favorite person in the world.

But that’s a story for another time.

Dear Chaos: January 2013

If blogging were a piggy bank, I’d owe it a long post, followed by a continually compounded interest rate of words upon sentences upon paragraphs. In other words, I’m long overdue for writing some thoughts here. Apologies!

However, in lieu of one super long post, I am leaving a series of short reflections. Some may be humorous, others amusing, but all of it based true stories.

J’apprends une langue!

If French were a programming language, I would have never passed that Intermédiarie Français class. Instead, every grammatically incorrect statement would have led my French TA (au fait, il s’appelle Clément) to morph into Agent Smith, Matrix-style. Eventually, a swarm of Agent Smiths would build up to alter the definition of baguette and “pam-pleh-mousse” for some evil purpose. Yes, this is what I picture happening when typing a flawed line of code while practicing Visual Basics. No, I’m pretty sure the Chosen One is someone else.

A Real-Life Matrix Experience

To continue on the Matrix theme, I recently finished a book that reads like the film trilogy (in about 300 pages, give or take). The crazy part is it’s a real-life account. The crazier part is it’s written about financial industries while being a page-turner. 

Titled Dark Pools, author Scott Patterson provides an electrifying tale of how stocks became increasingly traded between algorithm-filled machines in the millionths and billionths of seconds. In less than an eye’s blink, trillions of dollars switch hands across the United States. Trillions! For anyone interested in equities and stock markets, this is a must-read. If you enjoyed the Matrix movies, I would also recommend this book.

Okay, I’ll stop making that reference now.

An Almost Love Poem

Can you write love poems without being in love? Is it like finding rain without clouds? Is that an entirely over-used parallel?

The following poem started out as a belated Christmas gift for a friend, in a sarcastic, inside-joke, kind of way. But it made me wonder how perspectives are shaped on poetry or art in general.

For example, while my friend “enjoyed” my poem, she also wrote “That’s it?” in response to a Neruda line: I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees. But that was before I told her who had written those words.

Before I ramble on, here was my poem. Be warned, it probably won’t be submitted for a Pulitzer Prize.

After-dark

And what of love

In my mind, in the after-dark,

But morning dew before yellow hues.

She holds her form, the only shimmer

That dots the blackened figure.

And what sparks shine upon lights

But that of love,

In my mind, in the after-dark.

So what did you think? And do you have any advice on learning French or computer languages? Better yet, do you have any good books to recommend? A curious mind would like to know.

No Means No!

For the past few days, I’ve gone to work, read books and learned some programming – but these are stories for another time. Instead, here is a brief cartoon because, for the past few days, I have also helped a good friend of mine with his term paper for Urban Economics. To complement his semester-long research, there were ambitions to review multivariate regression outputs for statistical analysis. The only problem was that my friend is armed only with experience from Intro to Stats. So, the past few days has been a crash course of basic econometrics through numerous G-Chat sessions and one “Dude, please be awake” text message at 3 in the morning.

For those who understand statistics, I hope you enjoy the lukewarm humor. For those who detest all forms of mathematics, I hope you aren't easily offended by sexy sheets of paper. 

A Willingness

I had cheesecake a few days ago but had forgotten to snap any food photos. My excuse for this heinous crime? Family.

Sis and her fiancé are visiting for a few more days. Between sightseeing in New York City and shopping at Costco, there are chatters of discussions – mostly on wedding dresses – at the dinner table, over home-baked pork chops and rice.

I forgot to take photos of that dish as well.

Sis and her fiancé are both a bit older and work in finance, so I asked for some mock interview questions. The first one began, “In your opinion, what are the top three factors driving financial markets this past year?” The last one ended, “How do lowered interest rates impact defined benefits pension plans?”

By the end, I was completely, absolutely, utterly disheartened. Even in my mind, I could not articulate a competent response to most all of these questions. Were the last four years just an expensive daydream?!

But the fiancé reminded me, it’s not always about intelligence and how much you know. What’s more important is your curiosity and willingness to know more.

So, here’s to my quest on being more knowledgeable. As part of finding the answers to “why” and “how,” I am going to keep a daily journal of self-reports on what I read in finance-related news. But, this is not just about describing single-index models or knowing what a defined contribution plan is. It is about understanding what happens to people when China’s automobile industry grows or how a US fiscal cliff will affect the Greek economy.

Curiosity, not just intelligence.

Everyone says curiosity killed the cat, but no one mentions that, before the cat went to heaven, he learned to stalk and catch mice, and to rule human beings!

Footnote: The cheesecake was white chocolate raspberry swirl.

Footnote 2: Speaking of the daily journal, be on a lookout for Dear Finance, to be debuted soon!

The Caveman

This is a piece on the current situation in Gaza.

Turkey and grape leaves.

On the days before the first frosts, the Caveman knew only of roasted wild poultry wrapped in softened greens. So when the wind blew, the Caveman thought of turkey and grape leaves; when the night was still, the Caveman dreamt of turkey and grape leaves.

Ask the Caveman to chisel an ode to his next meal, and not even Pablo Neruda could pen more passionately.

Little did the Caveman know – or contemplate – that, thousands of years later, civilized families would gather to carve turkeys, ones just like his! Meanwhile, across the Atlantic, other civilized families would boil grape leaves as rockets raced from the sky.

But more importantly, these are the same grape leaves, just like his!

The Caveman concentrated on building his fire. He did not have time to imagine the upcoming rise and fall of Rome or Germany or atom bombs. Perhaps the Caveman simply lacked imagination, but we cannot know for sure. He was too busy keeping an eye on the turkey and grape leaves.

But ask the Caveman about Nazi ideology, and he would have answered that genocides don’t require concentration camps and human ovens, nor does it need ICC definitions to determine when the indiscriminate murder of a people actually becomes the indiscriminate murder of a people.

Hell, the last time anything was that clear was when enemies could be distinguished by the Swastika!

Ask the Caveman about nuclear weapons, and he would have understood that, if one bomb ruined Hiroshima, so could the other twenty-seven thousand. With so many missiles pointed at each other, he would have questioned, since when did human beings decide to depend on self-destruction?

Has it replaced turkey and grape leaves? 

 

The Caveman certainly couldn't have written an ode to genocides and atom bombs. Here’s to hoping I can’t, either. 

Footnote: Turkey and grape leaves represent the two conflicting states, as both ingredients are used in Israeli and Palestinian dishes, respectively.

Footnote 2: The "Caveman" refers - in part - to the simplicity that "violence" should be defined as. While the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is a complex topic, the fact remains that people are being killed, whether 3 on one side or 40 on the other. Too often, we forget this during discussions. 

Footnote 3: Scholars and governments alike are often hesitant on declaring genocides within conflicts. But this label should not prevent institutions from working to stop violence.

Footnote 4: I had mentioned atom bombs because Israel is the only state to neither confirm nor deny possession of nuclear weapons. I think this act (or lack thereof) plays a major role in determining US foreign policies. If you have additional thoughts, let me know!

Not For a Pulitzer Prize

Note to self: The word “erotic” is not interchangeable with “beautiful.”

It was a lesson learned the hard way when I wrote my first horror story – and wanted to describe the lead female character – in eighth grade. Since then, I like to think I've gained a bit more experience in writing through personal journals, research papers and magazines.

Unfortunately, at no point in time did I ever stop to acquire a love for poetry.

Partly, this is thanks to my inability to critically analyze any lines past “Roses are red, violets are blue.” During high school, interpreting the works of Emily Dickinson and Robert Frost was as difficult as AP Calculus!

But just as I have attempted to understand partial derivatives for the Lagrange multiplier, I am trying my hand at writing art. So, here is a short poem. It may not win the next Pulitzer Prize, but you have to start somewhere, yeah?

Just One Memory

So if you could know just one friend, who would you love?

And if you could love just one home, where would you dream?

And if you could dream just one moment, when would you see?

And if you could see just one memory, why would it be?

Let me know how you read it. And if you enjoy writing your own verses, please do share them!

Footnote: This poem was actually written many months ago, which means it’s been some time since I've tried poetry. I will have to get back into it! 

First

First things first.

Her name is Volia and the first time she said, “No, thank you” was before I could even ask her out!

She is my beautiful Belarusian friend, with powdered blue eyes, blonde hair and a gift to never have a single, comprehensible conversation with me. So when I invited her to spend a day in Boston, she misunderstood my gesture and wrote back a long response, which can be aptly summarized as, “No, thank you.” Of course!

This was the bittersweet beginning of a warm friendship and, over the years, we bonded over small problems (Macroeconomics presentation? For tomorrow?!) and shared a few relationship secrets (Date with him? Tomorrow?!). Somewhere in-between, we even learned to play squash and overcame language barriers of “Heh?” and “What?”

But just as a hot cup of cocoa has to cool at some point, our everyday bond eventually came to an end. Now, she is back at the university, writing her honors thesis on business regulations and I am doing a finance fellowship in another city. So much for practicing squash together.

So much for Boston.

A few weeks ago, I received a letter from her. On a creased piece of paper, she told me of her worries when thinking about life after college. How will she stay in touch with friends? Should she apply for graduate programs, or start searching for jobs? What if she finds failure and disappointment?

I wrote back, “Volia, you shouldn’t be afraid of failure. No one’s ever succeeded without falling a few times, so don’t be afraid to succeed.”

Though, on the inside, I’m just as scared. How do I establish a stable career path in this economy? When will I be able to support my family? Can I stay healthy, mentally and physically? What if all I find is failure and disappointment?

No, thank you!

This past weekend, I visited my university and celebrated Volia’s birthday with her. It was refreshing to see her, not because of overdue squash matches or for her powdered blue eyes, but because she reminds me to always work hard. Forget about worrying and, instead, spend that time focused on the tasks in front – honors thesis or fellowship.

More importantly, I am reminded to always treasure the moments with my beautiful Belarusian friend. After all, laughter is just as serious as work. So, along with long hugs and dinner, Volia smiled and joked, “Okay, no more Boston. How about we do D.C. next?”

Yes, please!

Footnote: All names have been changed for privacy and safety purposes - you know, in case I ever end up as a CIA agent.

Footnote 2: This post is titled "First" because it is the first time that I mention a specific person, what I do and where I am (approximately). 

Sushi and Burgers

Apologies! I haven’t written nearly enough these past few weeks. I haven’t had nearly enough cheesecake either.

Speaking of food, I do have a few updates. Sure, a lot has also happened recently with careers, friendships and personal reflections, but these cannot be discussed without sharing some appetizers and entrées first. So, dinner it is!

A friend once estimated she’d save $300 a year if she learned to make her own sushi. I came to a similar conclusion, give or take another $500. (Especially if I keep going to Minado)

Thanks to my insatiable love for a good ol’ cheeseburger, I had enjoyed this Five Guys treat twice in the span of one week and some four hundred miles apart.

Perhaps my next post should be about my new exercising plans…

With great food comes great conversation – though often followed by a food-induced drunkenness. I’ll write down those thoughts and moments soon! In the meantime, let me know what foods you typically go out for, and why you enjoy it!

The Godzilla of Studying

I never thought I'd miss attending classes. Ah, just the whole experience of fighting bed sheets at 9 in the morning, stumbling into the classroom - late, of course, missing every other sentence the professor says...

Okay, so I don't miss everything about classes, but after four years of university, the strange lack of learning was enough for me to sign up for a finance course with Coursera. Don't judge me, but listening to video lectures on investments and regressions has actually been a comforting experience thus far. And the best part? Pausing whenever I miss something!

However, for my friends studying for their Masters in finance, these sentiments are nonexistent. It's around midterms season and I can only imagine the stress of memorizing models on risks and returns. So, here is a cartoon of encouragement to help them "tear through" (get it, get it?) those exams with flying colors!

How did/do you deal with exam weeks? A curious former-student wants to know.

Superhero

Whoosh!

Instead of saving people, this superhero slaps them across the face. Then he flies off, leaving behind his favorite adage: “Man’s greatest ignorance is his assumption that others are more ignorant.”

“Wise words of Confucius!” he’d bellow from the sky.

Except, Confucius never said these words. Not even once. But quotes sure sound more righteous when attributed to a famous figure, don’t you think? So take your pick: Socrates, Churchill, or the fortune cookie that came with last night’s take-out.

Regardless, the superhero’s resolve remains the same. He wants to convey a message on something significant, like world peace and so on and so forth.

On most days, the superhero isn’t one to discuss world peace – the Miss Universe Pageant does enough of that for everyone – yet he’s become increasingly distraught over recent conflicts. Activists rebel against police lines formed for their safety. Rioters commit murder over a film preview. Fishing boats clash for the possession of uninhabited islands. And so on and so forth.

Seems like one big misunderstanding, don’t you think?

The superhero believes that the biggest misunderstanding comes from one’s self. It starts with becoming convinced that you know more than others. Therefore, you must convince others that they know less than you. But once every individual reaches the same conclusion, they all fight blindly to impose new perspectives.

“Place a few world leaders and university students in a round room, and they’re bound to bicker about where the corner exists.” There hasn’t been a famous figure to quote this yet, but the superhero will let you know when he finds one.

For now, he zips around the world, slapping those who fight blindly to impose new perspectives. If you’re lucky, it might just be a simple flick on the forehead – but with super-strength fingers, no less.

The act is meant to smack some sense into a person, so to speak. Maybe the stinging burn and the favorite adage will serve as a reminder to be more considerate of others. After all, no one knows everything but everyone knows something. Perhaps world peace can stem from joining ideas, like some grand jigsaw puzzle of thoughts.

Yes, one day, great minds will conspire to eradicate hunger and poverty. Communities will prosper together. Disease will cease to prevail. Wars will no longer be waged. And so on and so forth.

The superhero slaps people to keep them from fighting each other, and he fails to see the irony in this. But as the saying goes, “The show must go on.”

“Wise words of Confucius!” Of course.

Who do you think the superhero might be? I'll give you a hint: It's not me!

Footnote: Special thanks to a few friends who helped me set up this story.

Nobody's Happy

With the recent introduction of iPhone 5 and the release of iOS 6, many gadget geeks have criticized Apple's lack of innovation in its latest product. Has our perception of technology changed for the worse?

As Louis C.K. aptly noted, "Everything is amazing right now and nobody's happy."

What caption(s) would you add?

Backwards to Letters

Following eighth grade, my classes have always been held over three hundred miles away from home.

Sadly, this wasn’t because I received an acceptance letter to Hogwarts. No, those dreams of meeting Harry Potter Hermione Granger died long before my thirteenth birthday.

Instead, I was fortunate to have the opportunity of attending boarding school. From there, I went on to university – also some ways from home. Eight academic years without my family came with a few challenges. To begin with, I constantly craved my dad’s cooking. Then, there was the issue of laundry. Who would’ve known that duplicating keys for access to faculty washing machines could lead to cruel and unusual punishments?

Nevertheless, I wouldn’t change a single moment of these past eight years, save for the semester I registered for mathematical economics.

Other than that, I regret nothing because I was able to establish some truly rich friendships. We were all taking classes some three hundred miles away from home. Most were even farther, from Jamaica or Nepal. Together, we replicated faculty keysets and cried over difficult coursework.

But now that I’ve received my bachelors, my friends and I are somewhat scattered from one another. Some are in the process of completing new degrees while others have begun searching for jobs. We are no longer all in the same class, to say the least.

Of course, between tweets and emails, there are endless ways to stay in touch nowadays. The only problem is effort; as schedules and routines become busier, phone calls can turn into simple likes on a Facebook status. Perhaps, it is because we can so easily find each other that we often forget to do so. I suppose this is both a blessing and a curse of today’s technology.

So, I’ve decided to take a step backwards and write letters to a few close friends. Sure, the delivery may take longer, but at least I can share a few more stories with someone.

As for me, receiving a friend’s letter is always a happy experience. It’s the only thing I’m certain I want to read before reading any of it. You never know what to expect! Most recently, I tore open an envelope (Note: I was very excited, but I’m not nearly talented enough to describe unsealing envelopes with excitement) only to read, “…the sushi is actually a dollar cheaper than before.”

What the heck…?

Turns out I had started reading on the wrong side of the letter.

Still, not even an invitation to Hogwarts could have been better.

What's the most interesting/memorable letter you've ever received? Do you write to far-away friends - or do you prefer other ways of keeping in touch?

Good Food Is Never Just About the Food

There are many milestones reached during one’s twenties – graduations, careers, and maybe even the start of a serious relationship. But as a guy who is hungry at all hours, I’d say cooking that first legitimate meal tops my list thus far.

No, I’m not counting the first time I toasted my PB&J sandwich. Rather, this was a dinner of baked rosemary chicken, couscous, and stir-fried vegetables. There might have even been homemade chocolate fondue (for the strawberries, of course), but I don’t really remember anymore.

Still, certainly more than one plate and butter knife had to be washed afterwards.

I had cooked for my housemates and a few friends, and with some good conversation and laughs, the evening made for some pretty damn good memories.

So since then, I've tried to cook as often as I could. Alongside some new recipes, I've also come across a few invaluable lessons as well. For example...

Fried eggs, rice seasoning, and baked drumsticks. Occasionally, the simplest fixings can make for the most delicious lunch plates. With some thoughtfulness, a lot can come from just a few things.

On the other hand, Japanese curry chicken requires numerous ingredients and long hours. Pretty daunting task, yeah? It is – but don’t be afraid to give it a try! Nothing great’s ever come about without taking a risk first.

Also, a grilled chicken – with olive oil, oat nut bread, provolone cheese and spinach – sandwich can never go wrong.

But, I’d be remiss if you got the impression that I’m proud simply for having learned a few recipes. After all, good food is never just about the food. Instead, I owe it to cooking for having brought friends together, whether it was sharing food at a housewarming potluck, or enjoying one last dinner before she went abroad.

As for that dinner, I do remember having chocolate fondue with strawberries. And it was damn good.

What are your favorite dishes to make? More importantly, what are the most fulfilling endeavors of your twenties? (If you’re under 20, what are you looking forward to?)

Is This Motherhood?

I was picking up a few things at Target today when a nearby mother said to her two small children, "Just scream if someone tries to take you," as she hurried away - far, far away - to grab a box of cereal. Was this a ridiculous scene, or perhaps the wisest words a parent can offer?

Footnote: The above cartoon is only an artistic rendition.

Desire at Two-Thirty

This is a story about desire at two-thirty in the morning.

At two-thirty in the morning, I was unable to sleep. I tossed and twisted beneath my heavy comforter, occasionally slipping my toes into the cool nighttime air. Even with eyes shut and hair bent stiff against my pillow, it was no use trying to dream. My subconscious sought exactly what my thoughts craved, and sleep would only make me forget.

And so, I tossed and twisted, thinking, maybe I could shake the thoughts off from my mind.

But this was an overpowering desire; it overwhelmed the deepest of deep sensibilities and left me wide awake late into the night, until, finally, I sat up in my bed. One could only ignore a desire for so long. I had to succumb eventually, admitting that what I wanted, truly wanted, was…was…

A cheeseburger! But not just any cheeseburger. I wanted the 100% perfect cheeseburger.

Yes, this was the deepest of deep hunger pangs, and my lips lusted for that heavenly, gourmet sandwich. Oh, I could taste it so clearly! There were the buttery buns, slightly crisped on the edges, with a hint of roasted sesame seeds on top. Next came the 8 ounces of barbecued ground chuck, grilled to its succulent, beefy center. Then, toss in two slices of a tomato, leaf lettuce, pickles and Muenster cheese – melted right onto the charred meaty crust, of course.

Add a blend of ketchup, diced onions and minced garlic, and voila, not even a heavy French dish can be as satisfying.

I knew just how I would eat it too – with fingers lightly pressed against the bread, careful to hold everything together without squeezing out bits of ripe tomatoes and savory sauces. But as soon as my teeth sank in for that first bite, the fattiness would trickle down from the steaming patty, infusing itself into a salty, sweet and tangy flavor.

In every scent and touch, this was the 100% perfect cheeseburger for me at two-thirty in the morning. Nothing more, nothing less.

Well, okay, maybe a slice of cheesecake wouldn’t be too bad either.

But did I actually get up to grill a burger or toast the buns? The short answer is no. I simply tossed and twisted some more.

After all, this was only a story about desire.

What are your late-night cravings, and how do you deal with them? 

Footnote: Many thanks to writer Haruki Murakami, whose short stories in The Elephant Vanishes have inspired this post.

A Fear of Perfect Endings

It’s a bit late, but I’ve just finished my first summer reading! And as with any good book, countless reflections flooded my mind as soon as I closed the back cover.

So, let’s start with my first thought, a question:

What if there were mechanical presidential candidates? You know, just bolts and rust instead of handshakes and idiocy?

Evidently, there would be fewer gaffes concerning sporting events, but that’s a story for another time.

Now, where was I? Ah, the book!

Written by the famed Kurt Vonnegut, Player Piano illustrates a world more dependent on machines than a teenage girl with her mobile Facebook app. There are super computers, mindlessly calculating how many door knobs, dinner plates, television sets, washing machines and everything else to produce for society. There are engineers, whose doctoral degrees allow them to sit behind office desks and act only when an instrument requires wire-replacement. Then, with one flick of a switch, another machine whirs to swap out the faulty cables.

Of course, the number of necessary engineers is also determined by the computers.

At face value, Vonnegut paints an unwelcome conclusion to the post-Second World War culture. Yet, I find it hard to believe that he really expected us to fear dominance by machinery – after all, most of us are probably too busy clicking on Groupon deals to contemplate such nonsense. Instead, I wonder if, beneath the irony and genius in Kurt’s prose, a deeper anxiety awaits to be found.

Perhaps it is a fear of the perfect ending. See, even in Vonnegut’s flawless world where the robots do all the hard work – and replace our kitchen appliances every few years! – the humans aren’t happy.

To refrain from spoilers, I’ll just reiterate that last part; the humans aren’t happy.

Is it because we prefer continual change over finality? Does the idea of “progress” signify the root of all our desires? Would we really rather live with a malfunctioning dishwasher?

I have zero sufficient answers but, hell, at the very least, maybe we just enjoy watching presidential candidates who stupidly criticize Olympics preparations.

What are your thoughts on Vonnegut, machines and the likes? An inquiring mind wants to know.

Creative Bullet Points

Having just graduated from university, applying to jobs nowadays has become a full-time job in itself. So far, it’s been a hectic mixture of finding opportunities, creating objectives, e-mails, phone calls, contacts, cover letters, and resumes.

Or should I write Résumé?

Since the single-page PDF document is incredibly important for seeking employment, there’s a constant editing process in making sure every bullet point is concise and significant. After all, recruiters can only be so attentive with the many dozens (or hundreds) of applicants – which has led me to wonder, what can I do to grab their attention?

Here’s one answer that might just work: Underneath that magazine internship, jot down “Obtained valuable professional experiences in retrieving coffee.” Sure, it may catch your employer off-guard, but there are many positives as well! It shows that you value the importance of a little humor – and maybe even the small details at work. Least of all, it demonstrates your readiness to be different. Be creative. Be BOLD.

What could possibly go wrong?

At worst, one recruiter will just chuckle and say to another, “You know, I could really use a good cup o’ coffee right now.”

Yes, that’s how I will grab their attention.

But for now, I’ll let you try it first. Let me know how it goes. In case you get stuck somewhere between the Education, Professional Experience and Qualifications sections, here are a few more suggestions:

– Fluent in Microsoft Paint applications.

– [Insert name here] will be an equal opportunity employee. Women and minorities are encouraged to hire.

– Graduated within top hundred percent of class.

So, how are your job-searching experiences? Any pointers for resumes – or do you prefer Résumé?

Enter: Modaya!

Modaya!

That’s a nickname a friend of mine has for me. Sometimes, she’ll say it after a wisp of laughter. Once in a while, it’s with a soft smile and a scolding glance. But of course, she always means it in an endearing manner.

So, it’s too bad that Modaya translates to “idiot” in Sinhalese.

Anyway, here’s to writing stories laced with bad puns and lukewarm humor – which is usually why my friend shoots me those scolding glances. Maybe, somewhere in-between the inanity, there will be a few meaningful insights and food for thought.

Speaking of food, though, be warned: I may profess my love for cheesecake just a bit too often…

Perhaps Modaya is fitting after all.