Sorry I haven't updated in a while; I haven't had a computer, or the time. As many of you may know, I am applying for law schools currently. The following is a copy of my personal statement. I have been working long and hard on it and it's pretty special to me, so I hope you all enjoy:
I stepped through the front door of my apartment soaked from the rain that had been lashing down on me. I gripped a carton of milk in my hand and hurried into the kitchen to make a bowl of a cereal. With the treacherous thunderstorm that was coming down on the city, and no food in my apartment except for dry cereal, I had briefly contemplated ordering takeout. However this idea was quickly nixed, as my rent was due at the end of the week, and I was trying to save every dollar I had so I would not have to call my father and ask him for money. I pride myself on having been as independent as a full-time college student could possibly be, and though I had to resort to asking my parents for money on rare occasions, I tried to avoid it at all costs. I was not afraid to ask them for money; I knew that they would almost certainly oblige with the best of their ability, and would rather make sacrifices for themselves than see their son cut corners. My unwilligness to ask my parents for money stems from a deep-seeded feeling inside of me that I already owe them more than one could ever possibly repay, and that I should do anything in my power to keep that debt as low as possible. I need only take my father and what he has given to me in his own life to realize how much I really owe him.
As an immigrant to this country, I always suspected that life was difficult for him on his initial arrival. He had just married my mother and had a son, myself, and was faced with the prospect of providing for his new family in a foreign country where he had a strange accent and no college degree. My early memories of my dad consist mainly of him relentlessly and persistently on the telephone. Later, as I searched for employment following college, my mother would tell me about my father’s determination, and how he would sit at home on his time off making cold calls to potential customers while at his first job. As I grew older, I would realize even more the work ethic with which my dad approached life. He would never leave the house any later than 8:30 every morning, but would also rarely come home any earlier than 7:00 each night. All of the positions my father held over the years were commission based, and he did absolutely everything in his power to make sure that he made enough sales each day to support me, my mother, and later my younger brother as well. Eventually, my father became a loan officer with a small bank. Obtaining this job had always been a dream of his, as he had worked in a bank while in Ireland, but in the United States the banking industry was far more selective and it took him years to gain the experience necessary. On a car ride to Boston one afternoon with my dad he told me at length of all the banks that had turned him down while he was searching for jobs, including banks that then tried to offer him jobs years later once he had established himself. He laughed about it with me in the car that day, and said to me that it was “all about persistence.” He never gave up on his dream of working in a bank, and eventually he caught the attention of someone that was willing to take a chance. Although his original bank has been bought out and has a new name, he still works as a loan officer today and has not shown any signs of slowing down.
I am eternally grateful for my father’s decision to put me through college. In Ireland, he was one of six children, and my grandfather was the only source of income. My father grew up with modest means, sharing a small bedroom with all of his siblings, and sleeping in the same bed as his two brothers for many years. With not enough money for beds, college was certainly not an option. However, my dad still made the best of his situation. When I asked him about his childhood, my father praised my grandfather for everything he had done for him. It was my grandfather that had allowed my dad to develop into the person he was, and although he did not have money for college, he helped my father in his studies throughout secondary school, and always pushed him toward success. My grandfather provided for all six of his children to the best of his ability, and opened up the door for my father to be able to achieve even higher than himself. By putting me through college, my father has now opened the door for me to achieve even higher again.
The debt that I owe to my parents does not have monetary value, it is an understanding that they have invested much of their own time and effort into my success. It is now my duty to walk through the doors they have opened, and seize every available opportunity. For myself, repaying this debt to my parents lies in law school. A Juris Doctor represents one of the ultimate pinnacles of education, and now that it is within my grasp I owe it to myself and my parents to pursue it. From local solicitors to the Supreme Court, lawyers are the people responsible for shaping the rules of our society and how we will progress as a people. Being a part of this elite group of individuals is a privilege that people like my dad and grandfather could only dream about.
In the past year the study of law has become my main interest. While studying Audio and Media Technology in my undergraduate college, I have realized the importance of intellectual property laws and the protection of the rights of inventors, musicians, and publishers. A historical race for the White House has opened my eyes to the affairs of this nation, and constitutional law has also entered my mind as a fascinating aspect of legal study. Also, my recent year living in Ireland has intrigued me in international law as I learn about the legal differences between nations, and how it effects everything from the structure of the government, down to the individual people and culture of a nation. There are many aspects of law which I have become increasingly interested in, and I could see myself excelling in a variety of different areas.
My passion for pursing a higher education, my deep interest in law, and the values of hard work and determination that have been instilled in me by my family over the years are all contributing factors as to why I am applying to your law school. There is nothing I would enjoy more than working in a career that I have passion for, and most importantly, being able to completely capitalize on the life my parent’s have paved for me. This has become not only my dream, but also my obligation.
30.11.08
17.10.08
You should have to pass an intelligence test to be able to vote.
Has everyone seen this?
John McCain is a decent human being but his supporters are freaking scary. I think Keith Olbermann said it best.
John McCain is a decent human being but his supporters are freaking scary. I think Keith Olbermann said it best.
15.10.08
Dear Leader,
What's with your recent removal of North Korea from the terrorist list? Come on Georgy, they used to be a part of that ominous "Axis of Evil". I'm a little concerned. I know you are eager to show the rest of the world that they need to comply with our nuclear regulations, but I think this little deal with North Korea might have the reverse effect. Other nations are going to start getting the idea that if they develop nuclear weapons they can use them as a bargaining chip with the United States and the UN (Not that the United States cares about what the UN says these days).
Firstly, do you really believe that North Korea is a legitimate threat to our nation? Foremost, Kim Jong-il is a nationalist. Let's remember it was his father that launched the invasion of South Korea in 1950. Kim wants to make daddy proud, he has two main objectives:
A)Insure the continuation of his regime, and
B)Re-Unite Korea under this regime
I don't think Kim Jong-il ever considers military action against the United States. Let's be honest with ourselves, he's not stupid. He knows very well that if the United States ever had the reason (or sometimes no reason at all in your case Mr. Bush) we could easily crush his regime, probably in a matter of days. Their military investment is high, and the videos of the Nazi-esque North Korean military marching around are scary, but it is still a very small country. They have a population of only about 24 million people. Our military alone contains about 1.5 million active personnel and over 800,000 reserves. The United States accounts for about 50% of global military spending. Kim Jong-il saw what we did to Iraq; he knows that in a one on one fight he will not last too long.
So then it must be clear to you Mr. Bush why Kim would go ahead and obtain nuclear weapons anyway: To use them as a bargaining chip. It sends a message to the rest of the world: Are you a weak country with a regime not supported by the United States government? Develop nuclear weapons and you can bargain with us. Play by all the rules, let all the weapons inspectors in, and we won't believe you - subsequently obliterating your military and causing you to hide in a hole before being put on trial and killed. I don't blame Iran for wanting to develop their nuclear program. If I were Ahmadinejad I would be doing the same thing.
What concerns me the most about North Korea, is that we fucked it up. We had no plan for Korea following World War II, split it straight down the middle without any regard to cultural or environmental boundaries, and then disregarded any option of reuniting the country under the guise of the Cold War. Shouldn't it be our duty to make sure that any reunification of Korea is under the benefit of it's citizens? and letting Kim Jong-il bully us into tolerating his regime is just a shame.
But I know what you're thinking George: Kim Jong-il may be in grave health conditions after his recent dissapearing act. And maybe Kim isn't a threat, but who knows who will succeed him, he has no heir so it could literally be any crazy raving lunatic North Korea has to offer. We gotta get those nukes out now, who knows what the wrong person will do with them. It makes a lot of sense, but don't forget that our friend Mr. Jong-il has done this before.
Don't you think we should be forcing North Korea to allow more freedoms within their media, offer more social services to their citizens, or even to demilitarize a little? The weapons inspectors shouldn't even be an issue at this point, but apparently the Iraq war hasn't seemed to of scared anyone off. Maybe we should of been making sure that North Korea didn't reach nuclear proliferation instead of wasting our time out in the sand blowing up Baghdad.
I don't know George, maybe you know more about this whole North Korea thing than me. You probably have crazy information from the CIA on everything that's going on there. Let's just hope your intelligence on North Korea is better than what you had on Iraq.
Firstly, do you really believe that North Korea is a legitimate threat to our nation? Foremost, Kim Jong-il is a nationalist. Let's remember it was his father that launched the invasion of South Korea in 1950. Kim wants to make daddy proud, he has two main objectives:
A)Insure the continuation of his regime, and
B)Re-Unite Korea under this regime
I don't think Kim Jong-il ever considers military action against the United States. Let's be honest with ourselves, he's not stupid. He knows very well that if the United States ever had the reason (or sometimes no reason at all in your case Mr. Bush) we could easily crush his regime, probably in a matter of days. Their military investment is high, and the videos of the Nazi-esque North Korean military marching around are scary, but it is still a very small country. They have a population of only about 24 million people. Our military alone contains about 1.5 million active personnel and over 800,000 reserves. The United States accounts for about 50% of global military spending. Kim Jong-il saw what we did to Iraq; he knows that in a one on one fight he will not last too long.
So then it must be clear to you Mr. Bush why Kim would go ahead and obtain nuclear weapons anyway: To use them as a bargaining chip. It sends a message to the rest of the world: Are you a weak country with a regime not supported by the United States government? Develop nuclear weapons and you can bargain with us. Play by all the rules, let all the weapons inspectors in, and we won't believe you - subsequently obliterating your military and causing you to hide in a hole before being put on trial and killed. I don't blame Iran for wanting to develop their nuclear program. If I were Ahmadinejad I would be doing the same thing.
What concerns me the most about North Korea, is that we fucked it up. We had no plan for Korea following World War II, split it straight down the middle without any regard to cultural or environmental boundaries, and then disregarded any option of reuniting the country under the guise of the Cold War. Shouldn't it be our duty to make sure that any reunification of Korea is under the benefit of it's citizens? and letting Kim Jong-il bully us into tolerating his regime is just a shame.
But I know what you're thinking George: Kim Jong-il may be in grave health conditions after his recent dissapearing act. And maybe Kim isn't a threat, but who knows who will succeed him, he has no heir so it could literally be any crazy raving lunatic North Korea has to offer. We gotta get those nukes out now, who knows what the wrong person will do with them. It makes a lot of sense, but don't forget that our friend Mr. Jong-il has done this before.
Don't you think we should be forcing North Korea to allow more freedoms within their media, offer more social services to their citizens, or even to demilitarize a little? The weapons inspectors shouldn't even be an issue at this point, but apparently the Iraq war hasn't seemed to of scared anyone off. Maybe we should of been making sure that North Korea didn't reach nuclear proliferation instead of wasting our time out in the sand blowing up Baghdad.
I don't know George, maybe you know more about this whole North Korea thing than me. You probably have crazy information from the CIA on everything that's going on there. Let's just hope your intelligence on North Korea is better than what you had on Iraq.
9.10.08
The worst I did was call a nun "cunt".
-You said what to that nun? I repeated myself.
-I called her a cunt.
By this time the Dutch kid sitting across from me was doubled over in laughter.
-Alright dude, you gotta explain this one.
-Alright well. ‘Twas at Sunday school right? And I was talkin’ away with the lads and then, somehow, Mother Theresa, she came up. And I said: “wait a moment here, she’s guilty of extortion”. The sister said “pardon me” so I explained myself: “listen, she was takin' donations and saying it was for the children of Africa, right, and then sendin’ it to Vatican City. Then the church was deciding what to do with the money. They were only givin’ out thirty percent to dem kids in Africa”. Now if I were to go out on the street and ask people to donate money fer Africa and then only sendin’ thirty percent of it there I would be goin’ to jail man. As soon as that hit the papers boy you would see me in the cuffs.
He raised his hands up in unison as if to simulate wearing handcuffs before continuing.
-So that nun says to me “She would go places no one else would go”
As he imitated the nun his voice grew increasingly angrier and he wagged his finger menacingly in the direction of the Dutch kid.
-So I says to her: “I’ve been places no one else would go either and that doesn’t make me a Saint.” So then she got real cross and she says to me: “You get out! Right Now! Just get out!”. So I says to her “fine” and then as I’m leavin’ I turn ‘round and I says “Ya know, you are a right cunt”. Well she didn’t like that very much so she starts in screamin’ at me. Just bloody screamin’, and one of the lads wanted to 'ave at me but the others wouldn’t let ‘em. But that nun she was a right cunt though. I don’t mind the priests, they’re always all right, but the nuns though, desperate miserable women.
The previous was an actual conversation, to the best of my recollection, that I had with an Irish kid named Sean while staying in a hostel. The validity of his criticisms against Mother Theresa are unknown to me, and I in no way condone calling any nun a “cunt”, or anything else besides “sister” for that matter.
-I called her a cunt.
By this time the Dutch kid sitting across from me was doubled over in laughter.
-Alright dude, you gotta explain this one.
-Alright well. ‘Twas at Sunday school right? And I was talkin’ away with the lads and then, somehow, Mother Theresa, she came up. And I said: “wait a moment here, she’s guilty of extortion”. The sister said “pardon me” so I explained myself: “listen, she was takin' donations and saying it was for the children of Africa, right, and then sendin’ it to Vatican City. Then the church was deciding what to do with the money. They were only givin’ out thirty percent to dem kids in Africa”. Now if I were to go out on the street and ask people to donate money fer Africa and then only sendin’ thirty percent of it there I would be goin’ to jail man. As soon as that hit the papers boy you would see me in the cuffs.
He raised his hands up in unison as if to simulate wearing handcuffs before continuing.
-So that nun says to me “She would go places no one else would go”
As he imitated the nun his voice grew increasingly angrier and he wagged his finger menacingly in the direction of the Dutch kid.
-So I says to her: “I’ve been places no one else would go either and that doesn’t make me a Saint.” So then she got real cross and she says to me: “You get out! Right Now! Just get out!”. So I says to her “fine” and then as I’m leavin’ I turn ‘round and I says “Ya know, you are a right cunt”. Well she didn’t like that very much so she starts in screamin’ at me. Just bloody screamin’, and one of the lads wanted to 'ave at me but the others wouldn’t let ‘em. But that nun she was a right cunt though. I don’t mind the priests, they’re always all right, but the nuns though, desperate miserable women.
The previous was an actual conversation, to the best of my recollection, that I had with an Irish kid named Sean while staying in a hostel. The validity of his criticisms against Mother Theresa are unknown to me, and I in no way condone calling any nun a “cunt”, or anything else besides “sister” for that matter.
6.10.08
A Letter to My Mother
Recently my mother sent me an e-mail asking me how I was getting on here in Ireland, and how my job search was going (It's been difficult). It should be noted that she is a staunch Republican. The following is the response I sent my mother:
I signed you up for a mailing list.
You're going to hate me for it, but think of it as payback for all the spam you've sent me over the years about "support our troops" or whatever. It starts on October 5th and you'll get one e-mail every day until November 5th.
I am trying to stay positive but it is really hard mom. I had a lady from an employment agency call me today and basically tell me that there was no way I was ever going to get a job in this market. She was a sinister bitch. But other people have been more positive, I e-mailed this guy from RTE simply to ask if he knew of anything and although he didn't have any work for me he was very positive and tried to give me information. A few people at employment agencies have shown some interest in me, and that is reassuring. The American lady at the first employment agency I met said she got the go ahead to send my CV to O2, the cell phone company, but I haven't heard from them yet. I was hoping they would want to see me for an interview but now I am not sure. I am meeting with another employment agency tomorrow at 12 so hopefully that goes well.
There just aren't good jobs mom. Like honestly, I think it's just the way it is now. Just because you have a college degree it's no longer this one way ticket to the middle class like it used to be. If you want a job right out of college you just have to take one in a restaurant or something. It's like depressing. There isn't enough room in the middle class anymore for someone with no experience. I wish I had just skipped college and gone to work straight away, I would of been better off and I would have savings instead of debt. No one cares about a degree. I've never had anyone even ask me about my studies. No one asks me what I learned; they all just want to know what experience I have. It is honestly and truly a hard struggle, I know you and Dad don't understand, you're both established with careers, and probably don't feel the effects of this market. But for me, things are a world of difference.
Let's look at what is going on in the market right now; we all know there is a recession, but does anyone know why all these banks are failing? It's because of a lack of regulation on the part of our government, and the current administration. And the policies of the United States reach to all of our allies and the rest of the world. We have more influence than anyone else. What we do, resonates around the world.
So, why the banks are failing. It's simply because they were allowed to take on too much risk. Say you're an investment bank. What you do, is you take $1 to the bank and give it to the teller and you say:
"OK you take this $1 as collateral and I'm going to borrow $30"
Then you take your $30 and you buy something; anything. Let's say you buy a soccer ball, just to keep in the theme of our family. Now if tomorrow you go and sell that soccer ball for $40 - great, you just made $9. Remember the $30 you borrowed from the bank, and the $1 you put down. That's $31. You sold it for $40. You made $9. This is all great if you always make money off your investments, and for the most part the investment banks did. But every once and a while, the soccer ball is only going to make $20. In which case you now lost $11. They have extremely intelligent math wizards working at the top calculating the ratios of success to failure. And for the most part they know that they will make more money then they will lose. However, this time they were wrong. They invested in markets like real estate where people can't pay their loans, no money is coming in, and now it's blowing up on them.
Before Bush, investment banks could only borrow about $15 for every $1 down. Now it's gone up to about $30 for $1 like in our scenario (except of course it's actually billions and billions of US dollars, not just $15, or $30, or $1). It's way too much risk, and with more risk you have a higher chance for failure. Our banks weren't regulated and they got too greedy. If there had been proper regulations in place from stopping them to take on that much risk a lot of those banks could of been saved.
There are countless arguments against the Bush, and current GOP, economic policy, but this is my favorite one. You can't just let the markets run wild and expect things to go fine. We've seen about a 180% increase in the earnings of CEOs compared with their third in command over the past 40 years. The old CEO of home depot got a $210 million leaving bonus when he retired. $210,000,000. And under him, Home Depot's stock didn't even improve. He wasn't even good. We're watching the top dogs take advantage of the system and the average citizen getting squeezed out of decent paying wages.
The United States is supposed to be the land of opportunity, and all of our allies that adopt democracy are supposed to reap the rewards of that opportunity. That opportunity means the ability for all people to be able to live comfortably with a roof over their head and food for their children - and maybe even a BMW if you work really hard. It doesn't mean the opportunity to make $210,000,000 while the employees of your company struggle with the minimum wage.
Henry Ford once said that he knew for his company to be a success his employees had to earn enough money to buy his product. Everyone in America with a Model T, that was his dream.
I know that you think I'm just a young naive liberal that's blindly in love with Barack Obama. But I know my stuff. I do my research and I'm very passionate about the United States. I love that country, and that's why I want to see it continue to succeed. If it does, places like Ireland will also continue to succeed and that's a great thing as well. It's not about the war in Iraq, I don't agree with it, and with the money we spent on it we could probably bail out the economy, but that's neither here nor there. It's not about social issues, I could care less if gays get married or women get abortions, it doesn't affect me. There are more pressing issues facing the United States. And I earnestly believe we need to take a hard look at some of the policies of this past administration that McCain shares.
So I guess that sums up how I'm doing. Frustrated. Frustrated because when I'm out on the street handing my resume to any business that will take it, and thinking about how hard it is to get a job, what always enters my mind is that George Bush never had to deal with this. He grew up with entitlement and money. His father was a president, his grandfather an international banker that made a fortune off the Great Depression, and later a Senator. Our President has never felt the struggles of a working person in hard times, and so I suppose that's why he doesn't understand it. Remember we fought for our independence from Britain to get away from being ruled by a King - an entitled heir only fit to rule by his bloodline. 232 years later, I wonder how better off we really are.
Love, and God Bless America,
Shane
I signed you up for a mailing list.
You're going to hate me for it, but think of it as payback for all the spam you've sent me over the years about "support our troops" or whatever. It starts on October 5th and you'll get one e-mail every day until November 5th.
I am trying to stay positive but it is really hard mom. I had a lady from an employment agency call me today and basically tell me that there was no way I was ever going to get a job in this market. She was a sinister bitch. But other people have been more positive, I e-mailed this guy from RTE simply to ask if he knew of anything and although he didn't have any work for me he was very positive and tried to give me information. A few people at employment agencies have shown some interest in me, and that is reassuring. The American lady at the first employment agency I met said she got the go ahead to send my CV to O2, the cell phone company, but I haven't heard from them yet. I was hoping they would want to see me for an interview but now I am not sure. I am meeting with another employment agency tomorrow at 12 so hopefully that goes well.
There just aren't good jobs mom. Like honestly, I think it's just the way it is now. Just because you have a college degree it's no longer this one way ticket to the middle class like it used to be. If you want a job right out of college you just have to take one in a restaurant or something. It's like depressing. There isn't enough room in the middle class anymore for someone with no experience. I wish I had just skipped college and gone to work straight away, I would of been better off and I would have savings instead of debt. No one cares about a degree. I've never had anyone even ask me about my studies. No one asks me what I learned; they all just want to know what experience I have. It is honestly and truly a hard struggle, I know you and Dad don't understand, you're both established with careers, and probably don't feel the effects of this market. But for me, things are a world of difference.
Let's look at what is going on in the market right now; we all know there is a recession, but does anyone know why all these banks are failing? It's because of a lack of regulation on the part of our government, and the current administration. And the policies of the United States reach to all of our allies and the rest of the world. We have more influence than anyone else. What we do, resonates around the world.
So, why the banks are failing. It's simply because they were allowed to take on too much risk. Say you're an investment bank. What you do, is you take $1 to the bank and give it to the teller and you say:
"OK you take this $1 as collateral and I'm going to borrow $30"
Then you take your $30 and you buy something; anything. Let's say you buy a soccer ball, just to keep in the theme of our family. Now if tomorrow you go and sell that soccer ball for $40 - great, you just made $9. Remember the $30 you borrowed from the bank, and the $1 you put down. That's $31. You sold it for $40. You made $9. This is all great if you always make money off your investments, and for the most part the investment banks did. But every once and a while, the soccer ball is only going to make $20. In which case you now lost $11. They have extremely intelligent math wizards working at the top calculating the ratios of success to failure. And for the most part they know that they will make more money then they will lose. However, this time they were wrong. They invested in markets like real estate where people can't pay their loans, no money is coming in, and now it's blowing up on them.
Before Bush, investment banks could only borrow about $15 for every $1 down. Now it's gone up to about $30 for $1 like in our scenario (except of course it's actually billions and billions of US dollars, not just $15, or $30, or $1). It's way too much risk, and with more risk you have a higher chance for failure. Our banks weren't regulated and they got too greedy. If there had been proper regulations in place from stopping them to take on that much risk a lot of those banks could of been saved.
There are countless arguments against the Bush, and current GOP, economic policy, but this is my favorite one. You can't just let the markets run wild and expect things to go fine. We've seen about a 180% increase in the earnings of CEOs compared with their third in command over the past 40 years. The old CEO of home depot got a $210 million leaving bonus when he retired. $210,000,000. And under him, Home Depot's stock didn't even improve. He wasn't even good. We're watching the top dogs take advantage of the system and the average citizen getting squeezed out of decent paying wages.
The United States is supposed to be the land of opportunity, and all of our allies that adopt democracy are supposed to reap the rewards of that opportunity. That opportunity means the ability for all people to be able to live comfortably with a roof over their head and food for their children - and maybe even a BMW if you work really hard. It doesn't mean the opportunity to make $210,000,000 while the employees of your company struggle with the minimum wage.
Henry Ford once said that he knew for his company to be a success his employees had to earn enough money to buy his product. Everyone in America with a Model T, that was his dream.
I know that you think I'm just a young naive liberal that's blindly in love with Barack Obama. But I know my stuff. I do my research and I'm very passionate about the United States. I love that country, and that's why I want to see it continue to succeed. If it does, places like Ireland will also continue to succeed and that's a great thing as well. It's not about the war in Iraq, I don't agree with it, and with the money we spent on it we could probably bail out the economy, but that's neither here nor there. It's not about social issues, I could care less if gays get married or women get abortions, it doesn't affect me. There are more pressing issues facing the United States. And I earnestly believe we need to take a hard look at some of the policies of this past administration that McCain shares.
So I guess that sums up how I'm doing. Frustrated. Frustrated because when I'm out on the street handing my resume to any business that will take it, and thinking about how hard it is to get a job, what always enters my mind is that George Bush never had to deal with this. He grew up with entitlement and money. His father was a president, his grandfather an international banker that made a fortune off the Great Depression, and later a Senator. Our President has never felt the struggles of a working person in hard times, and so I suppose that's why he doesn't understand it. Remember we fought for our independence from Britain to get away from being ruled by a King - an entitled heir only fit to rule by his bloodline. 232 years later, I wonder how better off we really are.
Love, and God Bless America,
Shane
1.10.08
It's Like Six Dollars.
Alright, my first proper post. It's been difficult getting the motivation to sit down and actually write this thing. I love writing, but it can just be so mentally fatiguing sometimes that when I think about it I end up completely psyching myself out. When I just sit down and start putting the fingers to the keys though, I usually end up writing way more than I intended. I've already grossly digressed with this very first paragraph.
Anyways, so the "Meat and Potatoes" as they say. For those of you that don't know me personally, which hopefully will be the vast majority of my readers if this blog gets off the ground in the way I hope it to, I have recently moved to the Republic of Ireland; Dublin specifically. Hence the title of my blog: "Emigrant". I just finished my undergraduate studies and in a yearning for adventure and change I have embarked across the Atlantic Ocean in search of employment and a new life. I have the advantage of being a dual citizen with the United States and Ireland, as my father was born and raised in Ireland, and through some complicated maneuverings I received my Irish passport some time ago. With a citizenship to the country, I am free to stay here as long as I'd like and enjoy all of the liberties, freedoms, and opportunities of the Irish-born, in Ireland and the rest of the European Union.
My first two weeks have consisted mainly of me relentlessly scouring the internet for employment opportunities and badgering recruitment agencies from the common rooms of hostels. This has proved to be more interesting than I expected. I have made friends from many different countries, experienced the ups and downs of the tireless job searcher, and even got to do a little exploring of Dublin in my down time. Some hostels have been more interesting than others, including a two night stay in a place called "Citi Hostel" that I will briefly explain just because I need to get off my chest.
"Citi Hostel"; I refer to it as "Shitty Hostel". I was staying quite comfortably in a Hostel called "Isaac's" for my first three nights in Dublin. It was not the nicest accommodation I have ever had, nor even the nicest Hostel I have ever been in, but it had all the essential anemeties of a hostel. It was cheap(€18 per night, €9 if you booked online), located in the city centre, had lockers to store my luggage, a secure building, decent showering/bathroom facilities, wifi internet, and a cafe next door that offered a discount to tenants of the hostel. I really could not complain.
Much to my dismay, the All-Ireland Football Final fell on my first weekend in Dublin. It's customary to hold the match at Croke Park in Dublin, Ireland's largest and most historic stadium. Because of the large influx of people for the game, much of the accommodation in the area was booked solid. However, I stumbled across "Citi Hostel" and although the reception area looked a bit decrepit, it was right around the corner from "Isaac's" so I could easily move my luggage there and the price was in fact cheaper (only €15 per night, which should have been a warning sign). I did not have much other choice, so I decided to book two nights. By Sunday the game would be over and the nicer places would open back up again. I handed the woman at the front desk €30, and to my suspicion, she straight pocketed it. Come on people, no cash register or anything? At least act like you're putting my money in a safe place; don't just pocket it right in front of me. Then she promptly ripped, yeah ripped, me off a small square of paper from a notebook where she wrote down my full name, which room I would be staying in, and for how long. Not the most reassuring verification, but they didn't have a cash register so I guess it was naive of me to expect a proper receipt.
When I moved in I started to learn why "Shitty Hostel" could offer such cut-throat rates as €15 a night. First of all, the doors on the rooms didn't lock. This would not make me that angry except that some dude that worked for the hostel explained to me for about five minutes before he let me go upstairs how I would unlock my room. Apparently the staff is under the impression that the five-digit code system that they have on the doors is functioning. It's bad enough staying in a hostel and having to worry about the six or seven people that you are sharing a room with nicking your stuff, not to mention the entire building. I was carrying some expensive things so I quickly invested in luggage storage at the internet cafe down the street. The €5 per day cost of this already made "Shitty Hostel" more expensive than "Isaac's" all costs included, so I promptly returned to "Isaac's" and made sure to book Sunday night there. An interesting point I should mention was the attendance at "Shitty Hostel"; 140 people were staying there on my first night in the hostel. The reason I inquired was because they only had one shower, and I wanted to know the ratio I was working with at the time. I did a quick Google search on the bathroom to human ratio in some third world countries and was unable to come up with anything, but I would bet that 140:1 would be somewhere in the ballpark.
As with most things in life, the most intriguing aspect was not the place, but rather the people. At "Shitty Hostel" I shared my room with 4 Portuguese kids about my age, all of which were also in search of work. The Portuguese and I hit it off, they were looking to improve their English and were very eager to talk to a native speaker, and I was happy to entertain them and make some new friends in the process (Just a side note: I taught them that a common phrase in the United States' nowadays is "Go USA. Fuck Bush."; I know this isn't true, but I couldn't resist, and now the poor fuckers will be going around to every American they meet saying it, and hopefully offending a few Republicans in the process. Although with Bush's approval ratings these days, that phrase might actually start catching on.). Another of my room-mates was this Czech kid, who without provocation explained to me all of his beliefs on how an "energy" is inside each of us controlling what we do; I won't get into it.
The most interesting however, had to be Josef. Josef was a 50 year old German man that must of had roots in the Hitler Youth or some shit because he was one of the most jacked men I have ever met in my life. Even at 50 he was a straight beast of a man. Every time Josef entered the room, he immediately would strip down to his underwear and climb into the top bunk where he slept. After stripping down the first time, he started to spew angrily at myself and the Portuguese about how his wife had left him for Brazil and advised us to go down to the local health clinic to get a vasectomy, even offering to pay for it at one point. The strangest part was the next morning. I awoke early and sat upright on my bed reading "Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail: 1972", and quietly Josef arose from bed and dressed himself rapidly. As he exited I said:
-Take care Josef.
-Bye.
A simple one word reply was not what I expected from the exuberant, albeit negative, individual I had met the night prior. It was as if Josef was caught off guard by my greeting him. I quickly shook it off and continued with my reading. I puttered around during the day; mainly just walking around to local businesses and handing my CV to anyone that would take it. That night I went to bed early, anticipating an early departure from "Shitty Hostel" so I could check in to "Isaac's" as quick as possible. I was awakened in the middle of the night by a loud BANG, like someone had just dropped a tree trunk from twelve feet in the air and it had the misfortune of landing directly next to my ear. I frantically scrambled in the darkness to put on my glasses and slowly I heard the laughter of a fifty year old disgruntled German man; a full bellied laugh, but it still had a hint of sadness. One of the Portuguese kids switched on the light and we saw Josef unsuccessfully attempting, in his underwear, to climb up to his top bunk. Another loud bang as he tumbled off the ladder and his freakishly strong body hit the floor creating a crater the dinosaur's would of been pissed about. We soon learned that Josef was just a drunk, so one of the Portuguese kids volunteered to switch to the top bunk and we put Josef to bed; both parties laughing the entire time.
But anyway, none of this nonsense is even what I intended to write about. Remember at the beginning when I was talking about digressing? Damn I could never be a professional writer; there is no way I would be able to stay on task. So the reason I am writing this particular blog entry is to confess to the world a terrible manipulation of the local economy here in Dublin that I have been carrying out since my arrival.
At some point late each night I realize I am hungry and trek down to a tiny fast food restaurant near the hostel named "Garibaldi's". Two cheery Arab dudes run the store and the place is open very late; in fact I'm not even sure how late they are open. There are no hours of operation listed anywhere in the restaurant and I've never been awake late enough to see the place closed. I have this theory that the place is just open 24/7 and the two guys that work in the store never stop working. The best part of "Garibaldi's" is the food of course. They offer a quality, large slice of pizza and a can of soda for only €4. Can't beat those prices. Every once and a while I will also indulge in a mlikshake, although at €3.25 each they don't quite fit into my budget every night. Let's remember I'm still unemployed here. Directly across the street from Garibaldi's is another pizza joint called "Pa Pa Pizza" that seems to be open just as late. One night I decided to try it out, so I crossed the street and ordered the same thing as usual: One slice and a soda. The first strike against Pa Pa Pizza came when I was charged €4.50 for the same meal I was getting at Garibaldi's. There was a portly Italian man behind the counter of Pa Pa's who seemed to be running the shop without much trouble. I took my pizza over to one of the tables inside and began to scarf it down. Then I realized their pizza was absolute shit. Seriously, you couldn't even pay me to eat it, never mind charge me €.50 more than the other place. I threw away half the pizza and the Italian man looked puzzled and then asked:
-Something wrong with it there boy?
-No not really, but hey, ya know the place across the street offers the same thing for only €4?
-Yeah
He shook his head, seemingly disinterested. However, the next night as I was sitting in Girabaldi's peering out the window as I ate my pizza and I saw a square white piece of cardboard sitting in the window of Pa Pa's with "Pizza Slice and Soda €4" scribbled on it in red marker. It then dawned on me, if I could make Pa Pa's lower their pizza prices with one simple suggestion then what else could I make my over-sized Italian friend do? The next night I went back to Pa Pa's and ordered their new €4 special, forced myself to swallow it down, and then picked a conversation with the Italian owner.
-I see your prices are down now man?
-Yeaaa, we have to compete man. Business is down.
-You know what you should do to bring in more business?
-What's that?
He was leaning in closer to me at this point, intriguied by my expansive pizza business knowledge.
-You should get a milkshake machine, they have one over there and they charge €3.25 for each one.
-Do people buy?
-Ohhhh Hell yeah. They are like their most popular item. You could probably charge like €2.50 for each of your milkshakes and bring all the business over here.
At this point he started yelling in Italian back towards the kitchen. I promptly slipped out the front door and strolled back to my hostel. I was pretty proud of myself, I think he bought it. I felt a little bad about having to lie to the poor fool about the milkshakes being one of Girabaldi's most popular items. In fact, I had never seen anyone purchase one besides myself. Now I'm just waiting to see if Pa Pa Pizzeria actually starts offering milkshakes. Don't get me wrong, I won't go there for my nightly dinner even if their milkshakes are free. The food is better at Garibaldi's, the guys are cheery and nice, and I like supporting the foreigners anyway (and before you claim that the Italian is a foreigner, I'd like to point out that the European Union has become a giant conglomerate that is trying to control everything from the social issues to the financial policies of it's member states; plus citizens can travel and work freely throughout the Union. As far as I am concerned, there's nothing different between a Texan in New York City and an Italian in Dublin, it's actually quite impressive what the EU has managed to do). I'm just trying to get them to bring down the price on those milkshakes, cause €3.25 is just an exorbitant rate that I frankly refuse to pay.
Anyways, so the "Meat and Potatoes" as they say. For those of you that don't know me personally, which hopefully will be the vast majority of my readers if this blog gets off the ground in the way I hope it to, I have recently moved to the Republic of Ireland; Dublin specifically. Hence the title of my blog: "Emigrant". I just finished my undergraduate studies and in a yearning for adventure and change I have embarked across the Atlantic Ocean in search of employment and a new life. I have the advantage of being a dual citizen with the United States and Ireland, as my father was born and raised in Ireland, and through some complicated maneuverings I received my Irish passport some time ago. With a citizenship to the country, I am free to stay here as long as I'd like and enjoy all of the liberties, freedoms, and opportunities of the Irish-born, in Ireland and the rest of the European Union.
My first two weeks have consisted mainly of me relentlessly scouring the internet for employment opportunities and badgering recruitment agencies from the common rooms of hostels. This has proved to be more interesting than I expected. I have made friends from many different countries, experienced the ups and downs of the tireless job searcher, and even got to do a little exploring of Dublin in my down time. Some hostels have been more interesting than others, including a two night stay in a place called "Citi Hostel" that I will briefly explain just because I need to get off my chest.
"Citi Hostel"; I refer to it as "Shitty Hostel". I was staying quite comfortably in a Hostel called "Isaac's" for my first three nights in Dublin. It was not the nicest accommodation I have ever had, nor even the nicest Hostel I have ever been in, but it had all the essential anemeties of a hostel. It was cheap(€18 per night, €9 if you booked online), located in the city centre, had lockers to store my luggage, a secure building, decent showering/bathroom facilities, wifi internet, and a cafe next door that offered a discount to tenants of the hostel. I really could not complain.
Much to my dismay, the All-Ireland Football Final fell on my first weekend in Dublin. It's customary to hold the match at Croke Park in Dublin, Ireland's largest and most historic stadium. Because of the large influx of people for the game, much of the accommodation in the area was booked solid. However, I stumbled across "Citi Hostel" and although the reception area looked a bit decrepit, it was right around the corner from "Isaac's" so I could easily move my luggage there and the price was in fact cheaper (only €15 per night, which should have been a warning sign). I did not have much other choice, so I decided to book two nights. By Sunday the game would be over and the nicer places would open back up again. I handed the woman at the front desk €30, and to my suspicion, she straight pocketed it. Come on people, no cash register or anything? At least act like you're putting my money in a safe place; don't just pocket it right in front of me. Then she promptly ripped, yeah ripped, me off a small square of paper from a notebook where she wrote down my full name, which room I would be staying in, and for how long. Not the most reassuring verification, but they didn't have a cash register so I guess it was naive of me to expect a proper receipt.
When I moved in I started to learn why "Shitty Hostel" could offer such cut-throat rates as €15 a night. First of all, the doors on the rooms didn't lock. This would not make me that angry except that some dude that worked for the hostel explained to me for about five minutes before he let me go upstairs how I would unlock my room. Apparently the staff is under the impression that the five-digit code system that they have on the doors is functioning. It's bad enough staying in a hostel and having to worry about the six or seven people that you are sharing a room with nicking your stuff, not to mention the entire building. I was carrying some expensive things so I quickly invested in luggage storage at the internet cafe down the street. The €5 per day cost of this already made "Shitty Hostel" more expensive than "Isaac's" all costs included, so I promptly returned to "Isaac's" and made sure to book Sunday night there. An interesting point I should mention was the attendance at "Shitty Hostel"; 140 people were staying there on my first night in the hostel. The reason I inquired was because they only had one shower, and I wanted to know the ratio I was working with at the time. I did a quick Google search on the bathroom to human ratio in some third world countries and was unable to come up with anything, but I would bet that 140:1 would be somewhere in the ballpark.
As with most things in life, the most intriguing aspect was not the place, but rather the people. At "Shitty Hostel" I shared my room with 4 Portuguese kids about my age, all of which were also in search of work. The Portuguese and I hit it off, they were looking to improve their English and were very eager to talk to a native speaker, and I was happy to entertain them and make some new friends in the process (Just a side note: I taught them that a common phrase in the United States' nowadays is "Go USA. Fuck Bush."; I know this isn't true, but I couldn't resist, and now the poor fuckers will be going around to every American they meet saying it, and hopefully offending a few Republicans in the process. Although with Bush's approval ratings these days, that phrase might actually start catching on.). Another of my room-mates was this Czech kid, who without provocation explained to me all of his beliefs on how an "energy" is inside each of us controlling what we do; I won't get into it.
The most interesting however, had to be Josef. Josef was a 50 year old German man that must of had roots in the Hitler Youth or some shit because he was one of the most jacked men I have ever met in my life. Even at 50 he was a straight beast of a man. Every time Josef entered the room, he immediately would strip down to his underwear and climb into the top bunk where he slept. After stripping down the first time, he started to spew angrily at myself and the Portuguese about how his wife had left him for Brazil and advised us to go down to the local health clinic to get a vasectomy, even offering to pay for it at one point. The strangest part was the next morning. I awoke early and sat upright on my bed reading "Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail: 1972", and quietly Josef arose from bed and dressed himself rapidly. As he exited I said:
-Take care Josef.
-Bye.
A simple one word reply was not what I expected from the exuberant, albeit negative, individual I had met the night prior. It was as if Josef was caught off guard by my greeting him. I quickly shook it off and continued with my reading. I puttered around during the day; mainly just walking around to local businesses and handing my CV to anyone that would take it. That night I went to bed early, anticipating an early departure from "Shitty Hostel" so I could check in to "Isaac's" as quick as possible. I was awakened in the middle of the night by a loud BANG, like someone had just dropped a tree trunk from twelve feet in the air and it had the misfortune of landing directly next to my ear. I frantically scrambled in the darkness to put on my glasses and slowly I heard the laughter of a fifty year old disgruntled German man; a full bellied laugh, but it still had a hint of sadness. One of the Portuguese kids switched on the light and we saw Josef unsuccessfully attempting, in his underwear, to climb up to his top bunk. Another loud bang as he tumbled off the ladder and his freakishly strong body hit the floor creating a crater the dinosaur's would of been pissed about. We soon learned that Josef was just a drunk, so one of the Portuguese kids volunteered to switch to the top bunk and we put Josef to bed; both parties laughing the entire time.
But anyway, none of this nonsense is even what I intended to write about. Remember at the beginning when I was talking about digressing? Damn I could never be a professional writer; there is no way I would be able to stay on task. So the reason I am writing this particular blog entry is to confess to the world a terrible manipulation of the local economy here in Dublin that I have been carrying out since my arrival.
At some point late each night I realize I am hungry and trek down to a tiny fast food restaurant near the hostel named "Garibaldi's". Two cheery Arab dudes run the store and the place is open very late; in fact I'm not even sure how late they are open. There are no hours of operation listed anywhere in the restaurant and I've never been awake late enough to see the place closed. I have this theory that the place is just open 24/7 and the two guys that work in the store never stop working. The best part of "Garibaldi's" is the food of course. They offer a quality, large slice of pizza and a can of soda for only €4. Can't beat those prices. Every once and a while I will also indulge in a mlikshake, although at €3.25 each they don't quite fit into my budget every night. Let's remember I'm still unemployed here. Directly across the street from Garibaldi's is another pizza joint called "Pa Pa Pizza" that seems to be open just as late. One night I decided to try it out, so I crossed the street and ordered the same thing as usual: One slice and a soda. The first strike against Pa Pa Pizza came when I was charged €4.50 for the same meal I was getting at Garibaldi's. There was a portly Italian man behind the counter of Pa Pa's who seemed to be running the shop without much trouble. I took my pizza over to one of the tables inside and began to scarf it down. Then I realized their pizza was absolute shit. Seriously, you couldn't even pay me to eat it, never mind charge me €.50 more than the other place. I threw away half the pizza and the Italian man looked puzzled and then asked:
-Something wrong with it there boy?
-No not really, but hey, ya know the place across the street offers the same thing for only €4?
-Yeah
He shook his head, seemingly disinterested. However, the next night as I was sitting in Girabaldi's peering out the window as I ate my pizza and I saw a square white piece of cardboard sitting in the window of Pa Pa's with "Pizza Slice and Soda €4" scribbled on it in red marker. It then dawned on me, if I could make Pa Pa's lower their pizza prices with one simple suggestion then what else could I make my over-sized Italian friend do? The next night I went back to Pa Pa's and ordered their new €4 special, forced myself to swallow it down, and then picked a conversation with the Italian owner.
-I see your prices are down now man?
-Yeaaa, we have to compete man. Business is down.
-You know what you should do to bring in more business?
-What's that?
He was leaning in closer to me at this point, intriguied by my expansive pizza business knowledge.
-You should get a milkshake machine, they have one over there and they charge €3.25 for each one.
-Do people buy?
-Ohhhh Hell yeah. They are like their most popular item. You could probably charge like €2.50 for each of your milkshakes and bring all the business over here.
At this point he started yelling in Italian back towards the kitchen. I promptly slipped out the front door and strolled back to my hostel. I was pretty proud of myself, I think he bought it. I felt a little bad about having to lie to the poor fool about the milkshakes being one of Girabaldi's most popular items. In fact, I had never seen anyone purchase one besides myself. Now I'm just waiting to see if Pa Pa Pizzeria actually starts offering milkshakes. Don't get me wrong, I won't go there for my nightly dinner even if their milkshakes are free. The food is better at Garibaldi's, the guys are cheery and nice, and I like supporting the foreigners anyway (and before you claim that the Italian is a foreigner, I'd like to point out that the European Union has become a giant conglomerate that is trying to control everything from the social issues to the financial policies of it's member states; plus citizens can travel and work freely throughout the Union. As far as I am concerned, there's nothing different between a Texan in New York City and an Italian in Dublin, it's actually quite impressive what the EU has managed to do). I'm just trying to get them to bring down the price on those milkshakes, cause €3.25 is just an exorbitant rate that I frankly refuse to pay.
What exactly is "Get Basted"?
Alright suckers let's get this squared away right from the get-set.
"Getting Basted", as it was so cleverly coined by myself, consists of filling a turkey baster with some form of concentrated poison, most desirably whiskey, and then using the baster to quickly and efficiently ingest it.
Oh, and before I leave there is one more thing: I'm going to try and pimp out this blog best I can so all of you loyal readers don't have to deal with the lame default layout, but it may take time. The web designer I got to set this thing up for me was a lazy-ass sonuvabitch prick. My bad.
"Getting Basted", as it was so cleverly coined by myself, consists of filling a turkey baster with some form of concentrated poison, most desirably whiskey, and then using the baster to quickly and efficiently ingest it.
Oh, and before I leave there is one more thing: I'm going to try and pimp out this blog best I can so all of you loyal readers don't have to deal with the lame default layout, but it may take time. The web designer I got to set this thing up for me was a lazy-ass sonuvabitch prick. My bad.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)