Jo-Jo Lapa

The Quik Stop market a block away from my home has changed ownership four times in the five years I've lived in this neighborhood. Usually, with each new owner, family members are installed behind the counter. I see the evening clerks several times a week, as I stop in to buy milk, beer or whatever. Sometimes, I'll learn their names, or if not, a little bit about where they're from.

About a month ago, the Quik Stop changed hands again, and a new family took over running the place. The evening clerk is a goofy character. Skinny and tall, he looks about 22 years old. Buck teeth, a big adam's apple, a Nepalese accent and somewhat of a naive "FOB" demeanor distinguishes him from other clerks who've held his position. He hasn't really endeared himself to our neighborhood like some of the other clerks have. I don't think he's mastered the basics of cashiering at an urban convenience store. For example, I've come up with half a dozen items, paid for them, and then have him look at me and ask, "do you want a bag?" Of course I want a bag! I've heard him ask people who've come up to the counter with a six pack of beer, "back already?" I may be projecting, but if I buy alcohol, and then drunkenly need more, the last thing I want to hear the clerk say is "back so soon?". Still, I like being friendly with my merchants, so I looked something on Google last night.

I stood in line about 9PM, with my (first and only) beer purchase of the night. In front of me in line was a guy in a Peacoat (sic) buying imported beer and American Spirit cigarettes. He looked a like typical Berkeley 2nd generation preppy-alternative Indian. My friend behind the counter asked to see his ID, and after he looked at it, started asking the guy what part of India he was from. The guy answered in a perfect Bay Area tone that his parents were from Trinidad, which is in the Caribbean. The Nepalese clerk made some sad "oooohhhs", and then said "so you never been to India?" After the guy answered no, I think I heard the clerk say, "too bad." Again, this guy isn't an expert at making his patrons feel good. The clerk looked genuinely sad that he wasn't able to connect with this American who looked a lot like he did, setting up what I had prepared perfectly.

"How are you?" he asked as I put my beer on the counter.

"JO-JO LAPA!!" I exclaimed, and the guy's face immmediately burst into a beaming smile.

"Jo-Jo Lapa!?! How do you know 'Jo-Jo Lapa?!!?"

Before venturing down the block, having recently learned the latest QuikStop night clerk was Nepalese, I typed "How do you say Hello in Nepalese?" into Google. Several results were returned, "Jo-jo lapa" being the most memorable. I repeated Jo-Jo Lapa to myself over and over as I walked down to the store, making sure I wouldn't forget it by the time I got there.

"So what does jo-jo lapa actually mean?" I asked the clerk as he took my cash.

"It's a greeting, like 'hello,'" he replied and continued, "Who told you to say jo-jo lapa?" still smiling ear to ear. I explained how I looked it up on Google having learned the other day that he was Nepalese. I think I made guy's evening by giving him what the guy in line in front of me wasn't able to: a little familiar homeland connection in this often intimidating and impersonal urban California culture.

Every time I walk in there from now on, I know I'm going to hear "Jo-Jo Lapa!" Fine by me.

Glace Bay MacKenna's

95 mph

I was cruising home today after another 12 hour day in the mortgage business. My new Infinity I30 was purring along. The music was blaring; the sunroof was down, and I was in the fast lane passing the sporadic 7:30 PM traffic. It ocurred to me that I was going pretty fast. Glancing down at the speedometer, I see I was doing 95 miles per hour. I didn't even notice. The car wasn't even straining in any way. The ride was as smooth as 45 mph in other vehicles I've driven. The Infinity is a true high speed cruiser. I'm anticipating a few speeding tickets driving my new baby.

My apologies for the lack of pictures, but as you can tell, I got my new (used) car. It's absolutely amazing. The ride is smooth, the stereo is better than what I have at home and its packed full of safety features. With a down payment, I got a great deal on the financing from a local credit union, so my payments will be very reasonable.

On the ride from the dealership back to work, I needed to fill it up for the first time. I stopped at a gas station in the heart of Oakland's Acorn district. I get out to open the gas door. It's locked, and like a lot of these new cars, it's equipped with a release inside the car somewhere. I start scanning the dashboard for the button or switch. I'm looking and looking, and I can't find it. So many functions, the thing looks like a spaceship control panel imbedded in polished walnut trim. Finally, I decide to consult the car's manual. Ten minutes later, I find the page that describes where the gas door release is. It was on the car door!

Buying a car

Above is not my new car, but an image I found on the web of the model I'm getting.

I fell in love with the Infinity I30 Touring Edition the second I hit the accelerator and felt that V6 (Automotive magazine called it the best V6 on the market) kick in. Vroom! It reminded me of the few times I've been behind the wheel of a BMW. The suspension is amazing. The interior is stylish, and the luxury features are well... luxurious (I'd never make it as an auto mag writer).

I don't have a pic of my car yet, as I'm still working out the financing, but I should have it by Tuesday. It's metallic green with a moonroof, spoiler, the works! It's a 2000 model with 80K miles on it, but whoever the previous owner was, they took good care of it. I've seen the dealership service schedule, and this car hasn't missed as much as an oil change in 5 years. I don't know too much about Nissan engines, but from the reviews I've read online, I can't go wrong with an Infinity I30.

SIDEKICK rest in peace

My old truck...

I feel like I've lost an old friend

My good wife has been on me for some weeks to get her car tuned up. She said it was running a bit rough, and I believed her, but whenever I drove it, it seemed to run just fine. We sort of put off her maintenance because of where we are financially right now as, to me anyways, it didn't seem that pressing.

Then the "Service Engine Soon" light came on.

What friendly verbiage for Chrysler to tell their Neon owners that their car is about to have major problems. What's next? A "Please, if it's not too much trouble, the car's not feeling so good," light? The mechanic first charged me for a new spark plug wires, and then as I was driving away, the check engine light came back on again. Turns out, the head gasket is blown, and they're going to have to replace it, remove the heads and have them checked for damage, and remachine if necessary. Estimated repair cost :$1000-$1200.

Worse yet, my regular mechanic had his shop sold out from under him. There was a sad note on the door of his closed garage stating the city of Oakland had taken his business away from him by using "eminant domain." They're going to build a big condo complex on the site where he's done business for 30 years.

While I'm driving my wife's car around, she's got my Suzuki Sidekick. I love my truck. When I'm BARTing all over the Bay Area, visiting CMD branches, I get this great feeling at the end of the day when I see my vehicle parked all by itself in a lonely lot. It's like I'm out hunting or adventuring or doing some other manly thing, and then, returning from my struggles, my faithful mount is waiting for me. Like it missed me. Okay, I'm anthropomorphizing, er, perhaps equineomorphizing would be more descriptive, but it's not unusual to have an emotional attachment to a vehicle. The Sidekick is the first car or truck I ever bought with all my own money. It has run well for several years, although I know it has over 300K miles on it.

As I'm going back and forth to the mechanic for my wife's car, she calls me to tell me that the Suzuki suddenly couldn't make it up the hill. She had to park down the street as the car mysteriously had no power. The engine ran, but it made the whole vehicle shake violently. At first, we thought it might be because I'd let the gas run all the way down, and then parked it on a hill. Maybe sediment from the tank had gotten into the fuel line. Just a minor clogged artery... a little bypass surgery was needed. My old mechanic recommended a colleague of his, and I had my poor Suzuki towed off to the "Auto Repair Master." It's still there. It took him two days to throw up his hands and tell me it needs a whole new engine. They can't diagnose how it happened, suffice to say there is no pressure in two of the cyllinders, and it's beyond hope of repair. Cost to repair: $3500 to $4000. I bought the truck for $3000.

I don't blame the beloved wife one bit for the fact that my car died. She only drove it a few blocks, and I'm sure the same thing would have happened had I been behind the wheel. It is kinda weird not being there when it went through its death throws. It's like entrusting an elderly pet to someone while you're out of town and having it pass away under his or her care. You know he or she didn't kill the animal, but its a tough feeling nonetheless.

To make matters worse, even the rental car company is giving me troubles. When I found out my car was totalled, I called Enterprise of Walnut Creek to arrange a weekend rental. We've gone a whole week now with no vehicles, and tons of stuff to do, including shopping for a new (used) car. They said they would hold their last vehicle for me, and that I should call back when I'm ready to get picked up. I called them after work at 5:15, and they said 30 to 45 minutes before pick up. I waited and waited, checking my cel phone every 5 minutes. Finally, after an hour waiting, I called them up to find they were closed. I called every other rental car place in town; all were closed. I called Enterprise national roadside assistance. I hadn't rented a car, but I was roadside, and I sure needed assistance! They were sympathetic, but couldn't do anything. Man, I was, and still am pissed off. Leaving me stranded after I made a reservation! When I'm done with this post, I'll be calling them, and the manager is going to get an earfull.

So today, I go and look for a car loan and a new car. I've never had a car payment, and in my new job, I get to see how car payments can effect someone's debt-to-income ratio dramatically. Thats why I'm looking for a quality used vehicle.

My next post will be about my new car or truck.

Locked my first loan.

Yesterday, on my first day back from our out of town week of training, I locked my very first loan. Locking is the first step in the arduous path before funding. Basically, locking is the customer agreeing to the terms of the loan and sending you their inital documets. Being brand new to the industry, I haven't experienced the pitfalls prevalent on the path to paycheck, but from what I've been told, lots can still go wrong before a lock to becomes a funding.

For one thing, she could simply change her mind. This deal is a refinance, and so there isn't the sense of urgency like there is with a purchase agreement. The borrower cashes in on the equity on the home while paying off her car and a few nasty bits on her credit report. She's also getting a nice chunk of cash to use to visit her family in Nigeria. She bitched and moaned about the interest rate, but then I found out that we're actually lowering her interest rate by a 1.5% compared to what she just refinanced for 16 months ago. Still, making a $250,100 (why the extra $100? Take a guess in the comments) comittment to a financial institution shouldn't be taken lightly. In any case, I feel good about my first ever real borrower, and if all goes as it should, I'll be earning my first real commision in about 15 working days.

It's taken a month to get a locked loan. I was told a month agot that I should average 7 loan fundings per month. I know I'm good enough at just about anything to do better than average, and so my personal goal is 10 per month. In May, I had zero, but that's okay. We didn't even really open until June 1st, and I spent all of May technically still in training. If I hadn't been at Ring Ring last week, I would have locked this loan last week. If I get 5 loans in June, I'll feel okay, because I'm only going to get better.

I've also been told I should get about a 10% funding rate. That means that only 10% of the files that cross my desk should turn into funded loans. My Nigerian friend was about the 11th.

Optimisticaly,

Joko

First tournament ever...and then the 2nd

I am writing this from my hotel room in Pasadena. Countrywide has sent me off to RING RING, our week of intensive classroom training. At the end of each day of training, we're having a poker tournament down in room 906. Last night was my first ever live tournament. We've had cash game poker nights at our place before, where everyone walks away with whats in front of them, but this was my first ever 9-handed tournament format game of Texas Hold em. No limit Texas Hold Em.

On the very first hand, the guy sitting next to me hummed and hawed, and I really got the impression he had no idea what he was doing. I had second pair with a solid kicker and a flush draw after the flop. I bet strong, he called.. well.. I went all in. All in on the very first hand.

I lost.

Yup. Busted on my very first tournament hand ever. I leaned back in my chair and tried to hide in the corner as it seemed like everyone was staring at the smart guy from the training class. He just lost all his chips on the very first hand.

We had already agreed that the first person to bust would be allowed to buy back in. That extra 20 made the payouts $100 for first, $60 for 2nd and $40 for 3rd. I played my next $20 very tightly and people lost around me. I recovered well and ended up in the money in 3rd place. I made both my original and buy in back. Despite what had happened originally, I am very proud of my 3rd place finish last night. One of the guys I'd beat had been in a real World Poker Tour even in Reno. He had won a sattelite tournament and was playing for a chance at TV and WPT final table or title. The guy who won was the guy who I had lost to on the first hand.

When I sat down to tonight's game, I jokingly thought to myself, "Now, don't go all in on the very first hand again". Tonight's Hold Em Newbie and I ended up all in again on the very first hand. A pair of 5's had flopped, and I had a 5 in my hand for the trips. Good kicker. Once again I was all in on the first hand, but tonight, I won. The exact opposite of the night before. Tonight, I won $20 on the first hand. It was a great tourney and I ended up 3-way with the WPT guy and the guy who came in 2nd last night. When I ended up head to head, the other guy had the chip lead. We played head to head for a while, both of us being very conservative. I started playing a little more agressively and it paid off. My heart was pounding like crazy as I realized I was in position to win my second ever tournament. I bluffed at few pots and he didn't call me. I knocked him out with a trips..and that was it... I won!!!

That $100 should cover my beers for the week.

Full Circle

Standing there on the corner of Larkin and McAllister, I looked at the two buildings accross the street with a vague nostalgia, a certain animosity and a new sense of accomplishment. I had come full circle. Not much had changed to the appearance of UC Hastings College of the Law in the 8 years since it became the site of my life's biggest mistake. It was still the same glass, metal and concrete as in years past. In previous years, however, it was hard to look at, like an old bully who had beat me up on the schoolyard. Now, finally, I felt like I could face that campus without shame.

I had just walked out of a meeting with the son of Nancy Pelosi, San Francisco's congresswoman and the minority leader of the House of Representatives. Sue, Tony and I were returning from our visit to the SF branch of CMD. Young Pelosi happens to be a sales manager with Countrywide. We had been talking about our business partnership which would involve deals totalling tens of millions of dollars. The office itself was on the former site of Stars Restraunt, accross the street from City Hall and the SF Opera House. I was involved with important stuff with important people in important places.

"Its a great feeling," I shared with my boss and coworker as I gestured accross the street, "That campus was where I went through one of the biggest disappointments in my life." We're really building a strong sense of "team" at my new office, so I had no hesitation revealing my emotions to these two. "Now, I stand here with two top notch mortgage professionals, knowing that I'll soon have more success and earnings than I would have had as a lawyer, and I really feel like I've finally overcome that disappointment. Its like I've come full circle." Sue beamed and Tony shook my hand vigorously, sharing in my optimism and sense of accomplishment.

Soon after I dropped out of law school, I received a gift from a family member of a "Big Dogs" t-shirt. It was basketball gear; something I'm always in need of, and a traditional gift from this family member. It showed Big Dogs playing basketball and the caption on the back read, "If you can't play with the Big Dogs, stay off the court!" If the person giving it to me had been there at the time, I would have thrown it back in their face. It seemed like it was meant as a horrible dig at me dropping out of law school. I felt extremely disrespected, but at the same time, I recognized that emotional depth hasn't been one of my family's strong suit, and there was a strong possibility that the person giving me the gift had no idea that message on it had so much personal significance. Its not like us to smile and give with one hand and then kick you in the stomach at the same time. I never knew if the shirt was intended to be the insult I took it as, or if the person simply saw the big dogs playing basketball without understanding how message would efffect me. I wanted to believe they were innocent as communicating through t-shirt slogans means a serious lack of connection. Although I suppose impersonalizing the resentment it created through Blogging isn't much that much better either. In any case, I stood there, 7 years later, on the site of the "court," with a sense of victory. I was on the court, running with the Big Dogs. Finally.

Almost

About 150 or so of us sat at round tables in a hotel ballroom. All of us had come to take the Jeopardy test. I finished 12th. Unfortunately, only 11 had scored high enough to make it to the next round of testing. The other 139 of us filed out the door, smiling and laughing, knowing that eventhough we hadn't accomplished our goal of being considered for Jeopardy this year, we had fun.

On the elevator of the way down, someone sneezed. I said, "What is gezundheit?"

The test itself was very tough. 50 questions which got progressively harder. They asked us not to reveal the exact content of any of the questions, particularly on the net, as they don't want to have to come up with entirely new questions in every city they visit. I'll honor that request. The seating arrangement at the tables was very open, in that it would have been very easy to have looked over at a neighbor's answer sheet at any time during the test. I didn't look for any answers, but I did happen to notice that a some of the other folks at my table weren't writing anything for some of the questions. Out of 50 questions, there were only 3 or 4 that I had absolutely no idea. I'm thinking I missed about 7 or 8. As we were waiting for the grading to come back, I discovered through our conversation, that most of the folks at my table thought they missed many more than that.

They read the names of those selected to continue. We all waited with anticipation. No one at my table was selected, and as I mentioned, maybe 7 or 8 percent of the entire group continued to the next phase of testing. They didn't actually tell us our score at the end, so when I say I finished 12th, I should say I tied for 12th with 140 other people.

I had fun and will try again in a year or two.

Wish Me Luck!

In an hour, I'll be heading out to a attend the Jeopardy auditions in San Francisco! Wish me luck!

In all modesty, I think I have as much generel knowledge (some would call it trivia, but I think that trivializes it) in my head as the average Jeopardy contestant. I just need to get a good draw of categories and be fast on the button.

The first step will be to pass a written test. 50 questions. I wonder what a passing score will be? If one passes, only then does one get to compete in a mock game, in front of the television lights - a screen test. From what I understand, Alex Trebek personally watches and chooses the constestants from the taped auditions. One doesn't even have to win the mock game, but it probably helps.

Another New Office

Yesterday, my new boss and I visited one of our CMD branches. My new position as a loan officer with Countrywide's Full Spectrum Lending Division is that of an Account Executive -CMD Dedicated. That means I specialize in borrowers with "interesting" credit and do so on behalf of our partners in the Consumer Mortgages Division (CMD). When one of my colleagues at CMD gets a lead that they can't qualify into one of their "A" loans, they are supposed to refer that business to the Full Spectrum Lending Division. If they do and we then fund the loan (we have loan programs for just about anybody), they get their full commission on that transaction, just like they had worked it themselves. I get my commission, and Countrywide gets to keep the bisiness within the family.

Its a good set up if everyone participates. The borrowers get their money. The "A" paper folks get paid, and I get my leads handed to me without having to solicit new business. For various reasons, however, many of the CMD loan officers are reluctant to give us their "B" paper folks to the FSLD. We're kind of like the red-headed step children of the loan world. Our rates are higher; much higher than a lot of these borrowers are used to. Another problem is that the CMD folks can still get paid under the table for their B paper loans they farm out to mortgage brokerages. Due to the relationship-based business model of the home loan industry, many of the CMD loan consultants trust their brokerage partners more than they trust me and my colleagues at the Full Spectrum Lending Division.

What we need to do is convince CMD that FSL can be trusted with their borrowers. Its kind of a weird set up. Most of us work in companies that have lots of divisions. My wife works at a big wholesale coffee roaster that also has a small retail coffee shop. Its kind of like her retail department not trusting the quality of the beans that come from next door at the roaster. It seems weird that one division of a company should have to work so hard to get the business of another division within the same company. Corporate has already told the loan officers of CMD that they have to use FSL. Its not so rigorously enforced because the "A" paper loan consultants are the lifeblood of the company, and no one wants to piss them off.

A lot of my time is going to spent in CMD branches, schmoozing the "A" paper folks. They'll ultimately form their opinion of me based on how I handle their clients, but in the meantime, I've got to build their trust. My boss is instrumental in this process as well, and she and I made our inaugural visit to my new primary CMD branch. The Downtown Oakland office of CMD will be the main office to which I am assigned.

The visit went well and they've already given me a big transaction to work on. Our formal introduction won't be until next week, but yesterday was a preliminary sit down between myself, the two branch managers and the #1 loan consultant at the Oakland branch. It went well. We all bonded. My boss did the full dog and pony show as to why FSL deserves the business we're already supposed to be getting, and I got to show my face a little bit so that people will get used to me. My wife even made homemade cookies for the branch.

A New Game

Putting together loans can be kind of fun. It's a numbers game. Increase the interest rate, and you lower the closing costs. Add points, and you can lower the rate. Lower the monthly payment by offering interest only, but then give up any equity building unless the price of the property goes up. What kind of pre-pay penalty period do you use? All these balances and tradeoffs. The possibilities are endless! I've always enjoyed puzzles, and thats what a lot of this is about.

I am still very much in training. I've got a lot to learn, but one of the nice things about our office is that we're brand new, and there's already business coming in. I've been the loan officer for half a dozen or so deals. No takers. So far, I haven't booked a single loan. Every one has fallen through. Given we are only expected to have about 10% of the files that hit our desks actually become funded loans, I'm not too alarmed by the fact that I haven't made any commissions yet, but it certainly would have been nice to have booked at least one.

Week One Completed

One week down. A career yet to come.

Except for that one summer as an intern at Zilog, this is the first time I've ever worked in an office. Its kinda fun at first. I got my filing system set up in my desk. I'm learning the computers.
I think I'm going to do well in this office.

I twisted my ankle hard yesterday. It was my first game in a week or more. Actually, I suppose it was my third because I played in three different sets of games at three different basketball courts here in the East Bay.

Jeopardy contestant test and audition!

Can you imagine the excitement I felt when I read the following words:
<<<<<
"PRINT OUT AND BRING THIS LETTER WITH YOU ? ADULT INTERVIEW



Congratulations! We are happy to confirm your appointment for our

Jeopardy! interviews (for our regular shows). To qualify for the show

you must take a written 50- question test. If you pass the test you

will then participate in a mock version of the game and you will be put in

our files to be considered for the upcoming season of Jeopardy! >>>>>>

This is it! Six months ago, I registered online at Jeopardy.com to be considered as a candidate for the show. Two weeks ago, they sent me an e-mail with a request to respond within 48 hours of receiveing the notice. That would qualify me for the San Francisco auditions. I didn't open the e-mail until 4 days after it was sent - well beyinfd the stated limit. I responded anyway. I remembered the date of the auditions as being May 8th.

If you've been following this blog, you'll know I've recently started a new career in the mortgage lending industry. As part of my training, I was to go to Boston for the week starting May 8th and continuing to the 13th. A week on the East Coast doing sales training. Even if the Jeopardy people had allowed for my delinquency in their stated time restictions, I would be out of town, and unable to attend.

We found out yesterday that the training has been moved for those of us on the West Coast. I'm guessing that when they looked at the airfare and everything else, it just seemed more logical to have a West Coast training week seperate from the East Coast one. Its something they should have had already figured out, in my opinion. I told everyone that I had given up an oppurtunity to be on Jeopardy for these meetings, and what horrible irony it was that now, I could have attended, but do to corporate confusion, my life long goal would be thwarted. Make no mistake, I've pictured myself as a Jeopardy contestant from the very first time I saw the show. Ever been with one of those people who know all the answers on Jeopardy and shout them out before the contestants? I'm that person. Still, it made for good office positioning, particularly in retrospect. Allen just took this info and started running with it. He told the branch manager the whole story about how I had forgone my dream of being on Jeopardy to attend the corporate training in 2 weeks. Sue then went on to tell the regional vice president that one of her recruits was being considered for Jeopardy, but missed his chance because of the change of schedule.

Today I got the e-mail I quoted at the top. As it turns out, I had remembered the date wrong from the get go. Its actually for May 18th. My Countrywide Full Spectrum Lending training will not interfere with my opportunity to try out for Jeopardy. I wil be at that hotel on May 18th. I will pass the test. I will do well on my screen test. Alex will pick me, and I will be on Jeopardy some time in the Fall of 2005.

Gil

The training

A New Industry

***Names have been changed to protect anonymity***

I landed at the office with the nice desks. Seeing those warm burgundy desks comforted me as I stood outside the glass doors. The locked doors. I had arrived 5 minutes early at 8:10 AM. Four minutes later, another guy walked up, tried the door, found it locked then looked at his watch. I walked up and introduced myself. His name is Derek (his fake name), and like me, he was starting a new job that Monday morning. The boss showed up at 8:15 as scheduled.

Its now 4 days later, and things are going well in my new position learning how to succeed as Account Executive with Countrywide Home Loan's Full Spectrum Lending division. I've been challenged mentally, mathematicaly and technologicaly. I think I'm going to like this new career. Remember, I'm not only changing jobs, I have to learn a whole new industry and job description. I'm going to be a loan officer. Having been a big ticket salesman or retail sales manager for 12 years, my comfort level with talking to people on the phone is pretty high. My impression so far is that phone skills are likely the most important part of the job.

More to come...

Sears & RoeBye Bye!!

I remember the human resources lady looking at my job application. It was 1991, and I had sold through much of my inventory of handicrafts that I had brought back from Indonesia the summer before. "Oh," the lady behind the desk said, "you sold at the flea market, you must know how to sell. We can put you in the shoe department."

That was how I became a commission salesperson. Fourteen years later, twelve of which at Sears, I'm finally done riding the cash register. Good Life. Great Price. Decent Job. Today is the first Sunday I've had off that I haven't had to specially request or call in sick on. No more weekend work. The irony there is that I've got some errands to run, and I'm not sure these places are open today. Never had that problem on a Tuesday.

My last day was a mix of sadness, elation and trepidation. I'll truly miss my coworkers and the laid back atmosphere we (mostly) had with one another. The commissioned sales associates at Sears Oakland aren't the cutthroat, highly competitive, uncooperative teams you find in many other stores. At times though, I did get frustrated when it seemed I was the only one willing to go the "extra mile" to make things right, even if it cost me my own sales. In any case, they'll do fine without me, and I will definitely miss them.

Yesterday was also my last day to get my employee discount. The TV I've been considering was on sale. It's a Samsung 42" HDTV-compatible (4x3) PTV . Yesterday, it was only $999 with free delivery and 1 year 0% financing. I woulda saved another 10% with my discount. Without a doubt, a really great deal. I almost bought it, thinking to myself, a year from now, I'll be making enough that I'll be able to pay it off with ease, even if I can't afford it right now. Then I thought, a year from now, I'll be making enough that I'll be able to afford an even better television. Much better to wait until I can afford the 54" DLP 16x9 Sony Vega I really covet. If my current TV was broke, I woulda bought the Samsung yesterday, but given that this is a luxury not a necessity, its best to wait for what I really want.

Tomorrow begins my new job.

Beginning of the Last Week

Today I went into work knowing that this would be the last Sunday I'll ever have to work at Sears Oakland. It was a strange feeling. Like the monday of the last week of school. A countdown to major change is underway. Today may in fact be the very last Sunday I'll ever work ever. Retail is the only industry outside of vital infrastructure jobs where people even work on Sundays, and since I don't expect to be back in retail anytime soon, I think I'm done with Sundays.

Major Career Change

Major change is never easy, and professionally, I am embarking on would could be the biggest change I'll ever make. For twelve years, I've worked for Sears Roebuck and Co., an entity which technically no longer exists (it got bought by K-Mart). For the last five of those years, I've been in the appliance business, selling washers and dryers for the last four. It's been the best job I've ever had. Where else can you make nearly $30/hr teaching people about interesting aspects of what they thought was a dull thing coming in? There's the thrill of making the sale. There is the confidence and fulfillment that comes from knowing that one is a real expert in your field. I know more about washers and dryers than any other salesman I've come across, and I'm really good at selling them too. The hours are great. The environment is not too stressful (provided you make your numbers). Sears gives great benefits, and with so many years under my belt, I got 4 weeks of paid vacation a year. Why would I want to leave that?

After doing my taxes, I got to thinking about how I had made less in 2004 than in 2003. It was just a few thousand, but its ominous for someone in their thirties to have a decreasing income. Commission rates have eroded over the years; store management goes on these hiring spurts where they flood the floor with too many people. A smaller pie cut into more pieces means less food on the Joko Londo family table. Now, the top management is talking about how Sears will have to reduce fixed costs to remain competitive. To me, this means commission rates are going to be cut even further. The handwriting is on the wall. The glory days of appliance sales at Sears are over.

At least once a week, someone would tell me I'm a darn good salesman. Occasionally, one would inquire as to why I was even working at Sears. Surely, someone of my talents could do better somewhere else. I'm not boasting, I'm just reporting what others said. As the K-Mart/Sears merger approached, I started looking. I interviewed with Verizon for a corporate sales job. As I chronicled in this blog, I visited job fairs. One company that I got a really good feeling about at the last fair was Countrywide Lending, the largest mortgage lender in the USA. I went through the process, got a second interview and effective April 25th, I will be the newest loan officer at their full-spectrum lending branch here in the East Bay.

I gave notice at Sears today. Everyone is sad to see me leaving. Again, Sears has treated me very well. If things don't work out as a loan officer, I know I'm one of the best washer/dryer salesman in the whole company, and I could always go back (losing seniority would suck though).

My biggest concern is finances during the transition period. My training salary will be roughly half what I average at Sears. I won't be closing loans during the first few weeks; heck, I may not close one during the first month. They're expecting me to close 7 loans a month. With about a 1% commission going to the loan officer, and the average mortgage in the Bay Area being nearly $400K, I'll likely be more than doubling my current income. That could be months away, however.

I also have to deal with the anxiety of a turbulent economy. If the real estate market collapses, no one's going to be buying or refinancing. So much more rides on the economy and interest rates, whereas people will always need washers and dryers.

Ideally, I want to make enough so that my wife can devote herself to her writing full time. She is somewhat of a vicarious outlet for my own creativity. If I'm not going to write the great American novel, at least I can support her while she does. I got my job at Sears when I was in college and I never really left. I think its about time I got a grown-up job.

A Crack in the Sky

I spliced together this image out of two pics...

It was a very weird cloud phenomenon, and although atmospheric effects never seen to turn out all that well using the middle-of-the-line cameras I've always used, this one turned out okay.

Pics from California

Ione, California. Its a small town, 100 miles or so east of Stockton. We went up there to do some research and take some pictures. I'm sharing a few on the blog. The pic below (sorry the foreground is out of focus) juxtaposes an empty vineyard against one of the foothills of the Sierra Nevada.

Here's the story and a pic of the Preston Castle.



The one image I'll remember most from the return home via Highway 104 was the sight of the Rancho Seco nuclear power plant. The plant was closed 20 years ago, but the cooling towers are still standing. Standing in the shadow of those 200-foot tall stacks in the middle of nowhere filled me with a feeling of dread. Just their shape has an iconic power. The news from Chernobyl and 3-Mile Island were accompanied with pictures like the one below. Its a very weird feeling to see one up close.

My interview with the lending company went much better, despite my best efforts to sabotage myself. The office was beautiful. It took up half the ground floor of a suburban skyscraper in Walnut Creek. Behind the glass walls stood 30 or so of the most impressive desks I've ever seen. These weren't cubicles; these we eight-floor long, beautifully polished brand new desks, each with a matching flat-panel monitor and computer and state-of-the-art phone. This is the kind of place one could do some real "officin"!

The place seemed completely deserted. Not a soul at any of the workstations. Of course, the very reason there were positions available is that this place was a brand new branch. The manager, was in her office in the back, and she sat me down at one of the terminals were I began a battery of personality tests. Standard types of questions. I followed the manager's advice and didn't try to "maximize" my results; I didn't spend a lot of time trying to figure out what the ideal answer was. I went with my gut. After all, I do think I'm very good salesman, and if after all these years, my personality is not suited to my profession, I've done pretty well in spite of that.

During the interview itself, I was surprised to see that she didn't take any notes nor have any type of interview guide in front of her. She asked me one question, and then we just sort of launched into a conversation In fact, I've never been to an interview where the interviewer spoke far more than the interviewee. I could barely get a word in edgewise! This lady could talk! She told me a lot about the company and what "sub-prime" lending is all about. Fortunately, the next guy arrived a bit early, and she left my interview to go set up the next guy on his personality test. This gave me an opportunity to collect my thoughts and mentally prepare my "pitch." When she came back into the room, I thanked her for telling me about her office, and then began describing why my skill set and experience would fit in well with the environment she had described. I sold myself.

On completing my missive, she noted that based on my verbiage, she was definitely going to recommend me to the next level of the interview process, a phone call with the regional manager. She said this was DESPITE the results of my personality test. Huh?! Despite??? Apparently, I scored poorly in relation to what they think makes a good loan officer.

I mentioned my self-sabotaging efforts. They weren't conscious efforts; I want this job. The first was the computer test. The second was the onions I had with lunch. I thought brushing my teeth and mints would take care of it, but when I got home, my wife noted my breath smelled bad. I did have to lean accross the manager's desk at one point to explain the values in the sales reports I had brought. I think she noticed. My third error was in not bringing the phone numbers of my references with me. I didn't think that in today's litigious business climate that anyone even checked references anymore. With law suits being filed for unflattering recommendations, most companies do not allow their managers to speak positively or negatively about current or past employees. I did call the next morning with the phone numbers.

We'll see if my experience and persuasiveness can overcome the stinky breath, bad test scores and lack of attention to detail. I can see myself sitting in one of those desks.

Disappointment and Hope

Near the corner of Jackson and 5th St in Downtown San Jose is a small storefront with a big sign out front reading "Health Insurance." This is the district office for UGO, the insurance agents for the National Association for the Self-Employed. Nestled in Japantown, surrounded by Sushi joints, Asian supermarkets and across the street from the Shisheido shop, the office itself is rather humble. After spending half an hour in their clutches, I've concluded the offer they're making future employment candidates is rather bold. Not in a good way.

On arrival, I was escorted into the "Conference Room." It was the only other room in building besides a common room. Sitting at a table were three other guys. They were dressed, like me, in the slick manner of professional salesmen. This would be a group presentation, but at least I wasn't being brought in here with a bunch of kids I though as I noted that I was about 10 years younger than the other candidates.

The office manager arrived and started discussing the company, what it does and its growth. Standard stuff. He asked if anyone in the room had experience selling insurance. One guy raised his hand and lamented how hard it was to knock on someone's door and tell them that you're there to talk about death. I guess he wasn't selling car insurance. The office manager then began talking about the costs involved in getting started in the insurance business. I had already gleamed from the company literature that this was a position for an independent contractor - you wouldn't actually work for them. You would be an independent insurance agent associated with their company. That's not what I'm really looking for, but I thought I would at least here them out.

The California insurance license costs $200 to take a 40-hour training class, and then another $190 to take the test and receive a license. Okay, I understand that the license would then be mine personally and add value to my resume. In all modesty, I'm a very talented salesman. In fact, I know I would be a significant positive asset to any company I worked for. I strongly believe that, and would expect any company responsible for my paycheck (regardless of the contractor/employee status), to believe that about me as well. If you believe in me, at least reimburse me for training I receive so that I can work for you. Doesn't that sound reasonable? I'm mulling this over, thinking that I'm not too happy with the offer so far, then they hit me with another one. After you get your license, you pay UGA another $175 as an "Establishment Fee." What? I should pay you?!? Isn't that kind of backwards. Again, I think as a prospective employment candidate, I'm pretty hot stuff. I think I should looking for someplace that would pay a signing bonus, not one where I pay them for the chance of selling their product. Utterly disgusted, I stood up, muttered a "thank you," walked past the office manager and out of room. The look I saw in his eye as I walked out was one of resigned frustration. He's the poor sap who had to try to hook these other guys. This was a horrible offer at best, an outright scam at worst.

One thing about professional sales is that there are lots of bad jobs out there. It costs a company very little to hire on sales staff, throw them into the field, and hope that they bring in more revenue. At worst, these recruits might convince some friends and relatives to buy the company's products, then they fall flat on their face and walk away. These jobs will occasionally be so bold as to ask for fees from their employees disguised as "training materials fees," or now as I learn, "Establishment Fees."

Today, I venture out on another interview. This one with Countrywide Home Lending. Touting itself as the leading provider of home mortgages in the USA, the position I'm interviewing for is that of a loan officer. This doesn't sound like it could fall into the category of "fake" sales jobs I described above, but one thing worries me. As part of what I was asked to bring today, I should recommend two individuals I know who I think might also make good loan officers. I was told to keep the diversity image of the company in mind when making that choice. This leads me to believe there are one of two things going on here. First, the whole thing is a multi-level-marketing (MLM) scam. The MLM company is another pot hole in the road of good sales jobs. Have you heard the good news about Amway? Second, they want to know what kind of people I know. Do you associate with people outside your ethnic group? That's the kind of people they're looking for. As it so happens, the two names I chose, Jamila and Damian, are African-American. After 7 years working in the Downtown Oakland S-Mart, I'm about as comfortable with diversity as a man can get.

We'll see what happens.

Insurance Salesman?

I'm heading off to a job interview this morning with the National Association for the Self Employed. They provide benefits, insurance primarily, to those in business for thmeselves. At the job fair I mentioned two posts prior to this one, their presenter did a great job making the field sound exciting and full of money making opportunities. The latter may be true, but insurance sales exciting? I don't know about that.

I used to think the same thing about appliance sales, and that was from a perspective of selling electronics in the same store. Applinances seemed boring. It turns out I was wrong; they can be interesting and complex, and teaching people about them is the best part of my current job. Would I also find teaching people about insurance products equally and surprisingly interesting?

I may be putting the horse before the cart here, but I just wanted to write a few things about how I'm feeling.

The Graphite Gazette

Metal Mistress

by Gil MacKenna


Chapter One:


Los Angeles, CA. 1993


Andrea lit a cigarette as the man in her bed put on his tight, black jeans. He had to lay there on the bed next to her to get them on, and she stared at the tiny ripples of stomach muscles beneath his smooth, tanned skin. She watched with erotic fascination as his small, but well-defined, chest rose when he inhaled sharply to get the zipper closed. She took a drag off her smoke. This one's name was Dave, and he was one of Andrea's favorites.

Dave turned, propped his chin up on his hand, and gave her a smile.  It was that satisfied grin he used on most of his band's album covers, and the one that was on all the posters.  Andrea briefly thought of the thousands of girls who stared at pictures of this smile, and dreamed nightly of the cute, mysterious guitar player who lay half naked next to her. He belonged to her this evening. It was one of the many priviledges of being Andrea Parsons, President of AP Records, and daughter of Andrew Parsons, founder and Chairman of the Board of International Media, one of the largest financial empires in the world.

"How long have we been lovers?" Dave asked, gently reaching for her cigarette.

"Ten years." she said coldly. Andrea didn't like to think of her rock stars as being 'lovers'.   They were fucks, nothing more.   They came here for her satisfaction, and because it was in their contracts.  She made sure that "twice yearly consultation meetings with company management" were a part of every AP contract. There was no 'love' involved. Andrea kept her cigarette away from his reaching hand.

"Shit, that's a long time." Dave rolled out of the bed and walked over to the liqour cabinet. Andrea liked the way his long hair fell over his back, almost reaching his tight butt. "Got any vodka in here?"

"Of course, Dave." she said sarcastically, "I sent for a bottle of the cheap stuff as soon as I noticed your appointment was coming up."

Dave opened the cabinet and pulled out a bottle. "Cool! Kamchatka! The cheap stuff tastes so much better."

Andrea quietly laughed at his odd taste; she knew he really did like the cheap vodka more. He liked it more, eventhough he now was rich enough to fly to Russia to get the real stuff if he wanted, thanks to her.

"Yeah, ten years is a long time." Dave was pouring himself a drink. "I'll never forget that night you picked me up. The Metal Princess in her Plastic Chariot. You were the only chick I'd ever seen who used her car to impress dudes."

Andrea remembered the Ferrari had plastic panels to make it lighter. A flood of images and emotions assaulted Andrea. That car had too many powerful memories connected to it.

"It was at that shitty little club in Hollywood," Dave continued nostalgicaly, although Andrea wasn't really listening.

She was thinking of her Uncle Paulo.

"and I still can't believe you were only fifteen! There ain't no fifteen year-olds driving two hundred thousand dollar cars."

Andrea turned away from Dave, closed her eyes, and tightly clenched the damp, satin sheets.

Uncle Paolo gave her that car for her fifteenth birthday, soon after she had returned from spending the summer with him and his wife in Rome.

"You were a real wild one, Andrea,"

There was a sound of ice being stirred in a drink, a sound Andrea associated with her alcoholic mother.

Mother decided that the private schools weren't teaching Andrea the importance of social graces. She still acted like a tomboy. She never paid any attention to how she looked, and all of the make up and hair products mother had bought her remained unused in her bathroom. The strange and noise-like music she was getting into worried mother to no end. A summer in Europe would straighten her out, it would teach her how to be a lady.

"You just sat there in that sexy car of yours, and watched us load our equipment into Stan's truck."

Andrea learned a lot that summer. She learned what it meant to be a lady, but a kind of lady her mother did not even know existed. She learned about power, how to use her money, influence, and body to get exactly what she wanted. She learned about marijuana, opium and cocaine. She learned how to drink massive quantities, throw it all up, and continue partying through the night. She learned how to fuck men, and how to fuck women. She learned there was nothing quite as sweet as a good, mind blowing orgasm. She learned how to look out for herself, sacrifice for no one, and take everything her position allowed her to. She decided then that she would not waste away in a big house like her mother, wife to a husband who was never there.

"Finally, you stuck one hand out your window, raised a finger, and slowly called me over." Dave took a long drink from his glass 'My father owns AP Records' you said, 'Get in. Lets go fuck.'"

Celine and Paulo were young Andrea's teachers. Paulo was thirty, ten years his sister's junior. His wife Celine had been a model in Amsterdam before coming to Rome. Andrea learned mostly from Celine, who whispered into her ear late at night, telling her to live each moment at its fullest. Andrea admired her beauty, and slept with her whenever Paulo was away on business. There was a never a shortage of young men, mostly actors, who wanted to seduce the successful movie producer's niece. Andrea went through them quickly, most of whom couldn't keep up with her voracious appetite. There was one man she wanted more then any of them, her uncle.


Chapter Two


Rome- 1983

Thursday Night after the job fair.

I am a salesman. That is my profession. In all modesty, I'm damn good at. People tell me that I'm good at my job. Customers. Its a nice feeling. Tonight I went to a job fair. I think I fared well. My current employer treats me well, but I've reached somewhat of a plateau in my earnings at Sears.

Gil the Account Executive... Selling financial services to individuals and businesses. I'd be good at it. I know I'd make more money. How will I know how much I will like it until I try it? I know I 'll always be a kick-ass appliance salesman/sales manager. Sears will always take me back. Its because of that, I know I can leave

Poetry

I remember the sky.
blue, yellow and orange.
I paused at the light.
Feeling like a schmorange.

thirsty with a headache
to the table for a banana
I hear Manilow far off
its the Copa Cabana

SimCity 3000

Another program on my computer that has me wasting a lot of time lately is SimCity 3000 by Maxis. This is the 1999 version of the famous PC game where you zone your city, build roads and infrastructure, adjust your budget and taxes and then watch while your city grows from blank terrain into a megapolis. Once the city is built, one has to maintain decaying utilities and deal with earthquakes & tornadoes. Fun for fans of civilization building games like me,

In previous versions, the city would morph. Builidings would get more futuristic looking unitl finally, after about 300 years, great colonizing arcologies would form and launch themselves from the tops of your buildings. You had won. Well, in SimCity 3K, thats not happening. Im in the 2300's, and things are just sort of staying the same. I'm wondering if this game will ever have some kind conclusion.

I think the secret is in the name of the game. Maybe I've gotta run this city into the 4th millennium before things start to get interesting again. I want my city to succeed, but the game is kinda boring when you're just replacing old water towers and power plants. I've become invested in the fate of the neighborhhoods, parks and commercial districts I've spent hours and hours shepherding. I don't want to just abandon my city.

I need a third computer so I can blog, play online poker and run my SimCity game all at the same time.

PartyPoker. com

I love playing online Texas hold'em poker. Its not something I've ever done for money, but I do covet my fake chips at PartyPoker.com. It's an addicting little game that involves using math and psychological skills at the same time. You also have to strategize with an understanding of the personalities of the players at the table. Like many Americans, I started getting excited about Texas Hold Em by watching the Celebrity Poker Challenge on Bravo and then graduating to the World Poker Tour. If you haven't seen the WPT on the travel channel, its truly entertaining television.

Right now, at 11:32 AM, I've had a morning off by myself and have been playing poker since about 10. Like always, you start with $2000 in fake chips from your bank, which the site keeps track of for you. At this moment, I'm sitting at the table with $53K. Right now, at the table, I've won over 50% of my total bank from playing 5-10 hours a week for the last 5 months. I could lose it all back before I stop for the day, but thats not likely.

Whoops.... lost a hand... now I've got 48K...

If you haven't tried playing Texas Hold Em online, I suggest you check out this site. Unfortunately, its not Mac compatible, so you gotta use a PC. Its a nice place to learn, Look for me in the $2k Limit Hold Em fake money games. I go by Joko Londo.

Wardrobe Advice

What is the ideal color of suit to wear to a job fair? Its going to be for sales professionals.

Drove to Ione and back

Pictures soom

My Marketing Research Project

I'm taking a course in marketing research at a local university. It's primarily for my own edification, but the themes I have chosen to vreate my final project on relate back to my profession. I decided to get some feedaback online, and I've been very pleased with the response of the general public.

Want to see my project grow?
Click Here

Waking Up

..

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ...SNORT...ZZZZZZZZ..



ZZZZZZZ.....HUh? Wha? Whathyadoin.. HEY!! Get that camera out of my face!!



Okay pookies...Take my pic... Just turn out the light before you leave the room.

I found these images on our digital camera while purging the memory card. I have no memory of them being taken. My Dear Wife thought they were cute, so here they are.

Undergrads

I've been taking a business class at Cal State University East Bay (formerly Hayward). Over the last few years, I've taken several classes at UC Berkeley and CSUEB. My motives have been mostly for my own personal edification, but it has allowed me to investigate other fields, at least from an academic perspective. I'm exploring a career change, but ironically, I would not have taken these steps if my current employer had not provided the benefit of a 75% tuition reimbursement for any and all "business relates" classes up to $5k per year. Its a nice way to continue learning at a big discount.

This semester's course has been an upper dicision undergrad course in marketing research, which I chose because it seemed like it was a combination of two fields I am alread trained in: sociology and sales. I've enjoyed the couse, learned a great deal, but I am going to try stay in the graduate division from here on out. Half the undergrads treat the course like its a high school class. They play video games in class. Read novels. Half of them leave at the break (Its a 3-hour, once-a-week course). My partner in our final project didn't show up to class last time, and answers the question "did you get my e-mail?" with "what e-mail?" Were my classmates and I this way a dozen years ago when I was an undergrad?

Will this thing start?

My blog has gotten off track. Like many things in my life have been, I took a nice small idea and tried to make it grandiose and huge. Once blown out of proportion, I didn't know what to do with the thing, and so I let it drop.

I've deleted the posts on my personal deterministic theology. The union of omnipotence, omniscience and omnibenevolence in the godhead will wait until another day. Blogs are multivaried, of course, but I've always approcahed personal narrative as something that should be enjoyable and fun, for the reader and the one composing. That'll be my theme here.

For example, did you read about this story? It will likely be a finalist in this years Darwin Awards.

The War Comes to the Store

I hate the war. The idea that my country is killing people who've done us no harm thousands of miles from our own shores absolutely disgusts me. We have no right to be in Iraq. We have no right to invade other countries.

Up till now, however, the war in Iraq is an idea that I've hated. It hasn't touched home. Except for the protests and how I felt after watching Fahrenheit 9/11, the war hasn't effected me personally. I don't know anyone over there. I don't think I even know anyone who knows anyone whose been over there. There's no rationing, or draft or any of the other trappings of war. Being a working class environment, the military recruiters come by the store from time to time, and a few months back, they convinced a guy named Robert to enlist. Robert worked in my store as the receiving/package-pick-up supervisor. He seemed like a mature, level headed guy, at least more mature than the average non-college-educated guy in his early twenties. He's been in the army for a month now, and he's totally changed. He came back to the store in full uniform today. I listened with disgust as he talked about how great the army is. He talked about how he'll sleep in his gear out in field, so "if any terrorists try attacking us, we'll be ready to roll out of bed and start blowing them away." (He said this!) More scary was how he talked about how much he loved his M-16. I mean he really meant it when he talked about how much he loved this piece of killing machinery.

More than ever, I'm convinced that the military seriously brainwashed the youth that enter into it. Its not job training anymore. Its about turning these poor kids into neo-con killing devices. This war won't be over anytime soon, and although Robert isn't actually a friend or anything, I feel like another Amercan young man has already been killed.

S-Mart

I woke up the other day to find the company I work for had been bought by another company. It was a strange feeling. After 118 years, Sears, Roebuck & Company was no more. I've been employed by Sears since 1992, so there was some trepidation as I read about the KMart-Sears merger.

I had a feeling Sears was looking for a buyer. The company sold off its credit division to Citigroup a year ago for 9 billion dollars. They own lots of prime real estate and the brandname value of Craftsman and Kenmore are tremendous assets as well. The stock price was floating along at about 40% less than its high 10 years ago. A brick & mortar store, Sears had shown an ability to adapt to new business modes, making the guy who built Sears.com into a profitable and effective online store the CEO of the whole company a few years back. An underperforming business with all this cash & assets, they were prime for takeover.

Me at Sears

Who would have thought it would be K-Mart? I haven't shopped there in years, but we're talking K-Mart here. Possibly the only thing worse than buying something at K-Mart is being bought by K-Mart! Plus, the numbers didn't make sense. How does an organization doing 15 billion in sales volume with 850 big stores and 1400 total locations get bought out by an organization doing 10 billion in volume with fewer stores? How can a smaller company "buy" a bigger one? The offer values Sears at 11 billion dollars. What happened to the 9 billion we got for the credit division? I know some of that went to pay off some long term debt, but shouldn't Sears be worth more than $11 billion? I suppose thats the whole point. When a company's assets exceed the total value of their stock, they are ripe for corporate takeover. All it takes is a group with enough leverage to make an offer. Thats where Lampert comes in.
I suppose I should give my new boss the benefit of the doubt, but there's something scary about this guy. If he himself is not a billionaire by this point, he's well on his way to being one. As the manager of a fund, he resuced K-Mart from bankruptcy, sold off underperforming assets and made the company profitable again. By rolling the K-Mart and Sears entities together, there are tremendous opportunities for either growth or more stripping of assets. Whats scary is we don't know Lampert's real motives. Is he out to be the next Warren Buffet and building himself a tremendous fortune without regard to destruction he leaves in his wake? Will he destroy Sears for personal gain? Here's a short article about what Lampert might do next.

Of course, Sears was well on its way to destroying itself without needing any help from others. Sales had dropped every year since 2000 while competitors were posting increases. Sears had higher costs per sale than other retailers, although recent moves towards converting the stores towards more efficient operations were making headway. The company that was the nation's largest retailer a generation ago was now 7th on that list. By merging with K-Mart, we're back up to 3rd again. Home Depot is second, and we all know whose number one. The 900 pound gorilla named WalMart.

The 900 pound gorilla does whatever it wants, or so the old joke goes. WalMart is notorious for squeezing suppliers ruthlessly. I've never heard that about Sears or K-Mart. Reports exist that WalMart actually pressured manufacturers to move their operations out of the USA to reduce costs. WalMart is a force for outsourcing jobs overseas. I recognize that a global division of labor is inevidble and beneficial. Its better for the whole world that things be made efficiently, but we are in a competition here as well. Our economy competes with others as players in a larger global economy. I believe if we lose industry after industry to other parts of the world, we will eventually suffer. We must preserve the industries we still do well in. For example, appliances are mostly made in the USA. WalMart & BestBuy are now flooding their floors with Chinese made Haier and LG appliances. Sure, you can get a pretty nice looking LG for cheaper than its Whirlpool, Maytag or GE equivalent, but how long can these other companies keep making in the USA before their market share drain forces them overseas? Does WalMart care? Hell no.
Will Sears/K-Mart care? Maybe. Sears has understood that you gotta play nice with your suppliers because their health is realted to yours. The Sears/Whirlpool relationship typifies this attitude. I don't think Sears would ever pressure an appliance manufacturer to move their production overseas.

The 900 pound gorilla must be stopped. I'm now employed by a 600 pound gorilla. Lets hope the 600 pound gorilla behaves itself.

The Changing Morning Light

I stumbled out of bed at 6:30 AM, and into an amazing sight outside the big windows of our living room. All the buildings were glowing. A pinkish hue reflecting off everything I could see. I could not see the sun rising in the east, but its effects were bathing my senses in an incredible light. I paused a moment and then took up my journal to begin my morning pages. I wrote a sentence and looked up. Things weren't quite as beautiful now. Not as vibrant. I looked down again to write another sentence, and when I turned back, the incredible glow was gone.

I missed it! I didn't enjoy it to its fullest while it was here! I was actually saddened by the changing of the light. The reflection of the sunrise on the city around me made me feel inadequate in my ability to observe the beauty of the universe. It was an instinctual, human emotional reaction to the disappearance of beauty, but it doesn't make sense to be upset at the sun for not hanging at just the right angle for longer than it does. A few moments later, a different set of shades caught my eye. Stuck by the variety of colors we choose to paint the concrete structures we live in, I realized the beauty of the physical world hadn't gone away. It had simply morphed. The blues and whites replaced the red and pink, but it was still beautiful. God was still there.

So like life itself was that one moment. The sunrise of youth replaced by a cloudy adulthood. One moment may glow in different ways, but all of its beautiful.

Rats on the Balcony

AS I start writing this, I realize that there will now be two posts out of a whopping 7 on this Blog that have to do with rodentia. Little furry creatures are part of my life, what can I say. Well here, take a look at this, a page made by my wonderful wife, Jasmine.
As you can see, having these wonderful little creatures visiting your doorway can be considered a responsibility. They are wild creatures, yes, but we have chosen to help feed and maintain them. Walnuts aren't cheap! Besides, who could resist this face?

Last night, we were watching "The Day After Tomorrow." It was late, about 10:30 PM, when I saw some movement over on the balcony. I saw two little ears sticking up out of a rodent shaped head. Squirrels at night? That never hapens. Squirrels curl up in little balls and sleep during the night. What was this thing? I looked again and saw a sleek body and long, stringy tail attached to this otherwise squirrel-shaped creature. A Rat! Yup, a dirty, stinking, disease carrying, babies-eyeballs-chewing rat! Like this one:

This was horrible! A rat on our balcony! Maybe not as bad as a rat in the kitchen, but terrible nonetheless. Unclean people have rodent problems, not us! Jasmine was freaking out even worse than I. Put the cat outside, she said. Insisting we keep the light on on the balcony (this would drive them away), she started to clean the apartment. Cleaning inside isn't going to do anything to keep rats away outside, but hey, if it makes one feel better. Naturally, we had to stop the movie to "deal" with this situation. If you haven't seen "The Day After Tomorrow," you probably at least know its an apacolyptic thriller about the sudden coming of an ice age. Last night was the coldest night of the year so far. Add the cold to the movie to rat appearing at the slding glass door, and it seemed as is the world was coming to an end.

But is it really all that bad? Why do we feed the squirrels and think they're the cutest things in the world, while cringing in horror at the sight of a rat? They both can carry parasites. They both live comfortably in trees in urban environments. I'm not the first person to think about this question, and there's one obvious answer: THE TAILS. A rat's tail is very useful to the rat; it may even be prehensile, I'm not sure. Squirrels tails, on the other hand are great for show. Falshy, bushy things, I've seen them use their tails to communicate with one another and us too many times to count. Squirrels know their tails are potent tools for manipulation. Their tails have also gotten them in a bit of trouble. Read this anecdote written by the Devil.

Despite the fact that I can intellectually grasp the concept that roof rats and squirrels are cousins and not really all that different from one another, I would never be able to feed the rats. Feed wild rats? It sounds inhuman! As it turns out, we have been feeding the rats. Jasmine has been putting out handfuls of shelled walnuts before going to bed so that any early-morning squirrel visitors would find food waiting for them. Sure enough, she reported, the nuts would be gone when she woke up in the morning. Something was eating them. We figure now that the roof rats have been making their way to our balcony and eating the squirrel food.

Should we feed the rats too?

Sho Ka Wah

I'm reluctant to begin a new post to this blog because doing so will move the "Anniversary Trip" piece out of the top position. Its not that I think that bit of travel writing is all that good, but it is at least attempting to be entertaining reportage. There are pictures. In that account, I described how wrong turns lead to Jasmine and I missing opportunities to learn about the indigenous Pomo Indians at Clear Lake State Park. My training is in history and sociology, so cultural tourism is an enjoyable thing for me. I like museums and historical sites. Didn't see any at Clear Lake.

We drove north away from Lakeport taking Hwy 20 to US 101 South. A couple hours later, we were ready to stop and stretch the legs and go pee. We saw the signs for the Indian Casino. I've never been in an Indian Casino. Lets stop there, I suggested. Have an iced tea. Jasmine was initially reluctant, but as we drew nearer she agreed. Maybe we could drop a few dollars in some slot machines.

The casino is on Hwy 175, just east of Hopland. The sign at the intersection of 101 and 175 says, "Sho Ka Wah Casino. Just Three Minutes Away!" We turned. Three minutes passed. No Casino. Three minutes? I hope they didn't mean three 1/60th of a degree of longitude away. I'm not sure how far that it is, but its been 5 minutes. False advertising! Three minutes on what? A race bike? There came a sing: Lakeport: 24 miles. We Left Lakeport 2 hours ago and we're 24 miles away again? Ack! Once again, I had made an incorrect driving decision. We coulda taken this very Hwy 175 from Lakeport to get to where we are now in less time. We did discuss coming this way, but since the road seemed a lot more squiggly, it would be a lot more hair pin turn stuff.

A sign at the Hwy marked the entrance to the "Cheap Smokes & Casino", a remnant from a time when avoiding state taxes on tobacco was more an incentive to visitors than the Vegas style gaming. Then the newer sign at the entrance: "The Hopland band of Pomo Tribe present: SHO KA WAH." Once inside, The Sho Ka Wah Casino seems just like any small Nevada Casino, except that there are fewer card games. No dice or roulette at all.

I had come to Clear Lake intending to learn about the Pomo Indians. The drive and companionship had been great, but no learning on this trip. I do know that slot machines are programmed to win a certain percentage of time. In Nevada,a state gaming commission establishes minimums for winning percentages. I wonder how "loose" the Indian Casino slots actually are? It sure didn't take those dollar slots very long to drain from Jasmine and I more money than we had spent on the entire trip up to that point.

Perhaps that's what the Pomo Indians finally taught me. Stay away from the Indian casinos if you don't want to lose money!

Anniversary Trip

Yesterday, Jasmine and I celebrated our one year wedding anniversary. We can no no longer be called "newlyweds," and we greeted this morning (albeit a bit blurry-eyed) with enthusiasm and optimism. Our second year should be even better than our first.

For weeks, we have been discussing where we were going to go on our anniversary trip. Places like San Diego, Reno, Southern Utah and Washington state were proposed and rejected. Finally, we decided it would need to be someplace close enough to get to as a day trip, but not so close that it didn't feel like we were leaving the SF Bay Area. We decided we'd just get in my trusty Suzuki Sidekick and let it lead the way. Follow the nose of the vehicle to wherever it may take us! No doubling back! Just go one direction and stick to it!

Well, that may sound adventurous and romantic but it isn't all that practical. My truck might smell like a horse on occasion, but the Suzuki can't really decide where to go on its own. It has to be driven. On the night before the adventure, we sat down with the AAA Road Atlas and looked at the map of California one more time. Up north, about 150 miles away, was a big smudge of blue with green around it. From my experience reading maps, this indicated there lay a body of water surrounded by parks. Perfect! That's exactly the kind of thing we were looking for. Clear Lake, it was called, and neither of us had ever been there. Without any further discussion, we decided that come morning, we'd head off to Clear Lake.


When morning came, I thought I'd better at least Google "things to do in Clear Lake." I found out a few things. Clear Lake is the second largest natural freshwater lake in California. No one knows where it gets its name because its actually not all that clear. It claims to be the best place for bass fishing in the state, and at least in terms of the total quantity of bass pulled by anglers, it is in fact true. The terrain is dominated by Mount Tenocti, an extinct/dormant volcano that geologists believe had active lava flows as little as 10,000 years ago. The region still has lots of geysers and hot springs, indicating that there's still hot stuff flowing around down there. Wow. Volcanoes in the Bay Area?!? This place sounded exciting! Since we weren't fishermen, and the volcano wasn't likely to start rumbling again during our day trip, I still needed to find something for us to do. The California State Park website was helpful there, describing a level, modest nature hike in Clear Lake State Park, which lie on the southern shore of the lake (it's the star in the map above). The hike boasted that it would teach you about how the native Pomo Indians lived and actually take one through the remains of an old Pomo Village. That sounded cool. I also found out about a Clear Lake museum in Lakeport, a town on the west shore. It was in an old courthouse building and also looked worthy of visiting. Great. Now we had both a destination and things to do once we got there.

What I should have done next was reasearch the best way to get there. It seemed simple enough, just past the Carquinez Bridge was a road called Highway 29, it went pretty much straight through Vallejo, Napa and Calistoga and ended at Lakeport. My idea was take this highway up, and skip over to US 101 for the ride back. Again, no doubling back down the same roads. Unfortunately, for large parts of it, particularly in Napa Country, Hwy 29 is not much of a highway. It's actually more like a busy city street. Stoplight after stoplight. Strip mall after strip mall. It was tedious and boring driving. Finally, we got into the city of Napa, and by this point we needed to stop. Napa is a very "touristy" area, the "Wine Country" bring millions of visitors. I thought their visitor information center might have some stuff about Lake County, but alas, when we found the place and took our first break, they only had stuff about Napa County. Sheesh!

One good map (even the one above would have helped) would have saved us a lot of misadventure later.

We did find a nice candy store, and Jasmine got a piece of fudge. Given that she later called it the highlight of the trip, I guess its a good thing I snapped a picture of it.
I ended up making my second of several bad decisions that day by ordering a piece of chocolate covered frozen cheesecake. Sounds good, but before lunch, it just made me queasy.
The trees were changing color, and despite all the old tourists, obvious signs of horrible affluence and other distractions which made us envious, the town of Napa was quite pretty. Here I am along a walkway struggling to finish off my frozen cheesecake on a stick.

The rest of our journey through Napa County was scenic and interesting, but again, long and filled with stoplights and lots of traffic. If October isn't the busiest tourist season in Napa, I'd hate to have seen the place at its peak. Again we just crawled along Hwy 29, past vineyard after vineyard. Better than strip malls, but since neither of use enjoy wine all that much, it didn't hold that much fascination. In fact the abundant tourists we saw in other cars, along the sides of the road and in winery parking lots seemed pretty homogenous: old, pudgy white folks with big hats and white hair. Wine lovers. We were "escorted" along our journey by the famous Napa Wine Train. The tracks parallel Hwy 29, and we passed this locomotive and were passed by it several times along the journey. Kudos to Jasmine for tricky bit of digital photography: shooting a moving vehicle from another moving vehicle.

Finally, Hwy 29 started to become the Bay Area Backroad we had hoped for. The pass from the Napa Valley into the Clear Lake basin is beautiful. The flora is quintiscential Northern California: chapparal on the sunny southward sides of the hills, with shady and cool coniferous forest on the northward sides. The air was warm and smelled great. A slight haze from our regular October forest fires made for spectacular rays of sunshine streaming through the branches. The road itself was well maintained and curvy enough to make the driving fun without making the passenger car sick. Regular passing lanes accommodated drivers taking the road at different paces.

Everything was going great until I made a wrong turn. If you scroll upwards to the map at the top of the post you can see where Hwy 53 splits northward where 29 makes a left. At that intersection, things don't look like they do on the map. Hwy 29 looks like a little tiny road whereas this Hwy 53 looks broad and inviting. I actually left the turn lane for some reason and headed up Hwy 53. A few blocks later, I realized my mistake and thought I could make another left down something called "Old Clearlake Highway" and intersect 29 somewhere on the south shore. It didn't work out that way. Instead we found ourselves travelling through the backstreets of the town of Clearlake. Mobile homes and rusty cars lined a sidewalk-less road riddled with potholes. In our urban minds, we had stumbled into the horror that is Whitetrash Methville, USA. Worse off we were hungry.

If you again look at the map above, you can see a strip of green along the north shore of the lake. Thats the southern tip of Mendocino National Forest. Given that we had pledged at the beginning of the trip not to return the way we'd came, that became our new driving goal. As we passed food establishment after food establishment, each unappealing in its own way, "Good Eats," seemed unlikely. "Get me to the woods!" exclaimed Jasmine. I'm sure any of the possible restraunts we passed would have been fine, but a fresh coat of paint and the words "First Street Bar & Grill," finally assuaged us both into stopping for lunch.

Out the window of the car, I took a picture of the volcano. I thought at the time, it would be the first of several. Turned out to be the only one.


Here's a hint for other travellers who might visit the Clear Lake Basin: make sure your vehicle is air conditioned. The temp climbed into the high 80's with little wind. We travelled up the East shore of the lake, with its southwesternly facing, it started to get a bit uncomfortable in the afternoon heat. A stop at the Tourist information center in Lucerne revealed that the National Forest is not really something you can visit. Its just trail-less forestry land without accommodations unless you travel another 50 miles or so northward. Ack! What next?

We swooped around the north shore and decided to head down to Lakeport. At least we could see the museum I had read about that morning. In downtown Lakeport, we emerged from our vehicle to be greeted by a horrible racket. As I had earlier read, Lakeport is also home to a major racetrack. There was some kind of motorcycle race this afternoon, and the screaming engines spoiled any tranquility of the shady side of the lake. At least we had the museum. Here it is -

Hey, what's that sign in the window??



OMG - What time is it? 4:30?!?


We went down to the lake's edge, found a nice park bench, and relaxed. Over the screaming of not-too-distant formula one engines, Jasmine put her head in my lap. We talked about our first year. Happy Anniversay, honey. Maybe these guys on the pier will catch a bass.

Is Bush on Drugs?

Gotta read this....

Is Bush on Drugs?
http://www.capitolhillblue.com/artman/publish/article_4921.shtml

Persuasive Pundits

It's two weeks from the election, and for the first time, some polls actually show Kerry a couple points ahead of Bush. As we discovered last time, however, who wins the popular vote means nothing. It's all about who wins in Ohio, Pennsylvania, Florida, Wisconsin and Arizona. I'd like to hear about a poll that projects a winner based on lots of polls in the swing states.
One thing polls do provide is hope or despair for the observer. Kind of like the score in a sporting match when its 3/4ths of the way through. It ain't over till its over, as a great Yogi once said. That's where I'm at this morning: I've got hope Kerry will win. After the debates (the 3rd one is tonight), as I'm sure was the same for many Americans, my stance changed in that I now support Kerry not just beacause he's "anybody but Bush," but in his own right as an intelligent, honest leader attuned to what most Americans actually believe and want.

Eastmont Mall

We have the most unusual shopping mall I've even visited right here in Oakland, CA. It's called Eastmont, a name it shares with the rather sketchy district surrounding it. East Oakland is notorious for being one of the most drug and gang infested neighborhoods in our great city, and this weird mall lies in the heart of it. Yet, in a way, it's thriving. You won't find a Macy's or Nordstrom there. Heck, there isn't even a Gap, Hot Topic or Starbucks. One finds none of the standard mall fare which makes all the other malls seem sickeningly similar. Instead, the marble floors connect 99 cent shops, beauty supply stores and the ubiquotous cellular phone dealers. The food court boasts soul food, authentic taquerias and Asian food in steam trays. Most unusual is the massive state presence there. Next to nail shops and check cashing places are outposts of the Dept of Health and Human Services, educational development organizations, child welfare agencies and the biggest police staion I've ever seen. Who ever heard of government organizations even at the mall, much less leasing half the available space to them? I was going there to drop off my cable box (we recently switched to satellite), as Comcast Cable is another of the unusual tennants to operate there.

I suppose it makes sense. Eastmont Mall is the dense commercial district (I've been playing a lot of SimCity lately) for East Oakland, and a mall reflects the economic needs of the community it serves. The difference being that these state organizations aren't out to make money, but to distribute it instead. In my retail industry head, this seems weird.

I've seen dying malls; places where there are more empty & deserted shops than open ones. There's one just south of San Francisco called Tanforan. Like Eastmont, much of the empty retail space has been absorbed by a big organization with financial stability. The highest volume Sears in the western USA makes its home at Tanforan, and they lease a lot more of the space than just the department store. That Sears is what keeps Tanforan alive. Whats different about Tanforan is that its been driven to the brink of closing by lots of new intense competition for the business of the more affluent community surrounding it. The space the government has absorbed at Eastmont, however, was created due to the poor economic environment of the area around it.

My question is whether its the actual crime or the perception of crime in the area which depresses the economic activity of Eastmont Mall? Based on the occasional comments I've heard from folks who are reluctant to visit my Sears store in Downtown Oakland, I suspect the latter to be more of a factor. A lot of ladies are reluctant to come Downtown because they're afraid, eventhough the nighborhood is actually quite tame. People come to Sears mostly because they have to. To get Kenmore and Craftsman, they gotta come to us. If we didn't have those advantages, it would be a lot harder to stick around. I suspect, however, if we suddenly moved eight miles south to Eastmont, we would not be able to draw the business we do now as a freestanding store, despite the addition of a mall surrounding us. Could Eastmont become Tanforan East? If I ran the place, thats what I'd shoot for.

Threats from Mind Controlling Rodents

A recurring dream I've had deserves note because its so weird. Twice now these little creatures have shown up in my head while I sleep, and I can't figure out what my unconscious is trying to tell me.

The first dream came a week or so ago. In the dream, I had been feeding our squirrels on our balcony. My wife and I live in a apartment complex with a balcony, which some of the local squirrels have figured out how to climb up to. Originally, we had intended to create a bird feeder on our balcony, but when the squirrels started showing up to sift through the birdseed for the sunflower seeds, we decided to accommodate them with their own feeding tray. Now, they're the stars of the show and enjoy daily refills of sunflower seeds, peanuts and walnuts. Some of tamer ones (which my wife has given names) will come and take the nuts right from our hands. So in this dream, I was doing an everyday thing, feeding the brownish/red squirrels of Oakland.

The squirrels scattered in fear when the telepathic rodent appeared. It was smaller than a squirrel, a deep rust color, with the tail and overall appearance of chipmunk. It had no interest in the food, and calmly walked to the middle of the balcony, stood on its hind legs and greeted me by name in my own head. Yes, the thing had telepathic powers. Weird, yes, but as occurs to most of us in dreams, bizarre things are taken as a matter of course.

"Greetings, Gil. You will now do my bidding." the chipmunk announced calmly.

"What? You want some food? Sure, no problem; there's plenty," I responded incredulously, "but you can't control me."

"No, Gil, you don't understand." continued the rodent, "You will now do exactly as we say in all things. We now control you."

"Why the hell should I do that? You're just a rodent. You can't really hurt me."

"You'll have to sleep eventually. There are millions of us. We can get into small places." the fiendish furry creature threatened, "We know where your family lives. You have older parents and very small nephews. Your wife would be easy to take out."

I don't really remember much more from that nightmare only that I was very relieved to wake up and discover it had been just a dream. This morning I woke up from another such visit from the mind controlling chipmunks. This time, I was at work. I had left my normal station by the washers & dryers to use a computer over by the cooking appliances. I turned around from the terminal to see the red, small, fiendish rodent once again standing on its haunches, sending me messages. Again it greeted me, and instructed my that I would be getting a tattoo of the chipmunk's symbol on the back of my neck in order to identify me as one of the controlled.

"No!" I objected, "I will not have rodent ink piercing my skin! You're bound to carry all kinds of diseases. Nothing could be less sanitary." It wasn't really that I was objecting to the tattoo (something I've been wanting for some time actually), it was the possible infections I feared. I didn't want to get a tattoo from a rodent; I had already conceded that the thing had control over me.

"Stupid human," the chipmunk said while turning to depart, "you will get the mark from the hands of your own kind." The chipmunk took off through the store, unnoticed by anyone but me. Brenda, one of my coworkers held a sewing needle and small jar of black ink. I noticed at this point that she already wore the little sword tattooed on her neck. She was a slave to the chipmunks as well. With a sigh, I turned and let Brenda go to work on my neck. I felt the little pinpricks as she manually created the mark of the chipmunks on my neck.

Again I awoke relieved that this was just a nightmare. Now its time for me to go to work for real today, slave to capitalist system...

Updated my Homepage

I've spent the last 8 hours sitting at my computer, working on creating a new personal homepage. Ack. Its been arduous. My knees and neck hurt. Everything is stiff. Now I'm sitting back, having a cocktail, glad that I've done something I've been meaning to do for 5 years...

Please check out:

Joko Londo's House

http://members.aol.com/jokolondo

Dream

I'm waking up from a dream. I was at my parents house, although it wasn't really their house. They owned it, but it wasn't where they live now or anyplace they've ever lived. It reminded me more of the house I rented in '92-'93 with Matt, Dana & Rob. In any case, I was walking through the kitchen and I noticed my mother was having problems with the dishwasher. The door wouldn't stay shut properly, and so the machine kept turning itself off. I looked at the latch and noticed it was tweaked, so I thought I could just bend it back the other way a bit and ... SNAP. The plastic thing broke clean off in my hand. Hmmm...

Mind you, in real life, I am a clothes washer and dryer salesman by trade. That should qualify me to fix the darn D/W, right? At least in my own mind it does. In the dream, I inspect the latch and see two extremely tiny holes which seemingly could be used to screw the latch to the frame. The screws may have popped out onto the kitchen floor somewhere, but a search of the linoleum reveals nothing. I did however, come up with a few random screws of various sizes that I pulled out of the bottom of my tool box. Actually, I didn't see my tool box in the dream, they were suddenly just there. At this point, my Dad walks into the kitchen. I explain what's going on, and he says, "well, you'll have to come down to the basement to order the parts you'll need." Still convinced I can jerry-rig the thing, I resist this suggestion and proceed to try to make these odd shape screws fit the task at hand, I'm doing my best to get these other screws into these holes, but it eventually dawns on me that he was right. The only screws that'll fit are the ones specific to this Bosch dishwasher.
At least I know in my mind that I won't have to venture into my Father's lair to get what I need. I have a laptop with a wireless Internet connection! I can go to partsdirect.com and get the parts I need just by knowing the model number of the machine. I'm much pleased with myself - momentarily. Two other fears crash down upon me. First, without an operative latch, there's going to be no way to open the dishwasher, and so all the dishes that are in there now will be inaccessible, thus I'm depriving my family from important tableware. Secondly, I think to myself that I may have stripped the inside threads of these screwholes, ruining them. Its about here that I wake up...

What does this dream mean? The dishwasher is obviously my relationship to work. I know what to do, but that doesn't prevent me from messing it up. The dishes are my future family. I can't get at them because I don't make enough money. The screws show that I always try to do things my way, and can be quite stubborn about it. Fine when it works, but sometimes disastrous when things go wrong. My relationship with my father in the dream is very much like my relationship with my father in real life. Something I'll go into more later.

Gil

The start of the journey

Ahem.. ahem... Is this thing on? Testing!! Checkkkkk! Syballance.. syballance..

Okay, thus begins my first foray into blogging. I apprach this online journal not without experience, however. Somewhere out there are my journals, which I kept from 1986 to 1996. Nearly two thousand pages in several tomes; all of which disappeared at 612 Broderick St in SF. My future wife and I lived there for several years. Somehow, my journals vanished during that time.

I call the blog "Thirst" after a personal belief I have in why suffering exists in the world. I happen to be of the opinion that there is an all-powerful, all-loving, all-knowing God out there who has a plan for creation. I'm a theological determinist. The problem is how does one rectify an omnipotent, omniscient and omnibenevolent God with genocide, famine, racism and oppression? Again, I don't believe in free will, which is just an illusion.

Think about the following: The glass of lemonade tastes much better to the person who is dying of thirst than to one who has just drank.

Humanity has been made to suffer so profoundly in our time, so much "evil" exists in our time because God is making us "thirsty" for something else. We've been allowed to stray from universal oneness for a time in order to bring about the profound changes in our physical world we around us. Without secular individualism, there would be no modern capitalism. Without capitalim, no Industrial Revolution, and then no technology and you would not be reading these words right now. Now, we're being made "thirsty" to return to where we once were, and some cultures never left - communal oneness with each other and God.

Camping in the Living Room

Camping in the Living Room:

http://members.aol.com/jokolondo/camping.html

Downtown Oakland

Downtown Oakland Tribute page:

Come on in
and take a look at my neighborhood, Downtown Oakland.