The long, tedious and stressful few month as an illegal migrant worker are coming to an end. The bureaucracy in this country moves at the pace of frozen molasses, but that's a topic for an entirely different day. One of the final steps in the process of proving I'm fit for citizenry in Slovakia is to ensure I don't have any highly communicable diseases.
This late stage medical exam omits the fact that I've been here already for 90 days. If I am in fact unwell, it is most likely because I caught something indigenous to the area. Probably from one of the local "kebab engineers." All of whom fail to use gloves (I'll touch more on glove misuse later) when handling food, money and their burning cigarettes. If though, I was in fact sick when I arrived, I have had three months to cough, spit and sneeze my infection all around the country. Regardless of the obvious faults with the system, such are the hoops I have to jump through.
At 6:50 am I got to where I thought, was the Dr.'s office. I quickly realized I didn't have a clue. I promptly swallowed my pride and asked people for help. No one seemed to know where the address was. The poor quality of the street signs here is impressive. Eventually I got a nurse-looking lady at a nearby hospital to point me in the right direction. She confused "left" with "right" though and added another 20 minutes to my pointless meander around a one block radius.
The waiting room furniture was reminiscent of the Foreman's basement in "That 70's Show." I gave the smiling lady at the desk my passport. She gave me a small bottle I was to fill, with what she called "YOU-REEN!". Her smile, along with the bright, sky-blue walls and matching drapes made me feel weird but comfortable.
Throughout the whole ordeal I didn't see a box, let alone a pair, of latex gloves. I was however, impressed with the speed of the procedures. I guess doctors are able to see more patients when they don't have the hassle of washing their hands or donning those pesky gloves. I bled on the bare hands of the lady who took my blood. I watched her put my used needle into an empty 2L bottle of Sprite. I had to get an X-ray in another building. The X-Ray technician told me to undress. I wondered "What kind of X-Ray is this?." I looked around the dim, eerie room. My shirt was off. The X-ray equipment looked like a torture device that only the Iron Curtain could produce. I started to undo my belt. The technician stopped me. It turns out it was only for my lungs, to see if I have TB. Thank goodness. Nonetheless, two more photos of my lungs and I would probably be on par with those Chernobyl kids, as far as radiation exposure goes, given that dodgy machinery. Was that analogy too far? Don't answer that.
I stepped onto the street an hour later. Despite being 200 Euro less liquid than when I woke up, I felt good. It might have been because of my pristine blood pressure reading of 120/80; but, I think more likely was the sense of autonomy I felt. The prevalence of English here is really low. There is no way I would have found the right building without asking for help. I guess I could have better prepared for the adventure. But in the end I think I floundered and doggy-paddled a bit when I could have sank.
What I'm hearing right now.
UPDATE: I didn't realize the severity of the Chernobyl disaster. Definitely crossed the line. If you're still looking for distractions from work I recommend you educate yourselves.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Dakujem
It's pronounced something like "dak-wee-em." It means thank you.
I'm ironing, blogging and watching a Discovery Channel show about saving the planet. Imagine how much I could get done if I had a personal robot assistant. Anyways, these science nerds on the boob tube are trying to use salt crystals to make clouds more reflective, to curb global warming. To me, it sounds like a slamdunk for innovation. I guess the environment might benefit too.
You see friends, unless your name is Jiash Wu, you don't really care about the green movement. Nobody cares about the environment. The faceless mobs care about trends and feeling self-righteous. They care about cool ideas, and amassing wealth. We care about ourselves -I mean they care about themselves.
From what I can gather, economics is about people maximizing their utility. I think it's all fair and well to have opinions and desires for change. I think you can probably get a lot closer to seeing such said hopes realized, if only you are aware of what the crowd is doing. Whether it's to forecast your next move, or insinuate yourself amongst them, you cannot be blind to where the herd is going, or how it is getting there. Paying regard, you'll do infinitely better than just obnoxiously sticking it to the man and refusing to see the world for what it is.
A personal anecdote that comes to mind was the green-ovations that we did for Orientation week 2008 at Queen's. Aside from cutting bottled water use in a giant way (admittedly it still has a long way to go) and other grassroots initiatives we challenged the corporate world to sponsor our green shift. We didn't judge because of how people acted, we offered them an opportunity to contribute to something important, a great cause that they could feel good about (read: we were desperately begging for their copious sums of money). At the end of the day though, to make it work, we had to be aware of what our sponsors wanted and find a way to provide them with that, at benefit to us. We aligned our needs with the goals of our sponsors. I also had the privilege of working with a lot of smart people who worked very hard to complete that project.
Thanks for reading.
I'm ironing, blogging and watching a Discovery Channel show about saving the planet. Imagine how much I could get done if I had a personal robot assistant. Anyways, these science nerds on the boob tube are trying to use salt crystals to make clouds more reflective, to curb global warming. To me, it sounds like a slamdunk for innovation. I guess the environment might benefit too.
You see friends, unless your name is Jiash Wu, you don't really care about the green movement. Nobody cares about the environment. The faceless mobs care about trends and feeling self-righteous. They care about cool ideas, and amassing wealth. We care about ourselves -I mean they care about themselves.
From what I can gather, economics is about people maximizing their utility. I think it's all fair and well to have opinions and desires for change. I think you can probably get a lot closer to seeing such said hopes realized, if only you are aware of what the crowd is doing. Whether it's to forecast your next move, or insinuate yourself amongst them, you cannot be blind to where the herd is going, or how it is getting there. Paying regard, you'll do infinitely better than just obnoxiously sticking it to the man and refusing to see the world for what it is.
A personal anecdote that comes to mind was the green-ovations that we did for Orientation week 2008 at Queen's. Aside from cutting bottled water use in a giant way (admittedly it still has a long way to go) and other grassroots initiatives we challenged the corporate world to sponsor our green shift. We didn't judge because of how people acted, we offered them an opportunity to contribute to something important, a great cause that they could feel good about (read: we were desperately begging for their copious sums of money). At the end of the day though, to make it work, we had to be aware of what our sponsors wanted and find a way to provide them with that, at benefit to us. We aligned our needs with the goals of our sponsors. I also had the privilege of working with a lot of smart people who worked very hard to complete that project.
Thanks for reading.
Monday, August 17, 2009
BACK IN THE GAME
My hangover having long left me, I am free to return to exerting my tele-dominance over pharmaceutical executives the world over. While my afternoon might have been a coffee fueled rocket ship to the moon, my morning was still significant progress in the right direction. I had begun to apply meaning to my work to try and route the apathy. Beyond the simple monetary rewards equated with hard work, as is the case given my employment contract, I tried to define what it meant to make money. Whether it was being able to travel and do cool or stuff or just be able to Make It Rain, [so to speak] every once in awhile.
By some God-bestowed brushstroke of luck I managed to close some business this afternoon. It was a surprise. At the time I wasn't doing anything related to that particular client, I was reading an article or looking for a lead or something. Then I got this e-mail worth a few thousand Euro. Out of nowhere. Awesome.
It reinforced my desires to work hard. It felt like I didn't deserve it, but I know it's the result of much toil by "Past Jeff." It also reminded me how good it feels to win. The last three hours of my day were extremely productive, despite the heavy pizza lunch. My appetite for victory was wet.
In this job I've learned that logic never beats emotions. It should have been obvious, given my previous interactions with the female brain, but it's not. Even if we think about it logically; explain it to ourselves. The deep-seeded emotion, the fear of failure, the humble nature -your character- that which guides your decisions will not succumb to logic and reason. Anxiety, habits and fear are overcome much more quickly by brash and audacious action than the most robust of justifications. If you want to do it, you have to do it now. Then do it again. Repeat (x 3208947202). When it's a hard thing to do, no matter how sound your argument, if you really want to believe it and live it you have to prove it for yourself.
I still think success=failure + persistence. That makes persistence a pretty big part of the equation. One of the next steps on the path will be to figure out how to inspire maximum grit.
By some God-bestowed brushstroke of luck I managed to close some business this afternoon. It was a surprise. At the time I wasn't doing anything related to that particular client, I was reading an article or looking for a lead or something. Then I got this e-mail worth a few thousand Euro. Out of nowhere. Awesome.
It reinforced my desires to work hard. It felt like I didn't deserve it, but I know it's the result of much toil by "Past Jeff." It also reminded me how good it feels to win. The last three hours of my day were extremely productive, despite the heavy pizza lunch. My appetite for victory was wet.
In this job I've learned that logic never beats emotions. It should have been obvious, given my previous interactions with the female brain, but it's not. Even if we think about it logically; explain it to ourselves. The deep-seeded emotion, the fear of failure, the humble nature -your character- that which guides your decisions will not succumb to logic and reason. Anxiety, habits and fear are overcome much more quickly by brash and audacious action than the most robust of justifications. If you want to do it, you have to do it now. Then do it again. Repeat (x 3208947202). When it's a hard thing to do, no matter how sound your argument, if you really want to believe it and live it you have to prove it for yourself.
I still think success=failure + persistence. That makes persistence a pretty big part of the equation. One of the next steps on the path will be to figure out how to inspire maximum grit.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
IKEA Slovensko
Sarp is in Istanbul, for the next few weeks. I have the flat to myself. I've been showering with the door open and playing ridiculous music at high volume.
Feeling oddly enabled I made the journey to Ikea yesterday. No one told me that the bus ride to our favourite Swedish superstore doubled as the hot-mom express. My arrival confirmed that indeed, I had arrived at a veritable MILF Mecca. I enjoyed my trip to the store. I made a few purchases. Small, yet necessary. Ones that will contribute much needed value to my life around the house. Especially over time. A period from now, life without them will become unfathomable. I bought a french press, garbage can and pillow. If I stoked your curiousity.
The arrows on the floor helped me feel my way through the labyrinth of value pricing. It was immediately apparent that the cheap food wasn't saved just for the Ottawa location. 30 cent hot dogs tempted me. I use the word tempt very generously, in this instance. A few differences did jump out, however. That's why the trip was so funny. It was a hilarious twist on something I was familiar with. The employee section of the parking lot had barbed wire fences around it and STOCKHOLM brand beer was available in a combo with the aforementioned offal tubes.
This morning I ran to the local "Billa" grocery store to get a few essentials. Sunflower oil, milk and butter. If you must know. The cashier I picked was an old lady. Usually a terrible choice. She moved quick, a lot faster than the sluggish pace I had come to expect from her demographic of item scanners. She tried to talk to me. I held my own. She smiled; I was surprised.
Feeling oddly enabled I made the journey to Ikea yesterday. No one told me that the bus ride to our favourite Swedish superstore doubled as the hot-mom express. My arrival confirmed that indeed, I had arrived at a veritable MILF Mecca. I enjoyed my trip to the store. I made a few purchases. Small, yet necessary. Ones that will contribute much needed value to my life around the house. Especially over time. A period from now, life without them will become unfathomable. I bought a french press, garbage can and pillow. If I stoked your curiousity.
The arrows on the floor helped me feel my way through the labyrinth of value pricing. It was immediately apparent that the cheap food wasn't saved just for the Ottawa location. 30 cent hot dogs tempted me. I use the word tempt very generously, in this instance. A few differences did jump out, however. That's why the trip was so funny. It was a hilarious twist on something I was familiar with. The employee section of the parking lot had barbed wire fences around it and STOCKHOLM brand beer was available in a combo with the aforementioned offal tubes.
This morning I ran to the local "Billa" grocery store to get a few essentials. Sunflower oil, milk and butter. If you must know. The cashier I picked was an old lady. Usually a terrible choice. She moved quick, a lot faster than the sluggish pace I had come to expect from her demographic of item scanners. She tried to talk to me. I held my own. She smiled; I was surprised.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
The Good and the Bad
I was going to link some interesting Slovak news articles. Instead, I found a way to insert a widget on the side that does it for me. I'M A KING IN THIS TECH GAME, evidently. Please peruse through them to see what's going on in this faraway land. Recent highlights include a crashing GDP, a deadly mining disaster and a scathing review of Bruno. Bruno just came to theatre here.
Thursday was probably the worst day of my life. Allow me to explain. It's all derived, you see, from a night of irresponsible intoxication, the evening prior. Weekday hangovers are a cardinal sin when you're worried about productivity and "Advancing Your Swagger", two things I hold in the utmost regard. In my defense, it was a work function, and my boss was the one feeding me glass after glass of whiskey, simultaneously pressuring me to put my fingers to the keys on a conveniently located piano. To make matters worse, the next-morning shower, which I was counting on to give me a pot-shot at saving the day, didn't have any water. Yup, I turned on the tap and no water came out. I'm like, "WTF, FML" and that sort of thing. I limped to work with puffy eyes, exuding a smell of whiskey, second hand smoke and shame -rivaled only by a Hull Casino smoking room. My head echoed with a cacophony of phrases like: "I am too hungover for this shit."
Friday things went a lot better. I managed to score a shower and a good night of sleep. At lunchtime I got my fattest envelope of cash yet. It reminded me that working hard was worth it. But for whatever reason, motivation has been a whore these last few weeks. I'm not sure if the environment is wearing on me, the product has me discouraged or there is just no end of the month urgency yet. I'm hoping it's the last option. I think this terrible hangover experience was something of a catalyst that will catapult me back to exceptional levels of quality output and work.
The same dilemma plagued me at school. I need to be really busy to be busy. I can give myself fake deadlines, but I know they are fake. There's no sense of urgency. It's not that I lack copious amounts of future thought. It's that I know I have more than enough time. Solutions on this motivation problem to come...
UPDATE: My intake of Nutella is shameful.
Thursday was probably the worst day of my life. Allow me to explain. It's all derived, you see, from a night of irresponsible intoxication, the evening prior. Weekday hangovers are a cardinal sin when you're worried about productivity and "Advancing Your Swagger", two things I hold in the utmost regard. In my defense, it was a work function, and my boss was the one feeding me glass after glass of whiskey, simultaneously pressuring me to put my fingers to the keys on a conveniently located piano. To make matters worse, the next-morning shower, which I was counting on to give me a pot-shot at saving the day, didn't have any water. Yup, I turned on the tap and no water came out. I'm like, "WTF, FML" and that sort of thing. I limped to work with puffy eyes, exuding a smell of whiskey, second hand smoke and shame -rivaled only by a Hull Casino smoking room. My head echoed with a cacophony of phrases like: "I am too hungover for this shit."
Friday things went a lot better. I managed to score a shower and a good night of sleep. At lunchtime I got my fattest envelope of cash yet. It reminded me that working hard was worth it. But for whatever reason, motivation has been a whore these last few weeks. I'm not sure if the environment is wearing on me, the product has me discouraged or there is just no end of the month urgency yet. I'm hoping it's the last option. I think this terrible hangover experience was something of a catalyst that will catapult me back to exceptional levels of quality output and work.
The same dilemma plagued me at school. I need to be really busy to be busy. I can give myself fake deadlines, but I know they are fake. There's no sense of urgency. It's not that I lack copious amounts of future thought. It's that I know I have more than enough time. Solutions on this motivation problem to come...
UPDATE: My intake of Nutella is shameful.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Open Letter
Dear Twitter,
I know you've become really popular lately, and it's probably put a lot more stress on you than you were used to. But get your shit together, please. These increasingly frequent blackouts are killing me. Your platform and success are based on short and erratic messaging, under the guise of "microblogging." My social networking game is being crippled. Your poor accessibility is rivaled only by Slovak infrastructure (I once had to lift a girl in a wheelchair onto a bus).
Regards,
I'm going to watch a show about bombing the southern states with trees to re-grow forests. I love Discovery Channel.
I know you've become really popular lately, and it's probably put a lot more stress on you than you were used to. But get your shit together, please. These increasingly frequent blackouts are killing me. Your platform and success are based on short and erratic messaging, under the guise of "microblogging." My social networking game is being crippled. Your poor accessibility is rivaled only by Slovak infrastructure (I once had to lift a girl in a wheelchair onto a bus).
Regards,
I'm going to watch a show about bombing the southern states with trees to re-grow forests. I love Discovery Channel.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Back at It
Saturday, in the spirit of National Violence Against Roma Day Mike defended my honour by throwing an idle cup of water into the face of an aggressive gypsy. Only once the aforementioned destitute member of society hacked a lugie at me after we refused to buy his sub par magazine. Luckily I'm dodgy as hell and managed to evade the spit missile. Other than that our weekend was pretty standard, by very high standards. If you know what I mean.
It's nice to share my new world with someone who grew up with me. And sort of sad to be alone again. I get the idea that Mike was a little shocked at my newfound surroundings as well. He expressed an equal degree of perplexity as I first did, at the lack of a push/pull convention on building doors. But with the end of Monday fast approaching the weekend feels miles away and I find myself thrust back into this grinding and blogging business.
Truth be told, I'm still pretty exhausted. I hope it's a testament to the hectic weekend and not some underlying malady or anemia, of which I am unaware, eroding my stamina. As the final month of summer marches steadily towards its terminal week I can't help but feel my perception of time in the last few months has been distorted. In retrospect it feels as though it has all flown by; yet, I can vividly recall the agonizingly slow pace of those first few days, and select incidents thereafter. I will now spend the rest of my August 10th, 2009 waking hours practicing Slovak so as to not feel like such a moron in class tomorrow morning.
I need to do something to get myself pumped up about work this week. Hopefully sleep, something I usually disdain, will help.
ASIDE: Here's a fun one for all those wannabe CEOs out there. Rap music is poetic motivation, haters.
It's nice to share my new world with someone who grew up with me. And sort of sad to be alone again. I get the idea that Mike was a little shocked at my newfound surroundings as well. He expressed an equal degree of perplexity as I first did, at the lack of a push/pull convention on building doors. But with the end of Monday fast approaching the weekend feels miles away and I find myself thrust back into this grinding and blogging business.
Truth be told, I'm still pretty exhausted. I hope it's a testament to the hectic weekend and not some underlying malady or anemia, of which I am unaware, eroding my stamina. As the final month of summer marches steadily towards its terminal week I can't help but feel my perception of time in the last few months has been distorted. In retrospect it feels as though it has all flown by; yet, I can vividly recall the agonizingly slow pace of those first few days, and select incidents thereafter. I will now spend the rest of my August 10th, 2009 waking hours practicing Slovak so as to not feel like such a moron in class tomorrow morning.
I need to do something to get myself pumped up about work this week. Hopefully sleep, something I usually disdain, will help.
ASIDE: Here's a fun one for all those wannabe CEOs out there. Rap music is poetic motivation, haters.
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