It's hard to believe an entire month of the new year has passed. I haven't gotten a chance to make any resolutions (not that I'd stick to them).
One thing I've realized about myself over the past handful of years is that self-made schedules or routines simply do not work for me. If I have to work for a company, fine, I'll be there, I'll get the job done. But if I'm working for myself, all bets go out the front door.
I remember a time in high school when I wrote a list comprised of a diet I had to stick by. I wrote that if I didn't, the penalty would be death. However, days later, I broke the self-imposed contract by eating a bowl of ice cream. And since I'm writing this, I guess I didn't penalize myself.
Oh, well.
It really is true though. I feel that I work out sufficiently and am in pretty good health, but every time I've tried to set a workout schedule — for example, every Monday through Friday at 10 a.m. — I've failed. Back in October or November, I told myself that I was going to run stairs at Duke's football stadium every day of the week. That lasted, well, a week.
It's just who I am. I don't consider myself lazy, but rather all over the place, spontaneous. One minute I'll tell myself I'm not eating anymore cookies. Three minutes later, my hand is in the cookie jar — or, more accurately, grabbing a cookie from a plate.
(On a side note, who uses cookie jars in this modern age of technology?)
Anyway, back to my current situation. I think my employment predicament reflects my unpredictable behavior. While most people work 9 a.m. - 5 p.m. jobs or at least a simple late-night shift, my jobs are all over the place. And, yes, I never seem to have just one job at a time. This, basically, makes life like a plate of scrambled eggs.
Currently, I cover Duke men's basketball games, as most of you know, whenever the games happen, which is just about every day of the week throughout the season. I also tutor middle and high school kids — yes, this is a new gig — Mondays and Wednesdays from 11 a.m. to 12 p.m. and Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10:30 to 11:30 a.m. And, finally, I'm still holding on to one measly dishwashing shift on Fridays from about 6:30 a.m. to 2 p.m.
All of this makes for an interesting schedule. And it's only going to become more chaotic.
What I listed above is barely enough to pay the monthly bills and have a beer at a bar. Not exactly relaxed living. Add in the fact that I've got a nice, large car insurance payment looming at the end of March, and the search for employment — an opportunity that still allows me to keep my current gigs, which I enjoy for the most part — has been rampant.
I've got the art of writing a cover letter mastered. Whether it's for an office assistant in a law firm, a sportswriting gig or a dishwashing job, I know how to write them. (This accomplishment, of course, is not to be confused with writing cover letters that get me interviews and, possibly, jobs.) I have written so many letters, I created a folder on this laptop to keep them all in.
I also have different variations of my resume. They're really not too different, except for the "objective" at the top of the document. If I'm applying for a job protecting the environment — that was earlier this week; I decided against it — I don't want my objective to be "to obtain a position in sports journalism." Yeah, not exactly relevant. So I have three different resumes on this very laptop.
And I never thought this would happen, but the classifieds have been my best friend lately (sorry, J-bo). Every day, I check the Raleigh News & Observer's extensive section, searching for that perfect, flexible, fits-with-my-other-occupations job. Or a dream job — bat boy for the Tigers, food taster in Italy — would work. I'd give up Duke games for either of those.
I've also started checking the classifieds of the Daily Tar Heel, UNC's student paper, and been pleasantly surprised. A week ago, I interviewed for a job as a field supervisor for a recreational soccer league — nothing, so far, has come of that. And I'm in the process of applying to be a weekly babysitter of two boys, 9 and 13, in Chapel Hill. It's a perfect opportunity for me — from 2:30 to 6 p.m. Monday through Friday, which doesn't interfere with any of my other gigs. And it would allow me to take (insert TBD girlfriend) to the Chinese buffet once a month. (Or I could buy another beer.)
But, seriously, it would give me a little more financial stability. For now at least.
Anyway, one final note before I sign off and do a little working out — I just got the urge to "ellipticalize." Because of my tutoring work, I am in the process of re-learning geometry. Most students at the high school are taking geometry, and on the first day I showed up, I was embarrassed that I didn't know how to solve some of the problems. So I've got a library book to study, and I already read a good chunk of it today.
Right triangles, interior angles, the area of a trapezoid — it's all coming back to me after four years devoid of a math class. To be quite honest, I missed it a little bit. I'm sure I'd be saying something different if this was calculus, but I think I've realized that I have a soft spot in my heart for math.
Anyway, that's been fun. Revisiting the good days is never a bad thing.
Anyway, I feel like working out, so I'm going to work out. That's just how my brain works.
Peace.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Monday, December 24, 2007
12.24.2007 — Don't call me 24
It’s scary, really.
Three minutes ago, I turned 24. As in, I’ve been on this earth for 8,760 days, 210,240 hours, 12,614,400 minutes — you get the point.
I’m old. No, not compared to John Chaney. But compared to, well, me of yesteryear. Or even last year.
Consider my past year, probably the most exciting and peripatetic of my life.
A year ago today, I was getting readjusted to life in the United States. I was four days removed from being abroad, having returned from a three-and-a-half-month stay in Australia and a three-day vacation in New Zealand.
Living across the world was the best part of my life. Sure, there was school and an internship, but there was no stress. It basically was an extended vacation. I enjoyed every minute of it.
Then came my final semester of school at Albion College, which turned out to be, contrary to what I anticipated, my best few months at Albion. With a lighter workload than during my first three years, I enjoyed myself more — despite working five days a week — and as the final days approached, I dreaded the end.
But, sadly, it came. On May 12, I graduated from Albion — and was thrown out into the real world.
OK, that’s a lie. I moved back in with the nicest people in the world, my parents, and they didn’t even charge rent or room and board. I commuted 40 minutes each way to my part-time job at the Jackson Citizen Patriot. But I knew I couldn’t live at home and earn $9.50 an hour at a 28-hour-a-week job for long.
So in July I finalized plans to make the first major move of my life — an emigration to North Carolina to move in with my cousin/brother J-bo.
Late July and early August were great. Some of the best times of my life. First, my boy Tick and I went on our second annual baseball trip, visiting Milwaukee’s Miller Park, and Chicago’s Wrigley Field — my first time — and U.S. Cellular Field. In August, I flew to Utopia — aka Sandwich, N.H. — for two amazing weeks of hiking with J-bo and others.
And then the wait began. Late August and September slogged along until, at long last, I shed a few tears — seriously — and packed my Honda Civic for Durham, N.C. After a three-day stop in D.C., I arrived on a hot, humid day in early October.
… And now here I am, 24 — celebrating my birthday for the first time away from home. When I go to church tonight, there won’t be any animals — as is the tradition in telling Jesus’ story at the church in Ann Arbor. Tomorrow, I’ll bring in Christmas without any white stuff outside and without Mom, Bust and Ro sitting around me.
It’s all weird, kind of scary, kind of exciting. Yes, plenty of emotions.
But, honestly, I don’t feel 24 years old (I guess that’s a good thing). I feel about 18, maybe 19. I still love acting a kid. You wanna shoot hoops in the rain? I’m down. You wanna scalp cheap tickets then move down at a game? You better. The way I see it, you’re only old if you act old.
So now I move forward, with 365 days left until the Big No. 25. Will the next year of my life be as crazy and transient as this past one?
I can’t give a definitive answer, I really can’t, because I don’t want to commit to anything. There are only a few guarantees I can give:
I won’t step into a mall if I don’t have to. I’ll continue to watch hundreds of hours of sports games, and I’ll probably continue to write about sports.
I’ll eat a lot, I’ll probably sleep a lot, and I’ll definitely exercise a lot.
Lots of tennis, hoops and chess are in the works. I’ll also put to use my video camera, creating some YouTube classics for all you (one or two people) interested.
And maybe I’ll start living on a normal schedule, such as going to bed by 12 and waking up by 8.
Then again, that’s unlikely. After all, I don’t want to show any signs that my youth is fading. And if I can’t live by a college student’s hours, what kind of message will I be sending?
I know, that sounds nonsensical.
But forgive me. I’m still just a kid.
Three minutes ago, I turned 24. As in, I’ve been on this earth for 8,760 days, 210,240 hours, 12,614,400 minutes — you get the point.
I’m old. No, not compared to John Chaney. But compared to, well, me of yesteryear. Or even last year.
Consider my past year, probably the most exciting and peripatetic of my life.
A year ago today, I was getting readjusted to life in the United States. I was four days removed from being abroad, having returned from a three-and-a-half-month stay in Australia and a three-day vacation in New Zealand.
Living across the world was the best part of my life. Sure, there was school and an internship, but there was no stress. It basically was an extended vacation. I enjoyed every minute of it.
Then came my final semester of school at Albion College, which turned out to be, contrary to what I anticipated, my best few months at Albion. With a lighter workload than during my first three years, I enjoyed myself more — despite working five days a week — and as the final days approached, I dreaded the end.
But, sadly, it came. On May 12, I graduated from Albion — and was thrown out into the real world.
OK, that’s a lie. I moved back in with the nicest people in the world, my parents, and they didn’t even charge rent or room and board. I commuted 40 minutes each way to my part-time job at the Jackson Citizen Patriot. But I knew I couldn’t live at home and earn $9.50 an hour at a 28-hour-a-week job for long.
So in July I finalized plans to make the first major move of my life — an emigration to North Carolina to move in with my cousin/brother J-bo.
Late July and early August were great. Some of the best times of my life. First, my boy Tick and I went on our second annual baseball trip, visiting Milwaukee’s Miller Park, and Chicago’s Wrigley Field — my first time — and U.S. Cellular Field. In August, I flew to Utopia — aka Sandwich, N.H. — for two amazing weeks of hiking with J-bo and others.
And then the wait began. Late August and September slogged along until, at long last, I shed a few tears — seriously — and packed my Honda Civic for Durham, N.C. After a three-day stop in D.C., I arrived on a hot, humid day in early October.
… And now here I am, 24 — celebrating my birthday for the first time away from home. When I go to church tonight, there won’t be any animals — as is the tradition in telling Jesus’ story at the church in Ann Arbor. Tomorrow, I’ll bring in Christmas without any white stuff outside and without Mom, Bust and Ro sitting around me.
It’s all weird, kind of scary, kind of exciting. Yes, plenty of emotions.
But, honestly, I don’t feel 24 years old (I guess that’s a good thing). I feel about 18, maybe 19. I still love acting a kid. You wanna shoot hoops in the rain? I’m down. You wanna scalp cheap tickets then move down at a game? You better. The way I see it, you’re only old if you act old.
So now I move forward, with 365 days left until the Big No. 25. Will the next year of my life be as crazy and transient as this past one?
I can’t give a definitive answer, I really can’t, because I don’t want to commit to anything. There are only a few guarantees I can give:
I won’t step into a mall if I don’t have to. I’ll continue to watch hundreds of hours of sports games, and I’ll probably continue to write about sports.
I’ll eat a lot, I’ll probably sleep a lot, and I’ll definitely exercise a lot.
Lots of tennis, hoops and chess are in the works. I’ll also put to use my video camera, creating some YouTube classics for all you (one or two people) interested.
And maybe I’ll start living on a normal schedule, such as going to bed by 12 and waking up by 8.
Then again, that’s unlikely. After all, I don’t want to show any signs that my youth is fading. And if I can’t live by a college student’s hours, what kind of message will I be sending?
I know, that sounds nonsensical.
But forgive me. I’m still just a kid.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
12.18.2007: Keys to being frugal
When you’re making $8.50 an hour washing dishes.
When your freelance checks never arrive in your mailbox.
When you’ve got rent to pay, plus TV, Internet, electricity, water and newspaper monthly bills.
Yes, you have to be extremely frugal to get by.
So here, for anyone interested, are my keys to frugality:
— Absolutely no buying of clothes except for socks and boxers.
— Related to the above, get enough socks and boxers to only have to do laundry once a month; you can do it in two loads.
— Never turn the thermostat above 65, which really isn’t that cold to begin with.
— Drive a car that gets at least 35 mpg, but only drive when you can’t bike.
— If your workplace has food, eat as much as you can while there and bring some home to cut down on the need to buy groceries.
— Never use a light in the apartment unless needed. Turn off when done.
— Don’t buy a home phone. The only need for one is if there’s an emergency and you can’t tell the police your address.
— Rarely go out, and when you do, buy that night’s special.
— Use newspapers as wrapping paper.
— Never turn down a free meal.
— Use the apartment complex’s gym unless you work at a gym and get free access.
— Instead of buying books, join a library.
— Never eat out.
— Don’t date.
— Limit your friends. The more of them, the more you spend.
— Don’t travel.
— And, finally, never buy gas when it’s more than $3.00 a gallon. Be patient.
Unfortunately, I can’t say I’ve abided by all the rules listed above. As a result, I’ve volunteered to work Christmas Day — I normally don’t work Tuesdays — if anyone wants off.
Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do.
Talk to you next week,
Jake
When your freelance checks never arrive in your mailbox.
When you’ve got rent to pay, plus TV, Internet, electricity, water and newspaper monthly bills.
Yes, you have to be extremely frugal to get by.
So here, for anyone interested, are my keys to frugality:
— Absolutely no buying of clothes except for socks and boxers.
— Related to the above, get enough socks and boxers to only have to do laundry once a month; you can do it in two loads.
— Never turn the thermostat above 65, which really isn’t that cold to begin with.
— Drive a car that gets at least 35 mpg, but only drive when you can’t bike.
— If your workplace has food, eat as much as you can while there and bring some home to cut down on the need to buy groceries.
— Never use a light in the apartment unless needed. Turn off when done.
— Don’t buy a home phone. The only need for one is if there’s an emergency and you can’t tell the police your address.
— Rarely go out, and when you do, buy that night’s special.
— Use newspapers as wrapping paper.
— Never turn down a free meal.
— Use the apartment complex’s gym unless you work at a gym and get free access.
— Instead of buying books, join a library.
— Never eat out.
— Don’t date.
— Limit your friends. The more of them, the more you spend.
— Don’t travel.
— And, finally, never buy gas when it’s more than $3.00 a gallon. Be patient.
Unfortunately, I can’t say I’ve abided by all the rules listed above. As a result, I’ve volunteered to work Christmas Day — I normally don’t work Tuesdays — if anyone wants off.
Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do.
Talk to you next week,
Jake
Monday, December 10, 2007
12.10.2007 two-month update from North Carolina
For my weekly update this time around, I won’t bore you with self-deprecation or pester you with countless anecdotes. Rather, how ‘bout some numbers?
Saturday marked the two-month mark of my stay here in the shopping metropolis of Durham, North Carolina. So here, ladies and gentlemen, are some fascinating figures from my first 60-plus days in this beacon of college hoops.
1 — Number of times I have done laundry. I must admit, however, that I’m just days (and a couple dirty socks) away from being due again.
1 — Number of times, out of 17, J-bo has beaten me in tennis.
66 — Number of times J-bo and I have played chess (I lead 41-25).
0 — Number of times J-bo has played me in Boggle. If he did, he’d have a very large advantage.
3 — Number of times I have gone out on Franklin Street. This needs to increase.
2 — Duke basketball games I’ve covered. Hopefully more games — including ACC battles — to come.
20 — Number of dollars I owe my uncle Buzz from when he helped me buy furniture.
3,750 — Approximate amount of money I’ve burned since arriving. No worries, though. I’m back to my frugal ways, and I’m making a lofty $8.50 an hour washing dishes.
0 — Friends I’ve made outside of my family (and they were already my friends). Again, need to get out more.
137 — Approximate number of hours I’ve spent in front of our high-def, 37-inch, LCD TV. Again, I need to get out more.
3 — Number of sports magazines I now subscribe to — SI, ESPN, Sporting News. Which is two more than before the move. Yes, I know I need to diversify.
0 — Times I’ve been west to the mountains or east to the beach. Again, not cool.
1,418 — Estimated number of dishes I’ve already washed (not including at home).
804 — Amount of miles it took for J-bo and I to drive to Chicago for Thanksgiving.
2 — DVD documentaries I’ve made during my time here. Maybe I’ve found a new passion.
53 — Approximate number of whole carrots I’ve eaten. And my eyesight — except when it was blurred by some friendly work bleach — is very good.
12 — Estimated number of times J-bo and I have jumped in the community swimming pool after playing tennis. A few times, the water temperature was in the low 50s, according to J-bo’s expert analysis. Cold, very cold.
84 — Number of times I’ve gone up and down the three stories of stairs leading to our crib. No, this is not an exact figure.
OK, folks, I know the numbers are becoming stale. I promised not to put you to sleep. Hope you enjoyed. And, yes, a carrot a day is never a bad idea.
Saturday marked the two-month mark of my stay here in the shopping metropolis of Durham, North Carolina. So here, ladies and gentlemen, are some fascinating figures from my first 60-plus days in this beacon of college hoops.
1 — Number of times I have done laundry. I must admit, however, that I’m just days (and a couple dirty socks) away from being due again.
1 — Number of times, out of 17, J-bo has beaten me in tennis.
66 — Number of times J-bo and I have played chess (I lead 41-25).
0 — Number of times J-bo has played me in Boggle. If he did, he’d have a very large advantage.
3 — Number of times I have gone out on Franklin Street. This needs to increase.
2 — Duke basketball games I’ve covered. Hopefully more games — including ACC battles — to come.
20 — Number of dollars I owe my uncle Buzz from when he helped me buy furniture.
3,750 — Approximate amount of money I’ve burned since arriving. No worries, though. I’m back to my frugal ways, and I’m making a lofty $8.50 an hour washing dishes.
0 — Friends I’ve made outside of my family (and they were already my friends). Again, need to get out more.
137 — Approximate number of hours I’ve spent in front of our high-def, 37-inch, LCD TV. Again, I need to get out more.
3 — Number of sports magazines I now subscribe to — SI, ESPN, Sporting News. Which is two more than before the move. Yes, I know I need to diversify.
0 — Times I’ve been west to the mountains or east to the beach. Again, not cool.
1,418 — Estimated number of dishes I’ve already washed (not including at home).
804 — Amount of miles it took for J-bo and I to drive to Chicago for Thanksgiving.
2 — DVD documentaries I’ve made during my time here. Maybe I’ve found a new passion.
53 — Approximate number of whole carrots I’ve eaten. And my eyesight — except when it was blurred by some friendly work bleach — is very good.
12 — Estimated number of times J-bo and I have jumped in the community swimming pool after playing tennis. A few times, the water temperature was in the low 50s, according to J-bo’s expert analysis. Cold, very cold.
84 — Number of times I’ve gone up and down the three stories of stairs leading to our crib. No, this is not an exact figure.
OK, folks, I know the numbers are becoming stale. I promised not to put you to sleep. Hope you enjoyed. And, yes, a carrot a day is never a bad idea.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
12.5.2007 — updating my state of affairs
Sorry, folks, it’s been so long. And, no, I can’t even give the “I’ve been busy” excuse. A man who sleeps in until 2:36 p.m. on a non-descript Tuesday has no “busy” excuses.
And, plus, I’m not a man full of excuses. I tend to tell it how it is.
So let me get right to the juicy fat of my current situation. All of my free time lately — not including my sleepy time — has provided me plenty of opportunities to think about what I’m doing in life.
It’s an interesting thought process.
Currently, my life is like reading three hours out of boring textbooks each night with 10 minutes of stimulating novel reading sprinkled in.
Last Tuesday, I had the pleasure of covering the Wisconsin-Duke game for wral.com. Before the game, I sat in a press room that included ESPN commentator Dick Vitale and famous basketball author John Feinstein among other well-established writers. That right there made my night.
But it was only the beginning. Since there were numerous important media types at the nationally televised game between ranked teams, there wasn’t room for me on Duke’s press row. So I was relegated to the baseline of the court. Yes, I sat my ass on the wooden floor right next to the photographers.
And I was all over ESPN. Every time there was a scuffle under the basket for the ball or a fastbreak coming straight toward me, I prepared myself to be bowled over by huge, muscular basketball players. But, luckily, I never had to deal with this. Instead, when I retuned home later that night, I saw myself on SportsCenter’s “Top 10” plays twice.
Sure, I was paid a measly $65 to cover the game — not exactly enough to live on — but it still made my night. I’m banking on covering more games at Cameron Indoor Stadium in the days to come. It’s the best place to watch or cover a college hoops game.
The following night, I was scrubbing toilets for $7.50 an hour at the Hilton Garden Inn by the RDU airport. Boy, how I can go from the top of the world to its darkest dungeon in the course of 24 hours. While I want to cover sports for a living, the bitter reality right now is that with the intermittent stringing jobs I have, I need money on the side just to get by.
That means washing dishes four days a week at the Hilton for $8.50 an hour (and occasionally scrubbing johns). Not exactly a great job for a college graduate, but it’s what I gotta do, so I accept it. And — I must say — I’m the best damn dishwasher in the state of North Carolina. You got a pan you think isn’t cleanable? Bring it by my place and I’ll scrub it for you (at the cost of a six pack, of course).
While I’ve been encouraged by my opportunity to write game stories and features for wral.com and the Associated Press — I’m covering one of the high school football state championship games this Saturday — I’m resigned to the fact that I’m going to have to leave this area to procure my first full-time sports writing job. So every day I check journalism websites to see what’s available, to see if there’s anything worth applying for.
No luck so far, but it’s something I have to do if I want to achieve my goal of becoming a well-respected sports journalist.
While Thanksgiving in Chicago was fun this year — as it always is — it also was depressing. Every time I’m around my older cousins, Lou and Pete, I can’t help but feel inferior. Lou is now making $80,000 a year with the potential to make an additional $40-or-so K each year in Boston. Pete is in his first year of law school, all but certainly on his way to a bright career.
I know comparisons are ill-advised, but I can’t help placing myself next to them and their friends whenever I’m in their presence. Hmmm, let’s see. Law school vs. washing dishes. It’s like New England vs. Miami. I guess we’ll have to wait until Week 16 (but I’m pretty sure of the result).
But whatever. All I can do is move forward and live my life. One thing I’m proud of is my frugality. I know how to not spend money. I can make ends meet without a full-time gig despite $500-a-month rent and bills. And I own J-bo in tennis and chess.
In this cold world, you have to focus on the positives. If you don’t, the negatives will drown you.
All right, folks, I’m out. It’s getting late, and I actually plan on waking up before 2:36 tomorrow.
With peace and love,
Jake “Bloat” Lloyd
And, plus, I’m not a man full of excuses. I tend to tell it how it is.
So let me get right to the juicy fat of my current situation. All of my free time lately — not including my sleepy time — has provided me plenty of opportunities to think about what I’m doing in life.
It’s an interesting thought process.
Currently, my life is like reading three hours out of boring textbooks each night with 10 minutes of stimulating novel reading sprinkled in.
Last Tuesday, I had the pleasure of covering the Wisconsin-Duke game for wral.com. Before the game, I sat in a press room that included ESPN commentator Dick Vitale and famous basketball author John Feinstein among other well-established writers. That right there made my night.
But it was only the beginning. Since there were numerous important media types at the nationally televised game between ranked teams, there wasn’t room for me on Duke’s press row. So I was relegated to the baseline of the court. Yes, I sat my ass on the wooden floor right next to the photographers.
And I was all over ESPN. Every time there was a scuffle under the basket for the ball or a fastbreak coming straight toward me, I prepared myself to be bowled over by huge, muscular basketball players. But, luckily, I never had to deal with this. Instead, when I retuned home later that night, I saw myself on SportsCenter’s “Top 10” plays twice.
Sure, I was paid a measly $65 to cover the game — not exactly enough to live on — but it still made my night. I’m banking on covering more games at Cameron Indoor Stadium in the days to come. It’s the best place to watch or cover a college hoops game.
The following night, I was scrubbing toilets for $7.50 an hour at the Hilton Garden Inn by the RDU airport. Boy, how I can go from the top of the world to its darkest dungeon in the course of 24 hours. While I want to cover sports for a living, the bitter reality right now is that with the intermittent stringing jobs I have, I need money on the side just to get by.
That means washing dishes four days a week at the Hilton for $8.50 an hour (and occasionally scrubbing johns). Not exactly a great job for a college graduate, but it’s what I gotta do, so I accept it. And — I must say — I’m the best damn dishwasher in the state of North Carolina. You got a pan you think isn’t cleanable? Bring it by my place and I’ll scrub it for you (at the cost of a six pack, of course).
While I’ve been encouraged by my opportunity to write game stories and features for wral.com and the Associated Press — I’m covering one of the high school football state championship games this Saturday — I’m resigned to the fact that I’m going to have to leave this area to procure my first full-time sports writing job. So every day I check journalism websites to see what’s available, to see if there’s anything worth applying for.
No luck so far, but it’s something I have to do if I want to achieve my goal of becoming a well-respected sports journalist.
While Thanksgiving in Chicago was fun this year — as it always is — it also was depressing. Every time I’m around my older cousins, Lou and Pete, I can’t help but feel inferior. Lou is now making $80,000 a year with the potential to make an additional $40-or-so K each year in Boston. Pete is in his first year of law school, all but certainly on his way to a bright career.
I know comparisons are ill-advised, but I can’t help placing myself next to them and their friends whenever I’m in their presence. Hmmm, let’s see. Law school vs. washing dishes. It’s like New England vs. Miami. I guess we’ll have to wait until Week 16 (but I’m pretty sure of the result).
But whatever. All I can do is move forward and live my life. One thing I’m proud of is my frugality. I know how to not spend money. I can make ends meet without a full-time gig despite $500-a-month rent and bills. And I own J-bo in tennis and chess.
In this cold world, you have to focus on the positives. If you don’t, the negatives will drown you.
All right, folks, I’m out. It’s getting late, and I actually plan on waking up before 2:36 tomorrow.
With peace and love,
Jake “Bloat” Lloyd
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Three weeks in the Triangle
October 30, 2007
Three weeks. As I sit here this Tuesday, in a rotating chair in Duke’s Bryan Center, which makes me a bit dizzy, I have now been a resident of Durham, N.C., for just about three weeks, 21 days, 504 hours, 30, 240 minutes, 1,814,400 seconds.
I have assembled my bedroom (which is now, appropriately, as messy as can be). I have bought a map, which hopefully I won’t have to use for too much longer (although this place can be downright confusing). I have found two football stadiums where I can run steps (that’s a good thing).
I have attended three basketball media days and a Duke scrimmage. I have not found a job (yet). I have beaten J-bo, my cousin and roommate, several times in both tennis and chess — the best way to boost my self-esteem after a tough day of biking around aimlessly (but now, I must admit, J-bo is gaining on me in both competitions).
Yes, I have been somewhat active since my relocation from Ann Arbor. But yet, at times, I still feel lost. I miss Ann Arbor, my hometown my entire life. I miss the fall leaves. I miss being able to bike anywhere in the city on residential roads. Here, by contrast, I have to deal with highways just about everywhere I go.
Of course my longing for Ann Arbor, I believe, is understandable. After all, it was my home for a whopping 23 years. And it was — basically — perfect. It spoiled me.
Things are different here. The Wal-Marts are red (yes, I had to shop there once to buy recycling bins, and they charged me for an extra bin). So are the Best Buys. Our area is dominated by shopping centers. I’m not exaggerating when I say there are at least 12 shopping outlets within three miles of our home in Alexan Farms apartments. If the rest of the world outside of the Triangle was destroyed by aliens/terrorists, we’d have enough supplies to last for at least a few years.
Which, of course, I hate. I can’t stand shopping centers. A “Target” is about as appealing to me as target practice (and you’ll never catch me clutching a gun in this lifetime). Not only that, but the stores all around give us an excuse to go buy things (such as an ice cream scooper, J-bo) even if we don’t need ‘em. I’d rather be 20 miles from the nearest store and have to survive on our supplies.
Oh, and let me mention the highways. Our apartment is off Garrett Road, which intersects with 15-501, a three-lane highway between Durham and Chapel Hill, just en eighth of a mile from our apartment. So in order to go anywhere (downtown Durham, downtown Chapel Hill, those shopping centers, the Boreykos house) we have to turn onto 15-501 or at least cross it. This is usually a time-consuming ordeal (especially during rush hour).
And then there’s the issue of biking places (which has to be a part of my daily routine). In order to bike to UNC’s campus, I have to cross 15-501 twice and climb the longest hill in the Western Hemisphere on Franklin Street (yeah, it’s, uh, a great workout). Overall, it’s about a 10-mile ride to the center of campus. Today I rode to Duke’s campus — where I am now — for the first time. While I was able to take a back way that didn’t involve crossing 15-501, it was one heck of a ride. I think it took close to an hour.
So I’m pretty sure I’ll be getting daily workouts on my Trek. On a pleasant side note, the odometer on the bike eclipsed 2,000 miles yesterday. I am so proud of my bike. I’ve had it now for at least seven or eight years, and it’s never given me a problem (including during the 650-mile ride around half of Lake Michigan).
Life with J-bo is interesting. We get along just fine. We disagree on things, but they’re all minor (“Why the $&#$*^% did you buy an ice cream scoop?”; “Take out the #$%$%^* trash”). Recapturing the magic of New Hampshire has been difficult, what with J-bo doing that graduate school thing every day and church thing on the weekends and me blogging, eating and reading — but we’ve persevered by playing tennis and chess on a regular basis.
Additionally, I’ve taught J-bo about the nuances of sports (the art of the onside kick) and he’s taught me how to play that guitar Playstation2 game.
Life with J-bo is fun, but I’ve come to the realization that if I want to have a nighttime social life, I’m gonna have to make some, um, friends. J-bo likes to hit the sack early — especially on the weekends — which isn’t exactly my style. I’ve never gone to bed at 10:30 p.m. on a Friday night except when I did paper routes, and although I could get a route here, the idea of waking at 5 a.m. every morning of the week to deliver papers is about as appetizing as six-month-old lasagna.
I have yet to experience the surrounding nightlife, but I figure to get my first taste of it tomorrow night at the Halloween extravaganza on Franklin Street, Chapel Hill’s main street. According to trusted sources (the Boreykos), some 60,000 raging lunatics crowd Franklin St. late into the night each Oct. 31, scaring each other and destroying anything in sight (OK, I made up that last part, but I wouldn’t be that surprised).
So that should be interesting. I still need to find a costume, however. Any ideas? I need to know soon.
Now I know I’ve been pretty negative to this point about my new home, so let me change gears a bit. There are some great things about the area, such as the passion for college basketball. OK, that was an understatement. People around here are nuts about college hoops.
Let me explain…
First, on my initial Friday in town, I attended “Late Night with Roy,” North Carolina’s version of “Midnight Madness.” It was such a big deal in Chapel Hill, the university brought in ESPN’s Stuart Scott to emcee. And 19,000 people showed up to watch members of the two UNC hoops teams perform skits and then — finally — scrimmage.
While many of the UNC fans should be ashamed of themselves for leaving during the actual scrimmage — isn’t the basketball supposed to be the night’s highlight? — it remained to me pretty remarkable that so many people attended the event. A student I ran into later said she stood in line for three hours to grab a good seat.
But “Late Night with Roy” was just prepping me for Duke’s Blue-White scrimmage, which I covered — as a stringer — for the television station WRAL’s website. It was nuts. If I wasn’t aware that it was Oct. 27 and that the regular season doesn’t commence until the second week of November, I would have thought it was a February ACC game.
The Cameron Crazies are, indeed, crazy, and the Blue Devils played with an intensity and furry that completely belied the non-importance of the 30-minute game. Afterward, members of the White team, which lost, were actually disappointed about the game’s outcome.
Covering a game at Cameron Indoor Stadium is a one-of-a-kind experience, let me tell you. In order to claim your spot on press row, you have to slide over the press table because the students are so close to the press chairs, there’s no room to walk in front of them. During the entire game, the students are literally breathing down your neck, screaming their guts out, chanting players' names after a big play, booing the refs…
Yeah, I hope I get the opportunity to cover more games inside the tiny arena (and it really is miniscule — I am surprised they fit 9,000-plus fans in there each game). There’s not a bad seat in the house. Cameron is easily the best basketball arena I’ve ever been inside. Experiencing a game there is like nothing else (yes, I agree with Dick Vitale on that one).
So as basketball season nears, excitement builds here in The Triangle. UNC is projected to be one of the top three teams in the country and win the ACC. Duke is expected to finish second in the league, and NC State has high hopes as well. Basketball season here should keep the blood pressure high until sometime in March.
Even as a Michigan football fan, I must admit basketball here seems to be a little bigger than football in Ann Arbor. Just by a little.
Another positive I can (kind of) point to is the weather. I can’t completely endorse it because we just experienced a terrible drought, which prevented me from washing my dirty Honda Civic. Water restrictions were put in place — people could only water their plants a certain number of times per week. There was a story about a family using dirty bath water to nourish the plants. Yeah, it got that bad.
And despite two full days of rain last week, we’re not out of the water yet (hah hah). The drought might have taken a two-day vacation, but don’t expect it to disappear forever. Well, at least my car’s now clean.
The temperatures have been excellent. No complaints from me. After two or three days of nasty 90-degree weather, global warming headed elsewhere, and we’ve been visited by temperatures in the 60s — and even 50s recently (I could actually see my breaths last night during a spirited tennis match).
Autumns here, though, are far from beautiful. Not compared to Michigan falls at least. Leaves remain on the trees. There are no pretty colors. Just massive Home Depots and Harris Teeters to look at.
But I am looking forward to winter, when it will be 50 here and 20 in Ann Arbor. Or so I hope. I want to be playing tennis here while hearing about massive snow shoveling missions taking place in Michigan.
That might boost my spirits a bit. Only time will tell.
In boring news, I’m still looking for part-time work to start rebuilding my bank account after the massive hit I’ve taken here in October (to the tune of $2,500). I opened an account at Wachovia Bank. Now there’s the issue of filling it with currency. I’m also looking for stringing work at the local newspapers. So far, not much luck, although WRAL might have some more Duke events for me to cover.
Again, only time will tell.
In the near future, I’d like to take trips out to the coast (about two and a half hours away) and to the beautiful Smoky Mountains (more like four hours to the west). Body surfing in the Atlantic and hiking in the Smokys are two options I didn’t have in Michigan. I’d be a fool to not take advantage of them. Don’t let me forget.
But for now it’s back to biking on back roads, driving on highways, playing lots of chess and tennis, and looking for work.
Oh, and I’ve been sleeping in lately.
There are everyday certainties (seeing shopping centers) and questions to consider every day when I wake up (what kind of work will I find?).
It’s been three quick weeks and much remains up in the air. Check back with me in another 21 days and the landscape could be different.
Only time will tell.
Three weeks. As I sit here this Tuesday, in a rotating chair in Duke’s Bryan Center, which makes me a bit dizzy, I have now been a resident of Durham, N.C., for just about three weeks, 21 days, 504 hours, 30, 240 minutes, 1,814,400 seconds.
I have assembled my bedroom (which is now, appropriately, as messy as can be). I have bought a map, which hopefully I won’t have to use for too much longer (although this place can be downright confusing). I have found two football stadiums where I can run steps (that’s a good thing).
I have attended three basketball media days and a Duke scrimmage. I have not found a job (yet). I have beaten J-bo, my cousin and roommate, several times in both tennis and chess — the best way to boost my self-esteem after a tough day of biking around aimlessly (but now, I must admit, J-bo is gaining on me in both competitions).
Yes, I have been somewhat active since my relocation from Ann Arbor. But yet, at times, I still feel lost. I miss Ann Arbor, my hometown my entire life. I miss the fall leaves. I miss being able to bike anywhere in the city on residential roads. Here, by contrast, I have to deal with highways just about everywhere I go.
Of course my longing for Ann Arbor, I believe, is understandable. After all, it was my home for a whopping 23 years. And it was — basically — perfect. It spoiled me.
Things are different here. The Wal-Marts are red (yes, I had to shop there once to buy recycling bins, and they charged me for an extra bin). So are the Best Buys. Our area is dominated by shopping centers. I’m not exaggerating when I say there are at least 12 shopping outlets within three miles of our home in Alexan Farms apartments. If the rest of the world outside of the Triangle was destroyed by aliens/terrorists, we’d have enough supplies to last for at least a few years.
Which, of course, I hate. I can’t stand shopping centers. A “Target” is about as appealing to me as target practice (and you’ll never catch me clutching a gun in this lifetime). Not only that, but the stores all around give us an excuse to go buy things (such as an ice cream scooper, J-bo) even if we don’t need ‘em. I’d rather be 20 miles from the nearest store and have to survive on our supplies.
Oh, and let me mention the highways. Our apartment is off Garrett Road, which intersects with 15-501, a three-lane highway between Durham and Chapel Hill, just en eighth of a mile from our apartment. So in order to go anywhere (downtown Durham, downtown Chapel Hill, those shopping centers, the Boreykos house) we have to turn onto 15-501 or at least cross it. This is usually a time-consuming ordeal (especially during rush hour).
And then there’s the issue of biking places (which has to be a part of my daily routine). In order to bike to UNC’s campus, I have to cross 15-501 twice and climb the longest hill in the Western Hemisphere on Franklin Street (yeah, it’s, uh, a great workout). Overall, it’s about a 10-mile ride to the center of campus. Today I rode to Duke’s campus — where I am now — for the first time. While I was able to take a back way that didn’t involve crossing 15-501, it was one heck of a ride. I think it took close to an hour.
So I’m pretty sure I’ll be getting daily workouts on my Trek. On a pleasant side note, the odometer on the bike eclipsed 2,000 miles yesterday. I am so proud of my bike. I’ve had it now for at least seven or eight years, and it’s never given me a problem (including during the 650-mile ride around half of Lake Michigan).
Life with J-bo is interesting. We get along just fine. We disagree on things, but they’re all minor (“Why the $&#$*^% did you buy an ice cream scoop?”; “Take out the #$%$%^* trash”). Recapturing the magic of New Hampshire has been difficult, what with J-bo doing that graduate school thing every day and church thing on the weekends and me blogging, eating and reading — but we’ve persevered by playing tennis and chess on a regular basis.
Additionally, I’ve taught J-bo about the nuances of sports (the art of the onside kick) and he’s taught me how to play that guitar Playstation2 game.
Life with J-bo is fun, but I’ve come to the realization that if I want to have a nighttime social life, I’m gonna have to make some, um, friends. J-bo likes to hit the sack early — especially on the weekends — which isn’t exactly my style. I’ve never gone to bed at 10:30 p.m. on a Friday night except when I did paper routes, and although I could get a route here, the idea of waking at 5 a.m. every morning of the week to deliver papers is about as appetizing as six-month-old lasagna.
I have yet to experience the surrounding nightlife, but I figure to get my first taste of it tomorrow night at the Halloween extravaganza on Franklin Street, Chapel Hill’s main street. According to trusted sources (the Boreykos), some 60,000 raging lunatics crowd Franklin St. late into the night each Oct. 31, scaring each other and destroying anything in sight (OK, I made up that last part, but I wouldn’t be that surprised).
So that should be interesting. I still need to find a costume, however. Any ideas? I need to know soon.
Now I know I’ve been pretty negative to this point about my new home, so let me change gears a bit. There are some great things about the area, such as the passion for college basketball. OK, that was an understatement. People around here are nuts about college hoops.
Let me explain…
First, on my initial Friday in town, I attended “Late Night with Roy,” North Carolina’s version of “Midnight Madness.” It was such a big deal in Chapel Hill, the university brought in ESPN’s Stuart Scott to emcee. And 19,000 people showed up to watch members of the two UNC hoops teams perform skits and then — finally — scrimmage.
While many of the UNC fans should be ashamed of themselves for leaving during the actual scrimmage — isn’t the basketball supposed to be the night’s highlight? — it remained to me pretty remarkable that so many people attended the event. A student I ran into later said she stood in line for three hours to grab a good seat.
But “Late Night with Roy” was just prepping me for Duke’s Blue-White scrimmage, which I covered — as a stringer — for the television station WRAL’s website. It was nuts. If I wasn’t aware that it was Oct. 27 and that the regular season doesn’t commence until the second week of November, I would have thought it was a February ACC game.
The Cameron Crazies are, indeed, crazy, and the Blue Devils played with an intensity and furry that completely belied the non-importance of the 30-minute game. Afterward, members of the White team, which lost, were actually disappointed about the game’s outcome.
Covering a game at Cameron Indoor Stadium is a one-of-a-kind experience, let me tell you. In order to claim your spot on press row, you have to slide over the press table because the students are so close to the press chairs, there’s no room to walk in front of them. During the entire game, the students are literally breathing down your neck, screaming their guts out, chanting players' names after a big play, booing the refs…
Yeah, I hope I get the opportunity to cover more games inside the tiny arena (and it really is miniscule — I am surprised they fit 9,000-plus fans in there each game). There’s not a bad seat in the house. Cameron is easily the best basketball arena I’ve ever been inside. Experiencing a game there is like nothing else (yes, I agree with Dick Vitale on that one).
So as basketball season nears, excitement builds here in The Triangle. UNC is projected to be one of the top three teams in the country and win the ACC. Duke is expected to finish second in the league, and NC State has high hopes as well. Basketball season here should keep the blood pressure high until sometime in March.
Even as a Michigan football fan, I must admit basketball here seems to be a little bigger than football in Ann Arbor. Just by a little.
Another positive I can (kind of) point to is the weather. I can’t completely endorse it because we just experienced a terrible drought, which prevented me from washing my dirty Honda Civic. Water restrictions were put in place — people could only water their plants a certain number of times per week. There was a story about a family using dirty bath water to nourish the plants. Yeah, it got that bad.
And despite two full days of rain last week, we’re not out of the water yet (hah hah). The drought might have taken a two-day vacation, but don’t expect it to disappear forever. Well, at least my car’s now clean.
The temperatures have been excellent. No complaints from me. After two or three days of nasty 90-degree weather, global warming headed elsewhere, and we’ve been visited by temperatures in the 60s — and even 50s recently (I could actually see my breaths last night during a spirited tennis match).
Autumns here, though, are far from beautiful. Not compared to Michigan falls at least. Leaves remain on the trees. There are no pretty colors. Just massive Home Depots and Harris Teeters to look at.
But I am looking forward to winter, when it will be 50 here and 20 in Ann Arbor. Or so I hope. I want to be playing tennis here while hearing about massive snow shoveling missions taking place in Michigan.
That might boost my spirits a bit. Only time will tell.
In boring news, I’m still looking for part-time work to start rebuilding my bank account after the massive hit I’ve taken here in October (to the tune of $2,500). I opened an account at Wachovia Bank. Now there’s the issue of filling it with currency. I’m also looking for stringing work at the local newspapers. So far, not much luck, although WRAL might have some more Duke events for me to cover.
Again, only time will tell.
In the near future, I’d like to take trips out to the coast (about two and a half hours away) and to the beautiful Smoky Mountains (more like four hours to the west). Body surfing in the Atlantic and hiking in the Smokys are two options I didn’t have in Michigan. I’d be a fool to not take advantage of them. Don’t let me forget.
But for now it’s back to biking on back roads, driving on highways, playing lots of chess and tennis, and looking for work.
Oh, and I’ve been sleeping in lately.
There are everyday certainties (seeing shopping centers) and questions to consider every day when I wake up (what kind of work will I find?).
It’s been three quick weeks and much remains up in the air. Check back with me in another 21 days and the landscape could be different.
Only time will tell.
Friday, September 7, 2007
9/7/2007: Passing the time
What, exactly, is my purpose on this earth?
I hate to be asking such a deep, mind-wending question, but I can't seem to get past it right now. My life is at a crossroads. At times I'm a glibber, not worrying about a thing, telling myself that the only way to live is humorously.
Don't take anything too seriously. Live lightly. Be delectable.
At the same time, however, I exhort myself to not become chaff. I read articles — every day, it seems — about men who have overcome so much to become very successful members of society. As I move from paragraph to paragraph — which detail the drug-induced siblings and friends shot to death — I always tell myself that with my facile upbringing, I'm not going to be a nobody.
I'm going to do big things with my life, with my amazing opportunity in this world...
This thinking process usually lasts about a day before I drift back into my indolent mode, which isn't to say that I'm a lazy person — just a comfortable person.
It's hard to overcome, too. Sometimes I wish I didn't have such an easy upbringing. Sometimes I wish I had had to overcome a large obstacle as a child, like a divorce, or a tragedy.
Just something to push me forward. To make my life more urgent now.
Then again, maybe I'm simply still transitioning to post-college life. To not having my fall planned out. At times it's scary, but at time's it's nice as well.
No papers. No tests. While I yearn for school again, I'm sure that if I were back in the classroom, I might not feel the same way.
— 9/7/2007
I hate to be asking such a deep, mind-wending question, but I can't seem to get past it right now. My life is at a crossroads. At times I'm a glibber, not worrying about a thing, telling myself that the only way to live is humorously.
Don't take anything too seriously. Live lightly. Be delectable.
At the same time, however, I exhort myself to not become chaff. I read articles — every day, it seems — about men who have overcome so much to become very successful members of society. As I move from paragraph to paragraph — which detail the drug-induced siblings and friends shot to death — I always tell myself that with my facile upbringing, I'm not going to be a nobody.
I'm going to do big things with my life, with my amazing opportunity in this world...
This thinking process usually lasts about a day before I drift back into my indolent mode, which isn't to say that I'm a lazy person — just a comfortable person.
It's hard to overcome, too. Sometimes I wish I didn't have such an easy upbringing. Sometimes I wish I had had to overcome a large obstacle as a child, like a divorce, or a tragedy.
Just something to push me forward. To make my life more urgent now.
Then again, maybe I'm simply still transitioning to post-college life. To not having my fall planned out. At times it's scary, but at time's it's nice as well.
No papers. No tests. While I yearn for school again, I'm sure that if I were back in the classroom, I might not feel the same way.
— 9/7/2007
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