puhleez

people, do you really have to use coffee shops to break up with your bf/gf? it just makes us all uncomfortable. go somewhere that offers a little bit more space and separation like Perkin's.

why i still loathe UPS students

in tacoma, there are two universities that are notable (i.e. not university of phoenix or some crap like that, no offense): Pacific Lutheran University (where i did my undergrad) and the University of Puget Sound (gee, that name is almost as creative as the University of Denver). PLU is not in the best part of town, but it is cheaper and ranked better than UPS. UPS attracts a lot of wealthy kids (particularly from Colorado for some reason) and is in the nice North End of Tacoma. The football teams are rivals (PLU always wins) and UPS students generally look down on the less-flashy Lutes (PLU mascot, though we are still not sure what it actually is). As a result, there exists a standing animosity between Lutes and Loggers.

when we would venture to the North End as undergrads, we were shunned. Well, okay, i can never say that i was actually put down, but i knew what they were thinking: you pay less for tuition than we do, therefore, you are not worthy.

i thought i had shed these negative feelings, until this morning. yes, some things never change--UPS students continue to HOG all of the spots at local coffee shops and more importantly, take up all of the outlets with their laptops. i feel like getting a megaphone and shouting "There's a last minute sale going on at Hollister, hurry!" or "A BMW just got stolen from the parking lot!" or "A study was just released that organic coffee makes you gain weight!" or "Free Red Bull and Vodka down the street!" and watching the swarms of students rush out.

alas, i will endure their presence and watch my laptop slowly lose power, until it dies. and with it, a little part of me will die, too.

north dakota

a couple of weeks ago, i went to north dakota for a job interview. here is what i wrote...

This is the first leg of my journey to Dickinson, North Dakota. I am a candidate for a marketing position at an institution that is working towards economic development in the western part of that state. Half of my family has roots in this area, driven out by dam projects and polio. Here I am, out of everyone, returning. I, the one who has traveled the world more than anyone else, am going back to where his mother’s family first came when they emigrated as Germans from Russia. Though my roots are there, I feel like I am setting off to a new county, even more foreign than Africa. I have a marathon series of interviews, which makes me horribly nervous. The though going through my mind, though, is whether or not I could even live in this place. Dickinson is a town of 17,000 people. It does have a small state university, which changes things to an extent. At the same time, I know no one and I would literally be out in the middle of nowhere, even more so than I feel in Iowa. The thing is, though, that I do not feel like I have a lot of options. I cannot imagine I would like living there. But perhaps I will be surprised.

I arrived at the Dickinson airport. It has one gate, three staff members, and one car rental place. Waiting in line to retrieve my rental car, I hear a young man asking other passengers if they are “Fritz.” I catch his attention and inform him that I am Fritz. He tells me that there has been a change in plans and that he has come to pick me up—no rental car for Fritz. This also means no freedom, which in someplace this small bugs me a lot. Since he has not offered it up, I eventually ask my chauffeur what his name is. “Jamie,” he replies. He works at the university in student activities and also does something with the athletic department. Jamie grew up in a town of 600 25 miles south of Dickinson—so he has basically been in the area for his entire life. As I take my luggage from the back seat, I notice a bowling ball and bowling shoes. Apparently, this is that kind of place—one where people in their late twenties are already hanging out at the bowling alley. (news flash: i have been informed at a party in tacoma that bowling is the new golf. i didn't like golf either, though.)

Before coming here, I was informed I was staying in senior living apartments. I immediately interpreted this as a retirement home, which I found very strange. LeAnne assured me, however, that this probably meant seniors in college. Oh great, I though, a dorm instead, but this did seem preferable to a retirement home. It turns out, though, that my hunch was correct. It is a retirement home. Well, at least it is nicer than the one where my grandparents live. I am sure someone out there can understand why I find this exceedingly strange.

The interviews went fine, although I did not end up getting the job. My last meeting with was a realtor who showed me everything, which was great. She even took me to the Badlands which were amazing and beautiful. My last night there, after all the hustle and bustle was over, I decided to go have a drink. I sat down at the end of the bar and immediately, three gentlemen turned and looked at me. One of them was holding a cigarette in the space left by a missing tooth. And they just kept on staring. Somehow, I feel like they embodied much of what living there would have felt like--I would always have been an outsider, a stranger, a weirdo, someone people were always questioning.

seattle

this morning i have made my way up to seattle on the bus. a friend of mine is out of town for a couple of days and has allowed me to use her car, so i could have driven up here, but considering the cost of parking in downtown seattle, the frighteningly tiny parking garages one has to maneuver, and the fact that i would be driving an unfamiiar vehicle, i decided to park at the tacoma dome and take the bus. unfortunately, there were no long term spots left, so i had to park in the three hour spots, so let's hope i don't get a parking ticket, because i really don't need that right now.
it was so relaxing to just ride up I-5, especially since i am not as used to driving on busy freeways after a year in iowa. the bus drops you off directly in downtown seattle, which just seems so convenient. if i end up living in tacoma, i would definitely consider taking the bus up here to go shopping. but now, let's not get ahead of ourselves--shopping is not in the picture right now.
i am sitting in a starbucks in front of westlake center. this particular starbucks has glass walls all around, so you can see everything going on around you--a demonstration accross the street, cyclists narrowly squeezing by delivery vans, tourists gawking at everything, ladies weighed down with a half-dozen shopping backs (the nordstrom flagship store is about a block away).
i came up here not to people watch, but to meet with a recruiter. the good thing is that i am not nervous. i am not getting ahead of myself. as the shoppers, tourists, and execs bustle, meander, wander, power by the window, i think, one step at a time, no matter how fast of slow or straight or crooked, one step at a time gets you moving forward to your destination.