OneNote

I've been using Microsoft OneNote a lot lately; I really like it.  I like the fact that my writing automatically has the date on it.  It'd kind of like an electronic journal that takes care of the repetitive stuff for you.

And as far as a note-taking tool, it's got a lot of features and is pretty simple to navigate.  If I was still in school and taking classes, you'd bet I'd use this thing for every one. 

One drawback is that you don't have all the functionality of Word.  You can't do shortcut keys for symbols, or write equations via the equation editor (for all you science and math geeks).  On the other hand, I never really found it all that efficient to try and write equations on the computer.  I never was fast enough to keep up with the teacher.  So no great loss.  If you want them you can type them in Word and just paste it into OneNote.

Give it a shot, people!

Left, Right

I used to think that I was good with numbers - a leftbrained person (for the record, I just had to look up on Wikipedia which qualities are left brained and which are right, even though I just asked someone about this a few days ago, which only goes to further the point, I suppose).  

Not that I was every particularly bad at rightbrained stuff like art and music.  I just always thought of myself as a math and science kind of guy.

Then I got to college and started scoring lower on tests.  Math tests, chemistry tests, physics tests - I just kept getting things wrong.  I became used to red ink all over my work.  By the end of college I decided that I was, in fact, rightbrained.  That would explain why I was so bad with numbers no matter how hard I tried.

Now, as I take these MCAT preparatory tests, I'm still making those math mistakes, but I'm evaluating them more closely.  More often than making fundamental mistakes in my analytical approach to solving a numbers question, I tend to just make plain old careless mistakes.  I missed a decimal point.  I left out a constant, or a minus sign.  That kind of thing.

Can a person be strong in his leftbrainedness but still make careless errors?  Or is it part and parcel of being leftbrained to not make those errors.

More importantly, maybe I should go into engineering after all.  

Guactastic

It seems that the more I turn to blogging as a profession, the less appealing I find blogging as recreation. But as with other noble enterprises, such as exercise and Talmud Torah, that initial feeling of reluctance often belies the pleasure derived from the act itself. I will try to remember that in the future.

I couldn't resist the chance to share today's lunch, a throwback to my 209 days. Though we would never serve ours with store bought bread, nor leave out the sun-dried tomatoes, the characteristic guacamole-mozz duo brought me back.

Without the acidity of the tomatoes, though, the savor lacked a tangy kick. A little Frank's did the trick.

Is it just me, or are these guys antisemites?

I was driving along in the car this morning, listening to 92.3 K-Rock.  It was just around rush hour, a time this station usually devotes more to talk and less to actual music.  The program - the Opie and Anthony Show - generally consists of frat-guy-like banter about topics ranging from sports to women to, occasionally music.  It's light talk, meant to entertain.

All of a sudden, they announced some kind of special segment.  I don't remember what it was called, but it was Jewish something.  Naturally they had klezmer music playing in the background.  They started talking about "David", their Jewish intern.  They brought him on the air and started bullying him about something that happened in the office.  At this point, it wasn't so different from other frat-guy-like talk shows, which often feature some person who gets bullied a lot for laughs.

But then they started teasing him about being Jewish.  They asked about why he was out yesterday, and he told them about Yom Kippur and fasting and all that.  They responded by saying things like "how come you Jews are always suffering?" and ridiculing what they understood Yom Kippur to be.  "David" was clearly not cut out to respond in an intelligent way, and his answers often made him look silly, encouraging the hosts to egg him on even more.

Then they started talking about Chanuka and accused Jews of "stealing" it because we were "jealous" of Christmas.  It was revealed that at least one of the hosts was Catholic, and he told David that having a holiday about oil was silly and that at least Christmas was "about baby Jesus".  At that point I turned it off.

Now I know, I know - these guys shouldn't be taken too seriously.  They are the kind of people who get paid to talk off the cuff.  Often, it seems like "inflammatory" is something they aim for. 

Still, though, it ticked me off.  The guy was in no position to argue back - he was clearly low down on the totem pole, and they were goading him for laughs, not genuine responses.  It was frustrating, because religion always looks stupid when you know very little about it (don't get me started on Bill Maher and the trailers for his new movie "Religulous").  Plus these guys had the gall to suggest that Judaism was crazy - as opposed to Catholicism, which makes tons of sense.  

I don't know, something about the meek stammering Jew being the blunt of everyone's humor, getting verbally abused over public airwaves by his non-Jewish bosses... wasn't so much fun to hear.

Administrative Assistant

I'm a guy who's looked at a lot of job postings in my day, and I've seen a lot of postings for the position administrative assistant. As a rookie with no more than a BA to my name, I've considered applying to be an administrative assistant. I figure: I'm qualified, the pay is decent, and maybe I'd get a leg up into a company I'm actually interested.

But my dreams were squashed when I discovered that almost all "administrative assistants" were female, which I am not (although most non-Jewish employers could probably not tell that from my resume). It seems that the term "secretary" is out, "administrative assistant" is in, and they are all women. I'd like to address each point separately.

First of all, what is wrong with the word "secretary"? Perhaps this is like how "stewardess" was changed to "flight attendant" to include males. But as I demonstrated above, that cannot be the case. Is there something derogatory about the word "secretary"? Perhaps this is just the working world trying to make people seem more important. A garbageman is a sanitation engineer. An unemployed college graduate might as well be called an "associate employment opportunist".

But why only women? By the way, I'm basing the assumption that most AA's are women on the following piece of evidence: when I googled "best way to get an administrative assistant job", the first hit was some sort of blog with a conversation going on among various users who all seemed to be or have been AA's. All the names were women's names - Deb, Emma, Donna, Patricia, Brenda. There was one post from Scorpio in Pittsburgh, but I think we can all agree that "Scorpio" is not gender defining.

Some people claim that it is simply that most AA's are meant to be warm, friendly faces in the office. A big part of their job is to be smiley and greet clients and such. These people claim that women are simply more often better suited for this job, which explains the status quo. Still sounds kind of unbalanced if you ask me.

I don't really know who is right. I think they should definitely teach this stuff in college, though. (Job Hunting 101: "Administrative Assitant" means "woman" and Other Tips)

Check me out on EcoGeek!

I just started writing for EcoGeek, one of my favorite blogs! Check me out!

Rivalry

I recently came across a list of 10 factors that influence rivalry among competing firms. It quickly occured to me that these factors can easily be applied to the frum dating market.

Naturally, I based this analysis on the handful of dating markets I am familiar with (college, NY communities, etc.); feel free to challenge my points...

So here is the list (taken from an article about "Porter's 5 Forces"):

Intensity of rivalry is influenced by

1. Number of competitors
   
   
   
   • Girl to guy ratio. Take Columbia/Barnard for example – 5 girls for every guy. Not too much rivalry for the guys.




2. Whether there are tons of customers or not (slow or fast market growth)
   
   • How fast are there new people moving in? At Penn, for example, the market is strong but only grows once a year, in the fall. In NY, new people are moving in all throughout the year.
   
   



3. Do you need to sell a lot to break even? (fixed costs?)
   
   
   
   • Do you want to date lots of people? Or are you going to settle on one of the first that comes your way. If the former, more rivalry!
     
   
   
   
   


4. Perishable inventory (the firms needs to sell QUICKLY)
   
   
   
   • How old are you and how badly do you want to get married? Considering this factor, the heights is very, very competitive.
     
   
   
   
   


5. How easy is it for a customer to switch? If it is easy, more rivalry
   
   
   
   • In this sense the shidduch dating market is significantly more competitive than the “normal” dating market. In the former, it is very easy for a girl to switch from you to another guy (or vice versa) since there is little emotional commitment. A “normal” relationship is much harder to switch out of.
     
   
   
   
   


6. How different are the products?
   
   
   
   • This makes the heights less competitive than the heights. I imagine Ner Yisroel is even more competitive and Kiryas Yoel is ever more competitive.
     
   
   
   
   


7. How high are the stakes?
   
   
   
   • We’re talking about your companion for the rest of your life. The stakes, my friend, are high.
     
   
   
   
   


8. If there are high exit barriers, a firm needs to stay in an industry (hence intensifying the rivalry)
   
   
   
   • What is preventing you from picking up and moving to another city? If you live in NY, the stakes are high unless you move to Israel. More competition. If you live in Tuscon Arizona… not so much.
     
   
   
   
   


9. Diversity of rivals
   
   
   
   • In this case, the firm and the product are essentially one and the same, so there is little difference from this factor and factor no. 6
     
   
   
   
   



10. Industry shakeout – when there are too many firms, the industry shakes out the bad ones
    
    
    
    • In the dating market, the customers (guys/girls) tend to grow at the same rate as the number of firms (girls/guys) so, fortunately, a shakeout would be unlikely. However if the current “shidduch crisis” is true and there are, in fact, too many girls competing for a shrinking number of guys, this may be a real threat to the market. These are people we're talking about, and we cannot afford a "shakeout"! My solution: import males from other markets or cities. Overseas if necessary. Shipping costs will be taken into account.

So there you have it, folks. If you are offended by comparing the spiritual and delicate process of dating to a crude materialistic market-based analgoy... well, you clearly haven't dated.

Book Review: The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time

I know that I've seen a good movie when I notice a temporary change in my thoughts. This effect usually only lasts a day or so, but during that time I see things in the context of the movie's characters, themes and tone. I felt the exact same way after reading this book by Mark Haddon.

Christopher, the protagonist in this mystery, is clearly autistic. Interestingly, though, the word "autistic" does not appear in the novel even once. Christopher's narrative is a bare-bones account of the facts, devoid of any description or feeling (though rich in math and physics). As Christopher investigates the murder of a local dog, a larger story - concerning his family and neighbors - begins to unfurl.

Christopher's way of thinking - at times comical and at times poignant - makes for quick page-turning. The style drew me in right away and I finished the book in about two sittings. But the beauty of the book doesn't lie in its plot.

To me, this is a book about emotions. Christopher's mind cannot understand emotions; it is a machine of rational thinking. He draws out decision trees in his head. He makes lists. He has a perfect, photographic memory from which he can recall nearly anything. But he doesn't like people and doesn't like being touched.

His parents, on the other hands, are emotional train wrecks. Their lives are consumed with feelings of love, anger, jealousy, rejection and self-righteousness. Their emotions often lead to pain and self-destruction.

I think that is what makes the book so beautiful. Although Christopher's inability to interact with society is tragic on the surface, his calculating and objective mind is a welcome haven from a storm of emotionally charged mayhem. His fascination with the world and the things in it remind us that there is more to life than melodrama.

It's modern art. Don't ask

I am sort of half asleep right now, which may be part of the reason I feel like it's a good idea to share some poetry I wrote. Just now. (the American "just now", meaning "very recently" - as opposed to the South African "just now" meaning "in a moment")

This poetry doesn't mean anything. It is a purely aesthetic collection of English words meant to appeal to the English and non-English speaker alike.

Toothaches and caterpillars adore you
I sound for the diligent yaks
Please face true heights, please
There out in the yardbird
Open up your hello there young frosty
We deliver the potential on the right
Much apologies and two sites
To factor or not the main shaft
Boy you increase the tendency the guy in the guy cables
Photos
Do not the time of your life and darkness
Turn hi, Lasko Intake
Eastern pure winners loggers projects heads hazards
A vis the bullet

Flysick

Once upon a time, there was a boy named Nachi Flyshacker. Nachi liked to run and play and sing, and do all the things that boys like to do. He was footloose and fancy-free; a happy boy indeed.

Then, Nachi got the flu.

It started out as a feeling in Nachi's stomach after he woke up from his Shabbos nap. Nachi figured he had eaten a little too much cholent and kugel, if you get his drift. Still, the feeling persisted and Nachi didn't eat anything for the rest of the day.

That night, Nachi was unable to fall asleep. This was strange, because Nachi had slept on that very couch countless times before and he never once had trouble. And yet that night Nachi tossed and Nachi turned, only finally falling asleep in the wee hours of the morning.

When he got up in the morning, Nachi figured his symptoms would wear off by the end of the day. And, in fact, things seemed to be getting better. He rode a bus to Pittsburgh for a wedding, and felt fine on the trip. He even felt ok in Pittsburgh itself, taking some time to see the sights.

But by the time the wedding started, Nachi began to realize that his battle with the virus wasn't over just yet. He tried to subdue the virus by drowning it in drink and bread, and by dancing vigorously until sweat poured down his face. While this may have entertained the bride and groom, it only aggravated the virus' effects, causing poor Nachi to seek refuge across the street from the hotel, where he lay down next to a fountain for a little while until his head cleared.

That night, Nachi's nose began to run like crazy and continued doing so in the morning. For the bus ride home the next day, Nachi was paired up with another sick girl so as to minimize the risk of contaminating other passengers. This seemd cute at the time, but in hindsight it was probably a bad idea, as it may have aggravated Nachi's own symptoms. He survived the ride, but when he got home Nachi collapsed, overcome by the virus.

It took him a long time to get to sleep that night, and by 9 AM Tuesday morning his head felt like a ton of bricks. On Tuesday, Nachi wisely decided to treat his body gingerly. He drank tea and ate English muffins or porridge. He kept his body restful. He went through a lot of tissues. He ate a large dinner and went to sleep early.

Now, when Nachi awoke at 3 AM Wednesday morning and could not fall back asleep, he should have taken this as a sign that he was NOT better yet. But Nachi was tired of all these viral shenanigans and when morning came, he drank some strong coffee and drove into the city to do some business, and drink some more coffee.

The coffee gave Nachi the false illusion of vitality and strength. And it worked up an appetite so that when he came home for lunch he fixed himself some spicy hamburgers which he washed down with half a bottle of Budweiser.

In doing so, Nachi committed the tragic mistake of celebrating a premature victory; a mistake which - as TV and movies remind us time and time again - is always a clear sign that victory is not yet at hand.

Nachi has spent this afternoon regretting his lunchtime binge. He has been staggering through the house amidst the dirty dishes he is now too weak to clean up. He tried to drown the virus in the shower, but that just left him feeling wet.

The good news is, there is still hope for Nachi. The worst has passed and as long as he goes easy on himself, Nachi's immune system should vanquish these foreign anti-bodies. But Nachi will not be quick to pick another fight with THIS virus...

Restaurant review: Dunkin Donuts (Riverdale)

I was surprised by how much I liked my lunch here. In order to get a healthy ("healthy" meaning "diverse" - the lunch itself was not healthy at all) sampling of their fare, I ordered a toasted bagel with cream cheese, an iced coffee and a jelly doughnut.

This being my first time buying a bagel and coffee from a bona fide "fast food" establishment, I was hoping to get the whole meal for under $5. I paid a little under $6. Given food prices these days, that is totally legitimate on DD's part; it's hard to imagine them making much of a profit on even that. And a little bit of internet searching seems to indicate that they don't charge a premium on account of the hashgacha.

What really set the place apart though was the quality of the food. Granted, making a good bagel, iced coffee and doughnut isn't rocket science. You'd be surprised, though, at how badly some places do it. The bagel is often either burned or heated for so long that the cream cheese melts into a runny mess. And the coffee is across-the-board horrible. DD's bagel was just right, and their coffee - as always - was fantastic. The doughnut was great, too, though not really necessary in the end. I just kind of felt silly going to Dunkin Donuts and not getting a Donut.

Finally, the dining experience was great. The place is rommy, full of sunlight and clean. From what I've read, this is generally true among most American fast food restaurants. Although no one considers them "classy" they are definitely kept spotless. Part of the reason places like McDonalds are so popular overseas is that they are often the cleanest, roomiest, brightest and best-air-conditioned public places in the whole city. The Riverdale DD was far cleaner than a typical pizza place in the heights, or falafel shack in midtown.

While I ate, I thought about this last point. Was this restaurant so clean and pleasant because its managers and operators were far more talented than those of the typical kosher restaurant? It seems to me that the difference lies in the fact that Dunkin Donuts is a corporate establishment that has decades of experience in creating quality restaurants. Whoever manages that store is essentially following a very good set of instructions he/she received from DD, not to mention some sort of corporate budget.

I think that, for certain kinds of restaurants, you can benefit greatly by separating the management and the kashrut. You simply end up with a better product overall. I think that once kosher businesspeople figure this out, we will see a lot more that kosher Dunkin Donuts and kohser Subways. Imainge if Domino's opened a kosher store on the upper west side. A store under Domino's management would be far better equipped to handle, say, pizza deliveries than your average kosher pizzeria. That's because Domino's has been delivering pizzas forever. They have a fleet of pizza delivery men/women. They have pizza delivery apparatus. They know what they are doing. And in terms of business, there's no reason why a non-kosher consumer wouldn't order from them either. If they call in an order for pepperoni pizza, just pass the order along to one of the dozens of other Domino's stores nearby.

I think there is potential.

Breakfast and more

Sometimes I feel the need to eat a good old fashioned, manly breakfast. Today was one of those days.

Hash browns (or any other pan fried potato dish) can be annoying, because they really don't taste so good unless you properly prep your taters which can take a little while. But what they lack in instant gratification they make up for in delayed gratification. Fried up with onions and veggie bacon (a semi-trick I learned from the restaurant), served with eggs and fresh black coffee and set alongside the morning paper... well I'll let the picture do the talking:

















Here's another food-related curiosity:

I spotted this sign in midtown Manhattan last week. However, seeing as it features 34th street, Dining Dollars and the colors red and blue, it seems like maybe the sign was meant for a certain school in Philly...

Better Place in Wired magazine

If there is an award for a person/organization which does the best job at impressing people, it would certainly go to Better Place or, more specifically, Shai Agassi.

There's a good reason for that - he is a brilliant guy with a brilliant plan. And people who work for him know how to present the idea in a way that shows off its brilliance.

Case in point, this latest article in Wired magazine. I'm glad they are giving Shai some press time. It almost makes up for their embarrassing series of articles a few months ago which alleged - sloppily and unfounded, I might add - that this whole "green" trend was a hoax.

Check it out here

Oh, and if Shai Agassi reminds you at all of Tal Raviv, please raise your hand...

Behind Blue Eyes

I have just experienced the greatest achievement of my entire life.

That's right, I was able to put contact lenses into my eyes.

A little background: I have never been good with anything eye-related. My blinking reflexes are extremely powerful; clearly the evolved product of my Lithuanian ancestors. In the fierce Eastern European snowstorms of the past, only those who could quickly guard their eyes from the pointy flakes would survive.

This reflex has led to many a tense scene at the eye doctor. He practically had to hold my eyes open with a construction tool just to get the drops in. The worst was when I'd blink and he'd only get SOME of it in and he had to put in more. This kept happening and by the time he was done with me my eyes were so dilated that I couldn't tolerate natural light for the next 48 hours. And don't even get me started on the retinologist appointment. All I'll say is that there is probably no torture method more effective than dilating someone's eyes and then beaming a blasted floodlight directly into it for minutes at a time.

As you can imagine, I didn't even entertain the thought of contact lenses. Until recently. I began to critically evaluate the situation. Specifically, my thought process went as follows: "I want to wear contact lenses." And so I decided to do it, though I knew I'd be in for an uphill battle against my eyes.

Two weeks ago I went to the eye doc and she ordered me the lenses. Then, last Thursday, I went it to give it my first shot. She had showed me how to hold my eyes open really wide and tightly, so that I couldn't blink the lens away. I thought I was ready.

I was not. An hour and a half later, and still nothing. She managed to put them in for me, but I was coming nowhere close. The lens was slipping all over the place and my fingers could not hold my eyes open. My eyes, eyelids and face near my eyes were all red and sore from so much tugging shoving and failing.

My doctor gave me plenty of positive reinforcement and kept cheering me on, even though I was making zero progress. Finally, I gave up and decided to give it another shot the next week.

So I came in again today. My eye doc wasn't there, so instead I worked with the two ladies working at the store that day. I sat down with the lenses and tried again. The same exact thing was happening, and I felt I was getting further and further from ever accomplishing my goal..

..and then I did it. I don't even know how. I just did. First one lens, then soon later, the other. I whooped with joy and started high-fiving the two ladies. I was on fire, and they beamed at me. I got them out, too. I sat there and practiced a few more times. It felt good.

I'm nowhere near perfect, but I figure it's all downhill from here. They packed me up with my trials and sent me on my merry way, contacts-in. And here I am, glassesless and free.

Music harvest season

The month of October is rapidly approaching and with it - the end of my upenn.edu email address and, subsequently, the end of my Ruckus account.

Which means it is time to download as much free music as I possibly can before it is free no longer.

There's only one problem - I don't know what to take. And that is why I turn to you, fair readers.

I need suggestions, suggestions, suggestions. Tell me about your favorite artists, albums, singles, whatever. They can be new, old or so-last-year. It can be classic rock, indie rock, power pop, country, rap (I will be wary if it is country or rap..) - you name it.

Friends, Romans, countrymen - lend me your playlists.

At the moment, here's what I have in my jukebox, in alphabetical order (those who I am particularly pleased/displeased with these days have earned emoticons)

Allman Bro's
Andrew W.K.
Arctic Monkeys
Ashely MacIsaac

Beatles
Beck
Ben Folds
Ben Harper
Billy Joel
Black Sabbath
Bob Dylan
Boston
The Bravery

Cake
Cheap Trick
Coldplay :)
Crosby Stills & Nash
The Cure

David Bowie
Death Cab
Doors

Elton John

Foo Fighters :(
Fountains of Wayne :)
Franz Ferdinand

Gorillaz :)
Green Day
Guns 'n Roses

Hives :(

Interpol

Jet :(

Killers :) :)
Kiss

Meat Loaf
Modest Mouse
My Chemical Romance :(

Neil Young

Paul Simon
Phantom Planet
Phish
Pink Floyd
Police
Postal Service

REM
Raconteurs
Rolling Stones
Rooney

Santana
Silversun Pickups
Simon & G
Steppenwolf
Strokes

TMBG
Tom Petty
Traveling Wilburys

U2

Van Halen
Van Morrison

Weezer :)
White Stripes :)

Yosef Karduner

The Jews in "Blink"

Ok, so I'm only about 1/3 of the way into Malcom Gladwell's "Blink", but the Yiddin are already popping up everywhere.

First, there's the psychologist John Gottman who "sometimes wears a Mao cap over his braided yarmulke". Then there's medical researcher Wendy Levinson (no relation).

But the icing on the cake is Raymond Fisman, an economist who appears in a segment about speed dating.

"We've supposedly spawned one long-term romance," Fisman told me... "It makes me proud. Apparently all you need is three to get into Jewish heaven, so I'm well on my way."

On a separate note, if anyone can bring me a source for this oft-quoted, apparently fundamental pillar of the Jewish faith, that would make my day.

My Hobby

One of the greatest features of chat-based socializing is the ability to, when a joke comes to mind, try it out on six or seven people simultaneously. You can't do this in real life unless all those people are in the same place at the same time and are paying attention to you, which is rare. But online, you can just watch the different responses and evaluate whether, overall, your joke was funny or not.

Efficiency, efficiency.

Southern Man

Israelis are not known for pitching aliyah as a sugar coated fairy tale (that's Nefesh B'Nefesh's job, with the help of Windows Movie Maker and the Moshav Band). So it came as no surprise to find myself receiving blunt advice and finger-wagging from the shliach aliyah at the Israel Aliyah Center.

He wasn't rude or anything. He was frank. He told me that I don't have any connections in Israel and that in Israel, it's all about connections. My degree means less in Israel than it does in America. Israelis don't really "do" internships. He's met too many people who think that they are going to save Israel, make aliyah and then get nowhere.

Then he asked me where I wanted to live.

When I told him, his face lit up. "You said the magic word: the Negev. I, too, love the Negev and I think more people need to move there."

Within minutes he was on his laptop, scouring the internet for job postings. I told him about my interest in algae biofuels, and he dropped the name of an algae scientist that I recognized from a book I recently read. As it just so happens, he is hiking buddies with this scientist.

The meeting was cut short (he had another meeting), but in twenty short minutes I had gone from feeling like a clueless, over-idealistic American to feeling like this guy's little brother.

Always remember, every sabra is sweet on the inside.

Bubbie

Yesterday was the last day of shiva for my grandmother, Zelda Levinson Aleha Hashalom. I wanted to share some thoughts, both for those of you who met her and those who did not:

       *                    *                    *

To me, Bubbie Zelda was never a real person like any of us. She was a Bubbie – a species unto itself. No storybook could have conceived of a more grandmotherly grandmother than Bubbie herself. She had curly hair, rosy cheeks and round glasses. Her eyes sparkled. She was soft an huggable. She was always in the kitchen, wearing an apron and baking sweet desserts. To visit her we would drive through the countryside of Upstate New York and stay in her house (cottage, it seemed more like to me) where Concorde grapes grew in the backyard and snow piled up to our necks in the wintertime.

Looking back on old pictures of Bubbie only reinforced this belief. In the years that spanned my father’s childhood and my own she changed so little in physical appearance that, were it not for the context of the photographs, I’d probably have no idea if my grandmother was thirty or sixty five.

Just as her appearance neither waxed nor waned, Bubbie sailed through the sea of her life unfazed by the kinds of ups and downs that dominate so many of our lives. She never shouted in anger, nor shrieked in excitement. She was not the type to try new tricks, but in the things she did she was deliberate, meticulous and perfect. She was a rock.

The kitchen was her legacy. I used to love watching her cook. Perhaps there, more than anywhere was where I witnessed this aforementioned meticulous activity; cooking as a lesson for life. Flour was sifted gently. Apples were sliced carefully. Sugary crumbs were dotted onto a cake bit by bit – never rushed – until the whole thing was covered. Steps which I would sloppily rush through she performed patiently, and patience always yielded perfection – this I will never forget. When I cook and when I bake I can feel her in my blood.

Her voice was always stately and dignified. She’d take you back to her early childhood in Boston every time she asked you to pass the mahmalade or answered a phone call from my uncle Mahk. She kept up formal correspondence with her friends back in Syracuse until she could no longer use the electric typewriter in the dining room. She spent every morning reading the New York Times and the New Yorker magazine. She kept a Hertz chumash by her side to study the weekly portion. Though hearing was quite difficult for a long time, she was sharp as a tack until just before the end.

She came to live with us eight years ago after a fall left her in need of physical assistance. Since that time, though her faculties gradually faded, her unshakable nature never faltered. She would adapt, but never give up on her daily routine. Though she became increasingly dependent on others to take care of her, she was never demanding. She never sought attention, never fished for sympathy and never – not once – bemoaned her condition.

I think this heroic determination is the most important lesson I have learned from Bubbie and who she was. No one can avoid life’s disappointments, life’s unfair challenges, life’s sometimes dreary and repetitive drone or life’s unexplainable tragedies. But we all can choose to either ride life like a roller coaster and let us take it where it will, or we can march through it like a soldier. Bubbie marched until the end, and I can only hope to follow in her footsteps.

SeamlessWeb

A couple friends have pointed out the site seamlessweb to me. It's pretty simple - you order food online and it is promptly delivered to the place where you work.

Here's the kicker, though - you can order from half a dozen kosher restaurants, including Dougie's, Eden Wok and Mendy's.

The site is extremely user-friendly and simple to use. You just punch in your address, and you are quickly guided through integrated menus that let you click on the items you wish to order. The site even lets you specify, for example, exactly what toppings you want on your burger.

It's fast, it's accurate and they have a good reputation for service. It definitely beats letting the phone ring for 10 minutes, only to have someone mess up your order because they didn't hear you.

It's just a better way to order food.

Monday

[update - I am putting a "fuzzy patch" over all identifying features in this and future posts]

I had reserved a table for two at 8. But getting a chance to sample the cuisine was not my primary reason for visiting the restaurant that night. Truth is, I wanted a job. There are only a small handful of kosher restaurants in the city that live up to treif-world standards when it comes to service, décor and – of course – the food itself. This place is one of them.

Everyone had told me that Frank was a “nice guy”. He was well known for mingling through the dinner crowd, schmoozing with the customers and making personal recommendations and suggestions when it came to choice of food and drink. I knew that he had, on occasion, hired people like me – no formal training, only a passion for the kitchen.

But the stocky guy yakking away into a cell phone on the sidewalk wasn’t what I expected. He looked really young. And he sounded more like a vintage cab driver than a refined gourmet. Nonetheless, when my dinner counterpart arrived I waved him over. “Is that Frank?” I asked. My friend nodded, and went inside to hold the table while I waited for the chef.

Finally, the phone conversation ended and Frank walked over to me – he had seen me waiting. We shook hands and I introduced myself. Always the warm host, Frank recognized my name from the reservation list. Then, I took the leap and told him that I was really there because I wanted to work in his restaurant. After exposing my true desires, Frank began to laugh. Then he began to rip my dreams to tiny little pieces.

You don’t want to do this. You don’t want to get into this business. How much money do you think chefs make? (I don’t know) Ten dollars an hour! If you’re lucky!

Are you a frum guy? This is no job for a frum guy. You can’t start a family with this life. You can’t SUPPORT a family, that’s for sure.

You don’t know the first thing about cooking. If you went to culinary school, it would still take you 5 years until you really knew what you were doing. You’d be 29 years old before you’re even ready to do anything.

Do you have a girlfriend? (No.) How are you going to date? You realize my guys work until midnight every night?

If you really want to work in the restaurant business, be a mashgiach. They at least make decent money. Why don’t you do that? (Well, I really want to be a chef…)

Don’t be a chef! Go to law school. Go to grad school. Don’t get into this business, I’m telling you. You want to work in my kitchen? I guarantee you will cut yourself. You will slip, fall, crack your skull.

You think you can open your own restaurant? How much money do you think it costs to open a restaurant like this, huh? How much? (Uh, a couple hundred thousand dollars) Yeah, exactly how much – say how much! ($350,000) Ha! It costs at least 1.3 million to open a place like this. You got any rich relatives? (No) Well then, good luck.

You like to cook? What do you like to cook? (Well, that’s sort of a vague ques…) Do you like vegetables? Huh? Do you love nature? Do you have a fine appreciation of nature? Do you like hiking? Look at that sunset [grabs me by the shoulders and turns me to face the sunset]. Beautiful, isn’t it? If you want to be a chef, you need to love the natural world. You need to be willing to shell out $6 a pound for the freshest fruit straight from the farm.

You don’t know anything about food. And this isn’t the career for you.

This went on for about half an hour. I held my ground. I told him that I didn’t care and still wanted to work for him. I told him it wasn’t about the money, I understood all the cautionary advice, and still wanted to do it. He sighed, and he said that I could come in the next day if I wanted to. He’d put me at the mercy of Eddie, his sous chef.

I smiled in victory, and went off to enjoy my dinner. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” shouted Frank. I told him that’s the last thing I would say.

Dinner was great. The sweetbreads were a little salty, but it was a treat just to have them. My venison entrée was a little pricey, but I felt like ordering the venison was just another test from Frank to see if I really appreciate fine cuisine. Plus, it tasted phenomenal. For dessert, I sampled some of their homemade sorbets – if you go, I can tell you that the banana and passion fruit sorbet were the best sorbets I have ever tasted, hands down.

Wined, dined and lined (up for a trail), I left Frank’s happy as a clam, eager to start my first day.

They say

They say these are the best years of our lives. To be 20-something is the best age to be, right? As my friend's dad recently put it to me - "foot-loose and fancy-free".

I'm not so sure. Wherever I look, I see a generation fraught with doubt and indecision. I see people frustrated that they can't find their calling. I see people begging at their hands and knees to get jobs where they work 80 hours a week and never see the light of day. I see people borrowing sums of money they may never be able to repay - just so that they can become DOCTORS and help people (how ironic is that?). We have a lot to worry about, and a lot to be frustrated about.

There is another side to the coin, though. We know how to laugh. We know the meaning of friendship and community. At our age, we can be passionate without being irresponsible and educational without being boring. We can savor the sweet fruits of the world like no other. We are a generation of contradictions, of ups and downs.

Stay tuned, by the way. Last week's Mike's Bistro adventures are soon to be hot off the presses.

Bicycle Race

It was a great day for a bike ride through the neighborhood. I slowly climbed soft hills on the quiet back roads connecting Scarsdale and White Plains. I sailed down them, enjoying the breeze. The only sound on the deserted suburban streets was the chirping of birds. The only vehicles that passed me were construction vans (while the soccer moms themselves may rest during this time of day, their plumbers, carpenters, landscapers and gardeners clearly don't). After swinging by the pool I used to go to as a kid, I decided to bike home on the parkway...

Turns out, you're not allowed to bike on the parkway.

It was an honest mistake - that little shoulder on the side of the road looks like a bike lane! And it wasn't like I was getting in anyone's way. Usually when you do something wrong, every single driver on the road feels the need to honk at you, and you figure it out pretty quick. But no one was bothering me, so I assumed it was ok.

I knew it wasn't when I heard a siren go off, and a voice booming over a megaphone (honestly, it was cranked up so high you'd think I was on the set of some military action movie) "GET. OFF. THE. ROAD."

I got off the road. I dragged my bike onto the grass lining the side of the highway and turned around. It wasn't a cop, but rather some sort of emergency truck with the acronym H.E.L.P. emblazoned on it. How I.R.O.N.I.C. Then the voice spoke again.

"GET OFF THE ROAD"

I gestured with my arms to indicate that the turf upon which I was standing was not, in fact, the road. My captor rolled down his window and shouted his intruction.

"Get off the parkway at the next exit."

I told him I would walk my bike there over the grass if that was ok. He paused. "I'm giving you permission."

So, slowly, I began to walk my bike over the grass. He rolled along slowly behind me (blocking up the parkway in the process, I might add).

I didn't know what was going to happen. I knew that this guy clearly only had two things - a loud megaphone, and a deep-rooted desire to be a cop, which he wasn't. I didn't think he had the authority to punish me in any way, but nonetheless I was already planning my negotiation strategy.

At one point the grass shoulder ended, and the path dipped behind a row of trees and bushes. I indicated that I was going to take that way off the parkway and the cop-wannabe nodded. By the time I came out on the other side, he was gone.

I rode home with a newfound disrespect for authority.

Time of Your Life

All I want is decent battery life.

I don't need a flashy screen. I don't need a camera; I certainly don't need a video camera. I don't need access to email or web browsing. I don't need to listen to mp3's. I don't need a tip calculator.

All I want is to get a couple of hours between charges to speak to other humans. Yet I am finding this desire impossible to achieve.

At the end of May I decided that, after a long life which included an ill-fated freezer incident (see here for details), my Motorla e815 was ready for retirement, and an upgrade was in order. My only requirements were those listed above.

First Verizon hooked me up with the Samsung Gleam. Not only did this phone fail to last more than a day, but I didn't like the flat button panel which prevented me from feeling which button was which.

No problem. I turned it in and replaced it with the LG 8350. The phone wasn't much to look at, but it was supposed to get great talk time. I believed that it would given that it was stoutly shaped (indicating a more robust battery than its razor thin competitors) and frugal on the display.

Negatory. I actually clocked the time on this one, and found that I was getting just about half the rated talk time. Not very impressive for a brand new phone. But when I brought it back to try again, I was curtly informed that I was only allowed one exchange. Verizon could give me a new unit of the LG, but that was it. Fine. I took a new unit... same problem.

It was time for a new approach. I called up Verizon customer service and claimed that my battery was defective. The rep told me that I could bring my phone to a Verizon retailer (not the dinky little Circuit City kiosk I had been going to up till now) and get the battery tested. If it really was defective, I'd get a brand new one.

Phone in hand, I headed out to my nearest retailer. There, I found out that - surprise - no battery testing apparatus actually existed, they just charged up the phone for a while and see how much talk time they could get; something I had already done.

Luckily, though, there must have been some kind of policy disparity between Verizon stores, because these guys told me I could return the LG and try a new one. Happy Day! These guys were nice! I trusted them more than those mean folks at Circuit City. So when they recommended the Motorola v9m, I naturally took it. After all, my last phone was a Motorola, and it was great.

Suffice it to say that the Motorola v9m... sucks. I probably should have figured that out, given its extremely huge LCD screen, as someone pointed out to me (JM). But what can I say? I was vulnerable. I swallowed their story and got stuck with a juice guzzler. After a full charge over shabbos, I've gotten 1 hour 17 minutes and I am down to 1 bar.

I have been told that there are other factors that lead to bad battery life. When I open the phone to check the time, when I send text messages - those all contribute to the drainage. And I don't get the best reception, which may (although shouldn't, according to the people I spoke to in the store) contribute further to the problem.

But are these factors really enough? CNET conducted actual tests for tons of phones, and they rate mine at 5 hours. Half a dozen text messages, half a dozen times opening the phone, not full reception... this really turns 5 hours into barely 1.5? Something is wrong here. And I demand justice.

Even if Verizon let me pick yet another phone, I don't really trust their options. I'd rather buy a used older model off eBay and get it programmed with my account. The only company I have faith in is Nokia, and they don't even do Verizon phones. And I want to keep my number.

If anyone has any suggestions, I'm all ears.

Movie review: WALL-E

Like so many of the tales that have withstood the tests of time, WALL-E is a multilayered masterpiece.

On the surface, it is a cleverly choreographed and richly rendered visual delight. The movie's G rating makes it clear that its makers wanted to reach out to all ages, and its minimalistic use of dialogue perhaps suggests another desire - to reach out to other cultures. The aesthetic pleasure derived from simply watching the characters swoop and twirl appeals to any moviegoer on Earth.

Beneath this is a thinly veiled, albeit timely and heroic message - that of overconsumption, overdependence and the fragile nature of our environment. Set in the future, WALL-E is an obvious warning to today's children. Unlike other environmentalist-themed movies, though, such as Happy Feet (whose message, as far as I could tell, was "if everyone just sang, danced, was nice to penguins and stopped offshore drilling, the world would be a perfect place"), WALL-E makes its point with just the right mix of subtlety and gravity.

But even this is yet another veil. Beneath this statement about the environment, business and government is a poignant lesson about what it means to be human. As many critics have noted, the robots in the film display the most personality - curiosity, innocence, courage, compassion, duty, concern and - most notably - love. Indeed, the most triumphant part of the plot is when the humans finally begin to embrace these characteristics, dragging themselves out of their own robotic states.

It isn't just a cute role reversal, though. Like the prophets of the Tanach taught us, the best way to deliver a message and teach a lesson is through an external parable. People learn, not by being rebuked personally, but by watching their values and vices play themselves out through external devices. Come to think of it, WALL-E is positively bursting with Biblical symbols, from the name of the female robot (Eve) to the unquestionably ark-like nature of humanity's great spaceship.

By the way, I couldn't help but notice the irony of WALL-E - a movie about the perils of consumerist culture - being preceded by a preview for "WALL-E the video game". I'll have to assume that the folks behind the noble-minded elements did not make that call.

In short, go see this movie, and show it to your kids.

The World At Large

Friends of Flyshack,

As we approach 100 hits on the Flycounter, I'd like to note that today's hits have displayed a most excellent global presence. I've had the meter up for about a week, and the hits have trickled in - mostly from the Northeastern United States, a few from Israel... But suddenly today I have hits from Venezuela, Chile, Brazil, Spain, France, Germany, Norway, Turkey, China, and even Nebraska!

Friends, I am flattered by this newfound international acclaim; I wish I could thank you in every language on Earth (but if you are reading this blog anyway, it seems English will suffice). I pledge henceforth to write The Adventures of Flyshack with a heightened global sensibility, kind of like how they stuck that blonde chick with an Australian accent into the Transformers movie (that was Wikipedia's explination, at least).

Iron Man

When I agreed to build a wine press to service the Sarah E.W. 2008 wine-making extravaganza, I had no idea that I would end up standing in a machine shop, watching a plasma-cutter slice up thick sheets of galvanized steel amidst a dramatic shower of sparks and smoke.

And yet, there I was.

My dad made the suggestion of going to the AC/Heating shop near our house; apparently the owner goes to our shul and they had built him a blech once way back when. When I found the garage, I was pointed to a friendly guy named Martin. I explained to Martin what I was trying to do, and that I needed a round piece of metal; which is how we ended up using the plasma-cutter.

Martin also found a random metal fitting lying around which was perfectly sized for the threaded rod I bought last week at the Home Depot. Finally, after rummaging around a bit in his parts stockroom he found a few pieces of pipe that formed a handle over said rod. My press had all the parts it needed, and I grinned from ear to ear.

"Awesome, Martin! Ring me up - how much do I owe you?"

Martin just smiled and shrugged. I was bewildered.

"You're giving this stuff for free?"

He laughed. "You asked me if I could help you out, and I said yeah!" With that he walked off to take care of some other business.

* * *
These are the pieces that I got from Martin:
















I glued the fitting (rightmost) onto the steel disk, and taped it into a plastic cap that I bought last week.


The cap fits into the plastic bucket to its left. This bucket will hold the grapes, and the juice will flow out the bottom holes into...










a containment vessel (tupperware from my kitchen)




















The whole contraption is housed inside a milk crate:
















The handle is then fed in through the top, where it connects to the cap piece. Turning the handle gently squeezes the grapes. The juice flows out, and you are one step closer to winey delight.

Breakfast, sweet and savory

The other day I found a bag of packaged flat bread. The stuff was halfway between a pita and a wrap; essentially, the kind of stuff that looks good in the store but ends up being too thin for pita applications and too thick for a wrap.

Toasted with some goat cheese, olives and sun-dried tomatoes, though, it served as a makeshift pizza crust. And when topped with a fresh batch of tzatziki (see earlier post), it formed part of this complete breakfast.

The other part was a batch of cinnamon buns. The key is to let the dough sit overnight in the fridge, making it tangy and yeasty. I'm still working on my technique, trying to reduce variability from batch to batch.

Book Review: Earth The Sequel

Overall, Fred Krupp and Miriam Horn's book "Earth: The Sequel" is exactly what I have been craving for a long time: a survey of the most promising new technologies that could, if implemented on a grand scale, make the world a better place.

The end of the book acknowledges a list of two dozen or so "green" blogs which served as resources for much of the information contained within. As a regular reader of quite a few of those mentioned (climatebiz, worldchaning, and - my favorite - ecogeek) I can describe the book itself as a compilation of the most exciting and promising stories to have graced these blogs over the last couple years. Like the blogs themselves, the authors of "Earth: The Sequel" give you thorough, yet to-the-point descriptions of the various new and developing technologies out there.

After an introduction, each chapter summarizes a different sector: photovoltaics, thermal solar, algae/cellulosic ethanol (2 chapters), ocean, geothermal, and coal gasification. The last two chapters of the book are a hodgepodge of different companies and individuals who have either made significant green accomplishments or have some kind of idea that's so-crazy-it-just-might-work.

In a nutshell, here's my summary of the aforementioned categories:

Solar: I would say that the thermal solar stuff sounds more exciting than the photovoltaics. PV is cool in principle, and even cooler developments are in the works, like PV paint (holding tiny nanoscale PV units in solution) that could literally just be painted onto a roof. Thing is, most of these prototypes are only getting a fraction of the energy efficiency they are shooting for. Let me know when that improves. Till then, thermal solar plants are actually being built and this book at least seems to label them a success. Another cool aspect mentioned in the solar part of the book (though this could really apply to any new technology) is the concept of building new ultra-high efficiency DC transmission lines so that states like New Mexico could distribute their excess solar energy to other parts of the country efficiently.

Biofuel: Naturally, I found this part the most interesting. Algae seems like the way to go, if only because the stuff can easily be tweaked to our liking, and grows like wildfire. The book mostly talks about the various challenges in growing the algae - controlling light, nutrients, growth, etc. I'm curious as to how they refine the fuel out of it, and would like to know more about that. He briefly mentions cellulosic ethanol, but doesn't dwell on it for very long. Ethanol is turning into a dirty word in this whole biz, so maybe it's better that he leaves it out. Or maybe it's just that no one has made any real breakthroughs in terms of actually making cellulosic ethanol a viable option.

Ocean/Geothermal: Two very promising energy sources due to the fact that they are producing energy nearly 100% of the time. For some reason, it seems like ocean energy engineers have trouble getting their system to work. I've been following the attempts to put turbines in the East River (which is mentioned in this book), and have often wondered what is so hard about putting a turbine in the water... It seems that the answer is - not much, really, we just need a little practice. No radically new technologies here; the main drawback seems to be the mounds of legal red tape that stands between the people who want to build the power plants and successful implementation of said plants.

Coal: Here there was some really interesting stuff. I have always been very skeptical about technologies that remove carbon dioxide from coal before it gets into the atmosphere. Such practices always struck me as the kind of thing that would require more energy than they are worth. But apparently it could be economical, at least in the near term. Also, it might be possible to burn coal while it is still in the ground - an idea that sounds dangerous (think raging mine fires in Centralia) but, if mastered, really smart.

One topic that was noticeably absent: wind. I'm not sure why they left it out, especially since wind is such a fast growing part of the alternative energy sector. It remains a mystery to me.

The authors' endorsement of a carbon cap-and-trade program was repeated many times throughout the book. I was somewhat disappointed - not because I'm against cap-and-trade per se; I think the jury is still out on it. I was disappointed because unlike the other elements of the book, which gave me an exciting new spin on something I thought I already knew about, the carbon market stuff seemed to just repeat things I had heard before. But the book does make a passionate argument, and I respect it for that.

I highly recommend this book to anyone, even an avid blog reader. Although you may well have heard of some of these companies, this book transcends the blogosphere in its personal accounts of the individuals behind them. There are the savvy businessmen and women, the brilliant MIT grads, the eccentrics living out in the middle of nowhere, and more. Getting a firsthand look at these pioneers reveals their shared passion for making the world a better place. It makes me, more than ever, want to join their ranks.

Consumerism is getting out of hand

Sometimes I come across things that really bring out the Tyler Durden in me. Not that I have ever been tempted to organize gangs or stage public acts of vandalism or blow up credit card company headquarters or anything like that. But sometimes our society's obsession with buying stuff makes me sigh.

In searching through various deal-of-the-day websites (if you don't know what they are, they are exactly what they sound like), I came across a website called ThingFling. I don't know if they do this every day, but today they were offering a "mystery box" for $123. Yeah, you pay $123 and you get... something. It could be that new plasma TV you wanted, but it could also be a set of novelty melon ballers or something.

I guess one could argue that this makes sense. Maybe it has to do with marketing, or economics. But I couldn't look at this ill conceived Vegas-Walmart lovechild without rolling my eyes.

I'm not here to say whether having a lot of stuff is good or bad. I know people who like to have a lot of stuff and don't mind moving it around, finding nooks and crannies to store it in, etc. I also know people (well, at least this one guy I read on the internet) who advocate living with minimal stuff (by the way, he has his own definition of "stuff" which doesn't include, among other things, books). I happen to identify more with the minimal stuff approach, but hey - to each his own.

What is annoying, though, is that your average kid doesn't get to make that decision for himself. The overwhelming influences - at least as far as I can remember - made it very clear that collecting as much cool stuff as possible will lead to happiness. I am mostly thinking of the zillions of catalogs and circulars that have passed through my house over the years, and stores like the Sharper Image that, as a kid, I thought was the height of luxury and now I realize is just a giant scam machine (which may be why they are now bankrupt).

The problem isn't the stuff itself. I like my laptop, cell phone and mp3 player just as much as the next guy. The problem is consumerism. Sometimes I wonder about numbers - how many people are out there selling stuff and how many people are out there actually working on society's infrastructure - growing food, paving roads, constructing buildings, managing the power grid, etc. Maybe if we looked at those aspects of our society as frequently as the consumer-related parts, we would more sensible overall. Maybe if we saw our local power station as often as our local Circuit City...

Is there anybody out there?

First of all, let me say this - I'm not a stalker. I'm just a guy who happens to have installed a hit counter/meter on this very blog.

It's still kind of new and exciting to see where all the hits come from, and was looking through some of my latest visits this morning. One, however, caught my eye. It came from the Environmental Defense Fund.

I assume that this is due to my mention of the book "Earth: The Sequel" which was co-authored by the EDF's President, Fred Krupp.

Let me cut to the chase, then: If anyone out there in the Environmental Defense Fund is reading this blog, my name is Yoni Levinson and I thoroughly enjoyed "Earth: The Sequel"! I happen to be looking for a job right now, and I'm a smart active young Ivy League graduate! I can send you my resume! My email address is yolevins@gmail.com! I like to write and I have a strong science background!

Job hunting, take 2

When I started sending out resumes in the fall of last year, I knew that most of them would be ignored or dismissed. This time around, that sure seems to be the case once again. I am not surprised.

But, that doesn't mean I can't fight back.

Yes, I've decided that the best way to avoid getting overlooked is to employ the subtle strategy of sounding pompous and cocky!

Actually, that's a bit of an exaggeration. I am merely trying to write to these companies with a confidant tone. If I believe in myself, surely they must believe in me as well, right?

First, let's look at a section of the cover letter I wrote to the CEO of a startup making filters to suck carbon dioxide out of power plant smoke. In it, I compare myself to the CEO himself and suggest that we are sort of kindred spirits:

"I came across your name and company while reading “Earth: The Sequel”. The book mentions describes how you use biological “technologies” such as the carbonic anhydrase enzyme to perform carbon sequestration. In this sense, I believe we have something in common: we are both interested in tackling global warming through biochemistry...

..In short, I hope to one day be among the social entrepreneurs that make clean technology a reality for future generations. I hope that you share this excitement, and are interested in working together. "

Next, let's look at the email I sent back to Verenium, a biofuels startup that sent me what appeared to be some sort of automatic rejection:

"Hi Tracie,

I had a feeling that Research Associate was a little bit advanced for someone with only a BA.

However, I really am interested in working for your company. Do you have any entry-level positions in your San Diego location at all?

I encourage you to look past the research focus of my work experience and recognize that I could be extremely useful to a company such as yours due to my strong work ethic, passion for the cause and people skills. I'm sure that Verenium needs to train strong future leaders, and I think that I could be one.

Thank you for your time,
Yoni "


Finally, we come to Project Better Place, an electric car startup with plans to convert every driver in Jerusalem from gas to electric within the next ten years or so. I filed a comment under the "joint business ventures" section. I don't have the exact text, but I essentially assured them that I have a golden plan to expand their Jerusalem market to young college age students. You see, I said, I'm a young aspiring social entrepreneur who will be a big shot one day. You should hire me.

We'll see how this new approach serves me. Even if I don't get better at actually securing job offers, I'm sure as heck having a lot more fun looking for them!

Leftovers

Leftover Pita.
Leftover grilled chicken.
Leftover Mexican relish.

But... freshly made chummus with extra garlic.
And that - like Frost's road of choice - has made all the difference.

(note: the sandwich tasted much better than its picture looks)

I can be your gyro, baby

The other day I noticed that my fridge contained, among other things, lots of cucumbers and a big carton of plain yogurt. In my mind, cucumbers + yogurt = tzatziki. And if you give a mouse tzatziki, he's GOING to ask for some pita bread and roasted lamb slices to make a gyro sandwich. (By the way, "gyro" is pronounced "hero", making my title all the more clever)

This morning I made Greek yogurt. Greek yogurt is just regular yogurt that has drained over a coffee filter for 2 hours, letting out gross cloudy water and leaving behind thick, rich, tangy goodness. Tzatziki consists of said goodness mixed with diced cucumbers, garlic, dill and some oil and vinegar. It's kind of like what the Israelis at Gush used to eat for breakfast, execpt they used gevina levana. And it was gross.

However, despite the fact that my yogurt was labeled OU (no mention of D), I resisted the temptation to grill up some lamb to go with my tzatziki. I went vegetarian instead. Unfortunately, though, Morningstar has yet to come out with a lamb flavored product, so I decided to whip up my own. I found a log of vegetarian "ground beef" in my fridge, but I knew it needed to be doctored up. A lot. That stuff tastes like motor oil smells.

So I doctored. In went onion, spices, and lots of cholesterol and fat containing ingredients which I will not mention here; suffice it to say that they succeeded in turning the "meat" from atrocious to delicious in 5 minutes. The resulting paste was baked, sliced and grilled to golden done.

The result? The "meat" didn't quite taste like lamb, but it was definitely good. It was kind of like falafel. The tzatziki was the clear winner, though. I will be making that one again, fo' sho'

The Art of Negotiation

I just read most of "Getting to Yes", a book about negotiation.

It's a great book, and I learned a lot. Now that I am back on the job hunt, I feel that I have a new tool at my disposal. Using the skills I learned in the book, I feel that I can give myself a serious leg up on the job hunt.

There's just one problem. In my head, I can quickly employ the various strategies I have read about. I can make convincing cases, I can steer the conversation where I want - in short, I dominate.

But in reality, this doesn't happen. I get tongue-tied. When the girl from HR tells me that they looked at my resume last night, but there were just SO many resumes, and they didn't think I was a good fit, I just stammered. I still think I'm qualified (ok, thank you). I still want to let you know that I'm interested (ok, good bye). Checkmate.

Why couldn't I think on the fly? Why didn't I point out that the resume is only one factor in deciding who is a good candidate? Why didn't I emphasize the fact that my background couldn't advocate for me as well as I could in person? Why didn't I push for an interview, even if my resume wasn't among the choicest?

Why do I only think of the right things to say after I have hung up the phone?

My other phone call was also cut short, but it's not checkmate yet. The man sounded in a major rush, and he kept saying he was in a meeting (why he was answering his phone during a meeting, I'm not sure). They will get back to me, he said, but he can't talk, he's in a meeting.

Did he mention he was in a meeting?

I suppose these are educational experiences. One day, I will be gainfully employed.

Aztec Surprise

Ok, so this is a retroactive culinary creation. But it fits with the recently mentioned Mexican theme.

Aztec Surprise is simply hot cocoa (made with whole milk, of COURSE) with a little instant coffee. But what makes it Aztec is the ground Cayenne pepper you put in there (the Aztecs were known for mixing sweet and spicy).

People, you have to try red pepper in either your coffee or your hot chocolate or some combination of those two. Take the plunge. It is exciting to drink.

MexiDogs

I am hereby beginning something I will hopefully continue. I would like to document spontaneous culinary creations of which I am proud. I suppose for the sake of documentary accuracy it would be more appropriate to note the creations of which I am embarrassed as well. I'm going to take it one step at a time, though, and for now I am proud of my MexiDogs.

The MexiDogs are simply hot dogs covered in a onion/pepper Mexican hot relish. They hit the spot. The main weakness was actually the dogs themselves, which had spent too much time in the freezer and came out a little leathery.

But I am proud of the relish and hope to use it in future creations.

Old Man

I had a general idea of how to build the wine press, but I lacked materials. Thus, I found myself once again in that cavernous wonderland of a warehouse: the Home Depot.

The Home Depot is one of my favorite stores out there. I like smelling lumber and paint. I like the aisles of nuts and bolts and screws and brackets in all shapes and sizes. The testosterone glazed shrines to power tools make me grin.

Unfortunately, the HD staff was a bit of a letdown. They didn't seem to really know where anything was. They weren't handymen or handywomen. This was just another job to them. Instead of flipping burgers, they wore orange aprons and directed people to where they could find paint.

An encounter with one employee left me particularly hopeless. In one hand I held a large screw, which was labeled as 3/4" in diameter. In another, I held a piece with a hole inside, labeled as 1/2" in diameter. Being that 3/4 is bigger than 1/2, I was perplexed as to why the hole was larger than the screw. After presenting this little curiosity to the HD employee, he responded as follows (in a patronizing tone): "No, see, this (the piece with the hole) is 1/2, and YOU need 3/4"

I didn't feel like explaining the concept of kal v'chomer.

Just as I was about to give up, I saw an old man employee. His name tag said "Gil". I thought to myself, this guy is definitely the kind of guy who knows his stuff, who has worked with his hands all his life. I went up to him and explained what I was trying to do. He eagerly took to the task, although he didn't really seem to know exactly where to find the part I wanted. Still, we attacked the problem together, each trying to come up with ideas as we wandered aimlessly through different parts of the store.

At one point Gil turned to me
"Where are you from?"
"Scarsdale"
"Were you there this morning?"
"Huh?"
"Do you daven at the Young Israel?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Oh. You were at the late minyan today?"
"Yeah!"
"I was at the early one."

Go figure! Turns out his name is Garfinkel ("Not Garfunkel, not Greunfunkel!") and he goes to my shul.

GG never really found me the part I was looking for, but we parted ways, and I had made a new friend. I eventually found things that would suffice for my purposes and took them home.

This just in

Mr. Trask has kindly offered to send me a reimbursement check. 10 points for the landlord.

Cautionary Tale

The following is an email conversation between myself and a landlord in Washington Heights. The purpose of this post is to show anyone out there looking for apartments that this can be a sticky business, indeed.

First of all, let me make something clear: this interaction has left me more with a sense of bemusement than anything else. There is nothing personal about this situation, I just find it somewhat astonishing.

The background is this: I knew, secondhand, that an apartment was being vacated. I attempted to contact the landlord through the regular means of communication, to no avail. Instead, I contacted the current tenant, who told me that the landlord did not yet know that she was vacating. She said the landlord had called her asking why people were inquiring about the apartment.

She gave me a date to call the landlord, saying she'd give him notice by then. As far as she knew, the apartment wasn't spoken for.

He was out of the office that day, but here is the conversation we had today (the names have been altered to protect their identities)

**********

YONI LEVINSON:

Hi Mr. Trask,

This is Yoni Levinson again - I emailed you last week asking if you had any vacancies in [The Taj Mahal]; I still haven't heard back from you.

Please let me know if you have anything opening up. I'd like to apply for a lease if you do.

Thanks!

Yoni L.

ADAM TRASK:

There are no vacancies, sorry.

YONI LEVINSON:

I see. Has someone already picked up the lease on [3.14159]? The current tenant told me that she is moving out at the end of August.

ADAM TRASK:

Yes, that is spoken for already.

YONI LEVINSON:

She told me that she only gave you notice as of last Friday. Did someone apply for the lease between then and now? Because I tried calling you on that day and I received a message saying that you were out of the office.

I'm just a little bit confused as to when someone would have had a chance to pick up the lease.

ADAM TRASK:

Believe me, someone who is a very good friend of her already knew weeks and weeks ago and has been in contact with me. The apartment is not available.

YONI LEVINSON:

Oh. If that's true, then why didn't you tell me the apartment was spoken for when I contacted you at the beginning of the month?

ADAM TRASK:

I cannot go on and on with this. I get dozens of calls a day from people either looking to move into the building or people in the building asking different things. It gets confusing. Many, many times the tenants plan everything out among themselves without telling me what they are planning, and we are the landlord. The bottom line is there is someone who is going to take this apartment and there is nothing available.

YONI LEVINSON:

I understand - it can be frustrating to manage all the requests. I happen to know, in this case, that the current tenant at least did not plan anything. And I also know that when I contacted you I specifically mentioned this apartment.

I'd imagine that you are not interested in the moment in going back in time to sort out who contacted you first. I don't expect you to reneg on this person who is taking over 1E. In light of the miscommunication between me, you and the former tenant, however, I'd imagine you have no problem refunding my $50 deposit that I made on the online form yesterday; as a courtesy.

Thanks

**********

So far, no word from Mr. - uh - Trask

The lessons we learn here are manifold. Firstly, when it comes to highly desirable pieces of real estate, people (at least in Washington Heights) prefer secrecy over open disclosure as to the destiny of their apartments once they vacate them. This I find quite intriguing. Why would anyone attempt to hide (let us assume, from the evidence, that this may have occurred) the fact that an apartment was spoken for? It didn't serve anyone else's interests, and now I'm short $50!

Of course, the other lesson here is that landlords might not play by the rules. I was under the impression, at least, that landlords are not supposed to lease out apartments that are not technically available for leasing. Maybe I would replace "rules" with "conventional wisdom".

All this is interesting social commentary and jolly good sport (I, at least, enjoyed my email spat). The only part of this whole story that is actually somewhat sad is the culture that has arisen among fellow Jews - one rife with distrust, competition and sometimes even deceit. Believe it or not, it's totally possible to conduct this business, end up with an outcome to your liking, and still manage to avoid these shameful aspects.

Losing my religion

I went to church today.

It started with five dozen leftover rolls from the barbecue. Rolls don't last very long, and throwing away five dozen seemed like a crying shame. I could make stuffing, but one can only make so much stuffing. I could make breadcrumbs, but who has the time?

Stumped, I looked up the local soup kitchen schedule online. Tonight's location: Woodland Presbyterian Church. I called them up, and the man on the other line happily accepted my gift of bread. He invited me to come join them in their supper tonight.

"Oh, I can't," I said. "Actually, I'm Jewish."

"Oh! Yes, you have to get ready for Shabbat!"

We agreed to meet at noon. I stood there at the door in the light drizzle, reading a message board that said something about the word of Jesus and admiring the flying buttresses that probably were more for show than architectural integrity. Then, the clock struck twelve - literally. It sounded kind of like the intro to AC/DC's "Hell's Bells", sans electric guitar.

Soon, a kind looking older man opened the door.

"Hi," I said. "I'm Yoni"

"I'm Jonathan"

It was like we were meant to meet each other. He accepted the bread graciously and promised to leave a note saying who it was from. I wished him a peaceful Sabbath, and he smiled, and wished me one in return.

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

Zero hour

Chemistry seems to bring out the blogger in me.

First came Blorgo, my organic chemistry blog. Here, I wrote little rhymes about sulfanations and outlined the chapters with cheerleader-like pep. Those were heady, romantic days. I loved orgo. The mechanisms tickled me with their elegance and understandability. The blog, originally intended as a study aid for my peers (I still can't believe this never caught on) instead became a diary in which I documented my lovely reactions.

But then I entered the bleak netherworld of physical chemistry, and the verdant leaves of orgo withered in the autumn chill of wavefunctions and Eigenvalues. Once again I stood on the mountaintop that was my blog and I shouted out - this time in pain, in agony. I lamented the lost SN1/2 and E1/2 reactions. I missed the predictable leaving groups, the strong nucleophiles, the syntheses of yore.

For this entire year I have trudged through the mire. I have dwelt in the shadows of p-chem. And tomorrow morning I will take the final exam and leave this accursed realm forever. The demons of Schroedinger, Gibbs, Helmholz, Bolzmann pursue me as I take flight, but in 12 mere hours I will evade their wiry clutches.

And though my journey has been wearisome
Though it has shaken me to the core
I know now I will visit
This subject nevermore

Why I should have been an English major

I once took a course called “Intro to engineering”. In one of the first classes, the professor started asking us why we decided to study engineering. The predominant answer in the room was along the lines of “I’m good at math, I’m not good at writing.”

As I sit up late at night struggling over yet another chapter of incomprehensible, quantitative jargon I am tempted to believe that I could have succeeded in the liberal arts for the exact same reason. Writing, the art of crafting ideas and emotions into pages of eloquent prose, has always been one of my strengths and pleasures. And I’m not good at math. Not good with equations, not good with courses that are entirely based on them.

So why did I choose the path I’m on? If I think I could have excelled in English, why did I not take a single course (other than the writing seminar which, by the way, I aced) in the subject? I’ve always believed that non-science courses were useless. By the same token, I have always believed that if I could master those equations, figures and tables, I could call my college experience a success.

After four years, I have learned an important lesson. You can’t fit the square peg of science into the round hole of a liberal-arts minded brain. Although mussar teaches us that a man’s greatest accomplishment is when he learns to conquer those middot which are naturally most challenging to him, I don’t believe that this is true in the realm of worldly skills. God puts everyone on this Earth with a purpose and a mission. Say a man is endowed with certain strengths. If he neglects those strengths, and pursues a vocation which relies on skills which he does not possess, what good does it do? Who is he serving, himself or his God? Is this man doing something noble? I don’t think so.

I wish I could be a great scientist. But I think I’m going to have to settle for being a great me.

Totally Stupid

I hate career services.

It all started over Shabbos, when I was shmoozing with a family friend. Wharton alum. He said "Yoni, you need to go talk to the people in the Wharton career services. Ask them who's involved in venture capital."

It wasn't the first advice I'd received about venture capital, and I decided to give it a shot. I was particularly excited about meeting the career services people from Wharton. I imagined them to be a lot more helpful than the usual career service people I talked to. So I sat in the waiting room in Hunstman Hall until they called me in.

Whoops. Turns out I was waiting for Wharton Undergraduate Advising, not career services. "You'll need to go over to McNeil for that." My hopes were beginning to sag; I'd been to McNeil before... This time, I told myself, I'll make sure to meet with the Wharton people. I'm sure they will help me out.

I arrived at McNeil with two names of Wharton career services people written on a business card. As I approached the desk where you sign in, I noticed that Claire - the College career services woman with whom I've met 2 or 3 times - sitting in her nearby office with the door open.

I gave the receptionist my name and asked to talk to the Wharton people. She looked me up and asked me why I wanted to talk to the Wharton people, since I was in the college. At this point I was a little embarrassed, because Claire could clearly hear. I curtly told the woman that I wanted to ask about business-related careers. She told me that that's not how it works and everyone in the department is equally qualified to answer all questions. I grudgingly accepted a meeting with Claire, who all the while was busying herself around her office.

Five minutes later she decides she's ready to see me, and I walk in. She told me that she "couldn't help overhearing" that I wanted to talk about business. So I asked her if she knew which Wharton professors were involved in venture capitalism; kind of as a challenge. She said that she didn't, but she was quick to add that those other 2 people I wanted to talk to probably didn't either. You see, she explained, people in career services are not close with professors. To prove her point, Claire called up one of the people I wanted to talk to and after chatting with her for a minute, triumphantly announced that she, too, was unable to help me.

Claire then proceeded to show me how to use a website I already knew how to use and I politely excused myself. I feel like we aren't friends anymore.

What's the point of this story? Obviously, I was embarrassed because of the whole me-trying-to-go-over-Claire's-head thing, and that backfiring. But more than the embarrassment, I think what we've discovered here is a giant gap between my expectations of Career Services and the services they actually provide. By the end of the meeting, Claire was probably thinking "What a lazy kid! Why is he wasting my time? Why doesn't he just do the research himself?" Meanwhile, I'm thinking "Why is she wasting my time? I already know how to use the website. I thought these people are supposed to help you get a job!"

I don't think I'm the only one who feels this way. Career Services, like Penn's advising services in general, certainly know a lot of stuff about careers and college, respectively. But they fall short when it comes to addressing you as an individual. They give you generic information, never anything that is specially tailored for you.

Allow me to provide a parable. I have two friends, let's call them Frank and Larry. Now I'm going on vacation to California, and I don't know where to stay or what to do. Frank shows me how to search for and book hotels online, and how to find local events online. Larry, on the other hand, knows exactly which hotel I should stay at and tells me how to get a great deal on a rental car. He also makes up an itinerary based on advice from native Californians.

Career Services is Frank. I'm still waiting for my Larry...