Another hero leaves the building...

Indiana Rep. Julia Carson, a six-term Democrat from the Indianapolis-based 7th District, has revealed that she is dying of lung cancer.

I know I have to give it a rest with all the depressing blog-posts here, but I can't let this one go without comment. Julia Carson is one of my favorite members. You know all that lip service Republicans like to give to the American Dream and pulling yourself up by the bootstraps to success? She is one of the very few people I know of who really did it, overcoming racism as well as poverty and working her way off welfare a couple of times in her life. Despite being elected from one of the more conservative big cities, Indianapolis, she has an unapologetically liberal record that has not stopped her from winning re-election five times. (Neither has the fact that she's black in a 63% white district.) We could definitely use a few more of those on the Democratic side of the aisle - but it looks like for now there will be one less.

My own stint working on Capitol Hill began with her first term, and I remember that she was struggling with health problems even back then. A decade later, that has never really changed, so this news doesn't come as too much of a surprise, I concede. Still an awful loss.

People: Give thanks for individuals, not stereotypes!

While catching up on feministing.com (which I've been meaning to add to my links list - it's a great site) this afternoon, I saw they deliver a well-deserved smackdown to this little piece of tripe from match.com. (For good measure, they also provide an equally dumb list with the genders reversed.

Now, let me get the sappy disclaimer out of the way upfront. This Thanksgiving, I do indeed give thanks for all my friends out there, men and women alike (I'm pretty sure there aren't any in-betweens, but if there are, you too!). As I continue to work my way through an extremely stressful and uncertain time in my life and most of you are a long way from my current abode in Luxembourg, you're on my mind and it's good to know you're all out there. I look forward to happier times with you once things are back on track for me (and for my fellow HEC-ers who are also job-hunting, for you too). As for romantic partners, I've made no secret that I had a big disappointment in that department recently, but I've also come to realize that now would have been a terrible time for me to start a relationship anyhow. I have always been a strong believer in being friends-first with someone I'm interested in, and hey, I've got lots of friends!

But now, back to those match.com lists. They're just the sort of thing that used to make me really angry, but not so much anymore. I still despise gender stereotypes as much as I ever did, of course, but I now find that they're so dumb they're not worth getting upset about.

Besides, it's much more fun to take a close look at these things and pick apart just how ridiculous they really are. Here, then, is my perspective on it all...

1. Like it or not, we groom you for a real relationship
Whether it’s the mom who taught you to respect us, the sister who told you our secrets, or even the last girl who dumped you because you weren't ready to settle down, the women in your life help to shape you into the best man you can possibly be. So that when you meet The One, you’ll be ready, willing and able.

What about the girl who dumped you because you were ready to settle down? Eight years later, I'm guessing she's still out sowing her wild oats and not grooming anybody for anything. But that's okay with me. Telling me I need to be "groomed" isn't.

2. We’re sympathetic

Too many examples to even bother with here of men I know who have been sympathetic and women who haven't. I do want to say, though, that I know women who get just as frustrated as men would if you offer only sympathy.

3. We’re extraordinary ego-boosters
If it seems as though women are forever fishing for compliments...

It doesn't. At least my women friends don't. They do like it when I pay them compliments, but I tend to think they'd stop believing me if I did it all the time. Just guessing.

4. We’re soft
Soft hair, soft lips, soft skin… and so forth. All in all, it’s a pretty huggable package.

I don't think any of my exes would have appreciated being called "soft," somehow.

5. We keep your social life hopping
Before there were Palm Pilots, there were women. We organize, we schedule, we remember. Admit it—you get out a whole lot more and have a more interesting life when you’re dating someone who wants to do something besides sit home and watch TV all the time.

Seems to me I know quite a few women who do like to sit home and watch TV a lot of the time. I know because I've dated some of them.

6. We listen
The stereotype of woman as chatterbox is unfair. OK, scratch that—we do love to talk. But not in a vacuum. That’s why we’re always urging you to talk; we believe in communication and that means we want to listen, too. Go ahead, open up—tell us what you were like as a little kid and how you plan to save the world.

Anecdotes abound about past experiences where trying to communicate with women did me no good at all...but I will agree that it's a good thing when it does happen.

7. We have a civilizing influence

A common retort against a certain kind of man...who, not coincidentally, is the same kind of man who is likely to be receptive to nonsense like this! Okay, maybe sometimes these lists have some validity after all.

8. We inspire you to shoot for gold

Show me a woman who thinks only women do that, and I'll show you a woman who has lousy taste in men!

9. We make worthy opponents
Yeah, yeah, we’re soft and sweet most of the time. But engage us in battle, and we will tear your #%$^ing head off. So be thankful — be very, very thankful — that we like you right now.

I prefer to be thankful for people who don't feel entitled to tear my #%$^ing anything off if I disagree with them. Come to think of it, one of my most memorable breakups was due to exactly that issue.

10. If you want kids someday, we’re usually willing to have them
And the labor pains. And the stretch marks. And in between, the periods. You’re welcome.

So it's all about whether or not I want them someday? Is there any interpretation of that one that isn't offensive? Hmmm...nope.

No, of course I won't let the men's list off the hook either...

1. We do gross things you don’t want to do

Well, okay, I don't mind squashing bugs. But I don't exactly like the idea that the job ought to be left up to me because I'm a man either. And yes, I have run into that on occasion. I've had a couple of jobs along the way in which I'm the only man among a dozen or so women. It has its ups (like losing my ability to blush over much of anything feminine) and its downs (like being expected to get rid of bugs).

2. Our constant desire to have sex with you has got to be good for your ego

Okay, most of the stuff on these lists is too dumb to be offensive, but this one is rather offensive. 'Nuff said.

3. We’ll never tell you that you look fat in those jeans
No matter how many times you ask or what size they are, the answer will always be unilaterally, unequivocally NO.

Have any of you guys out there ever had a girlfriend or wife actually ask you if this outfit makes her look fat? I've only ever heard it as a joke. (Admittedly, I've had three serious girlfriends in my life and all three of them really were overweight and very much aware of it...but still, I think it's one of those things nobody ever really says.)

4. We’re easy to please
Fancy dinners? Pricey presents? Save your dough. To bring a big smile to your fella’s face, follow this simple equation: One beer + one couch = happy man.

Okay, I'll concede this one, I guess.

5. We keep you up to date on all the latest gadgets
You don’t want a TV set bigger than your dining-room table? Fine, but we’ll let you know when your computer is hopelessly outdated and which new cell phone doubles as an MP3, takes pictures, and reminds you to call your mom on her birthday all at the same time. It’s like having your own personal electronics consultant—for free!

If that were true, all my exes would be vinyl junkies with the cheapest cell-phone and computer they could find.

6. You can squeeze our arms as hard as you like during the scary parts of movies
And aside from making great stress squeeze balls at the multiplex, we’re also good to call in the middle of the night when you think you hear some gigantic mouse sneaking around downstairs. No man will say no to a late-night trip to your place because (a) We care about you and want to make sure you’re OK and (b) The potential for sex is way too high to pass up.

1. When I've been to see a horror movie with a woman, it was usually her choice. (I still have to laugh when I think of the time Sarah and I arrived at a group movie-night with Independence Day and Before Sunrise - you could tell exactly how well the other people there knew us by how long it took them to figure out who had picked out which movie. The answer isn't what you think, if you don't know me.
2. Of course we care about you, but some of us also care about knowing you're a big girl and can set a mousetrap yourself.

7. Our old college T-shirts are the most comfortable pajamas in the universe

This brings to mind an ex of mine who almost had a nervous breakdown once because she forgot to bring her pajamas to my place for the weekend and had to settle for an old t-shirt of mine. It certainly wasn't too comfortable to her. (Anybody who knows me knows exactly which ex it was, too...)

8. We make you laugh your butt off
Sometimes, being an overgrown three-year-old has its benefits, like all the weird website links we forward you to break up your boring day at work.

I do like to think - just maybe - my jokes are a bit above the level of a three year old. Just maybe.

9. Whenever you’re upset about work, our response is always, “Your boss is an f-ing idiot.”

I can't think of a single woman I've ever dated who would be satisfied with that response, even in cases when it was true. If I had to guess, I'd say that response would probably bring accusations that I wasn't listening to her. And if I felt compelled to make such a generic comment, that would probably be true!

10. We nearly always make the first move
Asking someone out, leaning in for that first kiss—all instances that can result in ego-destroying rejection. But even the meekest of men are willing to take the risk when a beauty like you steps into our lives. So sit back and enjoy watching us tremble.

Without discussing things that shouldn't be discussed in public, I'll just say this isn't true in my own experience and leave it at that. But then again, I haven't dated very much lately. I will say I've had some ego-destroying experiences with asking people out (the most memorable one was a gal who said she was too busy to go to the movies...then said yes to another guy five minutes later while I was standing right there), but who hasn't?

Happy late Thanksgiving, everyone. Hope those of you who have partners and families had a nice time with them, and that those of you who are on your own didn't let the togetherness motif get you down. Just remember, life is not a Hallmark commercial. Fortunately, it isn't a list of inanities about the other sex either.

Hey, what is that thing up there?

The sun was out today. After the past month or so, that's worth noting! A welcome reprieve, I must say.
As for more substantial news, the job search is still going okay. I have two job-fairs coming up in the next week, and all but one of the jobs I interviewed for two weeks ago are still up in the air. (I did get a "no" on one, but it was the least interesting of the bunch anyway...not that I'd have minded having a fallback option! But still.) I've been reminding myself constantly that the pace is no slower than it ever is with job searches. It's a depressing process by nature, but this too shall pass.
Now, can I keep that positive attitude if the clouds come out again tomorrow? Stay tuned.

Great week. Now what?

As my life continues to come back together, slowly but surely, the afterglow of that batch of great interviews has me pondering what comes next. It was a good start, that's for sure. But all I can do about those leads now is wait, which is a bit frustrating after the wonderfully busy week I just had. I can, of course, continue to look for other opportunities, and I will. There are also two more job fairs coming up at the end of the month, one of which was invite-only - and I have been invited. All very promising.

Still, after a mostly wonderful week back in Paris, I am now remembering that I do need to look elsewhere as well. There's even the slight chance I might stay in Luxembourg, as there does seem to be plenty of work available here. I was scared out of looking here for a while, thanks to an egregiously nasty remark from an HR rep here about hiring non-EU workers. (I am a bit wary about repeating anything too specific from that place, but if you're curious, e-mail me and I'll share it.) Now that I've done a bit of searching, I see that work permits are not all that far out of reach. I'm also thinking of going for what you might call a "job search visa" in a couple of different locales elsewhere if I don't get a solid offer first.

So many choices, huh? I guess I should stop thinking of that as a bad thing. It's just that I could use a bit more stability just now. But that will be here soon enough!

Open Letter to the Workers of SNCF

Chers messieurs/dames:

Look, nobody is more pro-union than I am. Any of my friends will tell you that. So too, for that matter, will a number of ex-friends for whom I lost all respect when they showed their true colors on looking out for anyone but themselves. I did my own fair share of organizing in my time, and was both praised and vilified for it. I was called a whiner, a bleeding-heart and worse. On one occasion, a guy I had once considered a friend called me a liar in an e-mail he CC’d to the entire Yale international relations community. All totally worth it, and I’m damn proud to have been on your side then and now. John Prine said it best: "I’d rather have names thrown at me, than to fight for a thing that ain’t right." I hope you get your living wages and better working conditions and all that you’re fighting for, really.

That said, mes amis, what on earth do you think you’re going to prove by having no service at all to much of the Ile de France for days at a time? Do you think it’s going to make a centime’s worth of difference to the people who will actually make the decisions regarding your demands? They aren’t going to be stranded out in the suburbs, facing the prospect of eating the cost of their TGV tickets because they can’t get to Gare de L’Est. They have cars. The biggest of the bigwigs probably also have chauffeurs, if it comes to that. It’s no skin off their noses if those of us who actually ride the trains can’t do so.

I wouldn’t complain much about reduced service, like during the last strike. Then, I was still able to get where I needed to go. It took a little longer, but I didn’t really mind given the cause, and you were still able to drive your point home. Speaking of driving, you know who really loves you right now, don’t you? Taxi drivers. Seeing as there’s no other way for many of us to get into Paris, they’re cleaning up. Of course, the one I drew tried to dupe me into believing there was no train service anywhere and I’d have to use his services to get into Paris, to the tune of 40 euros or so. I wasn’t fooled and I got to Velizy in plenty of time to catch the one train on the C line that was still running, but still, not cool!

And neither is neglecting us out in the farther reaches of your network. You don’t want to lose the sympathy of your customers, do you? And trust me, if a union loses my respect, it probably isn’t going to keep anybody’s!

Yours in struggle,
A frequent client who is glad as a clown that he won’t be going back to Paris for two weeks.

On a much brighter note...

All the good job search news in the world wouldn't be much consolation if I didn't pass that last class. Having just gotten the midterm back, I can now report so far, so good. I've never been so happy to see a C+ in my life - well above the curve, that.

Wrote a song for everyone, but I couldn't even talk to you

I’ve found that sometimes words can serve you well,
But sometimes words can go to hell
For all that they do
-Harry Chapin, “Story of a Life”

I’ve been thinking lately about that great Hollywood standby, the Super-Dramatic Heartfelt Speech that saves the day. Political junkies like me dream about such moments in real life, in which a leader throws caution and focus groups to the wind and says what’s really on his or her mind, i.e. Hugh Grant in Love Actually or Michael Douglas in The American President, or for that matter Ralph Wiggum as George Washington in my favorite Simpsons episode. (Remember The Mediocre Presidents? Just think of what the 23rd century’s Matt Groening will have to say about George W.M.D. Bush!). Did you ever notice, though, that they are always moved to their moment of eloquence only because they’ve lost the girl, or at least they think they have? Misery breeds creativity, it appears. Draw your own conclusions!

Yes, of course, I arrived at that rather obvious realization through rather unpleasant personal experiences that I am now going to whine about on the Internet. Hey, you know me.

Those job interviews I was so looking forward to in the last post? I nailed ‘em. Well, one of them didn’t go so well, but four out of five is nothing to be ashamed of. Yes, I picked up a fifth interview at the last minute – it was quite a week. Of the five, there was one in particular that was of more interest to me than the others, and that was perhaps the best of the bunch. (Friday morning, I got an e-mail from that company saying I passed the interview and will be considered for the next stage of the process!) Right to the bitter end, I wasn’t sure just how I was going to approach some of the subject matter at hand, much less how I was going to do it in French. But practice makes perfect, and sometimes so does agonizing about it down to the last moment, and sometimes so does a long weekend in Paris. But then again, what is a long weekend in Paris not going to fix? I’m not saying I expect to get offered every job for which I interviewed, but I do know when I botched an interview, and this time there wasn’t a complete dud in the bunch. I was hot.

Not so elsewhere. It’s funny how articulate you can be with something that is ultimately only mildly important (sure I care about how I’m going to pay next year’s rent, but a person should not be his or her job) and yet you can be perfectly hopeless at the very same time about the things that really matter in life. If I understood why, well, I wouldn’t have talked my way into Capitol Hill and Yale and teaching in Taiwan (without any experience in teaching English or speaking Chinese) and business school (with extremely little private sector experience)...and still be single at age 34.

Of course, part of my problem there is a rather naïve belief that romantic dilemmas can be solved through some clever oratory. That’s strictly for Hollywood. In real life, you feel love or you don’t, and all the eloquence in the world won’t help you with someone who is smitten with someone else. I’ve been in that position before, actually – where a truly nice gal had a crush on me, but I only had eyes for another, never mind that she couldn’t have cared less about me and was spoken for in any case. That was quite a while ago, but lately I’ve been recalling all too clearly how it didn’t matter how many wonderful things Barb said or wrote (and she did plenty of both) or how many nasty or selfish things Allison did to me (and she did plenty of both), love was blind.

It still is, as I have been very painfully aware in the past few weeks while playing the role of the nice guy. Hopeless romantic that I am, I held out for a happy ending quite a bit longer than I should have. But to no avail. That’s what happens when someone like me falls for another hopeless romantic, I suppose. Sensibility doesn’t stand a chance, and sometimes neither does integrity. One can pontificate to his or her heart’s desire about true love and caring and commitment and friends first and such, but there’s a reason why all those things are love song clichés. And baby, sometimes love just ain’t enough. But hey, it’s only words, and words are all I have, to...well, to console myself that I’ve been through worse before and this too shall pass.

At least now it’s all over. No more false hope, and no more distractions as I concentrate on where my life is going next. I always have put my career first in the past anyway, and this is no time to change that. Some of us really are just better off on our own in this world, and I’ve known for years that I’m one of them. For a few weeks there, I forgot that. Which means, as a very wise man once sang, it’s my own damn fault.

When it rains, it pours

Literally and figuratively, and it's about time.

I'm spending the next week or so in Paris, both for class and for job interviews. That's right, interviews, plural. Four of them. All that angst of the past few weeks paid off handsomely, who would've seen that coming? And all at once to boot. I just hope I can keep up the momentum now that a bit of good news has come my way. It's embarrassing to admit I have ever fallen into the trap of taking the first job offer I get, but I did so as recently as last spring and I'd hate to make the same mistake again already. Besides, I haven't actually been offered a job yet, just an interview. Or rather, four interviews - I do like the sound of that, as you can see.

Some of my friends are probably thinking I always sell myself short on these things. Maybe they're right. Let's leave it at that for now!

The weather wasn't any less gloomy for much of the weekend (although the sun is out now that it's Monday - go figure!), but something about Paris just looks right in gray weather. I can't explain it, but if you've been here, you probably know just what I mean. With class out for the weekend and the interviews starting Monday, the weekend was good for just hanging around those slick streets doing and thinking whatever came to mind. It turns out that Billy Joel was right and soaking in the European rain isn't half bad if you're in the right mood for it. It hit me last night just as the sun was probably going down - but one couldn't tell for certain with all the clouds - that whatever else is not going so well in my life, there I was wandering up and down the Champs-Elysees with all the time in the world to window-shop to my heart's content. I think that sort of thing takes away a person's right to complain for the time being, at least.

I'll keep the finer details of the interviews to myself for now, as you never know who will read your blog. Suffice to say there are some great opportunities that might be opening up soon. It's a relief to have that to look forward to.