Hey everybody. I'm really sorry for the giant drop-off in updates. I thought I'd do some housekeeping to let everybody who still checks this thing know what's going on.
+ I've been stuck in Phoenix with a broken/dislocated finger that needs surgery and rehab. Getting the finger fixed has been a long and ridiculous process that has somewhat derailed the traveling aspect of this project.
+ I've taken numerous crazy jobs, many of which have been scams, and have not come out of any of them with any money to speak of, also hurting the traveling aspect of this project.
+ I still plan on blogging, but not regularly until I get back out on the road, which I'm guessing will be sometime between late 2009 and early 2010.
+ Though these problems have not been helpful for this blog, they have given me quite a bit of insight into some serious flaws in the social institutions of this country, and my recent experiences will all be detailed in the book I will write at the end of this project.
+ The book will cover all of the experiences shared in this blog, as well as the troubles I've had recently, and my future adventures. I am reasonably certain it will not suck.
+ If you miss this blog (whether that be due to a mental illness or not), and want to keep up with some of my writing, you can check out HealthCareCrisisNews.com. I wrote the script for the 9/1 show and have written many more scripts for future episodes.
+ If you happen to live in Tempe, you can now purchase The Hobo Diet at Changing Hands Bookstore.
Now that you're done reading my list of shameless plugs, enjoy the rest of your day surfing the internet to avoid work.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
I Didn't Die Yet, and Other Things to Celebrate
If you've followed this blog from the start, you know that I've slowed the updates down considerably over the past few months. There are a few reasons for this, the most important of which is that I've definitively decided to turn this project and experience into a book. That focus has put the blog somewhat on the back burner, but I am still committed to keeping this blog interesting as well.
The updates on the blog, though written in present tense, take place a couple months ago. I am currently in my hometown of Phoenix, AZ, taking a brief break from the van. Don't worry, I'm still collecting crazy stories for the blog and book, and I'll soon be back in the van and on my way to the East Coast, with an eye on finding a perfect ending for my voyage. In the meantime, I'll try to be a little bit better about updating this blog.
You can expect occasional updates over the next few weeks, followed by a return to regular updating form come September. Then, eventually, there will also be a book out, complete with the definitive answer to the ultimate question.
Well, that's all for now. I just wanted to reassure those whose contact with me is relegated to this blog that I did not die in a fiery van crash and that my organs have not been sold on the black market.
Although if you'd like to start that rumor, you have my permission.
The updates on the blog, though written in present tense, take place a couple months ago. I am currently in my hometown of Phoenix, AZ, taking a brief break from the van. Don't worry, I'm still collecting crazy stories for the blog and book, and I'll soon be back in the van and on my way to the East Coast, with an eye on finding a perfect ending for my voyage. In the meantime, I'll try to be a little bit better about updating this blog.
You can expect occasional updates over the next few weeks, followed by a return to regular updating form come September. Then, eventually, there will also be a book out, complete with the definitive answer to the ultimate question.
Well, that's all for now. I just wanted to reassure those whose contact with me is relegated to this blog that I did not die in a fiery van crash and that my organs have not been sold on the black market.
Although if you'd like to start that rumor, you have my permission.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Two Men Enter...
Editors Note: Though this account is constructed with truth and accuracy, names have been changed to protect the innocent. Plus, I've always wanted to write that sentence and mean it.
There are a lot of images one could reasonably associate with a man stepping out of a beat-up 1992 GMC Vandura parked outside a school playground in the middle of the day. Most of them are not pretty.
But on this particular day, that van yields a business professional, a dapper young gentleman armed with a three piece suit and a sunny demeanor. A man with a new kind of mission: A man with intents on briefly joining forces with The Man.
It is 10:20 AM, and I have parked the van across the street from a school located down the way from my job interview. With resume in hand, I glide toward the office building with a sense of purpose. Stepping through a glass door, I smile at the receptionist and give a knowing nod. She greets this with a look of dismay and directs me to the waiting room.
In the waiting room, I meet another prospective employee, a 6'5 clean shaven young man named Charles. Charles seems like a really nice guy, somebody who would be easy to work with. He also seems very professional.
I bet Charles doesn't live in his van.
This thought is interrupted by the receptionist, who continues to frown, only now does so in the doorway.
"I'm sorry," she offers. "I was supposed to tell you to get here at noon, not ten-thirty."
David, the man who had interviewed me in a nice suit earlier in the week, follows her into the room with his hand extended. Today he is considerably dressed down, sporting khakis and a blue polo shirt.
"Sorry for the mix up," he says flippantly. "If you wanna just go grab lunch or something and come back in and hour and a half, that would be great."
Charles heads to a very nice luxury automobile as I head back to the van, suit intact, and bide my time with some rousing games of minesweeper. After the allotted time, I head back to the office, where David greets Charles and me once again.
"Just so you know," David smiles, looking both of us up and down, "we only have room to hire one of you."
He pauses for dramatic effect.
"So bring your A game."
There are a lot of images one could reasonably associate with a man stepping out of a beat-up 1992 GMC Vandura parked outside a school playground in the middle of the day. Most of them are not pretty.
But on this particular day, that van yields a business professional, a dapper young gentleman armed with a three piece suit and a sunny demeanor. A man with a new kind of mission: A man with intents on briefly joining forces with The Man.
It is 10:20 AM, and I have parked the van across the street from a school located down the way from my job interview. With resume in hand, I glide toward the office building with a sense of purpose. Stepping through a glass door, I smile at the receptionist and give a knowing nod. She greets this with a look of dismay and directs me to the waiting room.
In the waiting room, I meet another prospective employee, a 6'5 clean shaven young man named Charles. Charles seems like a really nice guy, somebody who would be easy to work with. He also seems very professional.
I bet Charles doesn't live in his van.
This thought is interrupted by the receptionist, who continues to frown, only now does so in the doorway.
"I'm sorry," she offers. "I was supposed to tell you to get here at noon, not ten-thirty."
David, the man who had interviewed me in a nice suit earlier in the week, follows her into the room with his hand extended. Today he is considerably dressed down, sporting khakis and a blue polo shirt.
"Sorry for the mix up," he says flippantly. "If you wanna just go grab lunch or something and come back in and hour and a half, that would be great."
Charles heads to a very nice luxury automobile as I head back to the van, suit intact, and bide my time with some rousing games of minesweeper. After the allotted time, I head back to the office, where David greets Charles and me once again.
"Just so you know," David smiles, looking both of us up and down, "we only have room to hire one of you."
He pauses for dramatic effect.
"So bring your A game."
Saturday, June 13, 2009
A Suitable Venture
I know two things when I leave my first job interview in Houston:
1) I've got a good shot at landing the job.
2) I've got a much better shot at landing the job in a nice suit.
Now, this leaves me feeling a bit ambivalent. Let's face it, it's kind of ridiculous to quit your job and hit the road in a van to discover the meaning of life, only to sell out for a new job at the first sign of adversity. And while I don't feel like getting a job to keep the project is really selling out, placing undue importance on said job would be.
Buying a monkey suit solely for a job interview would be the first step on that magical voyage to Selloutopia, where so many choose to settle down and they always choose to settle. But if I don't buy said monkey suit, there's always the issue of possible starvation in the near future.
So I compromise.
I buy a suit...but I buy it at Walmart.
That's right. For less than three figures, you can get reasonably nice slacks, a matching sport coat, a polo shirt, and a tie at everyone's favorite exploitative emporium.
Less than one hundred dollars, and I look like a businessman. Maybe not a very successful businessman, but my prospective employer posted the job ad on Monster.com. How discerning could they possibly be?
And so I find myself the next day parking a football field away from the office, and stepping out of my autograph laden 92 Vandura decked out in a business suit, with my resume in one hand and a wish in the other.
Time to shine.
1) I've got a good shot at landing the job.
2) I've got a much better shot at landing the job in a nice suit.
Now, this leaves me feeling a bit ambivalent. Let's face it, it's kind of ridiculous to quit your job and hit the road in a van to discover the meaning of life, only to sell out for a new job at the first sign of adversity. And while I don't feel like getting a job to keep the project is really selling out, placing undue importance on said job would be.
Buying a monkey suit solely for a job interview would be the first step on that magical voyage to Selloutopia, where so many choose to settle down and they always choose to settle. But if I don't buy said monkey suit, there's always the issue of possible starvation in the near future.
So I compromise.
I buy a suit...but I buy it at Walmart.
That's right. For less than three figures, you can get reasonably nice slacks, a matching sport coat, a polo shirt, and a tie at everyone's favorite exploitative emporium.
Less than one hundred dollars, and I look like a businessman. Maybe not a very successful businessman, but my prospective employer posted the job ad on Monster.com. How discerning could they possibly be?
And so I find myself the next day parking a football field away from the office, and stepping out of my autograph laden 92 Vandura decked out in a business suit, with my resume in one hand and a wish in the other.
Time to shine.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Stay Classy, Houston.
"Make sure to bring two copies of your resume," the woman on the phone tells me. "Oh, and the dress is business professional."
Business professional. Very Classy.
I'm going to have to park the van far away from the office.
And so I do.
The project has brought me to Houston, and given my dissipating funds, I really need the marketing job I've stumbled across on Monster.com. That means the van gets parked down the street.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not willing to lie to get the job. But I'm not going to go out of the way to advertise that I'm living in a van either. When I step out of the van, I look good. I am wearing black slacks with a long-sleeved black business shirt.
Johnny Cash would be proud.
Okay, so maybe I'm not up to The Man in Black's standards, but I don't look like an inmate at Folsom Prison either, and that's good enough for me.
Unfortunately, when I step into the small office where I will be interviewing, I realize that I am the only person in the building not wearing a three piece suit.
David, the man interviewing me, is wearing a suit. He looks very professional. He also looks like he should still be in college, but who am I to judge? I just want a job.
"So I see you worked in Hollywood," he mentions, seemingly intrigued.
"Yeah, I was a production assistant on some reality shows."
"What do they pay out there?"
"I was usually making about $6oo a week," I reply, hoping to gauge the level of pay this position would offer.
"Really? That's all they pay out there?" he asks skeptically, as if I'd just told him I had been making minimum wage. That can't be a bad sign.
It also can't be a bad sign that David seems intrigued by my resume. I even explain Project Meaning, and that my travels searching for the meaning of life may mean my time in Houston will be cut short.
He nods. I brace myself for rejection. Instead, David just smiles.
"Forty two. That's the meaning of life."
"Right. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy."
"You get that reference?" David asks. "Very impressive."
And so the interview ends on a positive note.
On the hike back to the van, I smile. Maybe getting a job while doing this project won't be that hard after all.
A few hours later, I get a call from the office secretary.
"David was very impressed by you. He wants to schedule you for a second interview on Thursday."
Awesome.
"Oh," she says after a pause, "and he asked me to remind you to dress business professional."
Great. Time to buy a suit.
Business professional. Very Classy.
I'm going to have to park the van far away from the office.
And so I do.
The project has brought me to Houston, and given my dissipating funds, I really need the marketing job I've stumbled across on Monster.com. That means the van gets parked down the street.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not willing to lie to get the job. But I'm not going to go out of the way to advertise that I'm living in a van either. When I step out of the van, I look good. I am wearing black slacks with a long-sleeved black business shirt.
Johnny Cash would be proud.
Okay, so maybe I'm not up to The Man in Black's standards, but I don't look like an inmate at Folsom Prison either, and that's good enough for me.
Unfortunately, when I step into the small office where I will be interviewing, I realize that I am the only person in the building not wearing a three piece suit.
David, the man interviewing me, is wearing a suit. He looks very professional. He also looks like he should still be in college, but who am I to judge? I just want a job.
"So I see you worked in Hollywood," he mentions, seemingly intrigued.
"Yeah, I was a production assistant on some reality shows."
"What do they pay out there?"
"I was usually making about $6oo a week," I reply, hoping to gauge the level of pay this position would offer.
"Really? That's all they pay out there?" he asks skeptically, as if I'd just told him I had been making minimum wage. That can't be a bad sign.
It also can't be a bad sign that David seems intrigued by my resume. I even explain Project Meaning, and that my travels searching for the meaning of life may mean my time in Houston will be cut short.
He nods. I brace myself for rejection. Instead, David just smiles.
"Forty two. That's the meaning of life."
"Right. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy."
"You get that reference?" David asks. "Very impressive."
And so the interview ends on a positive note.
On the hike back to the van, I smile. Maybe getting a job while doing this project won't be that hard after all.
A few hours later, I get a call from the office secretary.
"David was very impressed by you. He wants to schedule you for a second interview on Thursday."
Awesome.
"Oh," she says after a pause, "and he asked me to remind you to dress business professional."
Great. Time to buy a suit.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Chain of Fools
Toll booths. Mayonnaise. Car alarms. Limericks. Cow tipping, Gigli, and pogs.
What do these all have in common?
They've all been systematically proven by yours truly to not be the ultimate meaning of life. Now, I present the newest inductee into the Existential Irrelevance Hall of Fame: Chain Letters.
You know chain letters. They're those annoying messages that threaten bad luck or bodily harm if you don't immediately forward the contrived, manipulative, and/or get-rich-quick message presented to everyone you know.
These damn things are everywhere these days. Originally just a random nuisance for the postal system, chain letters are now prevalent in emails, on social networking sites like Myspace and Facebook, and even on cell phone texts.
They are a waste of space, time, and brain cells.
Still, spam's retarded cousin shows up everywhere I look. And not once has a chain letter ever brought anything but a frown to my face.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
A million people die every day from not knowing the meaning of life.
You can save those people!
Forward this blog to ten of your closest friends immediately or you will have the worst week of your life! :(
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
See, they're even annoying in parody form.
Seriously, what compels people to create these things? Are we that starved for attention? Do we really have nothing better to do with our time? Is there anything on the planet more ridiculous?
Things I have more respect for than chain letters include, but are not limited to:
+ Scientology stress tests.
+ Pauly Shore's career.
+ The reign of Ugandan dictator Idi Amin, a man whose human rights atrocities were overshadowed only by his legendary cannibalism.
I know what you're thinking. You think I'm overreacting. You think that chain letters, while indisputably annoying, are ultimately harmless, at least when compared to an ethnic cleanser and the star of Biodome.
To that, I do not argue about the poor hard-working schlubs who have been conned out of money from get-rich-quick pyramid schemes. Nor do I argue that the misinformation common in these messages is systematically dumbing down our society.
No, I simply bring you this message, straight from the official web site for The Make-A-Wish Foundation, in an entire section devoted to chain letters:
"Each day, the Make-A-Wish Foundation and its chapters receive hundreds of inquiries about chain letters claiming to be associated with the Foundation and featuring sick children. However, we do not participate in these kinds of wishes.... The time and expense required to respond to these inquiries distracts the Foundation from its efforts on behalf of children with life-threatening medical conditions, and more importantly, can divulge information that is potentially harmful to a child and his or her family."
That's right. Chain letters are interfering with the dying wishes of sick children.
Daily.
Take that, Idi Amin.
What do these all have in common?
They've all been systematically proven by yours truly to not be the ultimate meaning of life. Now, I present the newest inductee into the Existential Irrelevance Hall of Fame: Chain Letters.
You know chain letters. They're those annoying messages that threaten bad luck or bodily harm if you don't immediately forward the contrived, manipulative, and/or get-rich-quick message presented to everyone you know.These damn things are everywhere these days. Originally just a random nuisance for the postal system, chain letters are now prevalent in emails, on social networking sites like Myspace and Facebook, and even on cell phone texts.
They are a waste of space, time, and brain cells.
Still, spam's retarded cousin shows up everywhere I look. And not once has a chain letter ever brought anything but a frown to my face.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
A million people die every day from not knowing the meaning of life.
You can save those people!
Forward this blog to ten of your closest friends immediately or you will have the worst week of your life! :(
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
See, they're even annoying in parody form.
Seriously, what compels people to create these things? Are we that starved for attention? Do we really have nothing better to do with our time? Is there anything on the planet more ridiculous?
Things I have more respect for than chain letters include, but are not limited to:
+ Scientology stress tests.
+ Pauly Shore's career.
+ The reign of Ugandan dictator Idi Amin, a man whose human rights atrocities were overshadowed only by his legendary cannibalism.
I know what you're thinking. You think I'm overreacting. You think that chain letters, while indisputably annoying, are ultimately harmless, at least when compared to an ethnic cleanser and the star of Biodome.
To that, I do not argue about the poor hard-working schlubs who have been conned out of money from get-rich-quick pyramid schemes. Nor do I argue that the misinformation common in these messages is systematically dumbing down our society.
No, I simply bring you this message, straight from the official web site for The Make-A-Wish Foundation, in an entire section devoted to chain letters:
"Each day, the Make-A-Wish Foundation and its chapters receive hundreds of inquiries about chain letters claiming to be associated with the Foundation and featuring sick children. However, we do not participate in these kinds of wishes.... The time and expense required to respond to these inquiries distracts the Foundation from its efforts on behalf of children with life-threatening medical conditions, and more importantly, can divulge information that is potentially harmful to a child and his or her family."
That's right. Chain letters are interfering with the dying wishes of sick children.
Daily.
Take that, Idi Amin.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Guess Who's Back? Yeah...It's Just Me.
If you are one of the millions and millions out there that follow this blog regularly, you've no doubt noticed that I haven't updated with a new blog for a week and a half now.
As it turns out, emergency room bills are even more exorbitant than I thought. Consequently, after getting my dislocated finger treated in an Atlanta emergency room, I spent the past week returning to Phoenix in the hopes that having a permanent address would make finding a job easier.
The plan, as it stands now, is to work in Phoenix for a couple months, promote The Hobo Diet in Las Vegas in July, then finish this project on the East Coast, where I will inevitably discover that ever elusive meaning of life.
Though I will be taking a break from living in a van, I will be continuing the project. Check back over the next couple weeks for stories of online dating, job hunting, and existential exploits in Houston, San Antonio, Atlanta, Orlando, and more.
Thank you. You may resume scanning the internet for celebrity gossip, porn, and/or twitter updates.
As it turns out, emergency room bills are even more exorbitant than I thought. Consequently, after getting my dislocated finger treated in an Atlanta emergency room, I spent the past week returning to Phoenix in the hopes that having a permanent address would make finding a job easier.
The plan, as it stands now, is to work in Phoenix for a couple months, promote The Hobo Diet in Las Vegas in July, then finish this project on the East Coast, where I will inevitably discover that ever elusive meaning of life.
Though I will be taking a break from living in a van, I will be continuing the project. Check back over the next couple weeks for stories of online dating, job hunting, and existential exploits in Houston, San Antonio, Atlanta, Orlando, and more.
Thank you. You may resume scanning the internet for celebrity gossip, porn, and/or twitter updates.
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