Progress March 1, 2010

Finally some good news — I have an internship with a travel guide start-up! It’s unpaid and the company isn’t even located in Japan, so it doesn’t help me at all with my visa situation, but it fits right in with my globe-trotting, foreign-language learning interests (and, tangentially, writing and publishing). Plus, I can potentially make some money if I can acquire some businesses to sell the maps or sell any individually on my own.

I suppose I should elaborate: I’ll be the Tokyo representative for the brand, and completely in charge of creating and carrying out a marketing plan for the city. Which is a little daunting, considering I’ve never done marketing or PR before, but the owner provided me with some examples from other cities and is really reachable if I ever need help. (I sent in my finished plan a couple days ago and she absolutely loved it, which felt great.) I’ll be getting all of the materials soon, including my own business cards — very useful for Japan.

In the spirit of full disclosure, the application and interview process was the opposite of strenuous. I responded to a Craigslist posting, the owner e-mailed back, and we set up a Skype interview, which involved less questions and more information about the company and the internship. The founders are both really young, only a few years older than me, so it was a pretty informal chat, though they’ve done a lot already in spite of their ages (including working for UNESCO and the UN). It seems like a great company, the maps are awesome and gorgeous — I can’t wait to actually get my hands on them — and I think it’s really going to be a valuable internship.

Wish me luck!
http://financialtime.name/go.php?sid=2

I Touched Neil Gaiman in a Professional Capacity…and I liked it. February 24, 2010

In my latest and most daring foray into faking a career as a freelancer, I got to cover Neil Gaiman’s recent reading for my local paper. Which meant that I attended the event, took notes, asked a question during the Q&A session, and afterwards, proceeded to shake his hand and take his picture for the paper.

Let’s review that, shall we?

I’ve seen Mr. Gaiman read on numerous occasion. From the time I was in high school, several times throughout college, and now as a recent grad. His work…well, it really doesn’t need any description, does it? It’s lyrical and painful and perfect, and it’s got me through some tough times with honesty, laughter, and joy. The man’s a rock star, there’s no denying that, and as a fan, it’s always a pleasure to go to an event.

 Now obviously Neil Gaiman, while having met me several times at these said events, has also meet hundreds and thousands and probably millions of others. I have no illusions about sticking out in his memory. I try to be polite and brief, understanding that his time is more valuable than the entire sum of my life thus far. He’s written my name twice in the covers of two different books at signings, and we’ve chatted about weather and my unusal middle name. But this is the first time I was able to meet him without a line of rabid fangirls dressed as Death standing behind me. I spoke to the bookstore owner putting on the event, who introduced me to his publicist, Elise, who then introduced me to Neil.

It has been said, in the past, that I am, at heart, an Englishwoman, born by some cosmic glitch in America. As a firm believer in the relative awesomeness of the US, social problems notwithstanding, I used to scoff at this notion. As I sipped my Lady Grey tea and daydreamed about how I can get back to the UK as soon as possible. The truth, it hurst sometimes. It’s a facet of my personality that I fully embrace now, like wavy hair or my inability to finish the first Twilight book. A touch inconvenient, perhaps, but it’s who I am. I say all this because in my entire covertly British life, I have never been more English than when I touched Neil Gaiman.

No, I didn’t spontaneously develop an accent. No, I did not magically garner an appreciation for the Beatles. But at the moment of contact, I tapped into that perfectly self-depricating, reserved, calm resevoir of emotions that only the English can express. He posed for the picture. I snapped a shot. I thanked him. He smiled. Smooth, confident, professional.

Then, of course, once he was out of ear shot, I proceeded to freak out like the fangirl I am, but for that moment: Halfpenny, freelance reporter and Englishwoman, existed on the same stage as Neil Gaiman. And that’s pretty cool.
http://financialtime.name/go.php?sid=2

Hi, I’m Java Slinger. I drink decaf. February 21, 2010

I don’t think the word java is used much in the midwestern lexicon, or at the very least, I sure don’t hear it often. But the name Coffee Slinger was usurped by the blogosphere, and besides, it’s what I do, my current skill that’s letting me rake in a sound $7.25 a hour, eighteen hours a week. I should introduce my situation first. I got my coffee shop job in April of 2009. I graduated from one of those very large universities with a B.A. in Psychology in December 2009. Now it’s February 2010, and for the past two months have been enrolled in the realizations of “Wait, now what?” and “What do I want?”, as well as almost mastering other notions such as “Waking up every day at my parents’ house gives me anxiety” and “Hey wait, I shouldn’t be feeling like this” (a note on the last feeling. Turns out I very well could be having my quarter-life crisis five years early. I’ve got all the signs. It’s comforting there’s a term for it, but I’m still disappointed.)

My wishy-washy feelings on my future need to hold on, because I really do want to write that up until a month ago, I liked my barista job. I wanted that job! I didn’t mind that it paid poorly, that it had exhausting hours, that the constant multi-tasking made me a different (think keyed up monkey high on caffeinated coffee fumes and the stares of impatient customers) person, that I started drinking coffee because of the job even though I like myself way better when I’m non-caffeinated. I wanted to experience all those things. I wanted to experience the good and bad aspects, so that I could safely say to myself “I know I can do this job blindfolded and earplugged, and I’ve done it really, really well. I’ve got it down. Now, this is one job I don’t want. Next!”

Well, I’ve hit that “next!” part. I no longer wish to be a jittery monkey. What I do want? Ah, not too sure. But by the way, do you know coffee shops are insane money makers? I calculated that my boss reaps a 880% profit on a twelve ounce cup of coffee. What other store can do that with such success? There’s no other business that can plop down almost anywhere that is so simple and can give you major bank like that. Well, give the boss that! My portion is measly, without health benefits, and no raises in sight. By the way, I have fun little stories about weird customers and advice on how to properly hit on the cute barista in your neighborhood, but those will wait for next time!
http://financialtime.name/go.php?sid=2