you know if a million people gave you a dollar each you could quite easily be a millionaire. think of ways you can convince a million people to give you a dollar, or five hundred thousand people to give you two dollars...

besides the glaring fact that most people wont't give you money without a reason (even though plenty of people dont mind paying increased tuition costs without seeing evidence of where that money is going exactly) there are several other issues that must be addressed in your quest to be a millionaire.

the first issue is marketing/distribution in order for a million people to give you a dollar you must first contact a million people. or have a cause strong enough that the people you initially contact will contact others for you thereby growing exponentially. if 10% of the people you inform of your quest to be a millionaire decides to give you a dollar then you must be in touch with ten million people in order to be successful.

the second issue is costs/overhead....how will you be able to reach the sheer massive amount of people while keeping your own costs to a bare minimum?

but more important than any of these elements is the reason why anybody should give you money in the first place. is that not the basic premise of business?

of course we learn about value-added in goods or services that we provide to consumers, or how perhaps we as businesmen (and women) must meet the needs or wants of the public...but when it comes down to it its simply a matter of convincing people to give us money.

so then lets think about this....what is the best way to convince a massive group of people to give you money while keeping your own costs down?

theres an episode of the simpsons where homer finds one of those auto-dial machines....he tells his fellow springfieldians to send a dollar to him in order to achieve happiness in their own life.

what a great idea...no excess inventory, only the cost of a local call, and potential scales of economy. but of course he then gets busted by wiggum and is shut down.

so what else would convince people to give up some cash? it seems that in present day the most popular tactic of sales is fear.

fear of theft, fear of crime, fear of unpopularity, fear of death, fear of getting left behind in the rat race.

pick a product that addresses the fear of a majority of people...offer a solution....and price it low enough that everybody thinks "hey it cant hurt to try".

as preposterous as homer's so called "$1 solution to happiness" sounds (i'm sure a lot of his customers felt their intelligence was insulted afterwards), it is nothing more than a critique of the way so many products are developed and then marketed to us today. the sheer plethora of worthless ab machines that promise rock-hard abs in a matter of days is a great example.

how often have we seen the ridiculous infomercial for the electro-ab gizmo? screw the ab-roller with this machine we dont even have to move except to put it on! and it is priced so affordably! what is it....$19.99? but WAIT THERES MORE! absolutely ridiculous, we all know deep down inside that it is a pile of junk....but like i said before if 10% of the people watching bite....then it is only a matter of scale, of how many people you can contact in order for you to make that cool million you set out for.

so think about that and let me know when you want to make your first million. its easier than you think.

with school rapidly approaching i guess one of my primary concerns is not so much what my life will be once i take the graduation walk, but rather the anxiety of not remembering people from the previous years.

see, throughout elementary school...junior high...as well as high school we all had the benefit of getting to know people for a wide span of years; almost like insurance. the problem in college is that you might have a fantastic semester and really get to know people in some of your classes but that does not ensure that you will remember them following three months of summer.

the typical scenario plays out where you walk into your classes during the first week and anxiously look around for a familiar face...if your luck goes well you find a friend and all is well. however, more often than not you find yourself making eye contact with a vaguely familiar face. he or she will walk over to you with a big smile, clap you on the back and ask the generic question of how your summer was.

you smile back and give the generic answer of good/great/boring/busy/hot and quickly flip through your mental rolodex of people that you have met.

with luck your companion will then give you another smile and leave to sit with a real friend....or they will decide that YOU are the real friend and stick around.

do you remember the names of the people that you met in class last semester? because i sure as hell don't.

in any case have a great 2003-2004 school year my fellow trojans.

if i happen to see you, and walk right by i hope you understand...my memory is a tad spotty.

fight on.

bi-polar madness (adolescent spaceship journey)
august 13, 2003

life at the speed of light
of a roadtrip in a sonic boom
landscape melted into a mosaic pool streaming past
inspiration and anxiety
depression and ambition
like a stake pierced through your skull,
your brain,
your heart
masses of people shouting your name
shouting at you
shouting for you
shouting about you

nothing but you


youthful vitality and vigor
adolescent charm and hubris
grabbing life by the fuckin horns and thrasing it to your every will and desire
unrelenting force and aggression
ride to die mantra of legends past and in the making
masses of people shouting your name
shouting at you
shouting for you
shouting about you

nothing but you

gather around children for a story never once told, a story of unrequited love taking place somewhere you would never expect it!

thats a good guess betty but no its not in paris! whats that ralphie? no no it wasn't jamaica...thats ONE love not unrequited. yes anthony jr? hahaha no not new jersey, let that be a geography lesson to you children...there is nothing in new jersey except for garbage and jason kidd...oh and alonzo mourning....

anyway this story takes place in your daddys closet!!!


.....


vanessa nobody here needs to hear your story about what mommy and daddy were doing in the closet...pay attention to the story dear.


once not so long ago inside of a closet within your house....there was a shirt. a long-sleeved 100% cotton dress shirt...white with thin blue stripes running vertically.

located only two stories (drawers) up from this shirt was a beautiful blue tie with orange polka dots.

for months and months the polka dotted tie longed to be with the striped shirt, but the shirt never cared to notice the emotions of its accouterment neighbor.

(too tired to finish rite now...check later for the amazing conclusion...sorry faithful reader)

a domestic disaster. his sorry excuse for a kitchen looked like trench warfare hq. mounds of dirt were substituted by mounds of spilt epsom salt. and he nearly slipped on the damn egg yolk for the fifth time.

starving college student meets helpless bachelor fumbling through a hodgepodge of ingredients in true famished transient fashion.

he used a recipe that he had found on the food networks website but realized he only had bout half the shit that was required. whatever. malibu rum could always be used in place of white wine; alcohol is alcohol right?

milk....he needed milk...fuck it was expired (well its called cooking isnt it? doesn't heat kill bacteria?) he grabbed the milk and shut the fridge;

he looked into his very own eyes. a picture of him, his parents, and jasmine (his girlfriend back then)...taken at his college graduation.

three years since that so-called "momentous" occasion and here he was just as much of a helpless little fuck as he had been when he was first born, naked like a cheap whore, screaming to be sent back into the non-existance.

for all he knew, whatever it was that he cooked and ate could quite possibly kill him. but he was sick of the bullshit

sick

of

the nacho cheesier doritos




sick

of

the jumbo sized fast food covered up in enironmentally safe wrapping paper, concealing glistening dead animal sweat that made his burger taste so good



oven set at 375 degrees and forty-five minutes later he found himself staring at his paper plate thinking bout how jasmine used to cook for him.


brief memory -> brief smile (she was once on food 911 and cooked beef wellington with that one guy....)


he took a deep breath and couldnt remember if it was in anticipation for his masterpiece...or if he were sighing

he forked a heaping portion into his mouth and let the flavors seep through.............he missed her




it tasted like bad sushi.