<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18283014</id><updated>2011-08-31T10:59:38.220Z</updated><title type='text'>what for?</title><subtitle type='html'>I try. What for? You do too. What for?</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>qzoink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01475375697108701789</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18283014.post-114524851905683777</id><published>2006-04-17T03:21:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-04-17T04:35:19.073Z</updated><title type='text'>13: Spice</title><content type='html'>Soft couches, backless uniforms, chicken samosas, kumquat mojitos and blogger buddies at Spice Market.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scrolling: Nick Warren at TLV Tel-Aviv&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After driving 160 miles to NYC through rain and toll booths, waiting for the C train which never came, hopping on to C's neighbor, and a few transfers, I reached Spice Market for the bloggers' underground meeting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked for Cutie but the maitre d' was clueless. Then a girl came over and started talking to him. I caught the word 'MBA'. It was Cutie - MBA Cutie. We were then led into a room with verdigris on the walls, intricately carved wooden windows, white couches that one could sink into and a few round tables in the center.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vikram arrived. Then Redwolf056, MBAformein08, Wheresmydessert, Marina and MBA Jackass. MBAformein08 brought a friend along - let's call her Caroline. She was wearing pointy shoes. I made it a point not to offend her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The menu consisted of cocktails, appetizers and desserts. Ordering the food was a good team-building/leadership/management exercise. After the budding bschoolers failed to come to a consensus, the smart waitress suggested that we order two of each item. That would've been fine, except that the vegetarians would have gone home hungry; there were limited veggie offerings. So, we modified the smart waitress's suggestion a bit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We then closed the curtains. MBA Jackass started chugging scotch on the rocks and telling us about the importance of being punctual to a classical music concert. The appetizers came and vanished. Wheresmydessert said, "Where's my dessert?". Seven of us ordered the Vietnamese coffee tart. Caroline got the Ovaltine Kulfi and MBA Jackass got the Rice Pudding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Redwolf056 had quit his job a few hours ago and was leaving on a twenty-country tour soon, so he left after dessert to meet other friends. The rest of us tagged along with MBAformein08 to her friend's going away party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was interesting to meet other bloggers. All of them are nice, easygoing people. I still don't know what their long term career goals are.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18283014-114524851905683777?l=qzoink.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/feeds/114524851905683777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18283014&amp;postID=114524851905683777&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/114524851905683777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/114524851905683777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/2006/04/13-spice.html' title='13: Spice'/><author><name>qzoink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01475375697108701789</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18283014.post-114257488951167022</id><published>2006-03-17T04:47:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-30T21:57:02.030Z</updated><title type='text'>12: Game</title><content type='html'>I just finished watching two real life experiments in Game Theory on ABC's Primetime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scrolling: Dining Rooms - Catania City Blues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the first experiment, six pairs of people started out at different locations in Manhattan and each pair had to find the other five pairs, whom they knew nothing about.  Within three hours, three pairs were able to find each other in the Empire State Building, while the other three pairs collided at Times Square! Unknowingly, the participants applied Game Theory by thinking " Where would the other pairs expect to find us and at what time?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the second experiment, five people, who wanted to lose weight but had been unsuccessful in the past, were photographed in skimpy swimsuits. A deal was struck in which each person had to lose at least fifteen pounds in two months, failing which, her/his swimsuit photograph would be shown on network tv and the internet. Four out of five people lost more than fifteen pounds, one was three pounds short! The theory was to use a seemingly real threat to drive people to action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both theories are prevalent in our lives. Examples given by Primetime were relationships and war. I think, for bschool applicants, bschoolers and business people, a brush with these theories is quite common.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though adcoms harp about letting your true self shine through in the essays, I think applicants use game theory and try to write what they think the adcom wants to read. If they have a weakness, they strategize how to put it in a way that would have the minimum impact on the adcom, all the while sprinkling their strengths on the weakness and on top of that striving to show their strengths in a unique light. The same goes for interviews. If the interviewer is a student, your answer to a question would be different from the answer to the same question asked by an admissions officer - you theorize that the student and officer might have different perspectives and would like to hear different answers. Bschoolers go through the game while networking or applying for jobs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are deadlines? They are a threat. What are rolling admissions? Threat again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Business people would be able to go nowhere without playing the game. If a TV executive doesn't think about what people want to watch, or an investor can't think about what other investors might be thinking, then poof!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looks like business/management is gradually becoming 100% science. Using game theoretic methods to predict human behavior, one could just put parameters into a computer and get step-by-step moves on how to be a perfect leader or strategist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My point is: I was concerned about being unable to find other bloggers at the Spice Market &lt;a href="http://mbacutie.blogspot.com/2006/03/nyc-bloggers-unite-spice-market.html"&gt;gathering&lt;/a&gt; in NYC on April 14th because I don't know what they look like. Since six pairs of strangers could find each other in Manhattan, I think I'll manage. Maybe we could play a game and make it unmanageable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18283014-114257488951167022?l=qzoink.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/feeds/114257488951167022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18283014&amp;postID=114257488951167022&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/114257488951167022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/114257488951167022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/2006/03/12-game.html' title='12: Game'/><author><name>qzoink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01475375697108701789</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18283014.post-113660135164268892</id><published>2006-01-07T01:25:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-01-07T02:48:01.826Z</updated><title type='text'>11: Back</title><content type='html'>I am back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scrolling: Laptop fan, humidifier purr, hard disk murmur but no music&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I submitted my UCLA application yesterday. I am finally done with applications. Now I have to wait. If I don't get any interview calls, life will be easy. If I get any interview calls, I will have to match my socks with my clothes and pluck my eyebrows. If I get dinged after going through all that, life will again be easy. If I don't, ah! Life will be really hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While working on my applications, a number of times I would just wander in random directions. The essay questions are so hard that even Google doesn't have answers. Trying to concoct answers long enough to come close to 90% of the word limit, I kept going off track. For example, when I was answering the "Why UCLA" question, first I got sensible reasons like "proximity to the pacific coast highway", but as time went by, all that came to my mind was "why a tie?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why a tie? That's something Google has &lt;a href="http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&amp;q=%22why+a+tie%22"&gt;answers&lt;/a&gt; to. 226 answers. Wait, I take my words back. Google does have &lt;a href="http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&amp;q=%22Why+UCLA%22"&gt;9420 answers&lt;/a&gt; to "Why UCLA". Why didn't I see this &lt;a href="http://www.magazine.ucla.edu/year2003/spring03_03.html"&gt;16 page answer&lt;/a&gt; before? The professor puts the answer to the question on her website and I still  &lt;a href="http://qzoink.blogspot.com/2005/12/10-ding.html"&gt;fail&lt;/a&gt; the test. Then I complain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, back to ties. I read the &lt;a href="http://www.landsend.com/cd/fp/help/0,1452,1_36877_36882_37066___,00.html"&gt;first answer&lt;/a&gt; Google came up with. It didn't convince me. Sometimes I think a tie makes sense, after all, it's an accessory, like a nose ring, or a highlight, like a tattoo or a statement, like the word "Mom" shaved on a person's head. But it's really not. It's made of fabric. So it has to have a purpose. Everything else made of fabric has a purpose - shirt, skirt, pants, jacket, shorts. I talked about this with my neighbor and she added that caps are made of fabric too. They do have a purpose though - you can put the initials of the bschool you went to or are currently attending, right smack on the cap in big letters on the front, the full name on the back, and the logo on the right and left. They also hide bald spots, shade your face from the sun and stares (or son and stairs? heh, that's cool), save other people from getting a taste of your hair in their food, enable you to play frisbee if you don't have a frisbee, protect you from bird droppings and last but not the least, work well as a begging bowl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing bschool essays has paid off. After writing reasons for why I chose to do better in subject A and not in subject B in 7th grade, why I went to college instead of auditioning for roles in Tarantino films, why I decided to be in charge of procuring donuts at work and why the long term goal in my career is to retire (how long is long?), I can now answer any "Why X?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I still don't get it, why a tie?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18283014-113660135164268892?l=qzoink.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/feeds/113660135164268892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18283014&amp;postID=113660135164268892&amp;isPopup=true' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/113660135164268892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/113660135164268892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/2006/01/11-back.html' title='11: Back'/><author><name>qzoink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01475375697108701789</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18283014.post-113523572055398978</id><published>2005-12-22T06:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-12-22T07:15:20.580Z</updated><title type='text'>10: Ding</title><content type='html'>I got dinged by Columbia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scrolling: Fila Brazillia - It's A Knockout&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would've been nice to get in. Although I am happy that I can still watch Seinfeld and sleep 8 hours a day. I am grateful that I have good food, clean water and heat. I am thankful that I did not lose my house or loved ones in a hurricane, flood or earthquake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This means that I need to apply to more schools, which requires me to write essays, fill out forms and beg for recommendations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Holidays!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18283014-113523572055398978?l=qzoink.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/feeds/113523572055398978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18283014&amp;postID=113523572055398978&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/113523572055398978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/113523572055398978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/2005/12/10-ding.html' title='10: Ding'/><author><name>qzoink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01475375697108701789</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18283014.post-113476163463125273</id><published>2005-12-16T19:08:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-12-16T19:33:54.663Z</updated><title type='text'>9: Electricity</title><content type='html'>Yesterday, the power went out for 4 hours and then some more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scrolling: ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know what to do. I couldn't access the internet because the cable modem needs electricity to work. I could've used my cellphone to check my mail but since I am not eagerly awaiting any admission decisions, I didn't. I couldn't watch tv. I could've cooked using a flashlight but it would've been a hassle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I just slouched on my couch. I started thinking. I tried to dig up memories from my youth. I was trying to come up with an answer to the UCLA question: "Please provide us with a summary of your personal and family background. Include information about your parents and siblings, where you grew up, and perhaps a highlight or special memory from your youth. (Limit to two pages, double spaced)".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever I try to fool myself into thinking that lying down on the couch and trying to think of answers is a highly constructive utilization of my time, sleep shows up and brings me back to reality. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I slept for 3.5 hours. I was interrupted by numerous phone calls, but everytime I hung up and tried to think about UCLA's question, sleep popped up. When I finally defeated sleep, sat up, grabbed my laptop and typed the lone idea that I dreamed of while sleeping, the electricity came back. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I had to do all the stuff I had postponed due to lack of electricity. So I threw my laptop away and turned on the TV. Nothing. My cable box probably blew up when the electricity decided to take a walk. Hmmm. I freak out when things stop working. Tried to catch the waves using the TV's built in antenna. Nothing. Then I bypassed the cable box and stuck the cable directly into the TV. Got it! But I couldn't use the interactive TV guide. So I started from Channel 1. Finally converged upon something interesting to watch. Pop. Zhuck. Crackle. The electricity went out again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't try and fool myself anymore. Flopped into bed. Fell half asleep. The electricity came back. Fell fully asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woke up. There was ice outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am stinkingly dependent on electricity for some reason. In 2006, I will try and live without electricity for a week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18283014-113476163463125273?l=qzoink.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/feeds/113476163463125273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18283014&amp;postID=113476163463125273&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/113476163463125273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/113476163463125273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/2005/12/9-electricity.html' title='9: Electricity'/><author><name>qzoink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01475375697108701789</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18283014.post-113382159037214738</id><published>2005-12-05T21:58:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-12-05T22:26:30.676Z</updated><title type='text'>8: LA</title><content type='html'>I am back from a wonderful trip to California.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scrolling: ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, the business school part. I visited UCLA. Although I had planned to apply there even before the visit, now I am even more convinced. The essay questions are a bit weird though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UCLA Anderson students are pretty people. Even the prospectives were mostly good looking. The students are also a fun-loving, carefree bunch, at least the ones present in the class I attended. They all managed to smile, laugh and crack jokes in a class on a boring, mind-boggling subject. Reminded me of high school. The girls' clothing was quite varied - it ranged from pants that had a good cut and fit well coupled with a nice top and a quality cashmere sweater to white tee, fleece and jeans. Only one student had a Mac. The buildings were sparkly squeaky clean inside. There was a big lawn nearby, with lots of sunshine. And a cafe with lots of fireplaces. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, the leisure part. Drove from LA to SF. Got drunk and did some gymnastics on the BART. Next afternoon, took the Pacific Coast Highway back to LA. That was nice, nice, nice. Stopped at Carmel (governed by Clint Eastwood at some point, I think)on the way. Desginer shops, rich people, pampered dogs. It got dark on the way, which made it even more fun. I felt as if I was in outer space, no signs of humanity for miles, just the vast, dark ocean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Decided to stop at Santa Barbara, since we weren't going make it to LA before the clubs closed. The music in Santa Barbara clubs was really to my taste, especially at this place called Madison. The waitresses were sweet too. Continued to LA, reached home and dropped dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woke up next morning, hit the Walt Disney Concert Hall, MoCA, Schindler House, Pacific Design Center, Urth Cafe, Rodeo Drive, Santa Monica Promenade, The Grove and a club called Here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uh, I don't feel like writing any more essays.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18283014-113382159037214738?l=qzoink.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/feeds/113382159037214738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18283014&amp;postID=113382159037214738&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/113382159037214738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/113382159037214738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/2005/12/8-la.html' title='8: LA'/><author><name>qzoink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01475375697108701789</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18283014.post-113175893367184905</id><published>2005-11-12T00:42:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-11-12T01:28:53.683Z</updated><title type='text'>7: Wish</title><content type='html'>I wish I could read all applicants' "goals" essays before applying to bschool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scrolling: Doris Days - To Ulrike M. (original mix)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My computer seems tired. There is a lag between my pressing a key and the alphabet appearing on the screen. I just typed a whole sentence, but it hasn't shown up on the screen, oh wait, here it is! Phew!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could read about other people's goals because I can't find one of my own. I can't find one that I like. One that I'll stick to. I think of something, feel thrilled about it, start to type it up and then it doesn't come out well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't feel like going to business school. Finance, economics, strategy, marketing, accounting, statistics, operations etc. So boring and so futile. I have a new goal now and they won't help. I want to meet people from another planet. Of course, I might not stick to this goal and go back to my earlier goal of running the Red Cross. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking back, I've always hopped goals. In middle school, I wanted to be a magician. After that, for a long time, I didn't have a goal. Then I wanted to write a new Operating System. Didn't last long. New goal: Make a new microprocessor. Too hard. After that I started thinking more down to earth, more practical. Instead of the destination, I started thinking about the journey. I started thinking about career paths. I chose a hardcore engineering path. Couldn't take it. Diversified into making omelets. Seemed interesting for a while but then I thought "what's the point?". Then tragedy struck - the hurricanes, the floods, the earthquake. I decided to make it my goal to help other people. Business school will teach me how to run the Red Cross. I don't feel like doing that either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am selfish. I want to enjoy my time here, not spend it helping others. Although I don't want to be here. I want to be on some other planet with some other people. I want to launch myself into space and get lost. Then I can just sleep or look. Look out of the window into space. I have been dreaming a lot these days and the dreams are amazing. I think they'll be even better if I am lost in space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's weird that I am thinking of space travel and extraterrestrial intelligence because I used to despise all that. I had no interest in all the balls floating around us or any of NASA's missions. Now I envy Neil Armstrong. Now I think it is better to read his recently published biography "First Man: The Life of Neil A. Armstrong" than write bschool essays. From David Copperfield to Neil Armstrong. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I am really cut out for is an 8 AM to 5 PM job with an hour for lunch and weekends off. Come home and watch Seinfeld followed by Everybody Loves Raymond. Eat and drink. Have sex. Sleep. Die.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18283014-113175893367184905?l=qzoink.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/feeds/113175893367184905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18283014&amp;postID=113175893367184905&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/113175893367184905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/113175893367184905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/2005/11/7-wish.html' title='7: Wish'/><author><name>qzoink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01475375697108701789</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18283014.post-113116044402324960</id><published>2005-11-05T02:48:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-11-05T03:14:04.036Z</updated><title type='text'>6: Fashion</title><content type='html'>Fashion sense of MBA students at Columbia University and NYU.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scrolling: Union Jack - Water Drums&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I visited Columbia University and NYU recently, both the same day. I don't believe in generalizations, so I'll be specific and say  that the fashion sense of the two students I met at Columbia was better and more laid back than that of two students I met at NYU.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bschool building at Columbia is swankier than its counterpart at NYU. The Columbia building doesn't have a security desk at the entrance, the NYU building does. Most of Columbia is like a regular enclosed campus. NYU doesn't have an enclosed campus. I liked both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I attended a class at NYU. It was interesting. Surprisingly, I didn't want it to end. When I drink Coca Cola, I keep looking at the glass to see how much is left. As the level goes down, I take smaller sips, so that it lasts longer. Similarly, I kept looking at the wall clock in the class, I was wishing the clock went slower, so that the class wouldn't end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am now a bit motivated to work on my next application. I hope sleep doesn't come in my way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18283014-113116044402324960?l=qzoink.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/feeds/113116044402324960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18283014&amp;postID=113116044402324960&amp;isPopup=true' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/113116044402324960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/113116044402324960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/2005/11/6-fashion.html' title='6: Fashion'/><author><name>qzoink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01475375697108701789</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18283014.post-113046340267135879</id><published>2005-10-28T01:08:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-10-28T01:37:28.160Z</updated><title type='text'>5: Competition</title><content type='html'>I am trying not to be competitive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scrolling: Jakatta - American Dream (Afterlife Remix)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am where I am because of the humans around me. It started in kindergarten. The comparisons. Jill got a better grade than me. So I had to skip soccer and study. Although I didn't want to. What would've happened if I hadn't? Nothing really. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It continued in college and grad school. In academics and extra-curriculars. In clothes, in beerpong. I try to find utility in my actions but I think subconsciously it is about competition with other humans. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Applying to business school is different. None of my friends/acquaintances/relatives/neighbors/bosses is applying to business school. So, for a while I didn't have any competition. I did well without it, surprisingly. GMAT, essays, all went well. Then I slacked off. I barked that I am unsure of my goals and motivations. Maybe I was just being an escapist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started reading blogs and discussions. The power of the internet. This was more competition than I had ever been exposed to. The whole world. The irony is that I have always thought of the world as a really small place, a ball among so many other balls. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think competition will get me into business school. I will read about people submitting applications in Round 1, so I will too. I will read about people microdermabrazing their essays, so I will too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe not. I don't feel like being a part of this rat race. I've been trying to work on my next application for more than a week but haven't moved a molecule. I'll stop running, or stop trying to run and just drink Coca Cola. I'll continue the rat race tomorrow. Or maybe on Monday. I have to run.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18283014-113046340267135879?l=qzoink.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/feeds/113046340267135879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18283014&amp;postID=113046340267135879&amp;isPopup=true' title='21 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/113046340267135879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/113046340267135879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/2005/10/5-competition.html' title='5: Competition'/><author><name>qzoink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01475375697108701789</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>21</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18283014.post-113037286473025686</id><published>2005-10-27T00:11:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-10-27T00:28:52.223Z</updated><title type='text'>4: Selection</title><content type='html'>This is how I select schools.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scrolling: De Phazz - Cafe Coca&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Core curriculum (how balanced is the core, what skills does the core teach)&lt;br /&gt;- Electives (electives offered, ratio of electives to core courses, electives allowed from other departments)&lt;br /&gt;- Career statistics (what percentage of graduates got employed in the industry/function of my interest, do my target companies recruit on campus, what are the primary channels of recruitment)&lt;br /&gt;- Clubs (do any of the clubs interest me, if yes, are they active, are they populated, are they strong, would I bring something to them)&lt;br /&gt;- Campus (is there a beach nearby, or a snow-covered slope, is there a lot of grass on campus, or just concrete, what's around the campus, a forest or a city, is there a cinema on campus)&lt;br /&gt;- Average undergraduate GPA&lt;br /&gt;- Average GMAT&lt;br /&gt;- Average age&lt;br /&gt;- Average work experience&lt;br /&gt;- Zip code&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18283014-113037286473025686?l=qzoink.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/feeds/113037286473025686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18283014&amp;postID=113037286473025686&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/113037286473025686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/113037286473025686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/2005/10/4-selection.html' title='4: Selection'/><author><name>qzoink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01475375697108701789</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18283014.post-113029247810034766</id><published>2005-10-25T22:06:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-10-26T02:11:22.003Z</updated><title type='text'>3: Essay</title><content type='html'>NYU Stern. Essay Question 3. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please describe yourself to your MBA classmates.  You may use any method to convey your message (e.g. words, illustrations).  Feel free to be creative.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, I'll try and feel free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scrolling: Menheads - La Politique (Part 1)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Draft 1:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to make fried dumplings at an Ethiopian restaurant in Lexington, Kentucky. I now make omelets at a joint in New York, New York. The last three alphabets are consonants. The last three in the name of the joint. Where I make omelets. Spinach, bacon and goat cheese. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Making the switch wasn't easy. It shows I am versatile. I can handle finance and economics together in the same semester. I make each omelet to perfection. It leads to better tips for those who serve it. If I am your MBA classmate in the future, I will do the same. Not the omelet. Homework, or a project. I'll do it to perfection, so that you get a better grade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Various kinds of humans line up to eat my omelets every Sunday at 11:30 AM. A number of times, I have been given the responsibility of managing the queue. I arrange the humans heightwise, the shortest person in front. That way everyone can gauge how many humans are in front of him/her. It keeps the operation translucent. Although I am a chef by training, I know how to manage humans and do justice to them. As your MBA classmate, I will do similar justice to you. I will let you answer the teacher's question first. I'll even prompt the correct answer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time management is key. More so at a joint than at business school. Spinach, bacon and cheese, right? While the chopped bacon is frying in the skillet, the frozen chopped spinach is thawing in the microwave. The microwave has a timer but the skillet doesn't. So I have to keep an eye on it. I have to manage time. It's like managing two subordinates. One goes by the clock. It strikes 5 and she is out. The other keeps working until he burns out. I'll encounter both kinds in my study group or project team. I'll know what to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you understand that I will make an all around good classmate. All that I have told you so far is very businesslike. You probably want to know the inner me. You wonder, what's behind that facade of omelets, management and generosity? It's a villager. It's someone who once couldn't believe that spinach can be frozen or that the white of an egg can come in a carton. Someone who was dumbfounded on seeing a whiteboard for the first time and wondered how a white chalk would be legible on it, only to be further dumbfounded on seeing dry-erase markers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry, you won't feel awkward around me. Just like you, I now go to the movies and have a small cordless phone that I can use far away from my house. Mine didn't come with a base station though, did yours? Hey, trust me, I will never let you down, I'll make omelets for you, I'll nudge you if you fall asleep in class, and if you still don't wake up, you can have my notes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have highlighted my important features above. I am sure you want to know more, but I just realized that you won't be reading this. The admissions committee will, and they have had enough.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18283014-113029247810034766?l=qzoink.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/feeds/113029247810034766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18283014&amp;postID=113029247810034766&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/113029247810034766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/113029247810034766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/2005/10/3-essay.html' title='3: Essay'/><author><name>qzoink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01475375697108701789</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18283014.post-113027378834027648</id><published>2005-10-25T20:28:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-10-25T21:00:21.800Z</updated><title type='text'>2: MBA</title><content type='html'>I'm applying to full-time MBA programs. In the process of applying, I started reading MBA applicant and student blogs. I was too lazy to write my own blog and I knew that if I do create one, it will end up being focused on the MBA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While enjoying reading about others and posting anonymously, I bumped into a blog that doesn't allow non-bloggers to post. I thought about it all day, talked to friends for advice, did some analysis, tossed a coin and lost. So I had to create a blogger account. I calmed myself by saying that it's a matter of minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I created the account, didn't post the comment for which I took all this trouble but wrote my first two posts. Let's get back to the subject.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time I submit an application, I decide that I won't go for an MBA. These days I am hung up on the word "worthwhile". Cracking the GMAT, writing good essays. Is all that worthwhile? Once in business school, getting good grades, preparing for job interviews. Is that worthwhile? On the job, working hard. Is that worthwhile too?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What about an expensive vacation where you exercise and feed your brain and probably don't have time to exercise and feed your body? That could be worthwhile. Especially if your fellow vacationers have a lot of different stories to tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An MBA, for me, would be such a vacation. On to the next application.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18283014-113027378834027648?l=qzoink.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/feeds/113027378834027648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18283014&amp;postID=113027378834027648&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/113027378834027648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/113027378834027648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/2005/10/2-mba.html' title='2: MBA'/><author><name>qzoink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01475375697108701789</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18283014.post-113026594112261038</id><published>2005-10-25T13:00:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-10-25T20:58:34.500Z</updated><title type='text'>1: Start</title><content type='html'>You are complex.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18283014-113026594112261038?l=qzoink.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/feeds/113026594112261038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18283014&amp;postID=113026594112261038&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/113026594112261038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18283014/posts/default/113026594112261038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://qzoink.blogspot.com/2005/10/1-start.html' title='1: Start'/><author><name>qzoink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01475375697108701789</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
