VH1 vs. H1B, Part deux –last episode (?)

October 2005: Sum up of the last episode:

August 17th, 2005

12 month work Visa: expired
Status of new 3-year work Visa (H1B) filled in April: unknown
Days remaining in the country: 60

60 days with no legal existence. An administrative overdue, a wandering soul. 60 days as non-being with a freshly signed lease lying on the shinny hardwood floor of a yet to be furnished apartment. What's an overdue to do? Unable to leave, forbidden to work, I opted for a two-month spree to get to know the city, get a job or get an eligible man (and not necessarily in that order, mind you.)

My nonexistent self and I, freed from the burden of having to behave like a responsible citizen, wandered from hip Manhattan to hipper Brooklyn, entering homes, dive bars and bling bling clubs unnoticed (only in this city you bump into George Clooney during a slumber party.) In the course of the summer alone, I participated in a bi-monthly reenactment of what December 31st at the Baron de Mord-moi-l'noeud must have looked like, back in the joyous days when France had Kings and people like me where fed to the pyre. The elaborate gibberish warning on the invitation "no sneakers, no jeans," once deciphered, read " in your face my Armani suit, I'm a banker." For study purposes only, I religiously attended the conveniently baptized "French Tuesdays" events, sipping special priced champagne in my yard-sale beat-up Gucci boots. Café St Bart's, Tavern on the Green, Battery Park Gardens, Boulevard… Alcohol probably helping, my fervent attendance paid off and I soon made new friends. Eager to find out more about them and especially in order to have something to do the rest of the week, I began to follow my ersatz of French community in its after-life –ie beyond Tuesdays.

It turned out that, like the succession of circles you get when you throw a stone in the water, everyone belonged to another "community." Wednesdays became Eastern Europe day. Every other Thursdays I partied with "Made in Italy," an itinerant group of Italian expat' getting seasick in the meatpacking district to the beat of electro-garage. The other "every-other Thursdays" was dedicated to a French version of "girls night out:" only women and free hard liquor cocktails allowed from 8-10 pm. Desperate guys come in at 10pm, confident that 80% of the work had already been done by Mr. Zubrowka. Friday was always filled with some type of "yes. I'm on Vero's list" event in a club or another, that a somewhat expired Press Pass always interestingly managed to back up. Then came Saturdays, with the orthodox Jews gathering in Central Park after Shabbat in hope to meet someone mom would finally approve of –if you're reading this and are interested in joining this group, avoid showing up in shorts and talking on your cell phone. I tried. On Sundays, I met with "Judios Latinos" the Latin Jews also meeting in Central Park, who discussed things I didn't get, and then translated them in several Spanish dialects. One Monday, in an everlasting quest to test my determination to remain in the country, I started to follow people outside of the relative safety net provided by organized social events.

- 22 year old chick clubbing in Chelsea in a tiny-mini skirt –belt?- and confiding everyone she is an industrial spy, check.
- 12 people naked at 2 am in a pool discussing the danger of golf cart driving in Putnam valley, check. (thanks for bringing back the bathing suit Anna…)
- Coke-heads sniffing their checking account using $50 bills in their Über West village penthouse, check.
- Pot heads sniffing beer on the roof of their rent-free squat in Brooklyn, check.
- Quebecois chum fluent in Breton (Brittany's ancestral language,) check.
- Quebecois chum fluent in Breton that blows up an air mattress with a Ziploc bag and a car ventilation but then doesn't want to sleep on it because of spiders, check.
- Plastic pearl necklaces and canoe day in an empty NJ summer camp on September 11, check.
- Karaoke night hosted by a 40 something transvestite in the middle of the projects in Brooklyn, check.
- Young cutie slightly hammered randomly throwing himself at me (who would have thought?) check.
- Handsome man totally sober and throwing himself at me… well, got to remember to check that one.
- Actually had to go to the E.R while E.R was on, stayed 4 hours, swallowed 2 pounds of pink pills, came back sicker than coming in, check.

Today, October 15, 2005, exhausted, dazed and yes, confused, NYC's tasting has come to an end: my H1B case has been approved!

What does that mean? It means than I am officially reborn. I can now theoretically come and go freely for the next 3 years. It also means, now that I no longer work for the company the visa was granted for, that I have 30 days left to find a job, transfer the papers, or get my dirty immigrant ass out of the country.

30 days? …Any one knows of a Hindu or a New Guinea group that meets on Mondays?

VH1 vs. H1B part 1

April, 2005, VH1 vs. H1B

August 17th, 2005.

The date I will officially expire. Like a bowl of mayo left all afternoon on the picnic table, or that bag of party favors from the Oyster festival 03’ your forgot to throw out. On August 17th, I will go from working human being to illegal human waste.

But as for any disease there is a cure, a Botox to repel this express aging. In this case it is called “Sponsorship.” All I have to do is explain my boss that during my 2 ½ month of attendance at the gallery, I have shown exceedingly valuable assets that are worth signing me for the next three years, paying for the $6000 H1B Visa fee, hire a lawyer and go through 7 month of pain-in-the-ass paperwork. The numerus clausus application process starts next Tuesday, first come first served basis.

Now, is it really worth it? Why do I keep fighting to stay in the US like a clinging stalker following the object of her deranged affection? I once saw a “problem solver” notebook: it had 2 columns to help sort out the pro and the cons, and a total line to count the points (I guess this is where spending my lunch breaks at the American Folk Art Museum store on 66th street comes in handy.)

Bullet proof: H1B I’m in, VH1 I’m out.






VH1 > H1B

1. VH1 / MTV
> The Sundance Channel / IFC

2. Ubiquitous non-stop commercials.
> SUV’s are cool and big and useful when shopping in Manhattan. So says my credit card company.

3. Outrageous rent prices.
> Just pay for the doorless room.

4. Food-free food, Fat-full snacks.
> Asian Cuban vegan fusion restaurants with all you can eat meat deserts.

5. Old Navy considered by most as a potential “formal” wardrobe.
> Indiscernible body underneath clothing. Allow to keep the peanut butter cups coming.

6. 6 month of freezing winter.
> Keep those stupid flies frozen and out of the house.

7. Inefficient public transportations.
>Inefficient public transportations opened after midnight.

8. George Bush.
>Away from Jacques Chirac.

9. Working with lunatics.
>Lunatics okay to work with me.

10. Surrounded by indecisive overanxious talented artists.
> Surrounded by indecisive overanxious talented artists.

11. In love with New York.


I guess I’ll talk to my boss next Tuesday. Wish me luck. (or a safe trip.)

Speedy Valentine

February 14th 2005

While a lucky bunch received flowers and chocolate today, the rest of us is still wondering what could have possibly gone wrong. At what point in our life, serving the "yes, I do think that not remembering my name is a sign that I should not go home with you tonight, especially since we met an hour ago" ended up being a terrible lack of spontaneity?

I here understand my mistake and admit defeat: yes, I too will embrace the speed-dating life. But a question remains... How can one says it all in less than 5 min? Well my friends, I looked around and finally saw the light: getting a date in New York is like getting a job. So from now on I decided I would distribute a "Love resume" and pray for a call back.

So, on what's left of this joyous Valentine's Day I am calling the unlucky bunch to join me with their resume, and well, pass mine around while you're at it...


MAïA M.
Somewhere in Brooklyn, NY. USA

GOAL: Do better next time.

EDUCATION

Grammar school Sainte Cécile D’avès, Gaillac, (village) Southern France. 1983-1984
-Crush on Alexandre, aka “golden locks.” 20 years later, he turned into the nicest albino pot head.
-Crush on Sébastien, kid who lives on the other side of the hill. (Still lives there, with the pot head)

Grammar school Eugénie de Guérin, Gaillac, (village) Southern France. 1984-1985
-(Catholic convent/ school.) People ask if I speak ‘Jewish;’ no love interest in my school.
-Crush on David, who lives on the same hill as Sébastien; his brother actually.
-Crush on ALL the Japanese cartoons male characters. (Astro Boy is still hot.)

Grammar School Calvignac, Toulouse, Southern France. 1985-1989
-Crush on Cédric, a pretty normal kid for once Unfortunately, Cédric’s in love with my best friend.

Junior High Michelet, Southern Toulouse, France. 1989-1991
-First puppy love that appears to be shared. Plan on waiting the following year to ask him out.

Junior High Beaumarchais, Paris, France. 1991-1993
-Move to Paris, city of all crimes. No love interest, just a strong desire to stay alive.

High School Edgar Quinet, Paris, France. 1993-1994
-The concept of love is somehow disturbed by a) the fact that most guys there can’t sing the “alphabetsong” properly, b) the proximity of prostitutes/ sex shops in the neighborhood.
-First kiss with a boy from “Molière High School.” Moments later, love at first sight with hisclassmate.

High School Molière, Paris, France. 1994-1996
-“Saved by the Bell” meets The Discovery Channel: Romanian refugee, depressed singer, videogamechampion wannabee, Japanese cartoon voice over…
-Cédric, from Bréval (Parisian suburban village.)After break up, Cédric joins the army.
-Barnabus, karate champion, from Bréval.
[Score: Big Jim: 1, Barnabus: 0.]
Knowledge acquired: there are 38.851 other villages in France.
-Sébastien (the name got popular in the 1970’s.) Village 9 miles from Bréval.
-Ezekiel. Knowledge acquired: a man, in the Biblical sense.
Additional knowledge acquired: next time, stick to reading the book.
-Platonic relationship with Alexis. Kundera is in the air –and so is Alexis’ girlfriend.

La Sorbonne Paris IV, Paris, France. 1996-2004
-David, from Bréval. First long -love?- story (4 years.)
Knowledge acquired: French villages are all the same anyway.

Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, NY. USA. 2001-2002 (Teaching Assistantship)
-Erik, a drama student. After the 3rd wedding proposal, consider getting engaged the following year.

Smithsonian American Art, Washington DC. 2002-2003
-First time living with a boyfriend. First nervous breakdown. Also first time asking a boyfriend tobuy his own make up – Exit the drama queen.
-Summer in Europe: hook up with my pre-K crush Sébastien.

City University of New York (CUNY), The Graduate Center, New York, NY. 2003-2004
-Jean-Paul Sartre meets Candace Bushnell: British broker, Hindu engineer, gay guy, politician.
-Pierce, a friend.
-Brendan, his friend.
-Xander, Brendan’s roommate.
Knowledge acquired: check date’s background connections FIRST.

Sorbonne doctoral student on the run, hiding in NYC. 2004
-Ragnagna, 33 years old. Loves Iron Maiden underwear, French puddles, and himself. Hates planning, soft-boiled eggs and anyone who’s not him –especially me, I think.
-Today: Seeking a more selective taste in men.

PROFESSIONAL EXPERIENCE
Fortunately none.

SKILLS
Languages: Fluent: French, English. Proficient Spanish. Basic Rumanian and Hindi
Other:Valid US Work Permit.

NOTE. To emphasize the progression in my social life and of my mental health, this resume asbeen edited chronologically. No causality should be established between my dates, or lack of, andthe constant school change.