For a little while there, I was thinking about dropping out.
It was a symptom, and now I've finally figured out the root cause.
It came on suddenly. Namely, when I woke up last week and realized that I had a ton of friends going into the social games business.
And I think it's a sign that we really will have an economic recovery (at least a small one, for now) when everybody who is employed yells "My company is hiring!" on Facebook.
That scared me. I have 8 months to go until graduation. I discovered at GDC Austin that the companies I'm interested in aren't themselves interested in talking to someone that far in advance. The games business moves fast, and the social games business moves even faster. "Five months is forever," said an industry veteran who just made the transition from core to social gaming. Another one (from a major publisher) said to my face, "We need product managers right now, and we're starting them at $75,000. You'd be a great match." That *awesome* job that's open now? Won't be next June, nor may any of the jobs like it.
I took this concern to several of my professors. Without missing a beat, they pushed right back. "Take leave," they said.
I'm not dumb: this is tantamount to dropping out. Who abandons their dream job to overpay for the privilege to walk the stage? I could walk away from the extra $15,000 in debt right now and start working my way through the gaming world I so clearly belong in. And this whole get a job / get your foot in the door thing is why you enter a professional grad school. So why do the last third of school if the Prime Directive has already been satisfied?
There are plenty of reasons not to go this route. Mainly, job security in the games business is nonexistent, so I could easily end up unemployed, degree-less and in debt in a matter of months. What's more, life in San Diego is really rather good. Why the rush to run away from here?
The symptom manifested itself as the temptation to drop out and get going. What actually happened is that I figured out what I want to do.
I didn't have the answer to that basic question after high school, or college, or my time in Japan. Now I have that answer, and for a while, finishing grad school became just an expensive obstacle on the way to that objective. I didn't give grad school its due credit for helping me get the skills and internship time I needed to figure that out.
I also forgot the biggest lesson my mom taught me: why be excited about work? We'll all be doing a hell of a lot of it in the future.
So in the end, I've calmed back down, stayed enrolled for the winter quarter, and made sure to attend my last surfing class this weekend. In the meantime, it's nice to know who I am, and it won't be long before I'm always introducing myself like this:
"Hi. I'm Blake, and I make video games."
I'm back early!
If you can believe it, I was laid off from a summer internship. My colleague (and fellow Austinite) Will Leverett wrote up the situation, and I think most of us would agree with his assessment. The product was seriously flawed, and the transatlantic offices were almost inevitably suspicious of one another, but by and large, we all liked the people we directly worked with.
The last days at the office, after the layoff bomb had been dropped, were somewhat cathartic. People had stressed for weeks or months over the future of their jobs. But now, at least, they knew the deal, and could move forward. Spirits were surprisingly raised. Former employees back in Colorado are still meeting up for margaritas at lunch and spending afternoons on LinkedIn collecting contacts and recommendations.
I, for one, was able to come back to California, a place I missed more than I thought. During my eight weeks in Boulder, I learned that I took a hell of a lot of things for granted here, including the weather, the location, the local culture, a whole lot of food, and the people. The California atmosphere in general, if you will. Boulder's a beautiful place - and I should take a second to thank my generous Colorado hosts - but I felt in my heart that I wouldn't be happy there long-term. The drive across western Colorado, however, finally sold me on the state, and I'm looking forward to the day when I can spend Christmas snowboarding in Vail.
I've been back for five days now, and it just feels right. I've gotten to go running at the park, I've laid by the pool, I've slept in my own bed, cooked in my own kitchen, seen a few awesome people, gone out in LA's Little Tokyo, and of course, eaten at Tajima. Things here are just as I've made them over the last year, and that's intensely satisfying.
You may notice I don't sound too distressed about losing my job. I'm not. For an internship, I did what I came to do: get in the door and establish some solid contacts. Financially, it's not too much worse to be unemployed. I was paid decently in Colorado, but I was paying rent at two places and eating out every day, so I may as well be dipping into savings from a beach here. Emotionally, there's no pain at all. It's just not the kind of thing I would take personally. That's a necessary attitude for the games industry, given how entrepreneurial it is.
I had a quick talk with my boss on the way out of town. He asked if, after this experience, I'd stay in the games industry. My answer: "Hell yes."
Don't let the title mislead you - I came to Texas for Mother's Day and didn't just send a text. I couldn't think of a good gift, so I came home. Mom played her 'we can do anything you want' card by choosing to eat at Chuy's, her favorite Tex-Mex place. Hey, it's what makes her happy.
Anyway. The text exchange took place not between me and her, but between my mom and her boyfriend. This exchange was dictated to me and not peeked at or otherwise obtained by sneaky means.
Boyfriend: I'll be over at 6.
Mom: Far out.
Boyfriend: God, I love hippie chicks.
Here's to hippie chicks. Love you, Mom <3
For the first time, I write from an airplane.I'm on the way to Austin for the weekend to reunite with a college club that has a permanent place in my heart and soul: the Japanese Association at UT. Today's their once-a-year spring festival, and for the first time we alumni have used the occasion to try to get an alumni chapter off the ground. Amazingly, everyone's taking it seriously. Alumni such as myself are reuniting from around the world, with thanks to our fearless leader known as Tots. He was the founding president, so he has much more heart-and-soul invested than I, but the guy's so hardcore he flew from Singapore to Austin to see his baby grow up just a little more. When he did this, it was hard to keep saying no to coming in from Cali for a weekend. So here I am. As I sit on the plane, I get more and more excited. This weekend is more than a reunion with the boys [my affectionate name for my old roommates], or a reunion with a group of wonderful people not unlike a fraternity. [UT readers, take heart - that takes on a positive meaning at most other universities, I've learned. And that's how I mean it.] And it's certainly a lot more than an 18+ party late at night in downtown Austin. No, this is a return to my youth. Grad students are generally in their late 20s and begin to feel the age. Lines to the effect of "I'm not in college anymore" or "I can't do that anymore" are said with shocking frequency. The all-night fun and parties don't necessarily end forever at 25, but they do take more effort than they used to. And they still might end all together at 30. We'll see. Tonight's party will be the only way to do it - with the same group I traipsed around with three years ago. At the same nightclub, even.The moral of this story is that there is a difference between 22 and 25 or 26. And that opportunities like this will be rare, even if our little alumni association takes off in the best possible way. Alumni associations are for networking and helping current members of the club get jobs and the occasional trip down Memory Lane. Partying's an afterthought. We're all still young, but that won't last forever. People will continue their inevitable spread around the globe, and convocations like these will host fewer and fewer people who have little spaces in my heart for being there with me when we did it all the first time around. Tonight's gathering already lost one soldier to work-related conditions. As I sit on the plane, my phone is blasting the same albums I blasted three years ago in my car: m-flo's Astromantic, Crazy Ken Band's 777. After I land, I get to party with my favorite one-time roommates, and I get to enjoy quality time and party some more with a group that has always taken care of me and had my back. Never mind my notoriously expensive tastes. My drink may now be Maker's Mark or a well-aged Suntory, but for now, I'm drinking Jack and Cokes and eating Cheese Nips, as if it were a UT football game day. For a night, I get to be 22 again. The words "I'm so happy I could cry" don't really hold water - the feeling I have isn't happiness. It's still positive for sure, but it's a deeper sensation than happiness, something that touches the soul more than happiness. But as I sit on this plane, I'm tearing up a little nonetheless.