Getting my Master's on...

I owe Sim Sim Sima about 500 bucks. This is from the money she sent my way to London town, via Western Union, after I lost my wallet in a drunken stupor at club G-A-Y. (Faux Hill upside: bought myself a fancy new Paul Smith wallet!) Papa Len finds Western Union simply amazing, "I walked into a convenience store - and the next day - you had money! Amazing."

Although I owe Sim Sim Sima said big bucks - anytime she mentions payment - I talk about getting my MBA. No three words have as much power over the old girl as the three non-sensical words as a master's in business administration. Sim Sim Sima simply loves the MBA. Why? Its unclear, because I'm not sure what one does with an MBA. Administer some biz-nass? And besides who wants an MBA for a son when you can have a doctah or a lawyah?

Truthfully (and I'd like to keep this on the Down Low; as DL as the LL Cool J gay thing, k?) this Faux Hillary is actually in the process of selling himself out - by applying to do his MBA. Fingers cross I don't fail my GMAT's. I know it’s a shocker and I could spend an entire lifetime over-analyzing this most recent cop-out - however, I'm pretty sure my neuroses are what prompted the last BF to dump yours truly - and the over analytical thought process of a 24 year-old gay man would digress too far from the point of this original blog. Suffice to say that after living like a complete artiste for two years in Montreal, I graduated McGill wrote a screenplay and realized that I happen to like cashmere and buying things that come in pink paper bags a bit too much to sit on a street corner peddling narcissistic poetry for the rest of my life. There - I said what everyone is thinking: why be a starving artist - when you can make money? And with that I guess I'm just like the rest of my spoiled brethren [we'll call this blog the facade remover].

So what does a MBA have anything to do with the Faux, gentle reader is undoubtedly asking? Well I'm reaching a bit today... or at least making a statement so bold that it would put Bold to shame - who is very well, thanks for asking.

As part of my high and mighty approach to living, I've been pretty proud of not applying to Default School, rebelling against my God-given right to get into Osgoode and generally protesting most of what the Faux has taught me (Do you hear the people sing, singing the songs of angry men! [men who didn't get into law school]). Realistically, however, I'm just as conformist as the best of them, only with a slightly more fabulous side (the side the sucks the penis), and so... as I near my mid-twenties and contemplate buying that semi-detached Victorian in the Annex I've always wanted - I've had that zen-like moment: so this is why everyone is in law school. Throw in an adopted child from Africa and I'm living the gay version of my parents, with an Angelina Jolie footnote.

Once I had settled on a future life-route, a career and a couple of additional letters to add to my name [MBA - what!] I thought, very proudly, ha ha!, what Faux Hillary does a MBA? Way to ditch the Village populists on this one. It may come as a surprise really, but the Faux Hillary and MBA mix don’t really match (or so I thought). Why, I’m not really sure – although I’m guessing it has something to do with the guilt factor. Now in the schematic overview of Jewish guilt a child with an MBA will provoke less maternal guilt then let's say a child with an engineering degree; but you can bet your last shekle an MBA provides less naches then dentistry and will definitely provide your folks less of a reason to kvell at synagogue then your acceptance into Med or Law School (the platinum defense against Jew guilt - let's not even talk about the JD/Doctorate Combo).

I'm pretty sure most people look at me and think I totally generalizing Faux Hill culture. It can't be that stereotypical all the time? Is everyone really in law school? And sometimes may critics may in fact be right - on a dry month - when the Faux Hill gossip train eases up like the smooth ride of a Porsche SUV illegally parking in front of the Village Market, I think that perhaps its time to start my new blog: nogaysexinthecity.blogspot.com (coming soon! promise). Yet then... it happens: full-circle moment. The Faux is as psychotic as I've always imagined.
Full-circle moment of this week: realizing that the MBA is climbing up the hierarchy of anti-guilt defense mechanisms. We can now see the MBA as part of the ultimate troika in Jew guilt protection (Doctor, Lawyer, MBA). Who knew?

Case in point: while applying to the Rotman School of Business I email the student association to try and talk to some current students. I get an email back from Jordana Silverstein (fake name, but the real one was just as Jewy). She says she remembers me from high school - I realize she's confused me with my cousin, hilarity ensues and in the course of our convo she decides I should talk to one of her colleagues (Jessica Cohen, again fake name, but the real one is just as Jewy). Sure this is a random sample - but I mean - this is Canada - surely someone whom I can't easily connect myself via Six Degrees of the Polish Shtetle could potentially answer my question? I mean doesn't some kid from Brampton want an MBA too? When I told El Huerd (of the Thornhill El Huerds) my new Rotman friends, he replied: Jordana lives on my street. Fancy that.

So essentially I realize attending the Rotman School of Business wis actually like attending Faux Hill Collegiate, only perhaps, with a bit more backstabbing. Instead of fighting for ranking in JAP cliques (please we all remember the year when the ruling clique excommunicated their bestie, right?) people are now jockeying for prime placements at investment banks. God what have I gotten myself into?

Enter Kitty Kat. A chance encounter at the Montreal Bread Company in Yorkville, pre film-festival madness. We grab latte's in order to discuss a partnership with my current job. Eventually we discuss our backgrounds… We both grew up in Toronto, undergraduate degrees from good schools etc... (Its the same conversation you can have with most people who grew up here: you went to Snowhawks?!! I went to snowhawks!! You had a nanny??!! From the Philippines?!! Wow... its like we lived the same life.)

Then Kitty Kat dropped the wild card, "And then I did my MBA at Columbia."
"Get out." I responded. If we were standing I would have pushed her, Elaine styles.

"How come you didn't stay in Toronto?"

"I grew up here. Felt like it was time to leave." And where did dearest Kitty Kat grow up? Round the corner from the Two-Fer. "Toronto just started to feel incredibly small."

"Maybe it was just your slice of Toronto?" I offered. “Well,” she said, "all of my friends were in law school."

"So things don't really change then," I laughed.

"Listen - everyone you know is shitting their pants about the future. Law school, MBA, you still have to define yourself at some point outside of academia."

And with that we start a new year – a new year of new definitions and with a modicum of less guilt… how intriguing!

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Happy New Year Bitches. let's bring on 5768 and party like it's fifty seven sixty eight.