Window Treatments, painting and engagement photos
As of Saturday afternoon the Time Warner cable guys set up the Internet in my loft. I'm back on the grid! Now, I just need to get my desktop computer set up, which should happen once my desk has been created in my closet.
I've been in the loft for less than two weeks, and during these two weeks I've woken up for work on time every day (which hasn't happened in a couple of years) I believe this phenomena is due to the fact that my windows have no treatments because the sun wakes me as soon as it crests over the horizon at 5 30am. After some thinking, and input from Pancho, I decided to purchase roll up shades. When done correctly, the shades look very modern, they roll up and appear to disappear, they also have very square and straight lines. They are Perfect for what I have mind for the long term look of this place. I have a 20% off coupon to 3 day blinds so I called them to come out to take measurements and present me with a bid. By the middle of next week I should finally have some privacy in this loft.
This weekend I plan to paint. I think I'll paint the wall with the windows a cobalt blue color, I'm also thinking of painting the wall in two different shades of blue. I got a ton of paint samples from home depot that I've put on the wall to see how the color would look. Since the overarching them of this loft is modernism, I was anticipating painting the far wall a bright red color (it would make the interior of the loft look like a Mondrain painting).
On a personal note, I spent all Sunday with Pancho and Nancy as they took engagement photos at the location where Pancho proposed to Nancy. I assisted Susanica Tam (a woman who went to high school with us) as she took the photographs (ie holding the reflectors and remote flashes) Even though it was overcast, I still managed to get burned. I earned a righteous farmer's tan for this privilege. Congratulations are in order for Pancho and Nancy for making their relationship work.
On the ride back to LA, Susanica was regaling us with stories of people who work in show business, since she's a professional photographer she's had opportunities to meet a ton of people who work in Hollywood. After our conversation, I had a bit of introspection, maybe I've been too judgmental against people who are 'trying to make it in show biz'. I will have to explore those thoughts a little further at a later time.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Initial Thoughts
I figured out the parking situation yesterday, it required 3 phone calls with two parking attendants who do not speak english all that well and one $25 key card deposit. I now have my very own leased parking space a block and a half from my building. It also so happens that this parking structure is one block away from skid row and abuts the most gritty street corner this side of the midnight mission. At least the parking structure is secure, the damn thing has heavy security access doors and a roll down steel gate blocking the ramp exit and entrance. If there was a downside to owning down town, this parking situation is it. Luckily, there has been street parking in front of my building the last two nights so I've managed to park in my quiet neighborhood the last couple of nights.
Speaking of quiet, last night around 10 pm, some building in downtown decided to have a free punk rock concert. It was LOUD and completely audible from my bedroom a mile away.
Night is the best time of the day here. The buildings across the way from my windows are all lit up, the interior lights make the buildings seem larger and older than they do in the day. I've heard it said that Los Angeles at night is a completely different place than it is the day, the heat of the day gives way to the cool ocean breeze of the night. No where is that more true than in downtown, the tired buildings on Broadway seem to take on more life in the cool dark, they appear young again. The last two nights, at about around midnight, the full moon has come into view from my window. It's an impressive sight.
I've taken some measurements for roll up blinds for my windows. At the moment, I have no blinds. But, that does not mean I have no privacy. To date, I have not seen any one inside the high rise 150 feet from my building and it is impossible for some one from the street to see in without binoculars. It makes me wonder if anyone actually works in that building across the way. The lights are on at night (at least on two of the floors and the stairwells) but still I've seen no one.
Speaking of quiet, last night around 10 pm, some building in downtown decided to have a free punk rock concert. It was LOUD and completely audible from my bedroom a mile away.
Night is the best time of the day here. The buildings across the way from my windows are all lit up, the interior lights make the buildings seem larger and older than they do in the day. I've heard it said that Los Angeles at night is a completely different place than it is the day, the heat of the day gives way to the cool ocean breeze of the night. No where is that more true than in downtown, the tired buildings on Broadway seem to take on more life in the cool dark, they appear young again. The last two nights, at about around midnight, the full moon has come into view from my window. It's an impressive sight.
I've taken some measurements for roll up blinds for my windows. At the moment, I have no blinds. But, that does not mean I have no privacy. To date, I have not seen any one inside the high rise 150 feet from my building and it is impossible for some one from the street to see in without binoculars. It makes me wonder if anyone actually works in that building across the way. The lights are on at night (at least on two of the floors and the stairwells) but still I've seen no one.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
The First Night
The first night
I spent Friday night packing up the remainder of my possessions, my entire life fits into 16 medium sized boxes and two cat carriers. My college roommate Jerry came over to help out with the move as did Pancho, Dave and Arnaud.
I hate moving, it's uncomfortable, tiring and expensive. I try to avoid helping people move, there was a time when I owned a small truck so I got called to help people move remember bit. I remember back to 4 years ago when Derek called me to help him move from west LA to Hollywood, Derek had done no packing whatsoever, we had to pack everything in addition to moving all his crap. The lack of preparation slayed me, the whole move should have take at max, 3 hours but since nothing was prepared it ended up being a whole day affair. Since that day, I swore that if I ever had people help me move I would be prepared. To that end, I started packing two weeks ago. I also trashed most of my old furniture (I've had the desk, dresser and night stand since I was a kid, they're probably older than me, they're also made from solid oak so they weigh a motherfucking ton).
The HOA charged me $150 to move in, and they only gave me 4 hours to move in 8am to 12pm on Saturday. They said they would charge for any additional time I spent moving. This did nothing but add to neurotic over preparation. Pancho and Arnaud arrived at my apartment at exactly 7am. I had rented a dolly to help carry the heavy boxes, I figured a dolly would help shave time from the move and potentially help avoid any one from dropping a heavy box and breaking something. The five of us packed up the cars in one hour, we managed to fit everything into the 4 cars we had (including the cats) . But, since it was 8am I was already behind schedule (we were supposed to be at the loft at 8, we were just then driving over to downtown).
To rub salt into the wounds the HOA also had an inspector on site to verify any damage done to the common areas of the building (the cost of repairs would be deducted from my $500 move in deposit). The inspector seemed to be very ashamed of his role in the HOA micromanaged move in. He kept saying 'sorry to do this, but, you know, they pay me' he would say this with a shrug, then look down and fiddle with his clip board.
Due to the absolutely stellar work by Jerry, Dave, Arnaud and Pancho we unpacked the cars and got everything up to the condo in 30 minutes. We had just completed my entire move in just under an hour and a half. We all reconvened in my condo, Jerry surprised us by pulling out a bottle of Verve Courquot champagne. Jerry said that while he was in New York the big thing was to 'saber' the champagne open. This entails using a sword to cut off the cork, the pressure from the champagne would spurt out any shards of glass that would happen to be in the champagne. Jerry Grabbed my grandfather's service sword from World War II. As a child I was never permitted to handle the sword without my grandfather present and I had to wear cotton gloves, I treat the sword the same way as when I was a child. It was disturbing watching Jerry try and fail to saber the bottle open (in his defense, the bottle was partially frozen). This whole scene must have made my grandfather spin in his grave. After the forth attempt I took the sword away and grabbed a dish towel to open the bottle like the middle class men we are. Jerry was muttering something about Napoleon not drinking champagne unless it had been sabered. I poured the first glass and the champagne immediately began to fizz out of the bottle, I had to zamboni that shit to stop it from getting everywhere.
Everyone left the condo around 10am, I was left alone to try and unpack. I'm absolutely certain that having an in unit washer and dyer is the height of luxury. I did 4 loads of laundry, the novelty still hasn't worn off yet. The fridge is brand new and it also has a ice maker and water dispenser, both are items that I haven't had since I lived at my mom's house. At long last, I will now have enough ice for parties. Also, it turns out that new fridges are wrapped in some sort of plastic sticky wrap condom thing. It took me a full hour to take most of the plastic off, I still haven't been able to get the sides deplasticized. My fingers still hurt from pulling on the plastic.
Jerry came back around 4 and we grabbed some pizza at a new hipster pizza place on 7th and Main, we also grabbed a 6 pack and hung out on the roof top (the sun was finally out, June gloom has been really heavy the last couple of days). After Jerry left I took a nap, it turns out I would need the shut eye because Derek said he would come over for a night out.
Derek, his roommate Mike and Derek's exotic looking half Japanese, half Italian cousin Christina arrived around 9. We hoofed it over to the Broadway Bar, we had a couple of drinks, I was waxing poetic about Broadway and how great it used to be and could be again to Christina. She asked a very simple question when I remarked how it was all run down now, she asked 'so, how did this happen?' I don't know if I can articulate how things went bad on Broadway, I have some ideas of what happened, but it would require another blog post to explain (foreshadowing!)
We bar hopped to the Golden Gopher next, I struck up a conversation with some girl smoking a cigarette she mentioned she was from Sacramento (midtown to be exact). Derek jumped in and started chatting up a storm, we found out that the friend of the Sacramento girl was having a birthday, her party asked if we wanted to go to a strip club in East LA with them, and since Derek loves strip clubs it was only natural that we go.
This strip club (I've forgotten the name, I was pretty drunk by this point) had a line at 1am, it's the first time I've ever seen a strip joint with a line. When we walked in I knew we would be like fish out of water, the place was 90% Latino and 10% black with a tiny smattering of white people here and there. It was also one of the busiest clubs I've seen, there were 4 women pole dancing at any given time. The front row was filled with overweight Latino dudes getting lap dances from very hot Latina women, there also didn't seem to be any no touching rules, these guys had theirs hands on everything.
Some how we ended back at my loft. Derek had made a run to the liquor store and bought a fifth of jack and a thing of tequila. We drank and talked. I think people left to go home around 3 am. Thus ended my first night.
The next morning, I woke up still drunk and in a room of blazing light, since there are no blinds on my windows the light from the morning sun woke me at 7.
Ending thoughts:
parking around here is a bitch, it turns out that my structure is actually 2 blocks away, I still don't have key card to park yet so I had to park in a lot. I hope this doesn't cause too many problems down the road.
While I was waiting for Derek last night some homeless guy on 8th street was screaming obscenities at the top of his lungs. Because of where my building sits his voice was amplified and it was actually scaring my cats. At that moment all I could think about was how I hoped that I haven't made the mistake of my life. 5 minutes past and the guy stopped, Derek came and we had a good night
PS. I posted this from my iPad since I don't yet have the interwebs set up so excuse any formatting or spelling errors.
I spent Friday night packing up the remainder of my possessions, my entire life fits into 16 medium sized boxes and two cat carriers. My college roommate Jerry came over to help out with the move as did Pancho, Dave and Arnaud.
I hate moving, it's uncomfortable, tiring and expensive. I try to avoid helping people move, there was a time when I owned a small truck so I got called to help people move remember bit. I remember back to 4 years ago when Derek called me to help him move from west LA to Hollywood, Derek had done no packing whatsoever, we had to pack everything in addition to moving all his crap. The lack of preparation slayed me, the whole move should have take at max, 3 hours but since nothing was prepared it ended up being a whole day affair. Since that day, I swore that if I ever had people help me move I would be prepared. To that end, I started packing two weeks ago. I also trashed most of my old furniture (I've had the desk, dresser and night stand since I was a kid, they're probably older than me, they're also made from solid oak so they weigh a motherfucking ton).
The HOA charged me $150 to move in, and they only gave me 4 hours to move in 8am to 12pm on Saturday. They said they would charge for any additional time I spent moving. This did nothing but add to neurotic over preparation. Pancho and Arnaud arrived at my apartment at exactly 7am. I had rented a dolly to help carry the heavy boxes, I figured a dolly would help shave time from the move and potentially help avoid any one from dropping a heavy box and breaking something. The five of us packed up the cars in one hour, we managed to fit everything into the 4 cars we had (including the cats) . But, since it was 8am I was already behind schedule (we were supposed to be at the loft at 8, we were just then driving over to downtown).
To rub salt into the wounds the HOA also had an inspector on site to verify any damage done to the common areas of the building (the cost of repairs would be deducted from my $500 move in deposit). The inspector seemed to be very ashamed of his role in the HOA micromanaged move in. He kept saying 'sorry to do this, but, you know, they pay me' he would say this with a shrug, then look down and fiddle with his clip board.
Due to the absolutely stellar work by Jerry, Dave, Arnaud and Pancho we unpacked the cars and got everything up to the condo in 30 minutes. We had just completed my entire move in just under an hour and a half. We all reconvened in my condo, Jerry surprised us by pulling out a bottle of Verve Courquot champagne. Jerry said that while he was in New York the big thing was to 'saber' the champagne open. This entails using a sword to cut off the cork, the pressure from the champagne would spurt out any shards of glass that would happen to be in the champagne. Jerry Grabbed my grandfather's service sword from World War II. As a child I was never permitted to handle the sword without my grandfather present and I had to wear cotton gloves, I treat the sword the same way as when I was a child. It was disturbing watching Jerry try and fail to saber the bottle open (in his defense, the bottle was partially frozen). This whole scene must have made my grandfather spin in his grave. After the forth attempt I took the sword away and grabbed a dish towel to open the bottle like the middle class men we are. Jerry was muttering something about Napoleon not drinking champagne unless it had been sabered. I poured the first glass and the champagne immediately began to fizz out of the bottle, I had to zamboni that shit to stop it from getting everywhere.
Everyone left the condo around 10am, I was left alone to try and unpack. I'm absolutely certain that having an in unit washer and dyer is the height of luxury. I did 4 loads of laundry, the novelty still hasn't worn off yet. The fridge is brand new and it also has a ice maker and water dispenser, both are items that I haven't had since I lived at my mom's house. At long last, I will now have enough ice for parties. Also, it turns out that new fridges are wrapped in some sort of plastic sticky wrap condom thing. It took me a full hour to take most of the plastic off, I still haven't been able to get the sides deplasticized. My fingers still hurt from pulling on the plastic.
Jerry came back around 4 and we grabbed some pizza at a new hipster pizza place on 7th and Main, we also grabbed a 6 pack and hung out on the roof top (the sun was finally out, June gloom has been really heavy the last couple of days). After Jerry left I took a nap, it turns out I would need the shut eye because Derek said he would come over for a night out.
Derek, his roommate Mike and Derek's exotic looking half Japanese, half Italian cousin Christina arrived around 9. We hoofed it over to the Broadway Bar, we had a couple of drinks, I was waxing poetic about Broadway and how great it used to be and could be again to Christina. She asked a very simple question when I remarked how it was all run down now, she asked 'so, how did this happen?' I don't know if I can articulate how things went bad on Broadway, I have some ideas of what happened, but it would require another blog post to explain (foreshadowing!)
We bar hopped to the Golden Gopher next, I struck up a conversation with some girl smoking a cigarette she mentioned she was from Sacramento (midtown to be exact). Derek jumped in and started chatting up a storm, we found out that the friend of the Sacramento girl was having a birthday, her party asked if we wanted to go to a strip club in East LA with them, and since Derek loves strip clubs it was only natural that we go.
This strip club (I've forgotten the name, I was pretty drunk by this point) had a line at 1am, it's the first time I've ever seen a strip joint with a line. When we walked in I knew we would be like fish out of water, the place was 90% Latino and 10% black with a tiny smattering of white people here and there. It was also one of the busiest clubs I've seen, there were 4 women pole dancing at any given time. The front row was filled with overweight Latino dudes getting lap dances from very hot Latina women, there also didn't seem to be any no touching rules, these guys had theirs hands on everything.
Some how we ended back at my loft. Derek had made a run to the liquor store and bought a fifth of jack and a thing of tequila. We drank and talked. I think people left to go home around 3 am. Thus ended my first night.
The next morning, I woke up still drunk and in a room of blazing light, since there are no blinds on my windows the light from the morning sun woke me at 7.
Ending thoughts:
parking around here is a bitch, it turns out that my structure is actually 2 blocks away, I still don't have key card to park yet so I had to park in a lot. I hope this doesn't cause too many problems down the road.
While I was waiting for Derek last night some homeless guy on 8th street was screaming obscenities at the top of his lungs. Because of where my building sits his voice was amplified and it was actually scaring my cats. At that moment all I could think about was how I hoped that I haven't made the mistake of my life. 5 minutes past and the guy stopped, Derek came and we had a good night
PS. I posted this from my iPad since I don't yet have the interwebs set up so excuse any formatting or spelling errors.
Friday, June 10, 2011
The Keys to the Kingdom
I picked up my keys last night. I've finally taken possession of my loft.
Now the real work begins, I've got to pack up the rest of my apartment, throw out my old furniture (which I've had since I was a child, and it fucking weighs a ton). Worse yet, the HOA has a requirement that new residents can only take 4 hours to move in otherwise they get charged a fee. Thus, I've got to be ultra efficient during this move.
That's all for now. Friends, family and loyal readers: I'll write again once I have the interwebs hooked up in my loft.
Au revoir Westside!
Now the real work begins, I've got to pack up the rest of my apartment, throw out my old furniture (which I've had since I was a child, and it fucking weighs a ton). Worse yet, the HOA has a requirement that new residents can only take 4 hours to move in otherwise they get charged a fee. Thus, I've got to be ultra efficient during this move.
That's all for now. Friends, family and loyal readers: I'll write again once I have the interwebs hooked up in my loft.
Au revoir Westside!
Monday, June 6, 2011
Douchebag
Last week the Chief Executive of Correspondent Lending suddenly announced that he was leaving the Bank to go head up Correspondent Lending at a rival start up Mortgage Banker. This was completely shocking news, as this Executive runs the largest Correspondent Lending Division for the largest Bank in the Nation. The Sales team was especially concerned. They felt this executive really 'understood' their stance vis-a-vis loss mitigation.
Digression: My job is to negotiate and enforce loan level repurchases from the Bank's many Correspondent Lenders, these buy backs are due to specific violations of Loan Purchase Agreements. The job of Sales is to management the 'relationship' between the Bank and the Client whilst trying to get the Client to sell the Bank more loans. We're two sides of the same coin, and depending on the Salesperson, either an asset or a liability to managing that relationship, one of our Salesperson leveraged their Client's repurchase exposure to have them sell more loans to the Bank, this relationship was strengthened from the repurchase exposure. Other Sales people see my department as a direct threat to 1. their pay check (salespeople get paid on volume they can pull into the Bank, when you ask a client to pay your Bank $1,000,000.00 by next month this can really threaten the business relationship) and 2. the relationship between themselves and their client.
I have a very good working relationship with all of the salespeople, except for one (luckily this guy's office is in Walnut Creek in Northern California so we only speak by phone). The basis for this dislike can be summed up in a single exchange about our Executive leaving the company.
Phone rings: "Bank of America this is Nick, how can I help you"
-"Nick, it's _____, got a minute to speak about Pinnacle Equity"
"Sure, what's on your mind"
"They're freaked out about our Executive leaving [note: most of Correspondent Lending is run on a 'relationship' level, Mortgage Bankers sell to us because they know and trust people at the Bank won't screw them]
"I heard the news, I've know the Executive for a long time, my mother was an underwriter at his mortgage company and I graduated from High School with his daughter, albeit, she was 3 years younger than me"
"Was she hot?"
-My thoughts at this point: Seriously, What the Fuck? What 40 year old man says that about some guy's daughter? Especially some guy who is supposed to be your CHIEF executive.
"Ah, no. Well, I'm kinda shocked that the Executive left his post with no warning. I bet this start up company offered him a profit sharing agreement in order to get him to go over there. You can't offer peanuts to a guy who is running the biggest Correspondent Division in the Nation."
"I met the Executive a couple of times, he always struck me as some one who loved the art of deal, this executive wants to do deals, not sit in front of Congress and talk about low income borrowers"
-Art of the Deal, this fucknut actually ripped off Donald Trump and said 'The Art of Deal' if I could have reached through the phone, I would have punched him. Additionally, he glibly threw away the fact that our Division has credit overlays that prevents certain loans from being sold to us (ie. the minimum FICO required to get a FHA loan is 620, but the Bank won't buy a FHA with a FICO below 660, if we won't buy the loan our correspondent won't make the loan so we've effectively locked out a huge segment of the population from getting a FHA loan). As an aside, Credit Overlays are a huge topic in the industry and, I believe, absolutely critical for a Salesperson to understand. A second aside, it is my personal opinion that low income borrowers absolutely deserve a chance at home ownership and the Credit Overlay issue should be address so that we can treat all borrowers the same.
This Sales guy proved he was a douchebag. It irritates me that someone like this can actually work in the Bank, let alone get promoted to a Vice-President position. People like this guy give mortgage bankers a bad name, mortgage banking was never about 'The Deal' it was about finding responsible lending investments for the Bank's depositors. Fuck this guy and everything he stand for.
Digression: My job is to negotiate and enforce loan level repurchases from the Bank's many Correspondent Lenders, these buy backs are due to specific violations of Loan Purchase Agreements. The job of Sales is to management the 'relationship' between the Bank and the Client whilst trying to get the Client to sell the Bank more loans. We're two sides of the same coin, and depending on the Salesperson, either an asset or a liability to managing that relationship, one of our Salesperson leveraged their Client's repurchase exposure to have them sell more loans to the Bank, this relationship was strengthened from the repurchase exposure. Other Sales people see my department as a direct threat to 1. their pay check (salespeople get paid on volume they can pull into the Bank, when you ask a client to pay your Bank $1,000,000.00 by next month this can really threaten the business relationship) and 2. the relationship between themselves and their client.
I have a very good working relationship with all of the salespeople, except for one (luckily this guy's office is in Walnut Creek in Northern California so we only speak by phone). The basis for this dislike can be summed up in a single exchange about our Executive leaving the company.
Phone rings: "Bank of America this is Nick, how can I help you"
-"Nick, it's _____, got a minute to speak about Pinnacle Equity"
"Sure, what's on your mind"
"They're freaked out about our Executive leaving [note: most of Correspondent Lending is run on a 'relationship' level, Mortgage Bankers sell to us because they know and trust people at the Bank won't screw them]
"I heard the news, I've know the Executive for a long time, my mother was an underwriter at his mortgage company and I graduated from High School with his daughter, albeit, she was 3 years younger than me"
"Was she hot?"
-My thoughts at this point: Seriously, What the Fuck? What 40 year old man says that about some guy's daughter? Especially some guy who is supposed to be your CHIEF executive.
"Ah, no. Well, I'm kinda shocked that the Executive left his post with no warning. I bet this start up company offered him a profit sharing agreement in order to get him to go over there. You can't offer peanuts to a guy who is running the biggest Correspondent Division in the Nation."
"I met the Executive a couple of times, he always struck me as some one who loved the art of deal, this executive wants to do deals, not sit in front of Congress and talk about low income borrowers"
-Art of the Deal, this fucknut actually ripped off Donald Trump and said 'The Art of Deal' if I could have reached through the phone, I would have punched him. Additionally, he glibly threw away the fact that our Division has credit overlays that prevents certain loans from being sold to us (ie. the minimum FICO required to get a FHA loan is 620, but the Bank won't buy a FHA with a FICO below 660, if we won't buy the loan our correspondent won't make the loan so we've effectively locked out a huge segment of the population from getting a FHA loan). As an aside, Credit Overlays are a huge topic in the industry and, I believe, absolutely critical for a Salesperson to understand. A second aside, it is my personal opinion that low income borrowers absolutely deserve a chance at home ownership and the Credit Overlay issue should be address so that we can treat all borrowers the same.
This Sales guy proved he was a douchebag. It irritates me that someone like this can actually work in the Bank, let alone get promoted to a Vice-President position. People like this guy give mortgage bankers a bad name, mortgage banking was never about 'The Deal' it was about finding responsible lending investments for the Bank's depositors. Fuck this guy and everything he stand for.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Souvenir Involontaire
I needed to take a small break from packing, I've spent the last 48 hours steadily packing my possessions for the move to Downtown. Sunday afternoon is the best time to go to the Apple Pan, it's not as crowded as it on week days so you can take your time eating your hickory burger. While eating, I was struck with the idea to go to UCLA. I remembered that I had left my camera in my car from Thursday's walk through, for the last year I had wanted to go back to UCLA to take some pictures of my favorite campus locations from my undergraduate years.
Spring has always been my favorite time of year, the Jacarandas carpet the Northern Lights Courtyard in a sea of purple.
While I was walking through the Murphy Sculpture Garden memories of my time at UCLA, a time when everything seemed possible. I only had class in the Murphy Sculpture Garden once when I was an undergraduate, and that was solely due to the fact that my professor was allergic to chalk which just so happened to be covering absolutely everything in our assigned room.
Memories of UCLA fill me with nostalgia, sometimes in my heart of hearts, I yearn to return to UCLA as that wide eyed 19 year old I once was, but which I am no longer. Time is the great traitor, it pushes us (often times, unwillingly) forward to unknown futures. I'm looking forward to my future life in downtown, but I can't help looking upon the past and yearn for a part of it again.
While I was walking through the Murphy Sculpture Garden memories of my time at UCLA, a time when everything seemed possible. I only had class in the Murphy Sculpture Garden once when I was an undergraduate, and that was solely due to the fact that my professor was allergic to chalk which just so happened to be covering absolutely everything in our assigned room.
Memories of UCLA fill me with nostalgia, sometimes in my heart of hearts, I yearn to return to UCLA as that wide eyed 19 year old I once was, but which I am no longer. Time is the great traitor, it pushes us (often times, unwillingly) forward to unknown futures. I'm looking forward to my future life in downtown, but I can't help looking upon the past and yearn for a part of it again.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Innovation!
Friday was D Day. The escrow company called me up to let me know that the loan documents had arrived and were awaiting my signature. I gave escrow my work address and they sent a notary to my office for final execution of the loan documents. The signing took no longer than 10 minutes, upon final execution I drove to my local Bank Branch and ordered a wire to be paid to escrow to close this transaction. Once the Deed records on Wednesday, the loft is mine, the transaction is complete.
It was all very painless and easy, but it did leave a sour taste in my mouth. As a professional in the mortgage banking business I'm accustomed to viewing settlement statements (also called a HUD-1, it's a federally mandated receipt of charges for a real estate transaction that involves a loan) nearly every day. But, in work, I'm viewing random people's HUD-1s, never my own. It's different to think about HUD-1s in the theoretical sense of it existing for some one else, when the point is driven home and you sign your own HUD-1 it takes on a different meaning.
When you think of Innovation, what do you think of? I tend to think of innovation in terms of technological achievements, when the original Apple IIe hit stores in 1984 the base model cost $1,300 in 1984 dollars. When the Ipad hit stores in 2010 the base model cost $499. Between the two lie a light year of innovation. In Banking, the idea of innovation isn't how to make something cheaper, better, or faster. The idea is how best to pass on fees to your customers and borrowers.
My HUD-1 is filled with fees, here's a small sampling: loan origination fee, appraisal fee, credit report, tax service, audit, notary fees, recording fees, move in deposit, and my personal favorite, a Move-in Fee from the HOA. These fees are making the lender money and the borrower poor. A co worker was telling me that the average America will refinance their 30 year mortgage once every 7 years, if you add in the fees associated with every refinance transaction they complete, then the effective interest rate on a mortgage loan becomes something like 15% to 20%. Think of how many people pay annual fees for credit cards? No one, at any time, should pay an annual fee to use credit (however, this is a topic for a separate blog post).
Charging fees is not innovation, although the Banking Industry seems to think so. To my knowledge, there has been only one major innovation to Bank in history (a history that expands the entire time man needed to finance construction projects that could not be done by a band of people), that is the double entry book keeping system in the renaissance. After that, there is no further innovation. It is my personal belief that Banks should quit looking for ways to 'innovate' and focus on their historic job in human society, shepherding the risk that economies need to take in order to grow. If Banks had focused on being a shepherd instead of an innovator then maybe we could have avoided the subprime melt down.
It was all very painless and easy, but it did leave a sour taste in my mouth. As a professional in the mortgage banking business I'm accustomed to viewing settlement statements (also called a HUD-1, it's a federally mandated receipt of charges for a real estate transaction that involves a loan) nearly every day. But, in work, I'm viewing random people's HUD-1s, never my own. It's different to think about HUD-1s in the theoretical sense of it existing for some one else, when the point is driven home and you sign your own HUD-1 it takes on a different meaning.
When you think of Innovation, what do you think of? I tend to think of innovation in terms of technological achievements, when the original Apple IIe hit stores in 1984 the base model cost $1,300 in 1984 dollars. When the Ipad hit stores in 2010 the base model cost $499. Between the two lie a light year of innovation. In Banking, the idea of innovation isn't how to make something cheaper, better, or faster. The idea is how best to pass on fees to your customers and borrowers.
My HUD-1 is filled with fees, here's a small sampling: loan origination fee, appraisal fee, credit report, tax service, audit, notary fees, recording fees, move in deposit, and my personal favorite, a Move-in Fee from the HOA. These fees are making the lender money and the borrower poor. A co worker was telling me that the average America will refinance their 30 year mortgage once every 7 years, if you add in the fees associated with every refinance transaction they complete, then the effective interest rate on a mortgage loan becomes something like 15% to 20%. Think of how many people pay annual fees for credit cards? No one, at any time, should pay an annual fee to use credit (however, this is a topic for a separate blog post).
Charging fees is not innovation, although the Banking Industry seems to think so. To my knowledge, there has been only one major innovation to Bank in history (a history that expands the entire time man needed to finance construction projects that could not be done by a band of people), that is the double entry book keeping system in the renaissance. After that, there is no further innovation. It is my personal belief that Banks should quit looking for ways to 'innovate' and focus on their historic job in human society, shepherding the risk that economies need to take in order to grow. If Banks had focused on being a shepherd instead of an innovator then maybe we could have avoided the subprime melt down.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Any Moment Now...
Pancho was gracious enough to meet me in Downtown tonight to complete the final inspection of my brand-new-four-year-old-never-lived-in loft. The developer had finished polishing the floors (they look shiny!), but hasn't had a chance to put in the washer, dryer or the refrigerator. We're getting closer, but, we're not there just yet.
The counter top was longer and bigger than I remembered from my previous two visits (each about a month ago). Additionally, the top is granite which doesn't easily lend itself to modification, Those rail lights above the counter are hideous, they'll be the first thing to go when I modify the kitchen. I want to change the lay out of the counter top, but I'm failing at ways to figure out on how to modify it without having to replace all of the granite (which would cost a kingly sum).
Escrow notified me that the final loan documents were being drafted, which means closing could be hours away.
The anticipation is killing me.
I got to downtown in about an hour and forty-five minutes (5:45 pm or so), Los Angeles Street was jammed with cars and people rushing around to the various garment deals in this district. Street life is strangely comforting, seeing people carrying on their work reminds me that, not matter how difficult things may appear to be, life goes on. Work is life, to think otherwise is pure foolishness. Work is that purifying fire which gives meaning to life, we see this in such expressions as 'my life's work.'
The inspection took an hour, Pancho and I walked out of the Cornell building onto a transformed street. Gone were the trucks and the workmen; replaced by people walking dogs and riding bikes in the empty streets.
Escrow notified me that the final loan documents were being drafted, which means closing could be hours away.
The anticipation is killing me.
I got to downtown in about an hour and forty-five minutes (5:45 pm or so), Los Angeles Street was jammed with cars and people rushing around to the various garment deals in this district. Street life is strangely comforting, seeing people carrying on their work reminds me that, not matter how difficult things may appear to be, life goes on. Work is life, to think otherwise is pure foolishness. Work is that purifying fire which gives meaning to life, we see this in such expressions as 'my life's work.'
The inspection took an hour, Pancho and I walked out of the Cornell building onto a transformed street. Gone were the trucks and the workmen; replaced by people walking dogs and riding bikes in the empty streets.
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