Saturday, November 29, 2008

Couch Potato Musings

Let's see, its 9pm on a Saturday night. Where am I? On my couch, watching British Cops on TV, trying to decide what DVD I'm gonna pop in for the night. This is where the real Kevin exists. I do some of my best thinking during times like these. Here are some random thoughts that have come across my mind recently:

  • I watched Alien for the first time (believe it or not) last night. Wow. That's all I can say, what a classic. I was curled up, scared as hell from a movie made in 1979! Talk about standing the test of time.
  • I got hit by a car today. Obviously, I'm fine because I'm writing this to post, but it pissed me off. I'm just walking across the street jammin to the new Murs CD, I'm right in front of this small SUV while its waiting to turn onto the main road, and outta nowhere they hit the gas & bump my ass! Luckily, I was far enough away that I ain't get bumped too hard. Europeans can't drive, I am now convinced.
  • Did you know that Michael Jackson's Bad was supposed to be a Best of Both Worlds style collabo with Prince?!?!?! Like, they we're about to do an album together! How sick would that of been? They had creative differences, so it never came to fruition though.
  • I read a story on Michael Vick the other day that detailed how he became bankrupt. I officially have no sympathy for his situation. I know its old, but when everything first went down, I wasn't on his side. Black people, especially in Atlanta, went beside themselves to defend him & say that he was being railroaded. I started to empathize with him a lil bit, so I just viewed it as unfortunate. Now after this stuff being put out there, it confirmed my first instinct that he was just a dumbass with $130 million & karma got his stupid self.
  • The one thing I miss more than anything right now is somebody to debate Hip-Hop with. I got maaaaaad new music on my ipod, its been a good year for Rap, and I have nobody to debate this stuff with. I'm almost tempted to start hitting up these rap message boards, but I can't deal with internet thugs, so hopefully I don't get desperate.
  • I wanna start freestylin'. Not to be a rapper myself, but it would just be fun to start a cypher & make up stupid rhymes. Any takers? Who wanna battle me?
  • I did this Conflict Mediation role play today (which paid 40 euros) where a friend and I played an ex couple with a child, and we were getting mediation to work out our custody issues without the courts. We had a guideline w/ background information, but basically had to improv everything else. I learned that having a child really is something that I know little about & that having kids out of wedlock sucks. I got a headache acting out this imaginary scenario, so I definitely wouldn't wanna deal with the complication of sharing custody with an ex in real life.
  • I want comic books for Christmas. What a strange turn of events, I get into comic books at 21 years old. Movies play such a influential role in my life. Is that a good thing?
  • There is this show over here called Boozed Up Brits Abroad. Its exactly what the title implies. Never ever will I be ashamed to be American because of a minority of jackasses. I'm convinced every country has their own jackasses that are just as dumb.
  • I miss my siblings. I haven't seen one of my sisters is a couple years & I just found out that I'll see her during the holidays. I'm really excited about it. Its crazy to think that all of us are almost grown now. I smell a family portrait coming soon.
  • I'm trying really hard not to gain a caffine addiction. This past week, the miracle of coffee really hit me & I started making pit stops before class to pick up a cup of java. And every time I walk past my neighborhood Starbucks, I'm terribly tempted to stop in & get the new Dark Cherry Mocha coffee. This has got to stop. I also have a taste for Hennessy. I don't know why, I hardly ever drink it. What is going on with me?
Aiight man, its time to pick a movie. Devil In A Blue Dress wins. Denzel & Don Cheadle, its time for inspiration. I'll holla at y'all later.

Peace & Blessings!

How To Spend Thanksgiving Abroad

What up, what's happenin' folk? Thanksgiving has come and passed & I'm definitely thankful to say that I had a great alternative to our beloved American holiday. I was a little worried about how it would go earlier this week. I had just come back to Rome (I'll speak on that soon), had a paper to write, was stuck in my typical end of the semester depression (Side Note: Can we get a diagnosis on that? I'm saying, if seasonal affective disorder is real, should they have something like semester pressure disorder? I'ma have to get up with Morehouse School of Medicine & step my pharmacuetical game up), and had mad stuff to rehearse for our Showcase (Dec. 10th! eek!), so I wasn't in the typical Thanksgiving mood when Thursday rolled around.

It started hit me real hard: no football, no cranberry sauce, no long ass wait for dinner (lol, maybe that wasn't too bad. haha.), but most importantly no holding hands with my kinfolk, praying, and then breaking bread. But I made peace with it & reminded myself that I have very little to complain about in comparision to all that I'm blessed with, so let's get it in at dinner. IES, our program, had reservations for everyone (like 50 people) to have a special Thanksgiving dinner at Town Bar & Grill. This was a big thing, since Thanksgiving doesn't exsit out of the US & the restaurant was nice enough to make a specialized menu for us with a turkey dish & pumpkin pie for dessert.

Now from the name of the place, I didn't know how nice the place was gonna be. It sounded kinda homely, a comfortable type restaurant. Naw brotha, this joint was a classy, sophisticated, white tablecloth type spot. Of course, as soon as I staked out a corner table for the group I was with, I headed straight to the bathroom to put the restaurant to ultimate test. You know a place isn't high quality unless they have a clean & efficient bathroom. Walk in, I see shining bathroom fixtures & clean tiles, actuall stalls (hit me up if you wanna know why this is such a nice thing, I don't wanna spoil the story with TMI), and they got actual hand towel instead of paper towels, so this place is already batting 1.000 with me.

Everyone finally gets to dinner, the wine is poured, the conversation begins flowing smoothly & Thanksgiving is starting to feel like home in a new way. We waited until after our first course to share what we were thankful for, but when we did, it was such a beautiful moment. Being able to open up and be reflective and vulnerable with a group of strangers (here meaning people that don't know you very well) is such a invaluable experience. I get a chance to see that so much every summer at MLW, but because of that I always forget about the small miracles that can be made the same way through theater. Wine, gourmet food, clean bathrooms and a nice circle of friends is definitely a great alternative to the Thanksgiving traditions I've loved all my life.

Side story: So we're usually on a 1 or 2 drink limit at IES paid-for outings. Not a problem at dinner cause I like to savor my wine, I ain't gonna be knocking it back anyway. Well, we're going around saying what we're thankful for, complete with cheers at the end of each mini-speech. There are 7 people at our table, so you can imagine that my glass of wine ain't lasting too long with all these cheers to go around. We're joking about this & then see the waitress over at another IES table re-filling glasses & then my roommate comes over laughing about how the waitress filled his glass up to the top. So, I'm thinking we're on a 2 drink limit tonight. Cool. I down my drink during the cheers & just wait for the waitress to come top us off. Well, 10 minutes later, I'm having a conversation with someone & I see that my wine glass has disappeared. Not cool, Joe. Everyone else still has their glasses & has wine, so I'm paranoid like who stole my drink? I ask a waitress about it & she shuts me down with the quickness like "You're only allowed 1 drink. You'll have to speak to the hostess if you want more wine." I'm feeling slighted, cause I saw the other waitress re-filling, but I just gotta suck it up and enjoy my main course with a glass of water instead. You know a brotha can't show out over a glass of wine when a) I ain't paying for the dinner anyway b) I'm the only black person in the spot c) its a super classy, white tablecloth joint d) our group consists of toddlers compared to the other patrons in the restaurant (you woulda swore it was 65+ date night in there). Its whatever, everyone else offered their wine to me (so I got mine), but still there are principalities to this shit, Smokey! lol

Pics:





(I got mad compliments for my shirt. Two things Kevin shouldn't have at once: wine & compliment. Swagger is at 100 right now!)

Most Anticipated Movie of 2009



Its nearing really close to the end of the year, which means its finally appropriate to look into the future with joy & excitement to discuss what movies we're most looking forward to. While everyone is excited for big budget and/or big name flicks such as Watchmen, X-Men Origins: Wolverine, Terminator Salvation, Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, etc etc (which I am too, trust), the one movie I'm hyped to see is called Black Dynamite. Its a spoof of the 70's Blaxploitation films & is too dead on not to be a cult classic. Check out the trailer here. After watching the trailer, check out this hilarious promo video featuring a young'n named Barry:


Wednesday, November 19, 2008

The Rose That Grew From Concrete Still Has Thorns

I'm sitting here watching a CNBC re-broadcasting of Jay Leno & Conan O'Brien (I have a sick addiction to late night TV) and I'm suffering from a severe bout of writer's block. I've got a 2,000 word essay for my Movement class due on Tuesday (Thank God, I'll have Monday to procrastinate) and I can't think of any decent way to start the paper. Its another one of these open ended, BS essays that asks you to discuss some random paragraph long quote. No author, no context, just given to us to interpret & relate to our experience somehow. Shoot, it sounds like the professor just opened a book & pulled a random, nice sounding quote out of it at 11:52 the night beforehand. And you wonder why we students procrastinate? Anyway, I was looking for something to write about & get some exercise for the brain muscle, then I remembered that I wrote blog post in my journal last week. So, I'm gonna use this space to exercise my brain & hopefully be slightly entertaining as well.

Its been just over 2 weeks since Barack became our President elect. Elation, pride, & relief could be felt as soon as the final image was final projected on our TV screens. We had done it. We finally got it right. Our voice will finally be reflected in our Government (fingers crossed, knock on wood, and all that good stuff; I got the 4 leaf clovers too, so we're covered). And until we the brotha takes office, we're all gonna party (literally and figuratively) like its 2099. We got white people blasting will.i.am's Obama songs in celebration, while the Us's are bumpin Jeezy's "My President Is Black" like its our new national anthem. But what happens when the party's over? What happens when the reality sets in that this brotha ain't the only person with a job to do?

The aftermath after this momentous occasion has left me feeling a little unsettled though. It seems like some people's rationality has been blinded by our good fortune and faith. It reminds me of the unsettled feeling you get sometimes after eating a really good meal. I know its a random metaphor, but let me explain myself. It's like we've been eating poorly for years (a Super Size Me last 8 years) and then we get the bright idea to get in better shape before we really hit rock bottom. So we spend all day cooking & finally get this healthy, energy boosting meal to feast on. We're drinking red wine with it, feeling so good that we start to sing and dance with whoever is around, but in the midst of it all, our stomach still rumbles a lil bit. We may wanna forget, but we can't shake the fact that our body is still sick & that one healthy feast ain't gonna cure us no time soon. Once again, I admit its strange, but it serves its purpose.

From damn near every Irish person I spoke with last week, I heard that "America's back!" and that we've instantly got our credibility back. Then I started hearing from celebrities & public figures such as Oprah, Will Smith, and Al Sharpton (I already know, but lemme make my point) that "Black people's excuses are all gone" and "Rappers will have to change their image since Barack will be the new image of Black cool". After those statements, I'm reading some of my favorite political blogs and seeing comments from Black conservatives gloating about how the rest of the Us's would start coming over to their way of thinking now that we can see that hardwork alone can afford us the same opporuntity as anyone else in this country. No matter how ridiculous these statements are, the sentiment that reeks from them diminishes the history of African-Americans and lacks the nuance and thoughtfulness that would appropriately reflect Obama's triumph.

At first, I just brushed it all off. Its whatever, everyone's entitled to their own opinion. But eventually, it started to irk me. It ain't just a matter of opinion, some stuff is just wrong. I mentioned in another post how it irked me when some of my fellow American classmates over here act all ashamed of being American in front of our Irish counterparts. So, now I'm starting to take offense to Irish folk (and I'm sure the rest of Europe too) telling me that America instantly has regained credibility. You ain't gotta tell me about Bush's fuckups, I remember both elections clearly & knew better than to vote for his dumbass back in 2000 (and I was only 13!), but let's not act get too crazy now. America's still at the top of the food chain & if we ain't doin good there's gonna be major rammifications for everybody else (i.e. the economy), so stop throwing rocks at the throne.

As for Will & Oprah, I love y'all, but Negroes please! Stop peddling this idea that all Black people do is complain about our situation & racial harmony has arrived. Y'all just got another in your stratosphere of mega successful Black people who White people don't necessarly think of as "Black" anymore, but that don't mean that you gotta throw the rest of us under the bus. There ain't but so much room in your category, so instead of acting like we all should be where y'all are at (which is an impossibility in our capitalistic society) maybe y'all should help us do better at our level. Some of us aren't making excuses, but rather looking at facts & reading up on our history and asking why so much has stayed the same as we've progressed so far. Instead of being helpful with those soundbites, they're up there stiring the pot of confusion.

Al Sharpton. I respect dude's history & his efforts on behalf of our civil rights, but he stays losin when it comes to speaking on Hip-Hop (among other things). Yeah, Barack is cool as a polar bear's toenails (OutKast all day, ery'day), even Ebony magazine said so. But does he think that we can only have one image of cool at a time? Just as 50 Cent only represents a small portion of us, Barack only represents a portion of us too. What Hip-Hop needs, and this specifically applies to its images, is balance. At one time, you could hear Biz Markie on the radio as much as Kool G Rap. Beautiful, that's what we need. Little Brother should get as much play as G-Unit. Wale should be as uqibutous as Lil Wayne. And Jim Jones, Shawty Lo, and Soulja Boy should be silenced forever. That would improve the image problem in Hip-Hop & for Black youth, not just funneling kids from one image to the other.

I'm not even gonna waste my fingers (pause) on them Black conservatives. To even be one means that they're past talking to or about. But I suppose my point is that what happened on Nov. 4th, as of right now, only means that we're willing to give change a chance. Whether it really happens or not is up to us. The economy is still in the tank, we're still at war, still occupying other countries, still racially divided, still denying rights to homosexuals, still underpaying teachers & underfunding schools, etc etc. For every good thing we have going, we got another huge issue to face, and so is life. Let's keep that in perspective as we continue to move on from here.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

Humor Is My Anti-Drug


This weekend, I decided that I was staying in & taking some me time. Last week, I had a paper to write (which means procrastinating until the wee hours of the morning), Obama got elected (which means i had every excuse to lose my mind, but didnt since there weren't any other Black people around), then went to Northern Ireland for the weekend (which means, I spent too many hours sleeping on buses and in a hostel). I say all of this to illustrate the cloud of mental exhaustion that followed me around all week. Reminds me of a Nas line, "Born alone, die alone, no crew to keep my crown or throne/I'm deep by sound alone, caved inside in a thousand miles from home/I need a new n***a, for this black cloud to follow/Cause while it's over me it's too dark to see tomorrow".

Now my week wasn't that bad, in fact I enjoyed most of it, but still it completely turned me off to doin it big this weekend. Plus, add in the fact that I'd going to Rome to see my lady next weekend (I'm geeked up; go on & hate me now), it wouldn't make sense to overexert myself & have to stumble through another exhausting week. Damn, now I've rambled on for a paragraph & half without getting to my point. Here it is: I was killing time online & came across the season finale of Real Time w/ Bill Maher. It was hilarious as usual, totally cheered me up, and hit some points I was getting ready to post about soon (I will throw my two cents in, just cause). Check out the end of his show, with one of my favorite New Rules sections ever.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Cheers!

(A Gorgeous Night, captured by moi)
(ROAR! lol)
(One of the coolest pieces of art in the British Museum)
(In front of the stage at The Globe Theater)
(Jesus In The Sand, on the River Thames)

These are just a couple random photos to give you a taste of my London trip. I took 300 photos during a 5 day trip, so these are just scratching the surface of what I saw & experience over in the Queen's hometown. This trip was probably the best part of my time abroad so far. I don't say that to discount Dublin in any way, because I've had & continue to have great times here, but during the London trip, everything came together for me. It was the perfect mix of exploration, discovery, education, inspiration, freedom, and comfort all in one vacation. Yes, I viewed this a vacation. Primarily, I thought of it like that because it was the only way I could mentally prepare for it without negative thoughts creeping in. You try traveling with the same group of 12 people who you've spent the last 6 six weeks in class with. I got nothing but love for the group, they're great folks, but spending as much time with each other as we do can make a brotha get agitated from time to time.

But I ain't tryin to dwell on any negative worries, let me tell y'all about the awesomeness of my time in the home of the Union Jack. 5 plays in 3 days, this was the plan & as you can tell, the itinerary was tight. On the first day, we got in, checked into our ridiculous hostel (more on that in a sec), and had about an hour to ourselves before we headed off for our first show. We had been up extra early, around 6am since we had to be at the airport at 7:30am that morning, so that first play (Creditors by Alan Strindberg; highly recommended) was a little rough to sit through. After the show & some dinner, we returned to our hostel & decided that we'd be better off staying in & getting some sleep rather than prowling around the city. Let me tell you about this hostel then. It's called The Generator and in my guidebook, it was listed as one of the most popular hostels in London. Sounds wonderful, right? Well, it wasn't exactly the dream hostel. First, true to its name, the hostel had a cheesy power plant motif to its design. Neon lights, sheet metal, orange & blue walls, a little metal fencing thrown in for good measure...you get the general idea. Next, the place is massive; there were about 800 people staying at the hostel. We saw at least 3 huge 20-25 people groups checking in while we were there, so just imagine the madness that could arise from such a scenario. On both the plus & minus side of things was the Generator Bar. On the plus side, the drink were cheap & the house mixed drinks were quality. On the minus side, the bar had these themed nights for each night of the week & we happened to check in on Karoke Night (insert horror movie music here). If you thought Karoke was bad in the States, conjure up a visual of a motely crew of foreigners taking turns butchering popular American songs from the 80s & 90s. It would of taken all of my dough for the trip to drink away the embarassment I felt for them as I killed time playing the world's worst game of snooker (the British cousin of pool). Actually, I think my snooker skills complimented the singing pretty well. A shame indeed, a shame indeed.

The next day we had free time around the city, went to see 2 shows, and were given a tour of The Globe theater. I got a chance to kill the majority of my free time in the National Museum (I'll pontificate on museums and such in another post) & then got my grub on over at Camden Market. The best part of the day though was our Indian dinner, which ended up being more of a feast than anything. This was an IES sponsored event, which meant they were picking up the check, which further meant I was indulging myself thoroughly. We get to the restaurant, Kwality, around 5:30pm & the fun started from there. Our program director, Ashley (its a dude), made the mistake of telling us that we could order like 3 or 4 appetizers & some drinks to start. Of course, we're getting the most delicious sounding dishes (sorry I don't remember them) and poppin' bottles of red & white wine to rinse our palettes with. He also orders us like 5 bowls of rice & mad naan on the side. What about dinner you ask? Why of course we get our choice of entree, no questions asked, so I really didn't want to imagine what that final bill looked like. For whatever reason, probably cause we we're shutting that place down, it was taking forever for our meals to come, which can only mean one thing: drink more wine. You know how a nice glass of wine enhances conversation? (isn't that like a scientific fact? if not, i'll prove it soon) Well, let's just say that we had more fun talking about any & everything than we had in awhile. When the food finally came, we stuffed our faces so much that even the White folk were scared about getting the itis. I've grown to really enjoy Indian food & its something I can imagine myself being completely in love with.

Saturday, day three. Alright, so you know that no trip anywhere is complete without a mention of one my embarassing moments. Ok, I have a reputation here for falling asleep during plays. I have my reasons for why this happens, but at the end of the day nobody listens to my valid excuses. Well, in order to keep myself from falling asleep, I decided that I would adapt my reliance on movie snack to include a reliance on play snacks also. My theory is that if snacked on something whenever I felt myself start to dose, I'd prevent myself from falling alseep & give me a quick dose of energy as well. Well, that reasoning definitely came back to bite me in the ass during our 4th London theater visit. We saw this show called Six Characters In Search of an Author (not my taste) and it was in this beautiful old Victorian theatre in the West End. Sometime during the second act, when my attention was grabbed again, there was a really quiet part where one of the main characters in the show was going through this revelation. I'm sitting there munching on my skittles, I finish the couple I have in my hand, and reach for another handful. I'm trying to be as quiet as possible, so I'm slowly reaching my hand into the bag sitting in my lap, but since I'm distracted by the play I'm not watching what I'm doing, and the next thing you know...Spppppssshhhhhh! The damn skittles splash all over the floor in front of me, in the middle of a classy West End theater. D'oh! Everyone heard & I know all the folks in my program knew it was my i'gnant self, so I was past embarassment at this point. Thankfully, my incident was trumped by a little old lady, about 6 rows up from me, later in the show. At the end of the show, one of the characers commits suicide & she shouts out "Come on! This is rubbish!" in her strong British accent, all while everyone else it silent & the stage lights are beginning to go out. People started giggling & let's just say that her sentiment was shared and the crowd showed this in their applause. Every show I've seen in Europe has had a double bow, meaning that they come back out to take a second, or sometimes even third, bow because the audience was so strong. This time, not so much; they barely received the double bow.

Ok, its extremely late as I'm writing this, so I'mma call it a night. More on London soon. I havent talked about my personal renaissance or the museums or seeing friends, so there's much more where this came from.

Peace & Blessings, y'all.

Monday, November 10, 2008

Playing Catch Up

I'm back, in full effect, and this time I mean business. I was reading my last blog post to remind myself how long its been since I put up some stories & I was shocked when the reality hit me that I've prolly got 2 weeks worth of experiences to share. Some I'll have to condense (I say that now...), but hopefully the notes I've been taking in my journal will help jog my memory. Here we go...


Amsterdam

Okay, so a couple weeks ago while we were on midterm break, I had the glorious opportunity to go to infamous Amsterdam for a couple of days. Let me just admit to everyone: the real reason I wanted to study abroad was to get a chance to go to Amsterdam. I can't even front, no matter where I studied or what I would have to do, going to Europe equaled a mandatory trip to Amsterdam, plain & simple. With all this said, you can imagine the anticipation I felt sitting in the airport & waiting for the trip to commence. It was a smooth plane ride there, complete with deep slumber & a heavenly view of the clouds as we descended down to the Amsterdam airport. We catch the train from the airport into the city & I'm getting more and more geeked up for it because I'm seeing graffiti all over the place as the train glides through the outer towns. Anything Hip-Hop related is like butta (not Parkay, not margarine...) to me, I'm an easy man to please. After about 20 minutes on the train, illegally sitting in 1st class, we arrive in the city. Gorgeous sunshine is shining on me & it just keeps getting better as I see more Black people in one area than I had seen in 2.5 months. I mean it was beautiful, Black families walking together from store to store, clearly not tourists either. Working men with briefcases, young dudes that looked just like my little brother & his friends, women pushing strollers, it was just something to behold. Then my biggest shock came when I took my headphones off & heard them folk speaking Dutch. Just imagine walking up to a dude that looks like a Tyrone or Malcolm or something & trying to say "What's good, bruh?" and then that brotha busts out some Dutch on yo' ass! Trust me, I was buggin. Then the icing on the cake was layed on thick when I heard a brotha cruisin down the street bumpin' "So Many Tears" by 2Pac. Come on, man! I am home.

Ok, back to the city itself. And please don't be misled, there were more Black people than Dublin, but the city is by no means a Chocolate City. There were people on bikes everywhere, they even had special bike lanes on the sidewalks where bikers would run your tail over if you got in their way. No of that pedestrian right of way BS, them bikers had full intentions of playin chicken with you & watching you lose. Its sunny, there are Black people, bikers everywhere, a 42K marathon going on, I'm getting my first glimpse at the canals, and all of this is within the first 20 minutes of arriving. Dublin eat your heart out, I'm never coming back. Or at least that what I had started to think. Eventually, that thought calmed down with the quickness.

To give you a proper perspective on the city, let me give you a couple facts. Sexual innuendo is rampant, phallic symbols are unescapeable. All the metal poles in the city (you know the joints that are on the sidewalk to prevent a car from swerving into pedestrians?) are obviously penises. Also, there is a huge penis monument in the heart of the city. At first, its funny. But imagine spending 3 days staring at penises everywhere you go & not being able to get away from them, not funny anymore & actually does more to desexualize you than arouse anything other than disgust. Also, you see all the tourists crawling in and out of the coffeeshops at all hours of the day. Although being able to get a weed menu & be educated on the best ways to enjoy ganja by a barista is an experience that every person should have, the tourist aspect of it all did strike me as ultimately sad in a way. It stands in stark contrast to what mature consumption should be. Just like kids binge drink in America like they're gonna find the key to everlasting happiness at the bottom of the 15th can of Natti Light, tourists (myself included) crawl in out of these shops in search of a haze that'll ascend us to a higher consciousness. In neither case are these outcomes achieved and locals, who can indulge themselves legally everyday, are chill and mature when it comes to it.

I suppose you can tell by this point that Harold & Kumar, Cheech & Chong fantasy that I had was dashed with a stiff dose of reality. Chibbi (my housemate) and I stumbled around the city, checked out some cool museums, saw an improv show (it was aiight), crashed in our hippie hostel. No debauchery to report. We were in town from Sunday to Wednesday, so we definitely missed the party nights. Final thoughts before I post some pics:

  • The canals were very pretty, but every street & canal looks exactly the same. Its confusing enough sober, just imagine how it is under the influence.
  • There were no free museums in the city. Huge flaw. Almost fatal in my eyes. I'm from the DC metro area, we don't pay to get cultured. What's all that about?
  • The Red Light District. A man's fantasy playland, right? Wrong. For every one of these you see, there is another one of these waiting in the next window.
  • There were pretty women riding bikes everywhere. I am currently looking at bikes to buy my girlfriend for Christmas.
  • The Heineken Experience was closed. Major disappointment. After being to the Guinness Storehouse twice though, it was prolly for the best that Heineken was closed. Little compares to a pint of the Black stuff.
  • Dutch = an incredibly unsexy langaguage. It looks ugly on paper & sounds even worse. No wonder its not on anyone's radar to learn in school.
Next story, London! For now though, here are some pics:

The lovely Van Gogh Musuem (well worth the money)


A night out on the town


The Tower of Penis (come on, thats just too much)


These little things are everywhere (hitch your bike to that!)


One day, I'll own a house like that (and no you can't crash there)

Sunday, November 9, 2008

Friday Night, Out On The Town (Part 2)

Part 2, here we go...

I've left Brogan's & I'm on my way to meet Bryan & a friend of his from school at a pub called Anseo (which means here in Gaelic). I had been wanting to go to Anseo for awhile because I read good things about it online, so needless to say, I was excited. I get there, meet Bryan, but he lost contact with his friend, so he finally gets through to her & goes to get her. He challenges me to make friends with people in the pub while he gets his friend & we'll meet up soon. After about 10 minutes of being the akward guy watching people, sipping my pint, standing against the wall alone, I spot some American girls (they easily stand out) sitting at the bar & decide to go talk to them. I was quite nervous about this situation for a couple reasons: 1) I have a girlfriend, so in the back of my mind I'm thinking "Farah wouldn't like this. Don't get yourself in trouble." 2) Meeting girls in bars has never been my forte; I refuse to use pick-up lines, but even just saying "Hi, my name is..." is more difficult than need be these days and 3) I have girlfriend who I'm very serious about, so my general interest level in talking to them isn't very high (and I promise you, I'm not trying to suck up or cover my ass by saying that, even though I prolly could use the brownie points, lol).

Needless to say, my male ego kicked in & I started up a conversation with the girls (one Asian, one Blonde). As long as I look at it as me being a good wingman & making pretty friends to eventually funnel to Bryan, we're all good. The convo starts akwardly on my part, complete with a totally weak "excuse me", followed by a couple of handshakes & "hi, my name is kevin. what's your name?" intros. Luckily, they let me keep rambling akwardly until I had something decent to say & we started a conversation. It was the typical who-what-when-where-&-why small talk that you always do. The Blonde, Allie, is a loud-mouthed, slightly trashy looking girl with the unfortunate blonde hair with dark roots hair style. The Asian, Dee, was a cute, petite girl, simple & classy. Let me just say that, in this case, birds of a feather do not flock together. I mention that I'm an acting student studying here in Dublin and they inform me that they're studying in Paris & are here for the weekend. Allie, with a smart ass attitude, then tells me to perform a monologue for her to prove that I'm an actor. Note to anyone who meets an actor: unless you're a booking agent or have legit connections that could get some a job, don't ask an actor to perform for you when he/she is out socially, especially in a crowded bar. That alone is a pet peeve of mine, I'm not a puppet or a trained chimp, I don't perform on command. If you're a business student, I don't tell you to do a spreadsheet for me, so don't ask me do a monologue at the drop of a dime. Anyway, I'm a little thrown off & pissed, but in order to save face & by time for Bryan to get back, I give it a fair shot. Unfortunately, I lost focus & failed on delivering my monologue, so I just took the L & was gonna let it ride.

To Allie, that was unacceptable, and she tried to give me the business about it & then started to talk down to me about acting not being a real profession. Y'all know me, I'm an argumenative person, especially when it comes to something I love, so we had to go at it at that point. We're debating her ludicrous claims back and forth, which include such gems as "It doesn't take talent to be a great actor/actress at all, it only takes connections. Take Paris Hilton for example", "I could be a great actress right now if I wanted. I know everything about acting because my mother's best friend was an actress", and "Acting isn't a real major. The only real majors are Poli-Sci & Pre-Med". Now, I know you're probably saying to yourself, "Kevin, why would you waste your breath trying to argue with someone who's obviously stupid? You can't debate ridiculousness with rationality." And to that point, all I can say is that a brotha felt disrespected & I wasn't fittin' to back down to someone beneath my intelligence level. Pride is a hella of a drug, lol. While all this going on, her poor friend Dee has just been sitting on the side tuning in & out. When she finally tuned in, she sided with me (of course), and we proceeded to wreck Allie's argument tag team style. That was like her only opportunity to be in the conversation though, cause Allie wouldn't shut the hell up. Mind you, I can't stand this Allie chick but my fatal flaw is that I can't ignore that chance to tell someone they're stupid once I've started, so poor Dee is getting no attention. It so bad that the bartender made friends with her & was giving her free drinks cause she looked lonely. Somehow I gave up my mission to educate Allie & the three of us had a decent, civil conversation for a lil while & then Bryan showed up. He's boo'd up with his random lady friend though, so he offers me no help in how to get out of this conversation. The girls decide that they wanna go to Temple Bar, so I give them directions in an attempt to get them out of my hair (actually it was just because of Allie, she was demon spawn). They asked me to come with them, I thought "Oh hell to the naw", and politely declined using the "I have to stay with my friend" line (apparently it works for guys too). It was too bad though, because Dee was cute & I'm sure Bryan would of liked her, but whatever, he didn't need me to play wingman that night. Him and the lady friend seemed like they were heading in the same direction at the end of the night.

Ok, American girls gone. As soon as they left, a couple friends of ours who go to Trinity College in Dublin walk in. Great timing, people I actually enjoy talking to & haven't seen in weeks, now I'm back in an optimistic mood. The pub closes at like midnight, so we're disappointed & decide to find a late pub. We make it to Doyle's, right across the street from Trinity, and we had a good time. Doyle's is a nice pub, filled with college students & has 3 different floors with bars. We talk downstairs for awhile, then decide to go upstairs where the dance floor is. The dance floor is an interesting space full of people making out or akwardly trying to dance (mostly standing there bouncing in an uncoordinated way, with their feet seemingly glued to the ground). If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right? I had to make some fun for myself since my buzz was gone & I didn't have a strong urge to pay for any overpriced pint, so I dropped my Blackness for sec & danced like a lil kids just tossing my limbs around. Everyonce in awhile, they'll play something soulful and/funky, so I would catch my Blackness again for about 2 minutes per every 20 minutes. They love to play "Kiss" by Prince here, it may be their favorite Black song ever, so I rocked heavy to that. Also, "Intergalatic" by the Beastie Boys and "D.A.N.C.E." by Justice allowed me to feel slightly included on the dance floor. But they finished up with a killer finale of "I Want You Back" -Jackson 5, "Hit The Road, Jack" -Ray Charles, & "Shout" -Otis Day & The Knights (the Animal House version we all know, even though i just was reminded that it was originally an Isley Brothers song). When I tell you I tore it up, I'm saying I tore. it. up. That was a lot of fun, just losing it to those songs & I was satisfied with my night at that point. It was 2:45 am & I needed to be in bed. We we're scheduled to catch the 9am bus to Belfast that same saturday morning, and I did't get home until 3:45am, so you can imagine the type of morning I had on the way to Belfast.

***Update (or flashback)***
I forgot to tell y'all what happened on the way back from Doyle's. I leave Doyle's with one of the girls that lives down the hall from me. Its about a 30 minute walk back to the apartments, so we're just chatting away, trying to keep our minds off the cold and our fatigue as well. We're walking up Harcourt St & we can see a crowd start to form near this major venue called Tripod. Being the true Americans that we are, we make sure to get close enough to see the train wreck that was occuring. At first, we just saw some beligerent Irish guy & his girl fighting outside the club, almost spilling out into the street. Literally 10 seconds after we joined the crowd, this police van pulls up with its tires screeching & cops hopping out of the doors as if it was an '08 remake of the A-Team. Three of them go to break up the altercation and one grabs the guy & places the guy's hands behind his back while dragging him over to the van. For whatever stupid reason, the guy (who's not handcuffed at this point) decides that it would be great idea to fight the cop! He pulls his hand free and gets one solid haymaker in before the police struck down upon him with the cruel backhand of the law. When I tell you that they whooped this guy's ass, I mean 5 of them threw him to the ground got a couple hits in for good measure, pinned him to the concrete to cuff him, the picked him up (as if he was a corpse, but belly facing down) & threw him into the back of the van on his face. His girl tried to stand up for him, but she knew she didn't stand a chance & they didn't need more than one officer to subdue her attempt. Now, I've done my fair share of poking fun at the cops over here. They call them Guards (because of the Galiec name of the force), they don't have guns, and their batons look more light them 2lbs freeweights than anything daunting. But that night, they proved their hardbodieness. I now feel 2x more safe here & 2.5x more cautious to make sure that I don't end up as the Black Leprechan Rodney King. Now back to your regularly scheduled blog post:

More on the Northern Ireland trip soon though. To sum it all up, I enjoyed the evening because it gave me a little bit of everything I enjoy. A little dancing, a couple of pints, some really good conversations, some humorous akwardness, a reason to argue/debate, reuniting with good people, finding a new place, enjoying the typicall stomping grounds. It was like a month of friday nights rolled into one friday night. Does that ever happen to y'all?

Friday Night, Out On The Town (Part 1)

So...I've got a couple posts written that need to go up, so I'm throwing them up here even though it throws my story progression out of order. I hate to do it, because I have flashes of OCD about things, but I've had so much on my mind that its been impossible to keep things in order. And without further ado...

You ever just have one of those nights where things just keeping happening over and over again? Not necessarily the same thing, but you move from one spot to another & the story of the evening just builds and builds on top of itself? That was how my friday night was last week.

So, I got back from the Wicklow mountains (gorgeous; more on it in an upcoming post) & made general plans with my friend Bryan to try out a new pub that evening. I arrive home not knowing what to expect because my roommate Mattieu has his girlfriend in town for the weekend. Matt is a French student studying at the European Business School, and also a recluse who doesn't speak English very well (even though he's taken it for 10 years he says, go figure). With this picture painted for you, I think you can understand why I had no idea what to expect from his lady. Turns out, of course, that she seems pleasant. She doesn't speak English at all, or at least didn't attempt to, and had this innocent, playful energy to her (even though I never had a clue what her & Matt were talking about). It was really nice to see them together though, cause he doesn't seem to have any friends here (he never goes out, he's on his computer 10 hours a day!), and they seem like a cute, really-in-love couple. Now, Matt is a very perculiar fellow as well. His diet is very simple, consisting of only Hamburgers, White Bread, Chocolate Muffins, Orange Juice, & occasionally Baked Beans. I'm dead serious too, I couldn't make this stuff up. So of course when him & his lady wanna make dinner, what's on the menu? Burgers & OJ! I was in the common area, eating my own dinner at the time (steak & pasta, I gets it in! lol), so this would explain why I know all the business. You gotta keep track of what goes on in your apartment. Getting back to the story, let me add in that Matt doesn't seem to like to use the dishwasher. We've shown him how, he's seen us do it, but he prefers to wash all his dishes by hand (when he gets to them). When he was cleaning up, I put my dishes in the dishwasher & his girlfriend, who was sitting by the counter, made one of those "oh shit" faces. Now, once again I can't decipher what she said, but her inflection and body language was quite universal when she started questioning Matt. Even my ig'nant ass could tell that she was like "You have a dishwasher? Why the hell are you wasting all this time scrubbing them plates?" After we've eaten seperate dinners, I'm watching TV & chillin in the common area & they return to the room. I'm waiting for Bryan to hit me up, so we can see what this new pub is like, so I decide to get dressed & ready. I go to the bathroom & lo-and-behold, here are Matt & girlfriend (I don't remember her name, its hard to remember people you can't have a conversation with) in the bathroom just chillin. Needless to say, this was akward as hell, but they weren't doing anything sexual. It looked like was showing her his razors & shaving gel, but still "WTF, Charles?" Then, about 15 minutes later, I go to the room to pick up my shoes & I happen to walk in on an intimate moment. Once again, nothing scandalous, but this time she was under the covers & I heard a certain giggle as I entered the room. Another universal sign; no matter what the language barrier, I knew Matt was fittin' ta get him sum. At this point, I'm like I gotta leave, I don't want to really get in the way, so I ain't waiting for a phone call no more. Its 8:20 something pm & I'm out the door, in search of a watering hole (pause, no red card).

Since Bryan hasn't called me yet & I didn't have his number due to a mix up, I decided to go to Brogan's Bar. Brogan's is a favorite of the Gaiety students because its right around the corner from school & they look out for you there. I knew the Gaiety students, plus some of my IES friends, would be there, so I was looking forward to it. There I met up with some people, a mix of my friends plus 1st & 2nd year acting students at Gaiety, grabbed a pint of Guinness and nudged my way into some conversations. I had a great talk with a guy named Mark, talking about the US & Ireland. He had some questions about comedic differences between Whites & Blacks, I had some questions about Irish pride & culture, so all in all I'd like to believe that it was mutually beneficial. After talking for awhile (I couldn't tell ya how long, ya know time flies when you let me gab on, especially about race in America), Mark got up to go smoke a cigarette. While I'm drinking my pint, eavesdropping on the conversation next to me, this guy sitting across from me starts up a conversation. (Side note: one of the things I really like about Ireland is that in the pub, anyone can strike up a conversation with you. You don't see people all akward & lonely too often.) He starts off the conversation asking me about the election (the easiest icebreaker ever for foreign relations; its almost as cliche as "what's your sign?" to me, thats how often i get asked about it), then he switches into saying that I look like Kanye West (haven't heard that one in awhile) and sharing his love for Kanye and his dislike of 50 Cent. He starts telling me how he can relate to rap music & how Kanye is inspirational to him, he loves how Kanye came from nothing (not true actually, but I let him talk) and made himself into somebody, and yada-yada-ya. Its always funny to me to hear people abroad talking about how they relate to Hip-Hop. Its never somebody with a Hip-Hop consciousness who I get in these conversations with, they're all casual voyers of the culture, who probably are more U2 and Oasis fans than Jay-Z fans. I know struggle is universal & that's why Hip-Hop crosses all borders, but hearing someone talk about it without the knowledge of its African-American context makes for a interesting listen.

So this guy, Derrick, is talking to me about how he relates to the struggle & then somehow segueways into informing me of this huge drug bust in southern Ireland the day before. About 1 billion euros worth of cocaine was sezied by the Irish Navy, so I'm told, and he informs me that cocaine is the main drug in Ireland. Useful information, I know. I start to tell him with my run in with a cokehead at a pub called the Bleeding Horse (once again, I can't make this stuff up), which was hosting a party for Optometry students, and how I unintentionally befriended the cokehead by mentioning that I was a Kanye West fan (see how it all comes full circle?). He's not too interested in my story though, as he wants to explain the drug trade to me. He breaks it down for me by telling me that you can sell 1.25g of cocaine for 100 euros. Now, I don't know how much 1.25g of coke is; I never done coke, nor seen it in person, only in the movies & TV. Hell, I still don't get the metric system, so this info is really going over my head. Anyway, he's excited & animated while he's telling me this, so I'm playing along like I'm impressed. Then he tells me that extacy (is that how you spell it?) pills are huge also; he says he could get 1,000 pills for 1,000 euros, than sell them for 5 euro a pop. Now this was a lil easier to understand, buy it for 1 & flip it for 5, simple math on that one. Still though, why is this guy giving me a beginners course in the Irish drug trade? He goes on to mention that he sells drugs, which would explain his 2008 Miami Vice look, and that you do what you gotta do to make money. Ahh, the simple rational of a criminal. It is so refreshing to the law-abiding citizens ear. But wait, there's more. Next, he proceed to reflect on how he held up a convience store, Menace II Society style, by sticking the place up with a .38 snub nose....at 14 years old! Gangstas make the world go 'round, y'all. He claimed to ran off with 5,000 Irish pounds (this was obviously before the Euro was created), which was so much money that he couldn't even hide it in his home. He said he was just leaving money all over the place in the house. Coming from the Black tradition, I'm used to hearing tall tales. Shoot, I do my fair share of telling them too. One of the many things that the Black and Irish cultures share is a love for exaggerated storytelling, and when some is giving you the run around by telling a tall tale, they call it slagging. While I'm listening to this ridiculous story, I'm thinking to myself "Aww great, here I am being the naieve American. He's got to be slagging me," so I start laughing and doing the whole "Come on, really? You'se a funny guy" routine. When I say that to him, he looks me dead in eye & tells me that he swears he's telling the truth. He licks his forefinger and draws a cross across his adams apple; this guy has officially creeped me out for the evening. He finishes his story by telling me that he has this tiny little bedroom in his apartment, no bigger than the corner everybody was sitting, but that he was getting so much dough that he bought himself a 52 inch plasma screen TV to put in there (officially a Negro please worthy statement). His mother started asking a lot of questions as to how he was getting all this money (he had told me earlier that he was a stagehand & once worked a Kanye concert, which played into why he was a fan), so he bought her a 42 inch plasma screen for her living room & told her to stop asking questions.

Derrick, after chatting me up for awhile, decides its time for him to take a smoke break. Being the awfully polite drug dealer that he is, he asks if I'd like to smoke as well. Thanks but no thanks, I'll just finish my pint. He steps outside & I decide to make my move to leave. Before I left though, I felt compelled to tell my friend Tara to stay away from him & text me when she left, even though I knew she still was with at least six people who we knew very well & would get her home safely. I noticed earlier, pre-confession, that Derrick was quite fond of her, putting his arm around her & buying her a pint (even though she said she didn't want one & was a lil tipsy after her 1st pint). Seeing how he characterized himself as a real go-getter & one not to get caught up on morality and ethical decision making, I felt slightly bad leaving her in the same vicinity of him, but it ain't like I was leaving her alone at all. I was off to the next pub to see what more fun could be had.

Part 2 coming up next...