Random Ramblings

Sold Out

2011-10-12T12:22:00.001-04:00

I literally laughed out loud in my cubicle when I saw the video advertisement, drawing both curious and agitated stares from my co-workers. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw Ralph Lauren stitched into the jeans of the "screen-test" ad. Then after a while I remembered skateboarding, photography before Photobucket and Flickr, Hip-Hop and every other form of counter-culture that succumbed. I should've known that it would only be a matter time before this artistic renaissance would sell out too.

Williamsburg has emerged as the new LES and Soho of the 1980's, where "true" artistic expression thrives and hipsters watch indie bands at dive bars into the wee hours. The problem is that in the globalized, digitized world, counter-culture is the new black. Expressing oneself without fear of reprisal was always held in high regard simply because it was ballsy and refreshing. Now it has become popular. And inevitably, pop culture and capitalism just couldn't let this lucrative trend escape their long-stretching grasp.

To be honest, the design for the fashion line is superb, and I might find myself donning some Denim & Supply. Even over the protestation of some of my friends over the bridge at the other Broadway.

Innovation Never Ends

2011-10-06T17:15:00.001-04:00

Thank you Steve Jobs.

I never had the pleasure of meeting you. If I ever did, it would have been some chance encounter that occurs as much as a Halley's Comet sighting. I did not know you, and you certainly didn't even know of me. Nonetheless, you changed my life, and the lives of millions of others, simply with your intuition. You gave us all a piece of the future in the present. And we could never be able to fully express our gratitude.

Your legacy lives on through the products that you worked so hard to make so distinct and memorable. Now, every time we listen to our favorite song, watch the movie that always makes us cry, play the game that we never get bored of, you will be with us. I don't think there has been a person who has truly brought so much joy into the lives of people all over the earth without any regard for the classifications that set us apart.

Your innovation has defined an era. Your memory will live on.

Justice Served Cold

2011-07-06T09:44:00.012-04:00

To be honest, I wasn't even aware of it until about a week ago. The case seemed like any other to appear in the daily blotter of any local newspaper. Though, I have noticed a spike in the deaths of children lately. Maybe the media has decided to prioritize it over the extra-marital foibles of male celebrities ; or maybe it's the result of the phenomenon that Malcolm Gladwell describes in The Tipping Point when one person does something so taboo and reprehensible that other people who have been thinking about doing the same act believe it to be acceptable and repeat it. Nevertheless, infanticide is rare. But when it does occur it incites shock, disgust, and amazement like no other crime.

My Facebook feed exploded and I began to wonder if I had missed an award show or an Obama announcement. I didn't; I just missed this generation's O.J. Simpson trial. But what shocked me the most was not the not-guilty verdict delivered by the jury; I was caught a little off-guard by the mass public outrage that ensued. Friends, co-workers, associates, everyone was clamoring about how the worst mother of all time, Casey Anthony, got off easy for deviously killing her 2 year-old baby girl.

I will not feign to play devil's advocate here. Based on the laws of human decency, I will tell you that I believe that she was guilty, just like every African-American will tell you that O.J. was back in 1995 (I've never seen a group of people so happy and proud that someone who they believed was a murderous criminal got off). But I will not lament that fact that, one day after the 235th Anniversary of our great nation's birth, we stood by our most important ideals and "justice" was served the way that it should be.

About a month ago, the media in NYC was fixated on a pending rape case involving two NYPD officers. When a drunk woman called for help, two officers came and escorted her to her apartment and then just happened to stay around for a while and return to her home repeatedly. She claimed later that one officer raped her while one stood guard; the officers contended that one simply comforted her until she went to sleep while his partner fell asleep in the living room. After the lengthy trial, the officers were acquitted of rape but found guilty of official misconduct. Soon to follow was the media and public backlash, calling for the heads of the officers and not just their badges (which were relinquished because of the official misconduct). Although found innocent these officers whose names have been made public will be forever marked as rapists.

Two seemingly different cases that have captured quite a bit of media attention actually have a lot in common. Both were heinous acts committed by people who were entrusted to a sacred form of care (in the case of Casey Anthony, it was motherhood; for the police officers, it was safety and security). But in both cases, the so called villains who were by all outside accounts guilty on face value, were found innocent by a jury of their peers. It is these same peers who did the right thing. I can only deduce based on the facts that I have received from various media accounts that both verdicts were issued due to the lack of physical evidence.

Casey Anthony may well have been guilty for not reporting her daughter missing after 31 days and for partying it up and living the good life during what should be a grieving period for any decent, right-minded person, especially a mother. But there were no traces of DNA or chloroform that the prosecutors alleged, and no other hard evidence to suggest that she did indeed take her daughter's life. The same was true with the officers: none of their DNA was found at the scene of the crime and the woman's account was patchy at best due to her inebriated state. If we were going to issue guilty verdicts solely on great story-telling and not hard based facts, then we should burn our Constitution and install the reincarnation of Hammurabi as our dictator.

I do hope that whoever took the short life of young Caylee will come forward or be found, whether it be her mother or anyone else. But after all of the real-life trials below the Mason Dixon pre-1964 that turned out like the plot of To Kill a Mockingbird, I am honestly glad to see that the rule of law is still is as potent as when it was first conceived. It is not perfect, but the day we hold contempt towards our sometimes flawed yet enduring system of justice is the day that we can no longer call ourselves patrons of the land of the free.

Center of Attention

2011-05-19T12:04:00.010-04:00

Anyone with a video camera and a computer can have their 15 seconds of fame once they upload it to Youtube or Facebook. Technology has enabled the common layman to become a true celebrity, once reserved only for the highest echelon of human beings lauded for their unequivocal beauty, intelligence, business acumen or artistic aptitude. Digital media has made pauper's into short-lived princes and has fostered numerous rags-to-riches stories. While the new American idols enjoy their sought after limelight, digital media has also spawned a monster that is turning unwanted attention towards vulnerable and unwitting victims.

Former action star and California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger has made headlines after separating from his wife of over a quarter-century, and then admitting to having an ongoing affair with his former housekeeper whom he sired a love child with. Sounds like the Governator's next Hollywood Blockbuster to me! While the Governor has become just another womanizing official (a new poltician mandate, it seems) this seductive house cleaner and her teenage son have now become the objects of the media's attention.

News vans and trailers are parked outside of their homes; their social network pages have been stalked, surveyed, analyzed and publicized to the furthest extent. Their identities are now out in the open, and they have been subject to critique, harsh assumptions and constant (and unfounded) rumors. While the former mistress is being berated as a a home-wrecker and someone who, based off of her appearance, is deemed unworthy to nurture the seed of the Governator, she is being vilified and her son will also most likely take a brunt of blame and ridicule as well (his peers are teenagers, and they are very mean individuals). Meanwhile, Arnold sits comfortably waiting for his next acting gig.

Our society, pre-occupied with celebrity gossip over meaningful social issues and our looming national deficit, has turned the cheek on Arnold's transgression and has focused instead on the lives of a woman at fault and her unassuming son. The more the media compares the boy's looks to that of the Governator and compares his mother's appearance to that of a wanna-be sex pot, the more we degrade our own morals and values of privacy and common decency towards an unwilling victim of circumstance. As a fellow bastard child I feel for this kid: his only crime was being born.

Relax, Stay Calm and 'Melo'

2011-02-23T00:13:00.003-05:00

That's pretty much what the Knicks are trying to tell all of the rabid fans who lashed out over the blockbuster trade for Carmelo Anthony. Although trading for a top 10 NBA superstar seems like a no-brainer to any sane B-ball fanatic, you have to question the judgment of the Knickerbockers when they trade more than half of their future for a scoring phenom.

Carmelo Anthony is a perennial superstar, and the Knicks are sure to turn some heads in the league whenever someone faces off against him and the athletic juggernaut that is Amare Stoudemire, but this trade leaves them far short of being a contender in the Eastern conference which is arguably dominated by four teams (Celtics, Heat, Magic, and now the Bulls). While Melo gives them another option to outscore their opponents by even larger margins, the Knicks now lack sufficient depth, which is a cornerstone of any championship team (look at how deep Boston and San Antonio's line-ups are and how much time their bench players get). I'm glad that they kept the blossoming Landry Fields, but the loss of other role players could be crucial to any legitimate title run. Felton adapted to the D'Antoni system and was running Amare's signature pick-roll better than any PG not named Steve Nash or Deron Williams; Gallinari is touted as a poor man's Dirk and certainly could shoot like it; Chandler, though an enigma, can put up double digits every game and was still learning how to be consistent; even Mozgov was finally finding a groove. Mr. Big Shot came with the Melo package, but he is in the twilight of his career and will not be as happy having moved from his hometown that he had grown accustomed to living (and eventually retiring) in.

Though, reports are that the Knicks are vying to woo either CP3 or Deron Williams in the next two summers, which would complete the triangle needed to win a chip. But this is all speculation and left up to the results of the daunting collective bargaining agreement coming up. The Knicks' prospects could all be playing in Turkey with Allen Iverson if that doesn't pan out.

Now to move the conversation to something more nuanced: is anyone else just a bit alarmed at the NBA's star movement in the past few years? While Republicans on Capitol Hill try to move power away from the federal government, it seems that the ghost of George Steinbrenner has possesed GM's and players in the NBA and forced star power to become centralized. No longer do we see just one star player moving to a major franchise chasing money changing it's fortunes by getting them out of the first round of the playoffs. We are witnessing the real-life formation of the Justice League, as the best players join to conquer the forces of evil and steal all of the prime-time TV for their franchises!

Just look at the teams: The Big Three in Boston (now the Old Three), the New Big Three in Miami, Kobe and Pau, now Melo and STAT! Even old vets who still have some fight in them are aligning with star players (think the Mavericks, the Magic, even the Suns). We are seeing a shift from superstars running their own teams, with role-players to compliment them, to teams emptying their depth charts and coffers just to get a chance at a championship.

But what does this mean for sub-par franchises? Who is really going to care about that Kings-Bobcats match-up? When will America's preeminent cities stop clamoring for the lone superstars in smaller franchises? Blake Griffin may still be in LA in the future, but don't be surprised if he's clad in purple and gold. This is just a warning.

Cancer Cells

2010-11-16T11:36:00.013-05:00

I hate talking on the phone. My good friends and family can attest to this (especially due to my lack of "keeping in touch") but when I do decide to talk on the phone, I opt to use my trusty ear-piece rather than walk with the phone attached to my ear. Not only was it uncomfortable, leaving my poor ear inflammed, but it was outright disgusting to see the sweaty film left on my touch screen phone.

But What started as blatant laziness has now been legitimized as an actual health concern. I never liked you in High School or College but thank you, Science! An article in the times has all but labeled cell phones being next to your ear as fatal. While rocking the bluetooth every now and then cannot hurt you, those miniutes add up and the volume of radioactivity from your cell phone may have disastrous affects on your healthy brain cells.

Thankfully I'm not some middle-aged, low-ballin player-type or a successful business man who only can do things hands-free, or I'd have a tumor. I've since stopped placing my converted-alarm clock under my pillow at night, and my ear-turnover rate will probably increase too. Here's to being brain cancer free.

Uno

The Social Professional

2010-11-10T13:00:00.010-05:00

At an Indian Restaurant with some friends in the LES, a man at a nearby table begins to make comments directed towards us. Nothing offensive. As native urbanites, we were used to the casual interjection of another person into our conversations. In a city of over 8 million where people are piled on top of each other in apartment buildings and crushed together in Lexington Ave line train cars, it is not out of the ordinary to engage in convo with complete strangers, even across tables of curry and spice.

The bald, muscular man looked like a struggling actor, with his uninspired dress: Faded colored shirt, stone wash jeans, personality glasses and worn black boots. Please don't judge him on his attire, though, as he was actually quite amusing. He cracked jokes, made inappropriate remarks to both us and the Indian proprietors, and even got my friend a birthday song and ice cream (and you know we don't give a F*** , it's not her birthday!).

The best part happened as we left the restaurant, leaving our jester to his entourage of two women and a wing-man (I suppose). He offered a business card to keep in touch, which my friend and I graciously accepted, but it wasn't a regular one. In fact, it was the best business card that we had ever laid eyes upon, not because of its design (not at all), but because it simply said: "You have just met ____. For more of that great feeling, please contact me at _____." Are you effin kidding me?

We had realized that we just met a professional socialite, or a comedian with a gimmick. It seemed even more logical when recalled his lackluster clique. His "wing-man" was some uninteresting fellow who tried to make jokes that fell flat, and the women were simply there to laugh and entertain their hosts. My bet is that the unfunny guy hired the Pro to make the night more interesting. I for one, would LOVE that at as a career. Imagine getting paid just to hang out with people, entertain them, and make them feel important or funny. Kind of like HITCH, but instead of showing you how to get the girl you want, he teaches you how to be socially cool. And the job is RECESSION PROOF!

I hope I haven't ruined it for anyone who runs into this guy in the future. If you're in NYC right now, he might be sitting next to you, ready to make someone else's social life more interesting than it actually is.

Uno

Just My Thoughts

2010-11-05T14:25:00.007-04:00

Do severely obese people use turnstiles in the subway?

No offense to my BBW's, but this question is a serious one. A couple of days ago, I saw a very large man walk across a wave of people in a PATH station, passing by several turnstiles, to go through the handicap designated entrance. That particular entrance easily clears four feet wide, while the other maybe reach about two and a half.

I then tried to picture the man attempting to go through it, and getting stuck; his gut or FUPA wedged between two bars, and the machine slowly shutting down after trying hard to figure out just what the hell happened to it. haha

Uno

It Really is G.O.O.D. Music

2010-10-28T11:38:00.013-04:00

Rap is referred to as a musical genre, but I think that classification is wrong. It is an art form, but it is more prose than music. Lyrics have always been the focal point of rap songs, from it's humble beginnings as political expression, to it's oral-history-like story telling. Subtly, though, it seems that it can also be less about the music. While rap fans may like a club banger by Swizz Beats just as much as they like a R&B or Rock infused rap song by Timbaland, the lyrical content is what essentially makes a song. Words will always be the focal point of rap (or it wouldn't be rap at all), but it seems that there is a growing movement to help even out the ratio on behalf of the music. Witness the new millennium renaissance of musical art within rap.

Producers are slowly but surely garnering fame in their own right in the music industry. While David Guetta is out chopping up club and pop mixes, Timbaland is making multi-platinum albums, and Swizz is laying down bars on his own material. It was enough insult to injury for artists to have to pay the bulk of their hard earned money to producers, but now they have to steal their shine too? The nerve of them! Though these formerly back-of-the-house players are stealing back the well deserved limelight, they are also bringing their talents to the forefront of the scene. Music, and not just vocals, is hitting on all cylinders in the rap game. To be honest, with most of the unoriginal content that is out there nowadays, half the time I listen to a track it's actually because of it's musical quality, and not the lackluster world-play or repetitive use of metaphors and euphemisms (cough, Young Money, cough).

Enter the pompous Kanye West, who is by FAR the most gifted Rap Artist/Producer of this era. That he started his career producing isn't a surprise, but that his Rap career as an artist now overshadows his gifts as a producer is mind-blowing. Kanye's most inspiring upside, though, is that his signature beats are in demand just as much as his audacious bars. While most fans battered his 808's and Heartbreaks, I bet you it was mostly goons from the hood who's favorite rapper is Wacka Flocka Flame (nuff said). Listen to it again and you'll understand why his up-and-coming-label is aptly entitled G.O.O.D. Music, and not G.O.O.D. Hip-Hop.

In fact, the most recent Kanye singles are what inspired me to write this particular post. Listen to his infectious Christian Dior Denim Flow , where the lyrical content is actually outmatched by the beat (side note: everybody on this track kills it, including Yeezy who did nothing but name hot fashion models, and even Ryan Leslie, who actually sucks as an artist completely, but not as a producer). The beat starts uptempo, and is guided by a powerful but smooth violin line (Timbaland does the same in JT's "Love Stoned" in its more stylistic second half). It gets even better mid-song where the tempo fades, but comes back with a more hip snare-and-bass line (setting up Banks' spitfire flow). At the end, Kanye culminates the masterpiece with an emphatic electric guitar solo. Cue the music nerd ejaculating in his pants.

Now if you're really excited by this, take a gander at "Maybach Music III" by Rick Ross, and prepare to be wooed by the Justice League (easily top 10 in production). I swear to Buddha that there was a full fledged classical orchestra in the booth with T.I., Ricky, and even an under-the-influence Jadakiss. There's an instrument in this song from every class: wood-wind, brass, string, percussion; you name it, it was there. And this poetic Jazz peace is still a hot rap song (T.I. destroys this track with a smooth bravado; think Jay in "Party Life"). But the entire "Maybach Music" series is rife with great music. I just wish the rest of rap would take notice.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy bangers just as much as anyone; we all need that going-out play list when we're getting dressed for the night or driving in our car. But rap is so much more diverse, and the music is way more than a grimy, percussion gimmick. The music involved isn't getting as much credit as it should. I think I am just stating what will be in the future anyway. The music in top-rap songs are actually given more time to play on their own (without vocals) than in any generation of rap before it. And when a top rapper's signature is his inter- and outer-ludes (Drake), the wheels have been set in motion. It's just time for you to take out your Beats from Dre headphones and pay attention. After all, that's what they were made for.

Uno

The Co-Signer

2010-10-25T10:32:00.015-04:00

They are the most important person in any group conversation; the second most important person (or maybe even the first) in any clique, and they are probably entirely oblivious to this. They wield the power of influence, but seldom use it for themselves. They aren't bleeding hearts; they just aren't willing (or can't be) the alpha in the group. However, they're keen ability is necessary to the group's inherent hierarchy. They are the ironic, all powerful yet helpless member. They are the C0-Signer.

Social circles work just like any institution; there's a head, and then there's everything else. But just like the body, it takes several components to make it run functionally. The brain gets all the credit, but the heart is just as important and does all the hard, grunt work. That's the Co-Signer. He or she does all the work for the alpha in the group, and the latter gets all of the glory.

There's always that cool person in the party. Maybe they are the wittiest, the smartest, the best looking. Their bravado may be off the Richter. No matter what it is, everyone in the room knows that person has it and they don't have it themselves. But that person wouldn't be the person if they didn't have a Co-Signer. The co-signer's job is simple: anything that the alpha states needs backing. It can be a laugh, a nod, a casual agreement. It can even be a negation, but as long as it gives the alpha their due attention and it doesn't overrule them, it's a co-sign. We've seen the extreme versions of co-signers all throughout our lives. They are the yes-man in the board room; the brown-noser at happy-hour; the teacher's pet in high-school. They give even more power to the alpha through their unwavering support, submitting themselves to its will.

Yet, the role of the co-signer is even more peculiar because it can exist on it's own. Sometimes, a co-signer can even be an alpha. This is because in any given conversation, the co-signer is the one who determines if what you say is relevant. You've been in those semi-awkward conversations where everyone is on their own vibe, trying to get their own word in. But no one will give credence to anyone else's statement until the co-signer recognizes this. Slews of jokes, imaginative and emphatic stories, and even quirky comments have all been sent to the grave without the slightest bit attention all because the co-signer didn't give it his ultimate blessing.

In most cases (where they aren't the alpha) the co-signer's actual being is somewhat of a sad existence. They go through life with that silver medal (which according to some sociologists, is worse than the bronze). They just didn't have it in them to be No. 1. But as the General, they still have the power to create a leader. No, they will never have the fame and the glory, but at least they can bask in the spoils of a battle won. Sometimes, the king's leftovers can be a grand feast for the hungry soul. And after all, being the heart is always better than being the ass.

So all I need now is to find a co-signer for my blog ...

Uno

Enter the Void: Fox & Cablevision Team up on Viewers

2010-10-25T10:31:00.013-04:00

This would be a great marketing ploy for any cable service provider looking to pick-up new customers: "We have Fox; Cablevision doesn't!" Thus the great exodus of New Yorker and New Jersey residents would commence, cancelling their Cablevision contracts after a ten-day lockout has left millions without access to the News Corp-owned television network. Even after "insistence" from the FCC has been issued to both sides to go to an independent arbitrator to work out their asking-price issue, no headway has been made, and viewers have been left to fend for themselves in the dark.

It was painstaking to endure the sacrilege of a Sunday without NFL games (thankfully CBS and NBC came to the rescue with two games), but to be barred from watching the World Series from the comfort of my cold leather couch would be outright blasphemous! That's the national pastime! Additionally, now I'll be forced to sit at my desk when co-workers talk about the new Family Guy and House episodes. My social standing in the cubicle world will certainly take a blow; official office leper due to my lack of television knowledge. And don't get me started on missed episodes of Glee!!!

I've already disagreed with Fox's uber-conservative political shows, but now I have a direct reason to detest Rupert Murdoch. Although both parties are to blame, I could honestly imagine the greed dripping from the foam of the Fox executives' mouths as they bark at Cablevision for the $150 million contract (more than twice the amount of the previous contract between the two companies). Even our snail of a bureaucracy - wait, I mean government - have urged the arbitration, with over 50 elected reps failing to nudge either of the two bulging corporations. And these guys are entrusted to get me essential services? They can't even get me a damn TV channel!

On the other hand, I can boast that I have a new channel for my viewing pleasure. Channel 1999: A constant reminder from Cablevision that this is News Corps fault for being so gluttonous. Thank you Cablevision; your white-background, slate-grey lettering, and calming mono-tone, typical-white-woman-voice is appeasing. I feel at peace knowing that you are doing nothing but asking me to help solve a problem I only created by paying my bill on time, every month. Much appreciated.

Uno

He's a BUSINESS, Man!

2010-10-18T14:48:00.006-04:00

The self-proclaimed best rapper in the game (he has my vote this November) is taking another step towards history, and has actually decided to put his thoughts down on paper for once. That's right ladies and gentlemen, Jay-Z has penned a memoir.

The boastful MC is known for not writing his rhymes, but now has a new expressive outlet for telling his story. The 336-page memoir is slated to be released in November, but Hov and the upstart search engine Bing have come up with a clever promo before the book's actual release. Apparently, various pages and quotes from the book will be sprawled across billboards in NYC, other states, and even in London. Jigga mentions several locations in his memoir, and the excerpt on display will have something to do with the location. What's even more interesting, though, is that the mediums will not stop at billboards. Pool tables, the floor of a hotel pool, even the lining of a jacket in a storefront will house an excerpt from "Decoded."

This campaign seeks to drive more user-ship to Bing, as well as promote the sale of the new book. Again, most know that I ride the coat-tails of Jay as my favorite musical artist, but no other rapper has ever come this close to infiltrating so many different areas of the business market. This campaign has also generated a sort of treasure hunt for anyone who thinks they can find all of the locations, with the prize being tickets to Jay's New Year's Eve show with Coldplay in Las Vegas. It's a win-win for everyone on every level of this deal, including the consumer who has an added incentive on top the pleasure of reading the book. Now please re-direct your attention to the title of this post, and tell me that the man doesn't speak truth.

Uno

Mums the Word

2010-10-18T14:43:00.016-04:00

Their story has captured the world. It is a story of endurance, compassion, struggle; a true homage to the power of the human spirit. And apparently, this story is expensive.

The rescued Chilean miners stopped the world after their two month ordeal. Thirty-three men trapped over 2,000 feet below the surface in a small box of darkness, unsanitary conditions, and everything else necessary to drive any man crazy. But that was not the case here. There were no mad panics; no cannibalism or homo-eroticism involved. Each miner made it out of the ordeal safely and in good medical health, mentally and physically. But for some, the emergence from their 2,000 foot deep tomb was more like a re-birth from the womb, a resurrection to a new life.

Each man probably praised Jesus a hundred times over once he saw sunlight again, but he also pledged to have a new life just like his savior. Knowing that the world was watching, the men knew they had become instant celebrities. With possible million-dollar deals swarming around them for their personal accounts, the men instead vowed secrecy and formed a pact not to divulge the intricate details of their traumatic experience. That experience is bound to become a Spielberg film, or a future Palm D'Or winning documentary, the question is now is when.

I'm thoroughly interested to see which of the miners will be the first to pop; he will be well-paid for his incontinence. Whether that means that the other accounts will garner more or less money is determinant on what the first miner tells and how detailed he is. The media is itching for an in-depth interview and won't be held off for long. Some miners have already offered price tags to help them get out of the financial situations that put them in the hell-hole in the first place. It is only a matter of time before most of them enter the Chilean Miner Lottery. I just hope that they are the major beneficiaries, and not the tabloids or Hollywood.

The Red Zone

2010-10-01T13:14:00.012-04:00

This is the area where the Giants often turnover the ball when a touchdown seems imminent. Consequently, fans break out into bar-room brawls, smearing blood over the fresh paint of the brand-new Meadowlands seats. The Red Zone runs from the 20yrd line to the goal-line, and is the ultimate battleground of any competitive football game. But I'm not dwelling on the grid-iron; I'd like to take a timeout and mull over porcelain. I'm talking about the ever-efficient urinal.

The designers of my work-place bathroom must have been feminists with a vengeance, or two pranksters with a twisted sense of humor. When they put only two urinals in a small bathroom with only two other small toilet stalls for any poor soul going for #2, they must have been prepping for a bathroom hidden camera series. Feeling awkward and uncomfortable are understatements for this kind of private-space invasion.

Most men have the common sense to follow the unwritten rules of bathroom conduct (which don't apply to large-crowd venues such as stadiums and movie theaters or in bars where you're too drunk to care or notice the guy next to you with his thing out.) But there are always those who stroll up to the stall next to you, no more than a foot away, and have the audacity to give you eye contact when you're uncorking and draining the bottle. Double-you Tee Eff.

For those without a restroom conscience, remember that in a bathroom with only three urinals, it is downright selfish to take the middle one, in effect hogging all three spaces for your little tinkle. And if you absolutely have to go, use a stall instead of forcing yourself into the red zone. I might have saved you a fight or two.

Uno

He Without Sin Shall Cast the First Stone

2010-09-28T00:12:00.006-04:00

Every little boy has had this fantasy. But it seems that it all turned into a nightmare in real life. I was disturbed today, by an article that is all the rave in NYC media. It featured a public school teacher who had been reassigned because her past as a stripper and prostitute had suddenly become available to the public. Parents shrieked in terror as they realized that their children were being instructed by none other than a derelict whore who sold her body for money! I bet a few of those mothers had a similar past in college, they just didn't receive money for it (just fan fare and the envy of other sluts). Nonetheless, this poor women had to defend herself against the "morally superior" people who don't have the balls to put their pasts out in the public forum for scrutiny. I'm most surprised because this all happened in her distant past, after her various degrees and personal accolades. Yet, she is judged and criticized for making a change. And I thought this was the land of second chances.

This woman's plight brought out a flurry of questions and concerns for me in today's society, thought the more abstract ones seem the most important. For example, do you value consistency over quality? Would you rather have someone who initially had character issues do a perfect 180 and change for the better or someone who is consistently mediocre and never changes at all. It's hard enough to break a habit, but to change a lifestyle seems so much more noble and worthy of praise.

Protestant church pastors and priests are revealing their gay, heinous acts of pedophilia; Muslims are stoning women to death daily; Jews are cutting off foreskin from penises!!! Who can you really trust as the leader of morality today. Those who point fingers are cowards, too scared to face their own past.

I'm not saying I agree with the teacher's past, but I commend her for being able to talk about it, what she learned from the experience, how what she does now may pay a hell-0f-a-lot worse, but may be more fulfilling. That's the part of the story we fail to see. We choose to demonize rather than laud. We are guilty of a lack of respect, not her.

Identity Crisis

2010-09-19T23:22:00.010-04:00

When you meet someone for the first time, you do the regular small talk: If you're attracted to them, you ask about their interests, likes and dislikes, where they come from, sometimes even what they are. I think I've missed about 20 opportunities to start dating someone new after they asked me this question, to which I've confidently replied "I'm Human." The real corny girls laugh, the more mature ones give me the awkward silence. It does seem a bit odd, but it is the truth.

For those who wish to venture on into the mystery of Shadoe, they ask again, but this time are more specific in their request: "No, what's your nationality?" To which I reply : "Oh, I'm American." Since most of the women that I have dated in my lifetime are of African or Latino descent, they usually get uptight and flustered when I make this statement. They ask where my parents are from (New York), and eventually grow tiresome of my seemingly bland ancestry. For those of you who do not know, I consider myself black. My mother was African-American, and my sperm-donor was half-black, half Russian. Some believe that I am really Puerto Rican, to which I entertain the thought sometimes, and begin to scream "Boricua" while rolling my R's. Believe me, other than these few incidents where I feel like having fun, I would never claim to be anything that I'm not. And I would actually like to address all of you out there who do commit this act of identity fraud.

If you were born within the borders of the United States, you are a naturalized citizen. So if I am asked my nationality, I am obviously American. To those of you who also have been born in America, I strongly encourage you to do the same. I'm not trying to threaten, but I hate it when people who were born in Manhattan claim that they are Dominican; when people born in the same hospital as me claim that they are Haitian, Jamaica, or Panamanian. You were not born on any of those islands; your parents were. And because they were, that doesn't mean that you can be grandfathered in to that national conscience. Culture is important, and maintaining one's identity for the purposes of diversity in a community is necessary. America is, after all, the melting pot, homeland of the immigrants.

My gripe lies with those who claim extra-nationalities for a perception of being exotic, being different. If three generations of your family was born in America, you're American! If you say that you're half Filipino, half white, and half Trinidadian, you obviously failed at 2nd grade math or you're mother was experimenting with sperm specimens. We live in the greatest nation in the world, yet it seems boring and distasteful to label oneself as a national. As proud as you are of your national Alma Mater, I bet you 50 times over that there's a large number of people from that country who would die to call themselves American.

Please, give us your tired, your poor, your huddled masses. Just don't give us ungrateful ones.

Uno

Back Where it All Began

2010-09-15T10:12:00.018-04:00

Hip-Hop started in the South Bronx, where immense poverty and drugs forced people to find new outlets for fun and expression. It is only fitting that two of the greatest rappers ever (whom were both fittingly involved in drugs as well, albeit in different fashions) brought Hip-Hop back full circle with a momentous event at it's birthplace. However, instead of the grungy, scathing scenery of the South Bronx in the 1980's, Hip-hop was seemingly reborn in the $2.3 billion Yankee Stadium, the baseball venue and New York monument that symbolizes triumph better than any other. Although it was only a two-night showing, this concert will go down in hip-hop history as one of the all time performances by the game's greatest players.

Eminem and Jay-Z are without question two of the top 10 lyricists of all time, so the concert was going to be a hit based on their respective credentials alone. But last night's display seemed more like a hip-hop award show than a concert with the number of guest appearances. Em and Jay are juggernauts in rap, but adding an extended cast of rap role players to the lineup made this an all-star showing of epic proportions. The night was opened by-up and-coming rapper B.o.B., a southern artist who models a single-entity version of Outkast (though, not as gifted; Andre 3000 is arguably a top 5 lyricist) along with J. Cole of Roc Nation. Eminem followed, and his set alone could have been a concert in it's right. Performing mostly mostly tracks from his recent Recovery album, the crowd showed more love for the Detroit rapper than it did for it's hometown hero (hate to be racial in this, but the crowd was about 75% white and he is practically their Great White Hope in rap, despite his attempts to alienate himself from them). Em is an electric performer, and his flair was accentuated by bringing out former Hip-Hop Heavyweights 50 Cent and Dr. Dre. He was even flanked by his own D-12, and Lloyd Banks made an appearance for "Beamer, Benz, or Bentley." His set was topped off by an unexpected but spectacular fireworks display behind the stage that lasted for a good 5 minutes.

So ill.

Next, came the man who made it all possible, the monster of the double entendre. I know I'm biased as a Jay-Z fanatic who can repeat all of his lyrics as if I studied them for a test, but I challenge you to find me another rapper who garners so much respect and acclaim from other rappers that he could pull off a small hip-hop festival in two nights. Who else could pack Yankee Stadium in New York besides the greatest team in sports history that bears it's namesake. Who else could get a 15-deep celebrity line-up for a two man concert? I'm still waiting...

Before Jay came out, there were already six names that could've made any lowly hip-hop fan happy (B.o.B, J. Cole, Eminem, 50 Cent, Dre. Dre, D-12). But Jay overflowed the pool with even more big names. Kanye came out first, with his over the top zeal and flash, and did all of his new singles and some. Jay brought out his consistent shadow in Memphis Bleek; had Swizz on stage just for a show of his influence (I mean really, just for the hook of "On to the Next One"?); gave Young Money some face-time with Drake and Nick Minaj (who could easily sell out a concert series themselves, but each came out to do just two songs); and had Mary J and Beyonce both do cameos. Again I ask, who else could pull this off without these people headlining the event? I'm still waiting... No one could. Who else could make 52,000 people do a wave of "Roc" signs on cue? No one.Except for Hov.

I have never been to a hip-hop concert of such epic proportions, and I don't think I'll see another one (especially with the pop direction that hip-hop is taking). This post is for those of you who weren't able to go; you can live vicariously through my post. Your welcome.

Uno

I Don't Need a Pic for This

2010-09-12T20:47:00.010-04:00

After a somber, respectful 9/11 Memorial Ceremony took place this past Saturday on the 9th Anniversary of the attacks, an ugly, reproachful series of events took place not too far from the site of fallen heroes and victims. While families of the victims mourned their loved ones, factions of pro and anti-mosque sentiment geared up for a battle of conflicting ideals. Shouting matches ensued as flowers were placed at a reflecting pool for those who were lost. Some say those victims died for our freedoms, one of which was invoked by those two factions.

It was no mistake the our storied freedom of speech was put into the first amendment, displaying its importance to the American psyche. In order to prevent tyrannies and totalitarian governments, the citizenry must be able to petition their government for redress. We must be allowed to speak when we feel we have been wronged, to voice our opinions, whether right or wrong, inspirational or hurtful, whenever we feel like it. Even when those whom we are claiming to act in the interest of us don't want us to speak. That's what the anti-mosque faction was doing.

I am biased to the pro-mosque side of this debate, simply because rationale is on their side. When anti-mosque rhetoric is being spewed in the interest of the 9/11 victims and their families, I question the logic of taking such action on the day that reflects on the loss. They ask for respect, but show none for the families by doing nothing more than extending their own agenda, enforcing their own opinions. They ask for restraint from the mosque developers, to think about the emotional effects on the vicitms' families, but show none themselves in an attempt to bring attention to themselves and their cause. The inherent exploitation is mind-blowing.

Myself, I wonder what happened to the more noble calls to action and protest. Recent protests have been lackluster, and don't address problems that could help a broader range of people. What happened to civil rights protests for minorities? Where are those protests that challenge the wrongs of the government on a large scale? Where are the Milks and MLKs? Where are the million man marches and bra burnings? Why are we stuck with boneheads who gripe about particular colors not being displayed on NYC's tallest building for a woman who would have frowned upon the act in the first place? Is this all we have to complain about? The last time I looked, there were still millions of homeless and hungry people on the street; people begging for adequate health care for treatable ailments; kids who are three years behind their required reading level; people in our fair country who don't enjoy the same "inalienable" rights that some of the most fortunate enjoy. Everything that we own in this country, besides our own lives, is a privilege that some predecessor fought for us to have. Where are those warriors now? Where are the noble causes that they put their lives on the line for?

I don't where to find these answers. I just know that I couldn't find them down at Ground Zero on September 11th, 2010.

Uno

The Wonderful Life of i

2010-09-10T13:17:00.005-04:00

As interesting as my life is, a simple blog post would not suffice for my narcissism. So no this post is not about moi. This post is devoted to Apple, who have become pioneers in the technology world and have all but monopolized media consumption in the U.S. No one could have predicted just how influential and profitable iTunes and the iPod would be today, or we would have all invested in some Steve Jobs stock. What intrigues me the most, though, is how "i" technology has even pushed it's way into media culture, and from this phenomenon, identities and personalities are now being shaped and judged by it.

I first thought about this after reading an amNewYork article that reported that the average iPad user. Apparently, the profile of iPad owners is an that of an elitist snob: a highly educated, well-paid person who is also selfish and doesn't have the simplest of manners. Ouch. I know a couple of people who don't fit the description, except for the asshole part (which is pretty much what they say in the latter portion). I know plenty of uneducated, broke people who buy things like the iPad as status symbols, meanwhile they are still living in section 8 housing with their grandmothers at the ripe age of 26. They also have 2011 model cars, iPhones, and the latest fashion. I think amNewYork should do an article on them as well.

Oddly enough, the most used product from apple (iTunes) can also help you identify someone, simply based on their music content. If you ever got a chance to look at my iTunes, you would notice that: 1)I'm a bonafide Jay-Z fanatic, 2) I have don't like country, classical, or heavy metal (the only popular genres that I don't have), and 3) I download music everyday. Of course you would have to deduce this from the information given, but it could clue you in into the type of person I am (or not). I once knew a heaping white football player, about 6ft 4in 225 lbs, from Kentucky whom I assumed couldn't get enough of country music. His iTunes told me different: he was actually a big fan of Boyz II Men, and even proved it in the dorm showers with a stunning rendition on I'll Make Love to You. I guess you really can't judge a book by it's cover.

For a real kick, check the top 25 songs on a person's iTunes by number of plays (I'll admit, mine currently has Drake up there about 4 times, and Robin Thicke too... and of course, Hov). One of my good alpha-male friends never heard the end of it when I saw Rhianna's Rude Boy on his top 10 list. "It's a good song." It is... if you're a promiscuous, horny female. Only.

Uno

Remember Me?

2010-09-07T14:32:00.010-04:00

Memory is a funny thing. I especially like its selective quality: that time I tripped going up the stairs on a stage to accept an award in front of 100 of my peers (14 yr olds no less) has been completely blanked whereas the hazy, disoriented, under-the-influence memories of my first night back to college from Study Abroad are still as vivid as Japanese anime. It's obvious that some memories are more prevalent in our minds, based on how a certain event may have shaped our lives, and other's fade over time as new stresses and memories take up the necessary storage. However, while reading Bill Simmons' epic Book of Basketball (I will have an entire post devoted to that; only the greatest book ever written on the sport) I was intrigued by one of his thoughts on our organic hard drives.

He refers to William Goldman's Wait Till Next Year, explaining that "great athletes fade from memory not because they're surpassed by better ones but because we forget them or our memories are tainted by things that have nothing to do with their career. The cream of the crop, admitted by Simmons himself, was this excerpt: "The greatest struggle an athlete undergoes is the battle for our memories. It's gradual. It begins before you're aware that it's begun, and it ends with a terrible fall from grace. It really is a battle to the death." Powerful shit. And that's an understatement. But it is true.

Every time I get into an argument with some youngin' who thinks that LeBron is the greatest basketball player of all time, I feel like smashing my own head with a barbell because of his ignorance. But it's not his fault, or anyone else of his generation. Yeah, they know that the MJ sneaker is the most popular and most profitable basketball shoe ever created; and maybe they know that he ferociously dunked on everyone who ever stepped on court with him, including his own teammates. They could hear millions of stories from old heads like me and never truly understand what he meant to basketball, how he is the paragon of a professional athlete, how he made the sport important to the world. They'll never understand because they couldn't witness it. I'll admit, I only remember Jordan in '97 and '98 (I was too preoccupied with video games at that time to seriously care about NBA games anyway). I watched MJ because everyone else did, I was a fan because even if you hated him, you had to love his game (unless you were a Utah Jazz fan, which is tragic). But I saw enough games to know that the G.O.A.T. would wipe the floor with LeBron in his prime. Then again, LeBron hasn't even reached his prime...

I don't know if LeBron will surpass Jordan, or if anyone else will. What I do know is that the older I get, the more I'll have to defend his legacy (and Kobe's, eventually). The younger generations will only be arrogant, and I'll have to be that ornery old grandfather who curses at them. I'll be ready, with YouTube clips and all. But I also hope that when I am gone, to the end that we all will meet, that I won't just fade into the void. I fear that my memory will be a casualty to time. So for now, I will work on doing something that will put me up there with the likes of all great people whose memories have endured centuries. Unfortunately for me, it's too late to start a nation, a war, or play basketball. But reader, if you get any bright ideas, let me know and I'll take you with me. For real.

Uno

Dumpster Diving

2010-08-31T15:06:00.007-04:00

Here's the scenario:

I'm with my best friend, chilling in his car on 7th Ave near 34th St. in Manhattan. We're waiting for some girls to go to a party in Long Island. Among the myriad of weirdos, cross-dressers, tourists, and just downright ugly people, we come across a lone vagrant. He is not the most poverty stricken-looking individual, but you can tell by his shabby clothes and unkempt appearance that he's obviously homeless. That and the fact that he starts to rummage through and eat from the garbage.

We're in front of a Chinese Buffet, whose Mexican worker (I swear this is the hierarchy of 90% of the city's restaurants) threw out a load of trash about 5 minutes before our bum shows up. My friend and I watch in mutual horror as this man carefully selects his grub and shovels it down with satisfaction. My stomach does back flips; thankfully I hadn't started drinking or my dinner would have soiled my friends wood grain interior at that moment. Finally, we decide to act. I get out of the car and offer the man a mere two dollars (I probably had about 8 total that night myself), pointing to the nearby McDonald's where he could at least get a more respectable, equally as disgusting dollar cheeseburger. The man politely offers thanks, but then tells me that the trash is fresh. The car door ajar, I turn around puzzled. "This is all fresh food, look at the steam still rising." Apparently our bum made it through High School Chemistry. He continues, "restaurants like this can't keep food overnight and sell it the next day, it's a health issue. They throw it all out. The hardest part is just making sure you get to the bags with just food, and not mixed in with garbage." Relieved at this enlightening little tid-bit, I wished him well and got back into the car.

Instead of being satisfied, though, I was even more disgusted buy the waste of our nation. As millions starve world wide daily, we have the uncanny privilege to throw food away simply because it didn't sell. Luckily our bum here is sticking it to the man, even if he seemingly loses his dignity doing so. Then again, who truly has dignity in survival. I even learned that I could eat fresh food every night for free. Just use the black-plastic bag discount.

Uno

Un-Mosqueing the Enemy

2010-08-18T13:03:00.013-04:00

You know what grinds my gears? When hypocritical, ignorant Americans push for their way while curtailing the rights and feelings of others. While my countrymen have flat out disrespected and injured anything that isn't Anglo-Saxxon, Christian and male(Indians, Pilgrims, Immigrants, Japanese-Americans) since the dawn of the republic, one would think that we would change our ways as time progressed and post-modernism has all but shoved global tolerance down our esophaguses. But...it hasn't, and we will continue to uphold the proverbial truth that history does indeed repeat itself.

Rush Limbaugh declared that the mosque being built two blocks from the World Trade Center site is a "victory monument at Ground Zero." While I have full faith that the developers of the mosque are not intending to do so, even if they were, do we have a right to complain? Of course we do! That's what any God-fearing, patriotic American would say. We deserve the double standard that we impose on the rest of the world! That's what an enlightened ethnocentrist would declare. The moderate Islamists are downright rude, insensitive, nasty human beings for their decision to build a whole two blocks away from our sacred sight of memoriam, right?

While Muslims attempt to erect their religious and spiritual monument in the form of a mosque, we do so for our great Church of Capitalism and Democracy (and we all know that Allah cannot touch the power of the dollar, and the Qu'ran could not hold the Constitution's jock-strap). No one cries murder or "terrorist" after thousands of Afghan and Iraqi civilians are blown to pieces by American war crafts. No one screams for justice when our great "churches" of McDonald's are placed over the unmade graves of their dead, heralding globalization and the greatness of our economic and political institutions. What Middle-Eastern nation has troops stationed in the U.S. claiming to keep the peace yet they destroy families and homes only in pursuit of suspected terrorist who may or may not be there.

When the omnipotent get the slightest taste of their own actions, they cry foul (think Kobe Bryant on the basketball court, whom the Refs always cater to no matter the magnitude of the contact). Please do not get me wrong, I do not condone, accept, sanction, or praise the actions of the radical Islamists who carried out the horrendous 9/11 attacks. However, the actions of a few should not affect and infringe upon the rights of the many (man, democracy is the biggest hypocrite of them all, because I feel that everyday). Echoing our president, I indeed question the wisdom of the developers of the Mosque on Park Place, but I cannot question their right to build it for the purpose of trying to heal a wound that was created by people who claimed to do it on their behalf. I just believe that where they should have applied a band-aid, they have unfortunately thrown salt.

Please do not allow hate and intolerance to win, especially at a place where it was invoked to undertake one of the most horrific incidents in human history. This building is not on Ground Zero, and is most certainly not a symbol of victory for the radicals. I truly sympahize with the families and friends who have lost loved ones in the attacks, but intolerance will not bring back the dead or keep their rest at peace. If we allowed ourselves to falter at this juncture, then we do not deserve to call our America a democracy, the land of the free. We would be no better than the terrorist, using strong emotion to keep down those that we do not understand. Let them build, and we shall endure as we always have.

Random Ramblings

2010-08-11T10:24:00.006-04:00

Encore, standing ovation for the Jet Blue flight attendant who got fed up, cursed out the passengers over the intercom and then proceeded to exit the plane on the emergency inflatable slide with commandeered beers from the flight. Talk about style points? When I go out, I want it to be just as cool, flipping the bird with a short but powerful "woo-hoo." This is real life Will Ferrell, Steve Carrell movie material. Unfortunately for our hero, he was arrested shortly after at his home for reckless endangerment charges. Insult to injury: the cops nabbed him while he was having sex with his boyfriend! He'll have plenty of time to make up for that missed opportunity in Rikers, though, where he is currently being held.

Secondly, my co-worker sent me this video of the HOTTEST new rapper in the game. His lyrical content is so raw that he even gets mixed up in the world play. Everyone nowadays does the repetitive, no-rhyming scheme anyways, right? All you need to do is talk about being, have a camera, and you too can be a one-hit wonder via the world wide web. Expect an extortion deal from Diddy soon for my boy 'Fiddy' Tyson.

Uno

Palgirism is a serious crime

2010-08-02T22:30:00.010-04:00

As I walk through SoHo, I bear witness to the failure of innovation of today's youth. Regurgitation of style, music, and culture in general marks this generation that boasts more diversity than any of it's American predecessors. While the youth of today have made interconnectedness through social media a genuine lifestyle, other aspects of this culture are just too deja vu.

As our venue, we will use my lovely hometown. I believe New York city is the only place in the world where you can see a punk rocker on a corner - clad in tattoos, black leather and grotesque piercings - stand next to a black guy donning a Ralph Lauren shirt tucked into his chino's and boat shoes. Behind him is an eclectic hipster-girl rocking personality glasses with no lenses in them, and a seeming lack for her general hygiene minus her immaculate pale-white skin, freckled in select areas as if God has problems with his pen that day. Finally, rhythmically bobbing his head to the tunes from his beatsbydre headphones, is a young Latino teenager with skinny jeans, Nike Sb's and a plaid button up flannel shirt most likely from H&M. The fact that these people are within the vicinity of each other blatantly speaks to the diversity of New York , but I am more concerned with their fashion. Although new and immensely popular within their respective groups, each member of this microcosm is committing fashion fraud, plagiarising the culture of past generations.

I speak mostly for the new Hip-Hop generation, as I am most familiar. I saw it begin a couple of years ago when kids started to pull out their parents' leather 8-Ball Jackets. Mismatching is now popular, as are jeans with holes; worn and ripped jeans; bright colored spandex; big hair; mohawks; colored sunglasses, gaudy jewelry. This all seems familiar: oh yeah, the 80's. Hipsters are reclaiming the 60's and British Mod Fashion too. Formal wear looks like the Roaring 20's with the promiscuous girls channeling flappers in the bars. Floral dresses, tacky pull-over sweaters: 90's, 90's, 90's!!!

A slow-conforming misoneist, I must admit that I am a bit of a hater, but this is just an observation. For me it just begs the question of what will be the future of fashion when we are already recycling decades of the 20th Century. I can't wait to see the real-life reincarnation of Back to the Future's predictions: kids with their pockets turned inside-out, like real Marxists should. Until then, I'm going to stick to being a nerd, because that's what's cool nowadays.

Question for you: If cool used to be unique and different, and every body's unique, what's cool now? I need guidance people so that I can stay hip in my old age.

Uno

*Disclaimer* I have no idea who the hell that girl in the picture is.

Nostalgia Would Be a Cool Stripper Name

2010-07-13T22:43:00.007-04:00

I was talking with a former co-worker the other day about our iPhones (still the best piece of technology out there, and I don't care what Sprint says about their new phone) and how it allowed people to do so much more in a compact and efficient manner, but also limited us in our interpersonal relations. We admitted that we were avid texters who barely used our meager mobile minutes (450 a piece) due to the fact that we absolutely hate being on the phone. My anger has been recently exasperated by the fact that I lost my headphones (I fume every day) which I had used to keep my arms from growing tired of holding the phone to my ear. All of this got me to thinking about this new technological generation and how things have changed so quickly. It also reminded me of my age and how old I inevitably feel because I remember the predecessors of the iPhone, 3G and Wi-fi capabilities, Kindles and MP3 players. I'll stick with the telecommunications for the sake of brevity, though.

But tell me, do you remember?

Remember when you took phone numbers by pen and paper? Remember when you actually memorized some one's number? When it signified some kind of importance they held in your life. I memorized my house number, those of important family members, close friends, and girls. Of course, it was only their "house" number.

Remember those antiques that we called "house phones?" Remember when your sister tied up the line talking to one of her girlfriends about some guy who didn't give a damn about her. Remember calling some one's house and being nervous as to how their parents or grandparents or older brothers would react? Remember dial up on America Online and how it cut off if someone called the house? Remember waiting for your turn to get on the phone? Remember listening to your mother's conversation on the other line when she finally got that second phone in the house? Now I laugh in condescension at whomever admits that they own house phone. Landlines exist to me only in middle America when I can't get service.

Remember beepers; answering machines with the cassette tapes; leaving messages for other people WITH other people? Remember actually carrying change just to be prepared to use a pay phone if need be? Remember your first cell phone?

I do, it had no color and no voice ringtones. I was enthralled by it so much that I went over my minutes three months in a row. My savvy allowed me to convince my mother that those charges were one time (times three lol) charges for activation. And though soon the novelty was lost, I never would have guessed the importance of it all. Who knew that it would change how we as people create and maintain relationships? I didn't, and sometimes I get annoyed by Minnie Mouse (I named my phone due to her mulatto complexion). But I could never deny that I need my iPhone, or any other mobile device for that matter. Gone are the days of being idle at home trying to stretch the phone line. That was until it went wireless, and then... well you know the rest.

Uno

Football

2010-07-12T00:14:00.010-04:00

No, not the American pig-skin classic. I'm talking about a game where you actually use your foot in more than just two instances during game-play. Soccer (as it is called in the U.S.) is not an American sport. If it is consumed and appraised by the rest of the world, then it is beneath the American people. We don't consort with those low-life,vuvuzela-playing spectators; nor do we engage with anything that does not involve the use of our hands. We are a people of homeruns, slam dunks, and hard nose tackles. Our hockey players take pride in missing teeth while those pansies cry over shin-kicks. It took 22 years for soccer to grow on me, but I'm not sure yet whether it is a pesky wart or my sought after facial hair. If I actually do one day become a soccer fan, I think that I'll have to renounce my citizenship.

The World Cup ended yesterday with European Champion Spain coming out victorious against the Cinderella-underdog Dutch national team. (Brief tangent: Its called the Netherlands, may be called Holland. and its nationals and other products of the country are called Dutch; legalized weed = identity confusion). With all the hype and international attention, the final match was not an exciting one. With a 1-0 score, this highly anticipated match-up was as disappointing as the LeBron James decision to everyone who wasn't a Miami Heat fan. While I was rooting for the Netherlands, my apathy towards the winner of the cup was so overwhelming that I only watched the second half with my laptop in front of me blaring episodes of Entourage that I've missed.

What irks me about the sport of soccer is that it does indeed have the potential to be a great sport in America. The players are some of the most athletic men on earth, and they can be just as marketable as any football or baseball players(Cristiano Ronaldo could make any middle-aged woman toss her panties his way with a wink and American women have no scruples with the opportunity for a Latin lover).

However, my lack of interest lies simply in a lack of consistent excitement. There are simply not enough goals in a game to keep me glued to the televisions screen. Basketball has constant scoring; football has long drives and hard hits, and hockey does too even with low scores. But waiting 90 minutes for a 1-0 score is about as gratifying as blue-balls. It's no wonder then that when there is a score, the Spanish speaking announcers yell "GOAL" for an uninterrupted eight minutes long; he was holding it like a kid who is shy in public bathrooms holds his bladder.

Don't get me wrong, I must admit that I have come to respect and understand the game of soccer better this year, but it will be a long time before I become a true fanatic of the sport. And that above all makes me a more authentic American.

Uno

Diaries of a Disgruntled Straphanger

2010-07-02T13:05:00.006-04:00

People keep asking me why I don't have my Driver's License yet. While I should have already acquired it, the truth is that I don't need it. Not when I am a less than proud strap-hanger in the greatest city in the world! Who needs the solitary life of driving when over 5 million riders await you daily; one can easily avoid pesky phone calls and emails when stuck in a tunnel for over an hour, and compare that to an expletive-ridden traffic jam with the radio playing the same 10 pop songs. Besides the United Nations building overlooking the east river, where else can you find a such a diverse population of people peacefully (most of the time) existing in the same place? And finally, where else in the world can you be the first witness to the most talented un-signed artists, all for the cost of $2.25 (a simple fare)? I'm talking Mariachi bands, Temptation-imitations, B-Boys who make wheels with their bodies; the possibilities are endless.

Too bad I can't stand any of it anymore. Although I would love to drive, having my license would make no difference in a city where young drivers have the highest insurance rates and trying to find parking is like trying to find Chris Brown at a feminist symposium. Besides the free entertainment provided by the panhandlers, people watching in the train can be just as much fun because of all the idiotic things that riders do. And while I thought these things would be isolated incidents, it seems that New Yorkers and tourist alike have the same mind set when entering the subway. Here's my list of things that make the NYC subway the most interesting social experiment in the nation:

1) Watching the "cool" people who don't need to hold onto the pole face-plant when the train stops short. Nothing is better than watching a tourist who is so sure of himself do the side-step-shuffle when the train halts, lose his balance in the calamity, and then try to regain his pride when he gets up. The poles are a breeding ground for germs, but I'd rather be sick than a fool.

2) The fat people of NYC are always the ones who desire to: a) sit in the middle seat or somewhere else where they clearly cannot based on the laws of physics; b) squish their asses onto a packed train last minute, blocking the closing doors and making everyone late for their morning/afternoon commute; c) get mad at anyone who has the cojones to make them aware of their girth and how it affects that person's ridership. Americans are already know for obesity, but snobbery is also on the rise.

3) Sitting in someone's butt warmth after they just vacated a seat. During anytime besides the dead of winter, it is just uncomfortable to feel the body heat of another person after they just got up out of a seat, and knowing that heat came from their gluteus-maximus. Maybe it's just me.

4) Watching the people stand in the way of others departing the train. Nothing aggravates me more than having someone stand directly in front of me when I'm just trying to get off. Some pretend to be intangible, forcing their way through people all for just the possibility of procuring a seat before someone else does. I do the same to the fiends, though, pretending that I don't see them as I lower my shoulder like a Full-back.

5)Panhandlers. From a guy who literally has no limbs below his waist, to the various crazy people who scream at subway ads, there's is no limit to the local inhabitants of the subway. While most are in genuine need of money, there are some who are need of psychiatric help. My range of emotions during any given subway ride run the entire spectrum of sentiments: pity, curiosity, sympathy, apathy, anger, fear. Witnessing panhandlers is definitely emotionally tiring, but it can produce a good laugh if your own humor allows.

There are many more things that make the NYC subway what it is, and maybe when I get a publishing deal I'll illustrate some more; don't hold your breath. But here is to the closest thing I have to an ex-wife: my dirty, rat infested subway system.

Uno

Random Ramblings

2010-06-23T22:46:00.007-04:00

Is it just me or does the new PlayStation Move controller look like a giant dildo? Trying to compete with Nintendo's Wii system and it's popular motion-play seemed laudable until it got downright freaky. I can see the bevy of single-moms buying it now, seemingly performing a good deed for their delinquent sons, but actually thinking about how to fit that bulbous motion sensor somewhere. The all black-joystick is perfect those interracial fantasies, but the color changing bulb gives it a fresh new look each time you use it. One could almost hope it has in-game vibrations...

How about that record-setting Wimbledon tennis match between Mahut and Isner? Lasted for 10 hours and still didn't officially finish; sounds like the makings of a future Viagra commercial. I still don't understand the sport and the scoring, but why don't they just install lights at their courts? Kind of archaic to suspend games due to the loss of sunlight from the downer known as sunset. Maybe the officials of tennis have been caught up in the recent television and movie craze centered around vampires (Twighlight, True Blood, The Gates, I could go on forever). Wouldn't want those fictitious blood-suckers scaring the Queen now.

On another sports note: shout out to the American Soccer team! I'm slowly but surely getting swept up into this new soccer craze in the U.S., but I won't be the least bit sad if (and when) we bow out to a more skilled team. We have done enough to the third world, with all the CIA interventions and practical subjugation of indigenous people for economic gain--must we attempt to dominate in their national sport as well? Soccer is the world's most popular sport, but since when has the U.S. considered itself part of the world?

And last but not least: General McChrystal, that's what you get for popping all of that shit! I only give him some cred for not doing it behind the Obama administrations back. You have to have serious cojones to gripe about the war in Rolling Stone, bringing it right to the Prez's doorstep like NY Times delivery. I love it.

Uno

P.S. sorry about the former "flame" theme. I thought it fit with the title (Phoenix, flame, get it?) but then realized how corny and borderline satanic it must've seemed. But if anyone wants to professionally do a makeover for my blog, I'm open to [free] suggestions.

Sperm Donor

2010-06-21T02:18:00.006-04:00

I call him other things in my mind: Bigot, hypocrite, fat f***. No matter the adjective or expletive, it doesn't even scratch the surface of the character of the man who played a hand in giving me life, and not much more. But reader, please do not mistake my sentiments for hate or resentment; I have no qualms with this man. However, he is susceptible to a formal critique just like all of my subjects on this blog. He should feel dignified to have made even made the cut.

I maybe saw him five times a year at most, and lived in constant fear of him too. There was definitely an intimidating factor from this absent enforcer who could show up and beat your ass on select days during the year. He never did, but the way he spoke always made me feel that it was definitely a possibility. The one thing I hate (to this day) about SD is that he constantly criticizes my every move. Nothing satisfies him, and his way is the only way to success; if I want to be a doctor I should do plastic surgery because "that's where the money is"; don't wait a year before going back to grad school because I'll never go back; join the Air Force for the great benefits and the chances of going to war are lower than all other branches. Wtf?!

I've spent the latter half of my life doing the exact OPPOSITE of what SD had described. I love the advice of unsuccessful people, telling you what to do when they should have done it themselves. Now when I do see him, I don't talk; I simply listen until he realizes that only his voice is resounding in his car. Then, I nod.

So what have I learned from the man who uncannily resembles Jackie Gleason of the honeymooners?

Not to be like him.

And I never will. Quote me on that, Roz.

Uno

Sweet 16

2010-06-18T22:26:00.006-04:00

It wasn't pretty. It was atrocious. Something I would usually stare at on the train thinking "how could God make such an abomination?" It was the epic Game 7 of the 2010 NBA Finals. Luckily, it ended the way it should have; with the victorious Los Angeles Lakers holding up the coveted golden trophy as a team.

Even Kobe admitted to his epic gaffe, the kind of game that turns legends into goats. If the Lakers had lost, it would have most certainly been a stain on his almost clean Hall-of-Fame slate (the 2004 loss to the underdog Pistons with a LA team stacked with basketball Legends provides the sole asterisk). Kobe going 25% from the field and missing four free throws in the final game at home is just not where amazing happens no matter how much the NBA tries to promote it as such. This game was an odious stench on an otherwise appetizing rivalry. But none of this matters now.

All that matters is that the Lakers are only one championship shy of tying their Irish rivals for most NBA titles in the league's history. Despite his dismal game 7, Kobe still garnered MVP because of his heroics in Games 1-6 (especially the latter). Phil Jackson moves one more step forward to becoming a paragon for coaches, attaining a feat that will probably never be repeated because of constant coach firings in the sport. Eleven rings strong, the Zen master looks as hungry as Ron Artest for some psychiatric therapy (For the funniest and most gratifying result of the 2010 NBA Finals, check out the Ron Artest interviews). And Derek fisher still proves to be the keystone of the new millennial Lakers, even as it's most underrated starter.

Although I am biased as a true LA fanatic, I will admit that their stories as champs are more interesting than any that the Big Three, Rondo and Doc Rivers could have provided. Maybe next year everybody who isn't a Kobe-hater will get what they want the most; a Lakers-Cavs finale with a healthy Bryant and Bynum versus the "air" apparent, LeBron James.

High hopes indeed.

Uno

Zip

2010-06-12T22:59:00.012-04:00

It is quite ironic, actually. Man creates new technology to help him cope with a problem. Sometimes, as in this case, this technology isn't new; it is just applied in a new way. And while I had first come to love and laud this innovation, I have as of late come to despise it. It is called the button.

The button has and will always be a useful tool, so I don't want to bash it on it's lonesome. But when applied to fashion for the sake of fashion, it's a bitch. I need buttons for my biz-casual shirts, even for my sleeves, but when it comes to opening the door for my precious cargo, it becomes a tedious exercise that my wrists and fingers just do not need. Several times I have left the bathroom and received well wisher's advice to close my fly because I forgot to do so. My absent mindedness rests solely on the fact that I have been conditioned to not "zip" my fly; buttoning it is just too hard and time consuming. And my chances of sealing the opening when intoxicated falls drastically, which isn't good for anyone.

So what happened to the original closer?

The zipper, providing quickness and efficiency in the lavatory for the male population, had also become our worst enemy. Simply the thought of possibly capturing one's genitalia in the teeth of the monster sends shivers down my spine, and not the good, sexually-euphoric kind. This trapping is a rare occurrence, and I've never personally experienced it (thank Vishnu), but I always have an image etched in my head of that "There's Something About Mary" scene where Ben Stiller's ball is haplessly ensnared(I literally just shivered while writing that). But I guess that the zipper had become unsafe and unfashionable.

So now with most of my jeans donning buttons, I'm stuck with the enemy of my enemy (who, according to popular belief, is supposed to be my friend.) If I find some well fitting, trendy pants with a zipper though, purchase will go down without question. If not, I'll just have to do a little maintenance, and maybe try my luck with Velcro--and that is for another discussion...

Uno

P.S. Yes, I am back, confidence and swagger up, and I'm not going anywhere (as long as it's up to me,).

Just Like T.V.

2010-03-06T09:40:00.006-05:00

Do you remember old T.V. shows? Sitcoms and cartoons that made sense and had value. I'm only a 90's kid, but even the stuff I grew up with was better than the crap made today. Hannah Montana? For the Love of Ray-J? Gossip Girl? Reality T.V. changed the market and created small-time fame for thousands of people: just ask the contestants of American Idol and the new 'celebrities' from Jersey Shore. But even in the midst of all this, there is hope for T.V. in new niche shows that portray true life and not a projection of a Utopian world where people have values, they watch what they say, and happy endings-- where everything is resolved-- are expected. When there is conflict, say in race relations for example, it's light-hearted. For all T.V. is worth, it certainly prepares you for the real world, doesn't it?

No.

Not that television should guide any one's life in anyway-- that's just plain stupid. However, it should not create false realities that people try to emulate in their real lives. I've had too many acquaintances that think life is just like it's depicted on T.V. Thankfully, there has been a wave of shows that dare to show real life and not create it.

I think it most definitely started with the Real World, when it first came out, before the recent scripting of Reality T.V. Sex in the City changed it all, by its name alone, and then with it's careful choice of empowered female characters, living upper-middle class lives in the most posh and diverse urban scene: NYC. Not only are these women successful in their careers, but they're comfortable in their sexuality and have considerable influence over the men in their lives, whether it be sexual, emotional, or intellectual.

For me, Entourage did well in it's attempt to show the life of a budding star in Hollywood. Characters from NYC no less, trying to make it big off of the success of one friend... sounds like my group of friends. My new favorite now is another HBO special called "How To Make It In America," which has me thinking that my life, and the life of my friends, are being followed. The main character is the soft but ingenious, lower-middle class white boy who has the plan, but doesn't always execute. Then you have his right-hand, the witty minority kid who's a born hustler, and although he's not the brightest, he gets it done. Kid Cudi plays the unassuming third friend: a hipster who doesn't really contribute to the get-rich-quick-scheme, but is there nonetheless. They co-exist with all levels of society, all backgrounds, and what really hits home is the venue: none other than NYC. Where Sex in the City started, How to Make It finishes, with multiple settings placed in real New York places. No more single sets; people want to see their favorite coffee shop, pizza shop, restaurant, club, and public park on T.V. so that they can get that "I've been there" and "I've done that" moment. This is what T.V. should be.

It shouldn't purport old Victorian values; people have casual sex, especially with strangers. Not everyone becomes wealthy in this country and hits it big when they relocate to the suburbs. Everyone is trying to get rich as quick as possible, so that in the end, only the true cut throat individuals make it along side the people who were just plain lucky. Everyone gets their heart broken at least once, and every hook-up does not lead to love and happily ever after. People die, people go away; not all characters are long-lasting and important, just like in real life. Problems aren't solved in a single episode; I have things I've been dealing with for years. And life goes on, day to day.

Besides Sports Center, CNN, and sporting matches, I really don't watch too much T.V. But now that HBO is stepping up its "reality" game, I'm think I'm going to revert back to my childhood days when T.V. took up half my life. Only difference is now, waking up on Saturday mornings for cartoons is NEVER an option. Gotta love maturity.

Uno

I only have two hands, but...

2010-02-26T01:33:00.003-05:00

Multitasking has to be the most indicative product of modernism. Currently I am writing this blog, reading tweets and FB posts, refueling for the all-nighter with fried food, all while reading for a paper that I am simultaneously writing. Honestly this ish deserves a spot under "skills" on my resume. I'm enthralled by having everything I "need" at my fingertips with my handy iPhone, but I can't help but wonder what the future holds if we are now expected to do these things on a regular basis. I feel sorry for my kids, with their holograms and flying cars. They'll have to drive and be on a transmission at the same time.

Oh yeah, that's already being done today...

Uno

VD

2010-02-14T22:19:00.005-05:00

The term "VD" directly refers to "venereal disease, " but for my purpose, it stands in for Valentine's Day. I am prone to shortening things for efficiency-- to make my life easier. But I think that VD is the perfect stand-in for this proclaimed "holiday." After all, Valentine's Day has some characteristics of a VD: it's unwanted, it's costly, it makes you emotional, and it's something that you share with another person (you got it from someone, right?)

Reader, I will be perfectly honest in telling you that being single has undoubtedly turned me into a cynic. You best believe that I am enjoying bachelorhood, but with it comes a certain mindset towards the peculiar notions of love and courtship. The former, being a strong emotion, is totally based on human feeling; it comes and goes. Love is no more everlasting than anger or sadness or even joy. So why do people spend so much time, money, and effort into realizing something that won't last?

We need it.

Love isn't a commodity. We can't buy, sell, or trade it unfortunately. We can't even keep it to ourselves. So when we finally do give it away, we just have to make a smart decision about it. Be careful, or it will sneak up on you just like old VD. And I don't mean Valentines Day.

To those of you who had someone to share this day with, I hope you enjoyed it. To those of you who don't: wrap it up and don' let VD get you down. And save that box of chocolate that you bought for someone who you thought was special because you just might need a late-night depression binge. As for me, I'm sleeping soundly tonight. My Valentine has been the same person for 21 years, and her love isn't going anywhere.

Uno

Couldn't Keep Me Away

2010-02-08T23:29:00.003-05:00

At work, with a closing-shift looming overhead and no textbooks, printouts or anything related to my classes, I've finally decided to get back to what I do best. I've been too neglectful and some release therapy has been needed for sometime now. But where to begin? Introductions were never my strong point, whether it was a school paper or an opening line to the moderately attractive girl seated next to me at a bar glancing ever so intently at me. But the beginning is never important; the end is even more irrelevant. Any substance is relegated to the middle, where the meat is. So what's the meat of my story now? My spring semester.

It's my final semester here at F&M, and I've already taken the highest drop on the roller coaster. Not only has everything changed, but I am now a complete stranger too. Seniors have always alienated themselves; on our way out, we really care too much about our underclassmen. While I do love the austere behind being a returning student in the spring, I also like knowing just who's around me and what's going on. It's not so much being nosy as it is being aware.

But forget the new faces, I have enough trouble putting names to people I've known for years! I truly apologize to you sorry fellows who have received empty salutations from me: "Hey whats up, Shadoe?" "Hey, maaaaaaaaannnnn....?" It's not intentional, and not that I'm Mr. Popular or anything, but when you're name is synonymous with an inanimate, depth less object, it's kind of hard for people to forget your name. But if your biblical-derived first name has 20 counterparts on a campus of 2,000, I promise I will not remember who you are aside from genuine face-recognition. Please, for your sake and mine, give me your last name first, in true James Bond fashion.

I am having trouble adjusting though, and I'll admit that much. My social life has taken a drastic turn; I live in a house with five females (not bad at all, but certainly dramatic); I'm suffering from the worse case of undiagnosed ADD, unable to concentrate on the simplest tasks; and my diet is consisting mainly of eggs, not by choice but by lack of better (or any) other options.

Luckily, I've been granted with this unwitting power of perseverance. I'd like to call it luck, but I would also like to give some agency to myself when it comes to my own life. God can't do it all; that would be too easy, and he doesn't like puppets anyway. So somehow I have to pull it together just like I always have, even at what I perceive to be my lowest point.

I'm a man with pride. When my world gets turned upside down, I just do a handstand.

Uno

'09

2010-01-03T16:15:00.007-05:00

Three days late, but I had some technical difficulties. But this post is entirely devoted to breaking down my 2009. The troubles, the triumphs, ups, downs, surprises, the good, the bad, the ugly, and the beautiful. To be honest, I hope I have many more '09's, because this year has definitely defined my life more than most years previous. Overall, the last year of the decade was a good one for me.

The year 2009 was crazy for everyone. Michael Jackson, the king of pop and the only true icon of my generation, passed unexpectedly (and so did that other lady, on the same day, but the news didn't find her as important). Tiger Woods got exposed and had his legacy tainted forever; Kanye made a fool of himself; Michael Jordan made it into the Hall of Fame on the 8th Anniversary of 9/11. And our great melting-pot of a nation witnessed its first Black President take the reigns of an embattled country and win the Nobel Prize only months later. My favorite teams, the Lakers and the Yankees, respectively, both won coveted and well deserved championships.

I made 21 this year. I don't think any other age matters as much when you live in the U.S. It's the final legal milestone in a young person's life; the uncanny right to consume alcohol is retained at last. Not that the drinking laws stop underage drinking anymore than chain link fences stop illegal immigrants, but it's the simple fact that once your 21, you don't have to sneak it anymore. When I went to my first bar as a 21 year old, I wasn't carded, but I damn sure gave my ID to the bartender simply for the recognition.

This year saw my best grades since my freshman year, even when studying abroad. My spring semester was probably my hardest as far as my schedule and responsibilities, and somehow I pulled out with flying colors. Three jobs on campus, dual-presidencies, club affiliations, and a social life? It was crazy, but worth it.

This year also bore another milestone for me; it was the first time I ever traveled outside of the country. Taking Europe by storm, I traveled to 10 countries and over 16 major cities in 7 months (including my Greece trip in the summer). Never thought I'd have the opportunity to do that. Unfortunately, due to my excursion, I also had the highest debt of my young life in 2009. But every last penny was worth it.

Every year brings a new change into your life, some for the better, some for the worse. I could say that for the first time in a long time that I am looking at life in a new light, for the better, simply because of things I had no control over. I witnessed the resilience of one of my best friends as he battled an extremely rare form of cancer, and that humbled me more than anything. Complaining about the trivial things in life now is distasteful; even in tough times, there are so many more people in worse situations than me. I lost my favorite aunt this year, and I never got to say goodbye. Death always brings families together though; a blessing in disguise maybe. But I must say that I also gained a lot of things. I feel more cultured, more mature. I don't take as may things for granted. I've made new friends, added more people to my closest circle. I feel like a different person, for the better.

Ended '09 on a good note, and now I'm trying to ride that momentum into 2010. Looking forward, this year is when reality is really going to hit me, so I would like to thank '09 for the preparation. And I'm going to make a prediction: 2010 will be my best year. You heard it first here people.

Uno

Essence of Thyme

2009-12-14T10:38:00.007-05:00

It was a good last Saturday night in Strasbourg. Pre-gaming while watching 30 Rock at my friend's house set the tone for the rest of the night. To our dismay, shortly after leaving his house we found that the trams had ceased running into town. You don't understand how brick it is in Strasbourg right now! We had to walk, and when we thought we would have to walk all the way into town, the last tram of a different route was just pulling in. And atheist say there isn't a God?!

Cafe Des Anges (actually the place where my classmates encountered discrimination at in the last post) is the only place we know that doesn't have a cover and isn't too concerned with dress code, so naturally we went there. The DJ is also mediocre, but if you're drunk enough, who cares. I was, but later that would have some undesired results. Freezing my ass of as I walked home that night, I actually wished I had drank more...

Waking up the next day at noon, I was debilitated. I literally could not get up out of bed. Head pounding, nose stuffy, my cold finally caught up with me at the same time that my hangover did. I did not want to hear sounds, or see light. So when I finally did get up, it was to run away from the bright sun that encompasses my room, regardless of the transparent shades. Taking a pillow, I ran to the bathroom, closed the door, and sprawled out on the floor. My bathroom does not have a toilet, so think twice; it's quite clean in there. Don't have to worry about any misfired urine or vomit from nights previous. I laid there for 4 hours, just thinking, praying for a recovery. It didn't really come, but the rest of my body finally felt the effects of laying on a linoleum floor for too long. Eating 'breakfast' I told my host mom I was sick, and that's when she went to work. Leaving for the Dominican Republic on Saturday, she expressly told me that "You're not getting me sick before my vacation," and proceeded to fill me with tea and drugs. I don't know what she gave me, but she made various liquid-drug cocktails and gave me different pills, and it worked! Just never take something called Essence of Thyme, unless you enjoy taking a pill form of Vick's Vapor Rub. Yea...

Uno

P.S. THREE DAYS BABY!!!!

Hair and Racism

2009-12-13T18:10:00.008-05:00

The countdown is still in full effect people. Just 4 more days!

Elated over my imminent return of the good ole U.S. of A., my fellow Syracuse Abroad students and I decided it would be in our interests to go out every night that we have left. After all, we're young, fun-loving college kids, and you only get one study abroad experience, right? Right. But what happens when your plans are just somewhat curtailed by a still-prevalent but oft-ignored sentiment held by the powers that be? In this so called "post-racial" world signified by Obama, I have still have problems getting into clubs. Public Enemy had it right; sometimes you just gotta Fight the Power.

Leaving our first bar stop, a couple of my friends saw another group of University students. Looking a bit disheartened, they explained that they were denied access to a night club based on their respective races. A Chinese-American girl, a Korean-American girl, one Latina, and one black female, all looking shocked and pissed. I couldn't fathom why the club didn't let in a group of girls, especially when any club's biggest fear is the possibility of a sausage fest (unless we're talking about a gay club, which...well you know). There was no other reason, except that they weren't white girls. Passing by the club that night, though, I was delighted to see that a fight had broken out (fighting? didn't think they did that in France). A tussle involving about 7 guys, including the bouncers, saw cars dented and and decorative plants smashed. Kicking four guys to the curb, the two bouncers finished them off with two mace bottles to the eye! It was modeled like a mass execution, the victims standing in a line and sprayed in a row. I gotta kick out of it at least.

Going to another club to meet up with some newly befriended French folk, someone in the crew was swiftly turned away for being "tres relaxed." Wearing colorful sneakers and tattered-at-the-hem jeans, the bouncer was half right about my friend. Quickly switching shoes and a coat with one of the french kids, he was let in without reservation. My turn, get to the door with two french chicks by my side just in case he tries to bs me, and thank god I did, because they turned out to be my saving grace. The dude didn't glance at my clothes, but once he told me that I would have to take off my hat, and he saw my mini-fro, he carefully glanced away and said, again, "tres relaxed." Going back and forth with the French chicks, they ultimately convinced him to let me in, but he wasn't happy about it.

Experiencing racial discrimination at two separate instances, me and my fellow minorities are pretty much fed up with Strasbourg. Can't wait to get back to NYC. At least there I can understand the bigots when they offend me.

Uno

Sloppy Seconds

2009-12-08T17:10:00.007-05:00

I really should be studying for my French final on Thursday, but there's just too much in my head right now. I just got back from watching a movie (definitely shouldn't have been doing that either) with my Japanese host brother. It was a comedy, American inspired, sub-titles and all. It wasn't that funny, but I enjoyed it nonetheless, simply because it was a break from reality. Now I do several things during the day to keep me sane when I'm overwhelmed with classes or work, mostly surfing online. I think I spend way to much time on TFLN or FML, and now a new one for me, OverhearinNewYork. But movies provide so much more than just a quick, hard laugh. I think it's because sometimes I view life like a movie. My past is only remembered in cut scenes; the worse and the best are only a few moments, just like in the movies. Minus the music and explosions.

Eating dinner with my host brother was terribly awkward, simply because I can't understand his French, so there's absolutely no reason to prompt conversation. Luckily we had my favorite meal for dinner: LEFTOVERS!

Two weeks ago, I didn't feel that longing for Thanksgiving dinner that I thought I would have. The day , and the meal, came and went just like any other. But the days following revealed a true void. I realized the best part (besides family) about Thanksgiving is the food you have when it is all over. I remember having pans of food for a week after Thanksgiving; not this year. I could have dinner with family at anytime of the year. But you only get Thanksgiving leftovers after a true Thanksgiving dinner. Guess I'll just have to wait till next year...

Uno

Desperados

2009-12-05T05:24:00.006-05:00

Coming down to the last weeks of my study abroad, things have been picking up. More work, but more debauchery and liver damage too. This week was choc-full of happenings.

My communications teacher focused on violence and vulgarity in the media, and how freedom of speech protects these things. Using rap as an example (like everyone does when trying to find a scapegoat), he wanted to show how pervasive the degradation of women and the glorification of violence is in music. He then proceeds to dictate the first verse of "Big Pimpin" by Jay-Z. Listening to him butcher Jay's work with his slow, careful reading was even more hilarious because he is from Azerbaijan, and the accent doesn't couple well with rap. After laughing, I joined him to finish up the verse. For a moment, he actually thought I was a misogynist.

I made it on European television yesterday, but I think my fame will be very short lived. I sat in the audience of a European human rights show. Sitting on a stool with no back support for 45 minutes was not worth the 15 seconds of my head being on camera from 20 feet away. The discussion was good a one, if you like discussing child pornography on the Internet (eh, no).

Afterwards, my friend (who works on the show) invited me to drink and go out with her bosses. Fifty year old men who provide booze to a house party of 20 year olds are cool in my book. Especially when they provide life advice as well. Add a couple of rowdy young international kids, and it played out to be one of the funnest nights ever.

The french chick who had way too much mascara and a raspy voice was cool, but more crazy. My favorites out of the group, by far, were the Scots though. Imagine a near-bald, husky fit guy about 5'11'', who plays rugby, screaming inaudible words in English. Excuse me- Scottish. And he's here in France as an English teacher, even though some of the words that come out of his mouth don't exist in the English dictionary. He sure did teach me a hell of a lot of drinking songs though- ones that my female friends may not find so attractive. They follow the same model as "There once was a man from Nantucket..." I'll let you frogs mull over that one. The night was only made complete by free Desperados at the bar (free for me at least). Beer with a little bit of Tequila always does the buzz right.

Uno

Stereo Sound

2009-11-30T14:43:00.021-05:00

My host mom is a know it all who, sometimes, needs to be put in her place. It happened last night. Madame is a wanna-be anthropologist who is actually a geologist. The fact that she is actually concerned with people and humanity instead of rocks would seem like a welcome wonder. However, although she is very worldly (having traveled to 6 continents) she is still a person caught up in stereotypical perceptions of foreign people and cultures.

Having a conversation with a new Japanese host student who arrived on Saturday, I witnessed for the first time someone else (besides myself) challenging her notions of what she knows. Discussing food (at dinner no less) my fellow foreign exchange student gave us a brief overview of the cuisine he had in Senegal, where he was just before arriving in France. When asked if he cooked himself, he responded no. Half-jokingly my host mom chuckles as she tells him its probably because sushi is so easy, "and you eat that all the time, right?" Straight-faced, he looked at her and said "no", and that made my night. In fact, I toasted a glass of wine by myself at that moment. While I hope that the rebuff will change her mind on her general perceptions in the future, I'm hoping that it will also teach her to keep her mouth shut and learn before playing the arrogant I know card like most people in our day and age. Although madame is of an older generation, in fact, it is her generation who complains that one of my generation's most disrespectful and deterring comments is indeed the phrase "I know." I love dissension within a group!

Even better, today at school we talked about stereotypes after viewing a documentary on Disney. The documentary covered how Disney limits freedom of expression, floods the media market with its own values, and also shapes our perceptions of people with the stereotypes portrayed in its animated films. Check the displays of Native Americans in Pocahontas; there is a correlation between the monkeys in The Jungle Book and contemporary views of African-Americans; women are all weak, damsel-in distress, male-companionship-seeking princesses. All of these perceptions, and many more, are geared towards children. The problem is that in some cases, these stereotypes are the first things these kids pay attention to if encountering people of other cultures.

Here's my own curve ball: I am somewhat of a defender of stereotypes. For one, most stereotypes are true, as they are a common denominator for people of a given culture. Think about it: Americans love fast-food, Asians eat lots of rice, Black people like Chicken, the French love wine and cheese and baguettes. However, these are general terms; they cannot be true in every single instant for every single person within these groups. But I bet that if you polled people in these groups and asked them if these things are true for them, more than half will say yes. I will put down cash money and bet you that I am right. So for me, if it is true for more than a majority of people in a certain group, it isn't a stereotype. But, don't get me wrong, people should not be going around saying that "all Asian people eat rice; all blacks like chicken."

My problem with stereotypes is that people are defined by them when they shouldn't be. Stereotypes should be (and are, in my view) only a slice of the greater pie of a particular people or culture. I am for stereotypes because they are a basis for people's initial perceptions, albeit most of them are judgmental. But we all judge people before we really get to know them. It could be the first thing they said or something they did, but unless we interact with them on a regular basis over a substantial amount of time, these judgments will continue to guide our perception of them.

I advocate for stereotypes because they (should) open the door for discussion, debate and learning about other cultures. I was happy to see that my host-mom voiced what she believed to be a universal truth, and that she was completely shut-down by this humble Japanese student. It's moments like those that make people question what they know, and hopefully not make the same mistake later on. Stereotypes are necessary in today's world because the one's that are definitely not applicable need to be debunked, and sometimes the only way to do it is head on.

And I'm not a big chicken eater, by-the-way. I do like it fried or without bones though =)

Uno

The Jesus Workout

2009-11-29T10:50:00.002-05:00

I was chilling in a church in Heidelberg, Germany yesterday barely listening to the tour guide's speech on history, when I suddenly looked up at a portrait and started laughing hysterically. It was a picture of Jesus being baptized. I'm not religious (I'm spiritual), and I have no qualms with religious people or their beliefs, but for me, there is just so much amusement in something that people take so seriously.

The portrait was a gleeful one, with cherubims and doves. God was at the top, along with some floating baby-heads on the left side. Above all, the depiction of Jesus was the most interesting. I've seen tons of religious portraits in Europe, and it is such an important aspect of their history. They all have synonymous portrayals of Jesus Christ: A white male with a ripped body. Now I won't get into the racial aspect of Jesus' depiction (note: Jesus was Middle Eastern, so milky white skin is kind of questionable, no?) because it is not important. But does the savior always have to have a perfect eight-pack and obliques? I guess the messiah had time to hit the weights and do some crunches in between miracles. Or maybe he cheated: if you have the power to turn water to wine, it wouldn't be hard to assume that you could turn flab into muscles of steel as well. Whatever the reason, I just know that based on second millennium European standards, I need to get up on that Jesus Workout plan.

The Christmas Captial

2009-11-29T07:08:00.005-05:00

Watching a countdown, I felt more like I was at a New Years celebration than a lighting ceremony. But not even Rockefeller Center has anything on Strasbourg- the self proclaimed capital of Christmas- when it comes to illumination.

Strasbourg goes bonkers for Christmas, in a nation where secular values are strong, and promotion of religion is frowned upon. But I guess Christmas has always been different than other religious holidays. It intends to incorporate all people, even those who are not Christian. Although it is increasingly becoming more commercial, Christmas still has the allure and intrinsic value of family and cheery spirits. I think being in Strasbourg at this time may have revived my almost misplace Christmas spirit.

The decorations in the center of the city are magnificent. They hang in the middle of streets, on store awnings: massive lights, glittery stars and shapes, gold, red, green, blue, purple hues. Almost every street has it's own personal theme, one of my favorites being one particular block that had lit crystal chandeliers encased in glass boxes hanging overhead (see pic). Then there is the tree, a hulking mass of ornaments and lights, way taller than the buildings surrounding it. The Christmas markets are internationally famous and bring tourists from all around to the wonders of hot-wine, gingerbread goods, ornaments and Christmas candles. The atmosphere is gleeful, and I can't help but feel like a child again. I haven't looked forward to Christmas in a long time.

Uno

Post-Thanksgiving Thoughts

2009-11-27T08:39:00.001-05:00

You don't realize what you have until it is removed from you. Attempting to satiate our ambitious hunger for something new, something different, something foreign or exotic, we tend to forget things already in our grasp. Striving for the best, we are oblivious to the fact that the best things in life are right in front of our noses. I escaped to France, but nearing my imminent return, home seems like the most ideal place of all, because that's where all of my loved ones are.

My life is kept constant by my family and my friends; I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for them. This is dedicated to all of you whom I miss dearly, and who I keep with me no matter where I traverse in Europe. Hope you all had a wonderful Turkey Day.

Uno

Good like God with an extra "o"

2009-11-25T13:03:00.007-05:00

The countdown is still in full effect, but I'm having a good week.

Definitely went out and got sauced with my classmates last night. And who's to blame: our teacher who bought us the 8 pitchers of beer. Study abroad breaks all of the traditional student-teacher relations I guess. I think he had more fun than we did though. Four tarte-flambee's and 10 drinks later, I had a nice buzz going, enough to have a wrestling match in the middle of a public park I might add. And this was all on a Tuesday. Didn't think I would get up extra early this morning to go on a class field trip to a palace, but that was a cake walk. I'm running on something right now, and the shit feels good.

Also got to watch The Carter Documentary, and if you didn't know, it's on Lil Wayne. That man is a genius, and he's crossed the thin crazy line as well. The documentary did a good job of probing the mind and manners of Weezy, and it definitely showed how he is one of the funniest human beings alive. I don't know if it is because of his everlasting high (literally, he smokes all day long if given the opportunity), the 'syrup' he drinks, or if it's just his own comic nature. What ever it may be, it accentuates his penchant for entertainment. I thoroughly enjoyed the display of his work ethic. His only focus is rapping; he is his own biggest critic and biggest fan, and I respect the fact that he is constantly trying to improve his flow. Props to Weezy, number two after Jay, of course.

Uno

Friends... How Many of Us Have Them?

2009-11-22T16:30:00.008-05:00

Friend, the most loosely used word to describes one's relationship with another. In Latin and in ancient Greek, the word for friend is derived from the word for love. This implies that a friend must be someone whom you love, or deeply care for. In the age of Myspace (maybe 3 years ago) and Facebook, social networking has definitely put a damper on the meaning of the word friend. Twitter did the right thing by donning friends as "followers" (very appropriate, as Twitter is nothing more than "organized stalking" according to country singer Carrie Underwood). Nevertheless, I think we all need to readjust our own perception of the word friend and make a decision on whether or not the word has lost its meaning. I believe it definitely has.

For me, the word friend now means nothing more than acquaintance or associate. However, those words do not roll off the tongue as easy in conversation. They are more appropriate to describe the various people in my life who are just seasons: they come and they go, only staying around for a brief period of time. When those people happen to pop up in conversation with another person who also knows them, they become your "friend" based on the short time that they were actually interacting with you. I refer to people as friends all the time just because it is the easiest thing to say without adding too much useless background info.

Social networking sites don't make the case for the word "friend" any better. I currently have over 1,470 "friends" on Facebook. While I would love to feed my ego and boast popularity, this only implies that I know or am known to that amount of people, which is true. I know of probably more than 4,000 throughout my short life, and they all can be considered friends because of this. I have no qualms with these people; they are certainly not enemies. At the same time, they are nothing more than fillers for the time being. I don't want any of my "friends" to be upset by this, though. I value our friendship, but I won't act as if it is anything more than us being nice and cordial with each other, and hanging out every once in while. If you are offended by this, maybe there is something about our friendship that I am not aware of.

So who are the people in my life who take on the actual, intended roles of "friends" in my life? That's easy; I call them family. I don't mean the people divinely connected to me by blood; I'm stuck with those people. I am talking about the people I chose to be more than just "friends" with. The people that I love the most in my life, I consider family, regardless of whether or not there is any DNA strain that connects us. This is why I have many sisters and just as many brothers, while only having two of each biologically. My best friends were upgraded to brothers and sisters once I knew that there was no getting rid of them. I would sacrifice life and limb for these people, just like I would do a blood relative. Then there is the post of "best-friend" who I reserve for only one person in the entire world; you know who you are. This person is the only one whom I confide everything (besides God and my mom), and our relationship cannot quite be familial or platonic. But I love them equally, if not more, than the people whom I consider family. Hope it's not too much of a burden for you.

As I get older and pursue more professional careers, I've learned that acquaintances and associates are more necessary and common than friends (even though they are all relatively the same to me). Networking is a big key to success, but you are not going to like and get along with everyone you meet. But even if I don't necessarily like you for what ever reason, just know I will still add you to Facebook and take your email address. Because I never know if I'm going to need you for something. Take my friendship as me being up front about our relationship.

Uno

Ode to the Doner

2009-11-22T07:47:00.005-05:00

I used to get it every once in a while at my local Pizza shop. A gyro made with lamb's meat, lettuce, onions, and tomatoes, and of course, white sauce. In Greece they call it by its true name, but the rest of Europe is caught up in the name "Doner," which the Turks call it. No matter what one may call it, all I know is that it is a GOD SEND.

I've eaten doner-kebab in almost every country I've been to in Europe; Kebab places are as ubiquitous in Europe as corner stores in NYC. But no matter where you go in Europe, the doner is the same. You can get chicken or pork, or both, and I'm always down for the doner-mixte. Nothing kills the late night, drunken or high hunger that you feel at 3 A.M. like doner does. McDonald's was a favortie because of the dollar menu, but it's just so damn expensive with the Euro. The Doner, however, is well worth the 3-5 Euro cost, and it always fills. It's best with fries, especially inside. I could on on forever about doner, but it's making me hungry. In fact, I just discovered a place across the street...

Uno

Land of the Unfree, Home of the Ignorant

2009-11-20T12:59:00.007-05:00

I write this to incite the apathetic of my home; the majority of people in the U.S. who go through their existence without questioning their situations. Sure we get upset when things don't go our way every now and then, but its seems that we are so easily appeased by what ever the power-holder's in the nation give us whenever they sense the slightest discontent by the masses. The excerpt below is from a favorite book of mine, A People's History of the United States, by Howard Zinn, an extremely liberal take on our past and the implications for the present and the future. Quite interesting, I must say:

"The American system is the most ingenious system of control in the world history. With a country so rich in natural resources, talent, and labor power the system can afford to distribute just enough wealth to just enough people to limit discontent to a troublesome minority. It is a country so powerful, so big, so pleasing to so many of its citizens that it can afford to give freedom of dissent to the small number who are not pleased.

One percent of the nation owns a third of the wealth. The rest of the wealth is distributed in such a way as to turn those in the 99 percent against one another: small property owners against the property-less, black against white, native-born against foreign-born, intellectuals and professionals against the uneducated and unskilled. These groups have resented one another and warred against on another with such vehemence and violence as to obscure their common position as sharers of leftovers in a very wealthy country."

Powerful stuff, eh?

Uno

Merci

2009-11-18T09:45:00.004-05:00

Thank you, French government, for providing me with a coveted and limited-edition, one-of-a-kind X-ray of my torso. I've never had one that I could keep! For me? You shouldn't have; no really, you shouldn't have. Why you ask?

You tell me that if I am to reside in your country for more than three months, that I have to be in prime medical condition so as not to be a danger to your public and so that I won't become a burden to the state if I am hurt. But wait, I already have insurance. Never mind the fact that I'm only going to be here for only an extra month, a mere 4 weeks away. Had you given me this X-Ray upon my initial arrival, maybe I wouldn't gripe about it. Oh yea, and thanks for extorting 55 Euro from me (about $90 U.S.) for a stamp to mail you the results of my visit (all positive). I didn't need the money, and the doctor down the street didn't cost 30 Euro less to fax you this information after the procedure was completed. No, you didn't impose at all.

But in all seriousness, this is my favorite souvenir from France, and I intend on putting it up in my apartment when I get back home. Honestly, who doesn't like personalized souvenir's?!!!

Uno

French Pet Peeves

2009-11-17T15:34:00.007-05:00

Contrary to the grammatical implication of my title, this post is not about what irks the French; its about the numerous things in this country that get on my nerves.

I've spent too much time glorifying Europe that I think its about time that I criticize it too. It's not the perfect place; neither is America. But there are certain things from the culture of the U.S. that I wish the proud nation of France would adopt.

Street signs is one of them. Seems like a pretty insignificant thing, but when you're a foreigner in a big city, visible street signs are necessary. This picture doesn't due justice to my point. This sign labels the road, but it is about 25 feet high on the corner of a building. So if you're coming from the opposite direction, you will not know what street this is until you come around the corner and look up at it. Just imagine if you were in a car now. How irksome is that?! And this is the standard for all European cities that I've visited so far. Never thought I would miss something as small as a road sign on a pole!

Among other things, the biggest pet peeves that top my list: lunch time in France. The french pride themselves on civil liberties and worker's rights. This is the land of the revolution; if the people are unhappy about something, they protest and strike until the government concedes. They are also very libertarian. Everyone in France smokes and drinks coffee (not an over exaggeration) and are free and laid back; a little too laid back. I remember getting my first job and having 30 minute break. Then at my first professional post, I was elated to know I could have a full hour. The French would laugh whole-heartedly in my face at these absurd remarks. An hour is too short for the French. During the hours of 11-3, most shops are closed. So whenever I want to buy lunch or groceries, I have to do it in the morning or just before the store closes for its ridiculous middle of the day break. I'm all for taking it easy, but when I need a sandwich at 1 pm and can't find a vendor, it's a problem. If a store in America did this, it wouldn't exist past its first week. Mid-day, lunch time traffic is what it's all about for some places. Not in France.

Uno

Long Week

2009-11-16T05:48:00.003-05:00

I didn't think much happened last week, but when I sit down and think about it for a second, a lot did.

Started off with a long ass Monday; it's my worse day as far as my school schedule. Spent most of my time day dreaming in class, with just enough attention to defend myself against teacher inquiries. Saw the movie "Mon Onlce" with Jaqcues Tati which originally annoyed the hell out of me, but soon made me appreciative of its distinctive artistic value. The movie is almost completely devoid of dialogue, and when you do get a smidgen, it's almost inaudible, or completely useless. There's several ongoing melodies that play in the background that I could do without, but the humor is enough to pull the plot along. I liked it.

The next day I was a little excited, only to be disappointed yet again in life. Our human rights class met at the European Court of Human Rights to hear a hearing (sorry, lol). Our entire class is centered around its cases, and I don't know why I had any better expectations of analyzing a case in person. So for two hours, we sat, and listened to testimony and grievances and submissions by both sides. We watched the judges sit there with there costume like robes on, all baby-boomers and old as dust. I don't know how the other 75-80 people in the court room stayed up for the entire hearing, but I know that I didn't. Neither did about 8 of my classmates: straight bobble-head status . At one point I swear one of my classmates inadvertently head-butted me awake.

Wednesday was Armistice day, a national holiday to celebrate the end of WWI. I welcome any day off of school. So took the time to relax, and meet some french kids who wanted to improve their English. Sure they were extremely introverted and weird, but I learned a lot from them about French culture in just one hour. They think Americans are fat, proud, and religious. They're about half right. I also wiped-out on my bike that day. Yes, I will admit, I busted my ass. I decided for some reason it would be good to ride near the tram tracks, and trying to turn away from them, my wheel got lodged in the track. Going full speed, I flipped off my bike in front of some french kid. After laughing hysterically, I got up and told the kid I was fine, then quickly limped away to a dark corner to retrieve my pride.

Thursday was supposed to be an off day of school too! Almost all the students skipped town because of armistice day, but my film teacher still wanted to have class. Thank you, and the other two who showed up for class.

Friday saw the death of a loved one, but I'm glad that she has found peace. Being removed from the situation is makes it easier, but I do wish I was there with my fam.

The weekend was eh, but now back to another full week. It's Monday again, and I have just 31 more days here! The countdown has been underway, and the scent of home is getting stronger everyday. See you soon, NY...

Uno

To Auntie Michelle

2009-11-14T11:37:00.004-05:00

I always say that it's not fair, every time the Lord takes one of you from me. But I guess that's the selfish side in me, in all of us. But are we really, truly selfish for wanting to hold on to you, your spirit, your light, your love? It's never easy, and that's why death is the most important part of life. It's the only sure bet; the only aspect that is inevitable. We can never prepare for it or guard ourselves against it. All we can do is ignore it until our time comes. But then what do you do at that moment when it is most certainly imminent? I hope not to know in the near future, but just know that when you were there, you weren't there alone.

Your family and friends were with you. All of your loved ones were with you, even those you thought were long gone from your life. Mercedes was there with you; Divine, Roz, Keith, Parish too. Your children, your brother and sisters, your nephews and nieces; we were all there with the comfort of your presence. And we were all in prayer, hoping for that selfish miracle of ours that would keep you from your fate. But the selfish never prosper, and now all we can do is celebrate your memory. We will continue your legacy and honor the great path that you chose to walk.

I can see you now, looking at me. Eyes glazed, a cup in your left hand, a cigarette in the other. Before two seconds have elapsed, dimples emerge at the corners of your mouth, a big smile opens up. It's your mother's smile, perfectly whitened teeth and all. That's her legacy, what she left for all of her kids and their kids, and generations after. They charm beasts with that smile, making the most unassuming humans their prey. We all know how to use it, just like you did. Which is why it disarms me now. "Come here nephew," you would shout directly after. Stretching your head up, a wet kiss would envelope my entire right cheek. I wasn't shy about it, I'd provide the same gesture, and hug you afterward as if it was our last hug. That's the greeting I looked forward to in my childhood.

Every time I went to Coney Island for a visit, my destination was always on the 5th floor. I'd come to a small door blaring with rap music , bass shaking the entire floor of the enormous building. Dogs would bark upon entrance, but the house was always pristine. I'd have to take off my shoes of course, and carefully sit on the sofa, timid and modest as my mother decided me to be. Sure sometimes I'd have to endure an argument or two, a brash statement to someone, an offense was always had. But it was never towards me; not one bad word ever left your lips and reached your favorite nephew; only love and affection. That's why you were my favorite Auntie too.

You were the little woman that was scared of no one, and you never backed down. Size doesn't matter, unless we're talking about heart or an ego, and you had both en mass. Never afraid to speak your mind. Sure it got you in trouble a few times, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that the truth was out, and people would know exactly how you felt. Which is why I always respected you. I knew that towards me, all the love you showed was genuine. And it made me laugh of course. Picture yourself, at 5 ft nothing cursing out any and everybody indiscriminately lol. That's the Auntie I know and love.

I wish I could've talked to you one last time. The last time I saw you was in August. It was brief, but you were happy, and so was I. I wish I wasn't here right now typing this entry; I'd rather have my aunt than an European excursion. But, it comforts me to know that now you are in the company of great people. This world is too full of strife and pain. There is beauty here too, but with each great soul that leaves it, that beauty loses its luster. Be happy in your eternal home, and give my best to everyone that we love that you are now joining. One day, I'll be there too. And I'll be happily ready for that same, unalterable greeting.

Here is to your life, your legacy, your love. We love you, Michelle Duran.

Shadoe

Eye of the Beholder

2009-11-13T13:20:00.003-05:00

Frigid boat ride on the river in Buda

Eye of the Beholder

2009-11-13T13:11:00.004-05:00

LMAO, This chick was definitely tripping off something: Acid, LSD, who knows! Gotta love Buda

Eye of the Beholder

2009-11-13T12:56:00.003-05:00

Eye of the Beholder

2009-11-13T12:29:00.003-05:00

Restaurant with its own private beach? Sick

Eye of the Beholder

2009-11-13T11:53:00.003-05:00

Naxos...words can't express

Eye of the Beholder

2009-11-12T17:21:00.004-05:00

Mykonos sucks...

Eye of the Beholder

2009-11-12T16:41:00.003-05:00

This IS Sparta, no 300 though

Eye of the Beholder

2009-11-12T16:20:00.004-05:00

After climbing yet another mountain in Greece

Eye of the Beholder

2009-11-12T16:10:00.003-05:00

Eye of the Beholder

2009-11-12T12:10:00.003-05:00

After climbing a mountain in Delos... half of my trip in Greece was climbing mountains =/

Eye of the Beholder

2009-11-12T12:06:00.005-05:00

Due to my current affliction from writer's block, I have decided on a very welcome change of pace. When my words cannot fully express the things that I have experienced, pictures will fill in the blanks with visual affirmation. But even better than a still, a motion picture will provide even more insight. This portion of my blog is dedicated entirely to some videos I have captured during my travels. It starts with my summer trip to Greece and moves on to my travels this fall in Europe. I will apologize for the quality beforehand; I am dealing with a regular point-and-shoot digital camera here, so bear with me. I hope you enjoy my "Eye of the Beholder" series.

Uno

INDEFINITE HIATUS

2009-11-10T13:53:00.005-05:00

I need some motivation. So until I get that epiphany, I'm taking a break.

Uno

Wake Up

2009-11-08T09:39:00.006-05:00

To the common voter, please be more careful in your decisions when you use that oh-so-democratic, unalienable right. Your tax dollars feed congressmen's pockets, and the decisions that they make in office do as well. Check the article:

http://www.sphere.com/2009/11/06/44-percent-of-congress-are-millionaires/

Uno

Shakes and Pounds

2009-11-06T07:46:00.014-05:00

I apologize if the title is misleading, but this not a commentary on obesity, or on the porous eating habits of today's youth, the successors of the fast-food generation. This post is actually a wake up call. To all my young black professionals out there, it just got more difficult for us, and it's all because of a simple gesture: the handshake.

I try to play basketball regularly out here in France, and after a few injuries, it was hard for me to keep up my habit. Yesterday, I returned and had a sub-par game. It's hard discussing basketball without being racial, but the best athletes on court are the black kids in France, just as they are in the NBA. Winning a couple of games with one of my fellow descendants of African origin, we did at the end of the game what any teammates of any race would do: we exchanged a high-five. But as I am from Brooklyn NY, and he from Strasbourg France, our high-five attempt was just plain awkward. I've been in this situation many a time before, but it never dawned on me the implications of a bad handshake/dap/pound.

Alick, my french teammate, went in with a regular opened-palm five, an abrupt four finger clutch-and-pull, and then proceeded to pound fists. Me being totally oblivious with this practice stopped 2/3 of the way, and consequently, had my unclenched hand pounded by his knuckles. Seems like nothing to the untrained observer, but we both looked at each other afterward, bewildered.

The problem is that there are so many different kinds of fives/daps/pounds and most of the time they are regional. My regular dap is a simple hand clap, followed by a four finger clutch-and pull. Sometimes, I'll slide my hand forward, lock the area between the thumb and the index finger, and then slide back and clutch three fingers while pointing forward with the index, making a gun like gesture (donned the Brooklyn dap). Other times, I'll just go straight for the three finger clutch and the "gun" (labeled the Harlem dap by Lip). But meeting kids from Cali, I learned the abrupt hand clap, pull-back, pound and "explosion" (I detest that particular one above all). And now I've learned the Strasbourg dap, mentioned in detail above. For other more creative folk, there are ten of thousands of different daps and shakes that one could coordinate. One of my ABG's, Crack, has a distinct dap for almost everyone one of his friends. I don't know how he keeps it up, but it helps display the cultural value of daps.

For black men, handshakes are very important and offer a first impression to all other males that you meet. A weak dap or an awkward one can show weakness or instability, just like an infirm handshake could signal to a potential employer that you're timid. And this is why it's especially difficult for young black professionals.

I've come into contact with a number of prominent black professionals, and I never know how to approach them with a shake. Some ascribe to the standard, firm, two-pump professional handshake. Others have tried to incorporate some form of a colloquial dap, some have even leaned in for the shoulder-bump and the back-pat! Again, this is an important first impression, and if one is unsure of how to approach a dap, it will most definitely come out awkward.

I've learned that in most situations, as long as you go into a handshake with confidence it will be fine. But I do believe that black professionals need to come to a consensus on a shake. Just as there is a single professional hand shake catered to everyone around the world, there needs to be a parallel dap for all black males to conform to. It will ease confusion, awkwardness, and allow us to put our own flair on a long standing gesture. And most importantly, it will be our own.

Uno

Op Ed

2009-11-05T17:23:00.008-05:00

A friend of mine asked me today why I had not created a blog sooner, and why I haven't written a book or something yet. Laughing it off, I realized that they weren't joking and were actually serious. I mean I knew the answer, and they're are so many ways to put it. To answer pragmatically, a book of any sort is too hard for me at this time. I don't have the patience, nor the steady mind and careful writing that it takes to draft a novel or even a book of memoirs. I just spew random thoughts at any given time, and if that was book worthy, every idiot with a voice recorder would be on the NY Times best seller list. As for my blog, I've already iterated that it was a problem of audience, or my own confidence to face that audience. I've learned though, that art in this world will always be praised and criticized simultaneously, and prose is no exception.

Half of the readers will like my blog, half of them won't. Half will be sympathetic to my expressions, others will be apathetic to my cause. Half of you will get pleasure out of seeing me eff up: err in my grammar, provide misinformation, or even say something that I wasn't supposed to; half of you will wish that I never falter. Being preemptive, I am no longer concerned with the halves and I have signed my pre-nup for this blog. So no matter what the review is on my work, I'm still walking away with everything I came in with.

Half of you will get it and have of you won't, but "my attitude is celibate, I just don't give a fu**"

Uno

The Fab Life

2009-11-05T16:49:00.005-05:00

A picture can tell a thousand words, but this one can only explain two: gratitude and content. The more I count down the days until my return home, the more things happen in France that try to keep me here. I've already been content with my home stay. I have an old, caring host mom who is intelligent and doesn't bud into my personal life unless I invite her to. I've already explained how amazing of a cook she is, and how she feeds me even when it's not required of her to do so. But did I tell you that she does my laundry too?! All of it, even my draws! Could it get any better?

Yes. She also hires a cleaning lady to come in once a week and tidy up the house. I adore the cleaning lady as well. Sometimes she comes into my room, sometimes she doesn't. But today, before I rushed to class, my room was in complete disarray. My bed wasn't done, loose papers were everywhere, and my clothes that had just finished drying were all piled on my bed in an untouched heap. I figured I'd get back to everything later and handle it in due time. To my surprise, when I returned home later that day, all of it was done for me. I wish I had a before pic, but you can see the fruits of her labor in the aftermath. Everything was folded in a meticulous, pristine manner. She folded my clothes as if they were on display in a boutique. I couldn't have done a better job myself. Isabelle, you're the best. Thanks for tucking in the comforter, too.

I don't know about you, but I don't get this kind of service in the U.S., at least without a price. It's going to be hard to leave the fabulous life in six weeks. A guy could just get used to this.

Uno

We are the champions

2009-11-05T04:21:00.003-05:00

It wasn't pretty, and it wasn't easy, but the the best team in sports history finally got what they deserved. Sure it took over a billion dollars, and a team of all-stars of all ages, but they won nonetheless. Here's to my hometown heroes, The New York effin Yankees.

Uno

A little lesson in courtesy, professional and otherwise...

2009-11-03T12:35:00.005-05:00

Look me in my eyes, not elsewhere. I'm looking directly at your eyes when I'm talking to you, and if I am not, I'm am not looking in your direction. So when we are talking, just know I can see your momentary glances around various parts of my face. Yes, I suffer from acne; everyone has blemishes. I'm sorry if my sensitive skin offends you, but if you're going to look at my pimple, keep your eyes fixed there and make eye contact with it for the extent of our conversation. It irks me when you look at it several times during our conversation. You have a giant whitehead on your face too, and if I want to look at it, I will do it when you're talking to someone else or when you're steadily paying attention in class. Hopefully, I won't get caught. Yes, I also have an overbite. I've dealt with it; will probably get braces when I obtain dental coverage. But for now, if you are going to glance at it repeatedly, just know you're not doing it discreetly and I'd rather you stare.

I stare at grotesque and unusual things all the time. In fact, if the most beautiful and attractive female in the world was sitting next to someone who looked like they came out of The Never Ending story or any Sci-fi novel I've read, I would stare at the latter. I just sit there and wonder the entire time: how and why do they look like that? With the beautiful people, genetics are the obvious choice. For others, I just wonder what sick joke God was playing.

This is not a retaliation, though, it is more of a helping hand of sorts. In the professional world, eye contact is a sign of respect and maturity. In interviews, it could determine whether you get the job, or whether you will have to sit and wait for the recession to be over while you apply to retail jobs on monster.com. Eye contact is also a very attractive gesture; it lets people know whether you're interested in them and what they're saying. The girl you are trying to court won't take you seriously if you can't look her in the eye. She'll know that your swagger is sub-par and you're nothing more than a shy joke. Eye contact can also be aggressive, so only use it in situations where you want confrontation (it can be positive or negative confrontation) so if you don't want the latter, don't stare at someone who you have no interest in other than to fight.

I hope I haven't struck a nerve with anyone, but if you are guilty of not making eye contact with me, please take heed to my words. In the future, I shall see who truly reads my blog, and who I will have to tell the same story to in person.

Uno

It's the Roc

2009-11-02T10:49:00.010-05:00

As a true Hov fanatic, it is only fitting that I devote a small portion of my blog to my favorite musical artist. This post was actually prompted by the cover of XXL devoted to the best rapper alive (sorry Wayne). I am a month late in responding, as this was the October issue, nonetheless I think it deserves a succinct summary of my thoughts on Mr. Carter. He's a legend in the rap world, and he definitely is bigger than the game itself.

"Seven straight summers, critics might not admit it, but nobody in rap did it, quite like I did it." That was written in 2004, but it holds so much truth, even up to the present. Who else had had the commercial success of Jay-Z, while maintaining street cred, and becoming a forefront business man with a net worth around the area of $150 million. "We talking bout fiction or we talking bout facts." Facts

No rapper at the age of 40 has accomplished what Jay has in the amount of time that he's been around. All albums have went multi-platinum, and his appearances on other songs are always legendary. If you can't respect his success in stores, please allow a for more nuanced view into his art, his prose.

Rappers are so concerned now-a-days with a very limited approach to rapping; creating as many punch lines in a row as possible, getting hot beats, making catchy hooks for the club; they simply neglect the actual content of their songs. The "monster of the double entendre" may indulge in these practices sometimes, but no one can tout his combination of word-play, story-telling, and form. He can do the fast flow (check "Is that your chick" full version), slow flow ("Venus v. Mars"), witty banter ("Diamonds from Sierra Leone"), and address critics with astounding swagger ("What we talkin bout", "Hovi Baby" second verse alone). He even does political rap to a tee (Minority Report). Above all, Jay-Z's keen ability to tell engaging, yet true, stories are what put him at the top. After all, hip hop was created as a political revolutionary tool to redress the realities of poverty and adversity in urban centers. Hip hop started as story telling; it was a report of the evils of living in the hood, and it still should be. The hood still exists, and although crack isn't running rampant like it used to, there are still plenty of things to complain about.

Jay is also undoubtedly a trend setter for pop fashion. He was one of the pioneers of throwbacks when they were hot, he made everyone want a 2-Way pager, Evisu jeans, monolo blahniks, Maybach's, linen shorts. People followed him more than they did fashion experts. Now its on to all black, leather, business suits. When Jay dropped throwbacks and moved to button-ups, the hood followed with gusto. Even if you didn't like his music, you followed some trend that he helped start.

Now this is more personal, but the true reason that I like Jay and think that he's the greatest, has more to do with what he says than how he says it. I respect so many rappers who are great story tellers and can use actual words from the dictionary (Jay uses SAT level words, btw). But not many strike a nerve for me, or relate to my life and my story. Almost every Jay track has had a line that directly hit a feeling I had, a situation I've encountered, a dream or an aspiration that I hold dear, or even something I've never felt before until that moment. We are completely different people and have different lives, I mean I've never sold crack, cocaine, or records. But I feel like at points, Jay was speaking on my struggle as well as his own. When I'm feeling at my worst, sometimes all it takes is a Jay verse for a little motivation or direction.

His is a success story for the ages, and that's why I am a Jay fanatic. His music speaks to me, his business principles motivate me, and he has the hottest chick in the game. Can you really deny him the title of G.O.A.T.? Can you actually say that Jay-Z is not bigger than hip hop? " They say a midget standing on a giants shoulder can see further than the giant/ so I got the whole rap world on my shoulder trying to see further than I am." I have a line straight from the man himself for every repudiation. Here's to the great Hov, Jigga, William Bonnie, and of course, the Roc.

Uno

Its about damn time!

2009-11-01T20:06:00.005-05:00

They are the team that everyone loves to hate in baseball, and are still the most beloved team in sports. My hometown heroes who boast 26 world championships, are now on the brink of 27, and all I can say is (refer to title).

After 9 excruciating years of waiting, the time has finally come for the billion dollar team to finally win it all, again. I've witnessed losses to the Diamondbacks, the Marlins, watched the dreadful Red Sox win twice, and seen the best team in baseball miss the playoffs for the first time. All of that can be washed away with a victory against the Phillies (New York has never faltered against Philadelphia, and never will). The gross contracts to big hitters and pitchers, the billion dollar new ballpark that has thousand dollar seating: all of this must be balanced, and it can only be balanced with a world series win.

This isn't just about sports though; it's about pride and honor and shame. It's about the legacy of the Yankees, the legacy of the greatest team in sports history. It's about New York, the greatest, most diverse city in the world. It's about that great symbol that is tailored to people all over the world: the Yankee cap. Yeah, us New Yorkers won the Superbowl last year with the Giants, but they aren't the hundred-plus-year-old team that defines us.

So please, A-Rod, Jeter, Posada, Texiera, and most importantly, Burnett, bring this last game in for us, and we will continue to love you as we have for years. The haters will continue to hate, but the Yankees are what baseball is all about.

Trick or Treat, Austria

2009-11-01T19:33:00.004-05:00

Vienna, Austria was next up. I've heard a lot about Vienna as one of the greatest European cities, so I had very high expectations that it lived up to somewhat. In deep contrast to Budapest, Vienna is a glamorous city filled with both old and new money; it's still all money. The entire center of the city was nothing but boutiques and high end fashion, which I absolutely hated. Nonetheless, this would be the second part of our Fall break trip, and an interesting one.

My friend (a very bright girl) some how landed us our own apartment in Vienna close to the city, completely furnished, clean and ready for 6 college students. It was wildly ornate though. Expensive looking rugs and carpets, a chandelier and flat screen t.v. in the living room. Best though was my room; two twin beds decked in pink linens and mosquito nets, and salmon colored glossy wall paper. I definitely have pics of that.

Again, we did the tourist thing and hit all of the major tourist traps. We took the metro, which I was very impressed with. Completely modern, clean and efficient, it is a model for all subway systems. Biggest untold secret for Vienna... you don't have to pay for tickets on the train. They have a validation system with no enforcement. Too bad we bought 2 tickets already before figuring that out. It just baffles me though, as a New Yorker I pay $2.25 for a loud, dirty, always under construction, inefficient and oft late train system, when most of the people in Vienna don't even pay for something that is the exact opposite! Some research will be necessary.

Favorite spot in all of Vienna had to be the Shronburg imperial palace and gardens (I think that's what it's called). There's a giant mansion in the front, and once you go around it, you reach what has to be over 100 acres of land with sprawling trees, flowers, fountains, statues all neatly kept and meticulously placed. It even had its own maze and zoo! There were nothing but couples there, so if you're thinking about an anniversary location, look no further. Down the main central path, there was a hill of which at the top, there was a thin building overlooking the entire city. Just for a second I'd wished I had been a rutlhess dicator/emperor (check the first photo).

It is also very important to note that since we had our own apartment, we also cooked our own food. As frugal college students, my friend and I opted for the most communal and efficient food stuffs. Most notably, a bag of potatoes and onions. So for four days, 90% of my meals consisted of home fries with onions. Potatoes for dinner and breakfast for four days, mmm...

Halloween also happened to be our last night in Wien. We decided to go extra hard for the club, as the previous night's pre-game did not produce a sufficient enough buzz to withstand the cold. so I decided to drink half a bottle of vodka myself. The result: black out Shadoe. I don't remember much, but I did not throw up or pass out. I'd like to refer to it as an ongoing brownout for most of the night actually. After leaving the apartment, I allegedly carried an open beer can in my pocket, drank a quarter and spilled the rest on a friend and the Vienna metro. Also, allegedly, I proceeded to curse at some girls on the train for not responding to my "Happy Halloween" getsure. Next, allegedly, upon entering the club, I went to coat check and threw money at the guy working there. Me, throw money at people? This wasn't a strip club; my friends must've been mistaken. Anyways, the night ended with my friend guiding me out of the club police-reprimand style (on arm cuffed behind back, being pushed via my shoulder) into a cab and home, where I awoke in the same clothes, totally unaware of the nights events. Maybe it was for the better; I didn't dress up that night.

Vienna was cool, even better was our 1 hour flight to Germany via Air Berlin. It was the first 747 that I've been on that was half empty. No BS, this plane would have easily been canceled in the U.S. It wasn't even a cheap airline, they gave the complimentary drink and free twix, and provided entetrtainment during the entire flight. It is officially my air line of choice in Europe. Another hour bus ride to Strasbourg, and that rounded up my Senior Fall Break in Europe.

However, I would later have to deal with the chicken sandwich from the airport that did not agree with my digestive system. It was a long and trying night for me last night; by morning I was completely dehydrated. I'm feeling a bit better now, thanks for asking, but my appetite still isn't quite there...

Uno

I am Hungary

2009-11-01T19:24:00.005-05:00

Ok, it is a horrible pun, but I guarantee that if the tourism bureau of Hungary invested in a campaign to promote this phrase, it could rival the " I heart NY" logo. Honestly, no official city slogan can actually break the hegemony of the I love New York symbol (it has global counterparts that copy the simple yet powerful image), but this could be a great second, right up there with Prague's "Czech me out" shirts.

My companions and I had a long ride ahead of us: 15 hours by train, 9 of it in a cramped cabin with seating for 6 when it should only be 4. It was cool until two sketchy Hungarian guys who had seats in our compartment stood outside of our cabin and just stared at us, apparently for 15 minutes. Then the German police came. Eff the NYPD, there's nothing like being screamed at by a German with a gun (maybe that's why they were so good at war?); intimidated isn't the word. Scared shit-less when they bust into your cabin in the middle of the night is more of the sentiment.

We arrived in Budapest and it had both met my expectations and changed some perceptions. The train station was old, and the city looked rife with poverty at first glance. The grit of Eastern European nations (they don't like being referred to as such) is actually what attracts me to them. There's something alluring about witnessing a post-Soviet culture. Any way, we were picked up by my friends mom who would house us for the next 4 days. Free housing and almost completely free food is all I needed to hear.

My friends parents live in a modern apartment complex equipped with the best concierge service I've ever encountered. Each building is named after a composer, the lights have motion sensors, the apartment is furnished with black leather couches and a 42' flat screen t.v. This is the bachelor pad I've always dreamed of. Best part was the patio that we had almost all our meals on because the moody-weather front decided to change to warm for the first few days. Global warming is not a joke people.

More interesting that Budapest itself, though, are my friends parents. His mother, a very successful lawyer, his father, a retired ophthalmologist turned writer. Brilliant personalities, I'll let you read the essay by John just to get a taste of what you could expect from this 65 year old Southern scholar. http://www.thenakedscientists.com/HTML/articles/article/to-sit-or-not-to-sit/

Second best part about staying with my friends parents; American food. Reader, understand that there aren't many chances for me to eat real American food out here (which is good). McDonald's is probably the closest thing, but meals cost about $11 U.S. so that's a no go. But to have EGGS, BACON, and POTATOES for breakfast, and BABY BACK RIBS for dinner! Mouth Orgasms.

Hitting Budapest, we hit all the tourist attractions, and even took a sight-seeing bus tour, and at night a beautiful yet frigid boat tour on the main river. Budapest (pronounced Buda-peSHt) boasts some of the most unique and varying architecture in the world. Every building around was ornate not in a glitzy way, but with statues and friezes galore, seeming to borrow from romantic, Gothic, Victorian, and all types of classical styles. I took a lot of pictures of buildings.

Interesting happenings? Well, we went to public baths in cold weather. Hundreds of half naked people, old men with pot-bellies and man boobs, middle aged woman whose teeth were fighting each other, and an outdoor pool heated to 30 degrees Celsius (Fahrenheit please, someone). First time in a sauna, and it wasn't too bad at 60 degrees Celsius, but it's not going to be a habit. Just wait till you see my caution-neon-orange swimming trunks lol.

Bars and clubs we went to were pretty cool too. Someone got the bright idea that abandoned buildings were the best to decorate with random foliage, graffiti, and hanging art work. One of them clearly had a room for a dentist, with the dentist chair still bonded to the floor. Another one was literally a hole in the wall, where I saw a woman who decided it was best to bring her infant with her to meet a friend. Shamefully, she was American, but I'm guessing that childcare costs in Budapest are high (smh). The first club we went to was Euro trash to the bone with techno, and even had its own personal boutique. I had fun, and late night binged on some Mickey D's and Subways (google "baby sub" for a laugh). Only thing about Budapest I didn't like: the confusing ass currency. Another one of those countries trying to compensate for weak currency, the conversion rate was 100 Forints to every $5. It did feel good to walk around with a 10 thousand dollar bill for a while, though. Also, Hungarian is one of the most perplexing and difficult languages in the WORLD (it's a fact). Ten syllables just to say thank you? Wtf? Favorite word though: ferfi... it means man lol.

Uno

Fall Break, Ferfi

2009-11-01T19:04:00.004-05:00

I apologize; I've been neglectful. Blog upkeep is tough, especially when traveling. But now that I'm back from hiatus, I will fill you in on Fall Break '09 in the life S.G. Tarver. It was a 10 day trip to two countries, Austria and Hungary, filled with free housing, laughs, advice and insight, potatoes, and a Halloween blackout. Like my last posts, I'll break it into parts so as not to berate you with purple words (I've received some feedback on the design of my blog, so if anyone would like to give it a make-over, it would be greatly appreciated). So, where do I start...

I remember now, 15 hour train ride to Budapest...

Amsterdam: The Original Vegas

2009-10-18T18:32:00.004-04:00

AMSTERDAM! You know a city is popping when its town center is called "Dam Square." I was excited to be there before we even arrived. Didn't get to go to Harlem like I wanted to, but this part of the trip made it my biggest adventure in Europe yet. Amsterdam is all about letting go, so if you're stressed, you definitely need to take a load off there. I was stressed, and all it took was a coffee shop to set things right.

We arrived in the morning. The first thing I noticed in Amsterdam was the ridiculous amount of bikes that were everywhere. More ubiquitous than people probably, bikes were piled on top of each other, chained to gates, poles, houses, it was crazy! I saw the largest bike garage ever. And walking the Amsterdam city streets: fcken annoying! I hate it more than NYC in midtown on a Wednesday morning. If you aren't extremely meticulous on how you cross the street, you will be plowed down by a car, or a bike, or a high person. I haven't looked both ways before crossing the street in years!

Our hostel was cool, even though we shared a dorm with weirdos. The owners were Irish and pretty much let you drink and smoke wherever you wanted to. They also had a cat who was high off life- I've never seen such a retarded feline before this one. Best part of our hostel: free breakfast with SCRAMBLED EGGS. Not a big deal to you, but the French don't do eggs for breakfast, so I haven't had any since August! Wake and bake plus eggs = a happy Shadoe.

The entire weekend was about sobriety, or the lack thereof. We spent maybe a total of 6 hours of the entire stay sober, and it was great. We hit up about 5 coffee shops, met some cool people there. At one, which was aquarium themed, we met some vagrant trust-fund kid who quit school and decided to travel for half a year. Without a job, he just runs around Europe, and does couch surfing. We traversed most of the city that day, making it to the "I am Amsterdam" sign, the sex museum (which sucks, unless your perverted and like on-display-porno), as well as checked out almost all of the 8 H&M's that were conveniently placed within 5-10 minutes of each other. That night, we checked out the Red-Light District for fun. We made faces at hookers, and laughed at the guys who got their faces slammed shut on by a hooker at the door. According to urban legend, some even have vials of piss to throw in people's faces who irk them; luckily I didn't get close enough to verify that. Soon, the most exciting part of the night came. My friend decided for the first time to drink and smoke. Not such a good idea, rookie. After being locked in a bathroom and cursing our Asian tourists, we had to drag her around before she finally threw up. And she did, all over my shoes, and herself. Taking a cab home I had to hold her up in the back, and two blocks away from the hostel, we were forced to vacate when she began to chuck again. I swear, I am really good fckn friend. Carrying her up the most steep flight of stairs I've ever witnessed wasn't easy, but we were able to laugh about it the next day.

In the morning, we checked out an outdoor market nearby. For lunch we bought this humongous piece of bread that was round and soft. Then we each got a fried fish, and I had the most filling lunch for a total of 2.30 euros (talk about budgeting). We proceeded to the Heineken brewery, which I recommend to every and anyone who travels to Amsterdam. It was newly renovated, and was very interactive. Plus, you get 3 free beers! Then, we went home to prepare for our final night. We ate donor-kebab for dinner (of course) then achieved the buzz that we needed to go out. I was nice! I don't remember how we go to the club, but I just remember seeing a sign for 15 Euro entrance. Whatever, this was my last night in Amsterdam. And then that's when the unthinkable happened. Going through security at the club, my friends camera was stolen with my memory card in it. Almost 600 photos from the weekend, gone. Pissed, I danced it off. Good advice, Lady Gaga. The club was cool, the walk home was even better, having my friends laugh at me while I'm pissed about the greatest loss. Maybe it's good, though, that some of those photos never surface....

Wake and bake for a long train ride on the Deutsch Bahn (in Germany). Never take that train system unless you absolutely have to. We spent the entire time trying to find seats, then being kicked out of them for people who had reservations. If it wasn't for good convo, I would have killed myself standing for 1 1/2 hour on the first train. After 4 train transfers, we arrived in Strasbourg. Never thought I would be so happy to hear people speaking French instead of another language (Dutch is the oddest thing). I intend to go back to Amsterdam one day, and next time, pictures will be had.

Brussels: just a taste

2009-10-18T18:31:00.002-04:00

So we stayed in Brussels for a total of 14 hours, maybe, but we had a great time nonetheless. Upon arriving at the shabby hotel of our classmates, we knew we would have to figure out how to get to my friend's mom's house, where we would stay the night. Schumacher literally got a positive response to stay at the woman's house they day before we left. If we weren't staying there, our plan was to stay in a bar all night until our train left the next day at 10 am. Thank god we didn't have to do that.

It didn't take too long after our departure to realize that our classmates' hostel was in the hood. Every city has a hood, and the section of Brussels that we were in had very few lights on a main avenue where the tram ran. Sketchy middle-aged men were everywhere, with velor sweatsuits of course and toothpicks in their mouths, looking to seduce the first P.Y. T. that passed them by.

Finding the tram was easy, and so was getting to the humble abode of Mrs. VH. Arriving at her home, I was in awe. The house was HUGE, and nicely decorated. We sat and talked with her husband for a great deal, exchanging small talk, describing who we were, where we came from. Dinner finally came, and we had the great surprise of being served fries with our meal; along with some asian noodles, it was the best dinner ever. Mrs. VH and her husband have their own vineyard in Italy, hence the two bottles of wine they served at dinner for all. Thoroughly buzzed, we sat and parle'd for 4 hours. Realizing we had to meet our friends for drinks, we were obliged to leave.

But, by the time we reached downtown, they were already heading back to their hostel. So the three of us decided to head to a famous bar that Shumacher had heard of. It was known for housing 2, 500 different beers on tap! The place was packed, but we found a seat. We ran into a couple of Americans that attend the Florence installation of our program, and vowed to meet up with them in Amsterdam, even though they weren't particularly interesting, at all. It's just comforting to hear someone who speaks English in another country. At the end of the night, we found ourselves having to walk home. With no proper map, we had to resort to the i-phone GPS. It took us 2 hours!!!! With stops for doner-kebabs and proper directions, of course. Schumacher even screamed at a bunch of teenagers lol. That night, I slept in the most comfortable Queen sized bed that I have been in since I came to Europe. Brussels treated me well, but it was on to the next one the following day...

Luxembourg: The little nation that could

2009-10-18T18:30:00.002-04:00

Luxembourg: a beautiful city that is so unique that one day is enough to get you sick of it. We're talking about a small nation lodged between France, Belgium, and Germany with one major city where it all originated. Don't get me wrong though, it definitely is beautiful and I would recommend it to any traveler who wants another notch on his belt. But I will reiterate, one day is all you need.

The hostel in Luxembourg was actually the coolest and cleanest one I've seen in Europe yet. Only 20 euro for a private room for three with private bathrooms, and clean sheets. It was very modern, but seemed more like a half way house than an actual hostel. To save money, my travel buddies and I bought sandwich meat, a loaf of bread, and numerous snacks all in my book bag. To my amusement, my salami and cheese sandwich with bolognaise chips was actually better than the served dinner at the hostel. Just add a cheap beer with 8% alcohol content and dinner's a go.

Nighttime in Luxembourg is eh. Since Wednesdays were supposedly a good night to go out (according to the goth chick at the front desk) we left for the club section. The "club section" of Luxembourg proper consisted of a lighted area with maybe about 6 bars/clubs total. Moving from one bar to the next, we had fun just taking advantage of the student discount on beer. Watching Schumacher trying to teach Liz how to Crip walk was without a doubt the best part of my night.

The next day was a long one. We had to check out by 10, but ate breakfast first early. There we pondered why we saw so many families in a youth hostel. Even stranger was some random guy from Belgium who was wearing a "Cal" University hat. Believing that he was American, I started conversation. Much to my dismay, he wouldn't shut up. Besides the fact that he was annoying, he also let me know that he was traveling with two companions, one of which was his Taiwanese pen pal whom he never met before. The two girls looked about 14; this dude was about 34. In the states, I would've alerted authorities of some sort, but hopefully there was no foul play involved.

Leaving the hostel around 9, we had no idea what to do. We were in freaking Luxembourg! Do you know anything about Luxembourg? Exactly. The city was literally dead until 10 am, when everyone starts work. Wandering, we found a museum that had an exhibition on death, murder, and torture; my kind of place. There we met a cool English chick who would literally spend the day with us because of her own boredom with the small city. The museum was one of the coolest I've ever been to, so we tried a shot at another one. We went to a museum of art that had only one good section, then decided to get hot chocolate. At the chocolate place directly across from the royal palace of Luxembourg, we witness the guards of the monarchy and Luxembourg police (dressed in Orange and black leather suits, might I add) come in for a hot drink. Just imagine the Secret Service taking a lunch break across the street from the white house. Luxembourg pretty much lost its luster after that, but it was definitely an interesting experience for all 21 hours that we were there. Next stop, Brussels...

This is going to be a long one...

2009-10-18T18:14:00.002-04:00

Just got back tonight from a 4 day road trip to Luxembourg, Belgium, and the Netherlands and it was AWESOME. But because soo much happened during those days (especially in Amsterdam), I am going to break up my trip into different sections so not as to bore you, my devout little reader. I hope I can fully express the excitement, the euphoria, and the utter debauchery that I experienced this weekend. Please, follow me.

Our plans was a sham to begin with. We decided to go three deep; two dudes, one girl. Liz, Schumacher and I finished getting our tickets for transportation one week before and secured our housing literally the day before we left. Unable to find cheap tickets for travel between Strasbourg and Amsterdam, we opted to take a more creative route. The trasnportation scheme wasn't complex, but wasn't quite practical either. We would start out by hitching a ride with a class trip that included stops in Luxembourg and Brussels. For a small fee, my companions and I were able to travel with the class even though none of us were enrolled in it. Spending the first night in Luxembourg, we again took the same bus the next afternoon to get to Brussels. Breaking off from the group, we spent the night in Brussles until the next day and then took the train to Amsterdam. To get back: four trains on the German Deutsch-Bahn that complicated my life for no good reason.

Ok, now that you know the basics of the trip, we can get into more detail for each of the cities, and maybe a little of what happened there. After all, this is a public domain and some details are better left for the imaginiation and for my future job security. First stop: Luxembourg...

I'll Pass on the Holiday

2009-10-12T15:55:00.002-04:00

I'll get right to the point: Columbus Day should not be a national holiday in the U.S. Don't get me wrong, I loved taking the day off from school; who didn't. But in 5th grade, I didn't know what Columbus stood for. The American folk lore behind him is fantastic to put it nicely. What I learned in elementary school was not only inaccurate, but almost completely devoid of the other half of Columbus' story. And that's the issue that we face today; the powers that be feel the need to preserve the symbolic legend of Columbus, but the people want the truth, the other side of the history which is either never told, or taken lightly. It shouldn't be.

What do we celebrate? We celebrate Columbus' "discovery" of America and the New World. You know the tale: 1492 Columbus sails the ocean blue to find a route to Asia, discovers a new land. While this is well and good to start kids off with and ease them into a generalized and simplified history of our nation-- it gets old fast, though. Columbus didn't find a new world, he just found one that was never before known to the 'civilized' European world. America was lush with inhabitants already. There were Empires and civilizations here that were just as diverse and culturally rich as those in Europe. A more accurate description of what Columbus did is to say that he fucked up, got lucky and ran into the Caribbean which he thought was either China, Japan, and India. Once there, he did what any ruthless, capitalist minded Christian would've done at the time: he pillaged, destroyed, raped, exploited and enslaved an indigenous population that was weaker than him.

http://news.aol.com/article/students-learn-about-the-dark-side-of/712947?icid=main|main|dl1|link3|http%3A%2F%2Fnews.aol.com%2Farticle%2Fstudents-learn-about-the-dark-side-of%2F712947
Inserted I have an article about the progression of history's take on Columbus. In present times, more often than not, teachers give a more nuanced view of Columbus and not just the rosy legend usually portrayed. In this article, however, I am a little disturbed how the teacher only harps on the fact that Europeans destroyed the Taino Indian population through means of disease; they were actively killing them in brutal fashion as well.

In the end, I am not saying we need to ignore the legend of Columbus, we just need to know both sides of the story instead painting a picture of a hero who was actually a villainous human being. I am against a national holiday that supports killers and thieves. We can celebrate the birth of America in so many other ways rather than honoring a man who made a mistake; a brave mistake, but then committed crimes against humanity.

Quick Break

2009-10-11T20:18:00.005-04:00

Why? Because small digressions help alleviate all of the things swirling in my head right now while I'm trying to finish this paper. Yes, it's the same paper from my last post. No, I haven't finished it because I'm a freaking perfectionist and I delete entire pages from my report when I'm dissatisfied with it. This is why I never do papers until the night before though; there's not enough time to be a perfectionist...

Yesterday when attempting to write my paper in the daytime, my compatriot Schumacher hits me up to go shopping. I shouldn't be shopping. The conversion rate from dollars to Euros is not in my favor. And most of my funds go to traveling which is way more valuable than any pair of sneakers or shoes (except for those Polo boat shoes that i really wanted). Nonetheless, I went out and I'm glad I did because he found, in a drunken stupor, the one kind of store I've been looking for. It was an upscale urban-chic apparel store with an art gallery feel to it. I felt as if I had walked into Stussy or Supreme in Soho (in fact, they sold Stussy apparel). Now even though I didn't plan on buying anything in the store, I couldn't have even if I wanted to. Everything was too over priced, down to the beanie's and belts. The problem with American products in Europe is that they have the same numerical value as they do in the states. But a button up shirt that cost $69 in the U.S. costs 69 Euro in France which is actually $98! I'm not paying $98 for a plaid Marc Jacobs button up, no matter how fashionable it is.

Second topic of discussion, my lovely host mother. This woman is great. An old eclectic, retired researcher who makes jewelry now as an occupation. She speaks three languages fluently and every other sentence that comes out of her mouth is a joke. They're outdated jokes, but nonetheless, I laugh for her effort to convey them first in French, and then in English if I really don't understand it. I LOVE her cooking; thank god for her domesticity. If I've learned anything from her about cooking, it's this: leftovers can become the best soups. If me and the German girl who currently stays here can't finish something, my host mom simply throws it into the blender and purees it lol. Then it becomes the entree for tomorrow's dinner, and I get a new main course to stimulate my palette.

Her only flaw: Madame is one of those people who just cannot shut up. I'm sorry, and she knows this, but it's true. She claimed that she likes conversation and discourse, yet she enjoys hearing herself talk more. You talk politics, she only talks so that you can hear her side, her reasoning. There's no exchange; it's you then her, then her, then her again. But I'm learning a lot from her about French people and culture. I don't need to assume things and then generalize; she does the latter for me.

Uno

A Noble Nobel

2009-10-10T13:19:00.005-04:00

I'm really supposed to be doing the ONLY paper that I have for this semester right now. It's just so hard to concentrate on the rise of Hitler and Nazism in the 1920's when today is such a good day.

I heard the news yesterday and I'm still excited about the fact that the president of my country, the one and only Barak Obama, became the 2009 Nobel Peace Prize recipient. I know that not even he saw this coming, and the man's known for his foresight. As proud and elated as I am over the honor, I also started to question why him and no one else. Honestly, the guy has only been in office for almost 9 months now. It can be said that he has done a lot, but that's subjective because most of his policies have yet to be executed. On the other hand, if you take it from the perspective of the Swedish panel who selected Obama for the award, you understand that the things that he's done were significant in their symbolism. Obama is a very intelligent man, and I believe that he is the best presidential orator since Lincoln (although, I never personally heard Lincoln speak). The simple fact that he has changed the face of diplomacy in the world speaks volumes for peace. As the undoubted leading country in the world, the U.S. tainted it's standing with the international community during the Bush years of unilateralism and war without any attempts at talks. What Obama has accomplished in the past 9 months, though, has completely about-faced our policy, and has set the standard of international diplomacy for all nations. It's amazing what you can do all just by talking.

Now, back to the Third Reich for me.

Uno

Donkey Skin

2009-10-06T16:11:00.009-04:00

Just put new batteries in my electric tooth brush today; my gums feel violated.

Finally got through a stack of post cards. I'm writing so many cards and emails as if I get paid to do it. In fact, I've devoted more time to that than home work. No matter where one is the in the world, he will always have to connect back to the life that he knows and loves. These messages keep me in the U.S. even when not there.

Today in film class I saw some clips of a film based on a French fairy tale. All of the French people knew of the story, and my teacher was so surprised that us Americans had ever heard of it, and that there wasn't a Disney adaptation for it. I know why; because it's called Donkey Skin! I didn't believe it was true until she began the story. Pardon me if I seem ignorant or insensitive to another culture when I call this fairy tale absurd, but it truly is. So the story goes that there is this king who has a donkey that literally shits gold. He has a wife and a daughter too. His wife dies, but in her last breath she makes him promise that he will marry again, and that the women must be as beautiful as her. The king doesn't find anyone for years, and then finally resolves to marry his own daughter, who by the time she is a woman, and is as beautiful as her mother. The daughter doesn't like the idea, and consults a fairy godmother who advises her to make a bunch of rash demands in exchange for marriage to her father. Her final demand is to have a dress made out of the kings very own donkey. The father breaks, kills his donkey, and delivers it to the daughter. The daughter takes it and runs to live in the forest, where she lives, wearing the Donkey skin dress to hide from her father lol. A prince comes in the end, yatta yatta yatta, happily ever after. Now I don't know about you, but I don't see much money in a Disney film involving incestuous relationships and Donkey skin as the new fashion. Do you?

Uno

On to the Next One

2009-10-05T16:22:00.004-04:00

Had to watch Beauty and the Beast again today (the original). For those of you who haven't seen the black and white French film, DON'T. I did not enjoy seeing the cowardly lion from the Wizard of Oz speak French with a raspy voice, and a cape cut into two with a celestial theme. It also rained in Strasbourg today for the first time in a month; since the first day I arrived to be exact. And that's why I love it here.

This has been stirring in my head for the whole weekend as well, after watching BBC in hotel rooms. The devastation of the earthquake and ensuing tsunami's in the South East Pacific is horrendous, and it takes the images and videos from such disaster's for us to truly understand the frailty of human life. I complain about not having the newest pea coat for the fall, and I just saw a video of a young girl who lost her house and her whole family. Sorry to be so pessimistic, but we all need to be humbled every once in a while. Tomorrow, we may all return to our blissful existence in ignorance.

Uno

Token Black Kid

2009-10-04T18:05:00.006-04:00

Burgundy (or Burgogne in French) was great! Tried to get some Grey Poupon out of Dijon, but I didn't find any. The wine tasting, the country side, the cottage and endless amounts of beef bourgogne. Even the midnight man hunt was fun. I didn't expect, though, to be compared to President Obama out of default.

During this scholar's presentation on the significant features of a French Basilica, he wanted to make a reference to important symbolisms, like a handshake between leaders. Being British, he fashioned himself as Gordon Brown, Prime Minister of the UK. Naturally, he wanted to make it more meaningful by putting GB with Obama. Looking around the room, he was evidently searching for a black kid to fill in as Obama. Being one of two black students on the trip, and then the only male of the two, it was only natural for him to choose me. The light skinned mulatto fellow with the mini-fro; "doesn't look too much like Obamer, but it'll do" he said. And that is the sad life of being the token black kid on the trip; I get to become the faux-Obama.

This digression also has broader implications, though. Out of a class of 33 kids on the trip, 2 are black; that's 6%!!!! And I'm pretty sure that it's not just my program. Why are black students, in general, so under represented in study abroad programs? I feel worse for my latina friend; she's one of 33! Now, with study abroad programs, it really does come down to interest and intiative, and it just seems that it's not a priority for young kids of color. It should be. Not only is it a chance to see the world, but also for the world to see you. This way, whenever I return to France in the future, I can pick up a party flyer and not see "Black Music" where it should say Hip Hop.

If my poor ass (on Scholarship, making less than $6,000 anually, no health insurance, no job) can do it, why can't you? And don't do it for me and the rest of the token black kids on trips right now, do it for yourself. Broaden your horizons people.

Uno

No Owen Wilson For Me

2009-10-01T15:55:00.003-04:00

Okay, I just need to accept it; I'm too injury prone. Since high school it seems that I am just doomed to get injured every time I step onto the basketball court. That's just my luck. And it also just happens that I will inevitably be hit in the face 6 out of 10 times on the court.

Ever since the Paris trip, my knee had felt a little strange. The pain didn't really flair up until yesterday after I had played a couple of brief games. I thought that I could tough it out for a day, and then go play again. My knee said hell no.

After my knee flared up in the first two minutes of my first game, I subbed out and stayed out for the next three games. When I finally decided to go back in, I paced myself. But NOOOO, next thing I know, an elbow smacks me straight on the bridge of my nose. Mind you, this is the same way my nose was broken during Senior Year of high school, which is y I have a slight curve in my nose. This little incident made the curve a little more parabola-like. With a little courage, I nudged it back a little to its former situation. I am determined NOT to make my nose into an Owen Wilson. But that means I must never step foot on a Basketball court again. What to do, what to do...

Just Another Day

2009-09-30T16:24:00.003-04:00

Bonjour tout le monde,

I guess I really need to start speaking French on the regular for me to get this language down. Tough luck.

Day started out last night where I encountered my second racists in Europe. He is the owner of the Irish Pub here in Strasbourg, and he is a fat bastard who admitted to being a bigot. He thought it was all in good humor; I just drank the free beer he gave me and left. The most amusing thing about true racists though is their attempts to show that they're not. He made a statement along the lines of the cliche remark "I have a black friend, so how can I be a racist?" Instead, he explained how he employed a black student about a year ago. Nooo, because you ordered someone around and they worked under you as an inferior that doesn't make you a racist Mr. fat-man. Maybe it was because he's Irish...

By the end of the four lackluster basketball games I played with the Euro's, I had injured my left knee. And then it occurred to me (and I laughed of course) that I have health insurance here, but not back home where I live! Another reason for me to go lobby for Obama's Healthcare, even abroad.

Uno

Food for Thought

2009-09-29T13:31:00.004-04:00

Today was pretty uneventful, but that just doesn't happen in the life of Shadoe G. Ended the day with a nice bike ride to Kehl, Germany. It's cool to know that I can cross borders in 15 minutes; I feel so International, almost like a Mexican drug cartel shipping to Texas. There's such a crazy duality to the people who live there because of the history and culture of Alsace I guess; almost everyone speaks French and German, and of course, English (thank God). I can see myself chilling in Kehl though. It has nice parks, and everything's cheaper there than in Strasbourg.

My classes continue to bore the hell out of me. Sorry to say, but study abroad schooling is a joke. I think its just a ploy to keep students occupied in the day, so that we're not just wandering vagrants during the week. But today, I actually got a couple of good ideas out of each class.

In French, my teacher was trying to explain some highly technical grammar to my class; no one understood until the very end of class. But in the ensuing confusion, I learned how much I butcher the English language. I don't think that anyone speaks proper English to a tee, but I never realized how much we mix up tenses with our words. The french do it as well, but it's more threatening because an entire verb ending changes in words, and that changes the whole meaning of a phrase. In English, I could say "He said that he was coming," or "He said that he would come," "He said that he is coming," or even "He said that he will come." These are all different points in time, but I would (as a proud Ebonics speaker) use them all in present tense. Just think about it...

Also, in my French film class (the most boring of all) I had a pessimistic revelation from a statement made by my dull professer: "Life is just a series of incidents." This is completely taken out of context, as she was explaining the theme behind some insignificant French film in black in white. Nevertheless, this was one of the most insightful phrases, simply because it is a universal truth. No matter how much progress human kind makes in guessing and prophesizing and determining the probablities of occurences, we will never be 100% sure of anything, and the outcome will always be incidental. We spend out entire lives preparing for things that might never come. But I guess that's the thrill of the chase, eh?

Uno

Je t'aime, Paris

2009-09-27T16:49:00.005-04:00

Okay, I'm done with the celeb stalking, now back to more important things in my life like... my trip to PARIS. Already in Strasbourg for almost a month, I'm getting the hang of living in a foreign land, especially a land like France. While waking up in Strasbourg everyday is still a shock to the system, going to Paris was like going home. In fact, I miss it already.

What's not to like about Paris? I'll start there and give you the bad before the good. For one, although they have on of the most efficient train systems in the world that I have seen, the stations themselves are a bit too complex. Transferring between trains was like walking through a labyrinth, and half the time, I didn't know where the hell I was going, I was just walking. My second problem is sort of a trade-off. There were too many people who spoke English. For us lazy Americans who don't take the time to study and practice a foreign language, this is all well and good. But in my quest to learn to speak the French language better, Paris definitely put a damper on those hopes. I'm not gonna lie, I thank God for British and now American imperialism in the world just because of the dominance of the English language (and for no other reason whatsoever); it makes my life easier no matter where I travel. But at the same time, we are seeing a gradual dimishing of a cultural values through language loss.

Arriving to Paris, we check into our hostel. Three of us had a shared dorm with three other people. Bunk beds and public showers and toilets are not my thing, but for $25 a night, who cares. We stayed with two British students and a middle-aged Irish woman named Diane who was alone, both creepy and odd. When I'm 43, I damn sure won't be at a youth hostel, alone. Thankfully, we were out for the entire day. I did the tourist thing; climbed the Eiffel tower (mostly by foot via stairs), saw the Louvre, the Seine, Champs-Elysees, the Arc de Triomphe, the Pere Lachaise, and took hundreds of photos next to them. But I also went to see The Water Lillies by Monet, ate Asian and Spanish food, had a doner kebab (my favorite cheap food in Europe), visited the best underground cyclist shop in Paris, and drank my liver away. I went where the blacks outnumbered the whites, where the 99 euro cent stores are, and to the high end boutiques where the likes of designers and models traverse. Again, while I was traveling, although my legs were killing me, I was comfortable to be in a city so much like NY. ON Saturday night, we climbed about 200 hundred stairs and reached the summit of a hill, with a small monaestery on top of it. The place is famous for its view of the city, and while on it, I though I was in LA. The likeness was so great that all that seemed missing was a Hollywood sign.

I honestly wish I had more money to shop though. The Louis Vuitton store had a line that definitelty wasn't for me, but even H&M was drastically different with its merchandise in Paris than anywhere else that I have ever been. I also learned that the Galleries de Lafayette is just a French way of saying Bloomingdales, and thus I will never step foot in it again until the day that I have a black-card.

Overall, Paris was great, and one could never experience enough over the course of only two days. I will visit again, Paris. Wait for me.

R.I.P. Patrick Swayze

2009-09-15T04:23:00.004-04:00

Growing up in a house full of women, it was hard not to [be forced to] watch the likes of Ghost and Dirty Dancing repeatedly. Swayze man was a movie icon off of only two films; thats unheard of. Honestly, who doesn't think of him and Baby when they hear "The time of my life." And with Demi Moore at his side, he made making pottery a sexual adventure. I still think of that scene every time I hear "Unchained Melody" by the Righteous Brothers.

We've lost too many great people in '09, and Patrick was definitely one of them. Lighter's up.

SMH Kanye

2009-09-14T15:08:00.007-04:00

Okay, forget originality...I'm going to talk about it just like everyone else is right now. Kanye West, Yeezy, Jay's lil bro, what have you, is a FOOL lol. Now when I initially watched the clip of his complete and utter humiliaiton of Taylor Swift, I laughed. Wait that was an understatement; I was in tears. But as time when on, and I replayed the clip several times, I also saw the face of the young teen whose embarrasment actually stole the show. Finally, guilt crept in.

No one, not even Kanye (I believe) was prepared for that dispicable display of disregard for another's hard work. Not only was it hurtful, but it was downright dishonorable. Although Kanye is a man well known for his statements and his incontinency of thought, this was underhanded even for him. After witnessing the previous week our president, the leader of the free world- whom Kanye personally campaigned for- disrespected in our national capital by a lowly legislator, I thought that everyone got the memo that doing what ever you feel in a public forum is just not acceptable. Luckily, Beyonce knew how to save face and show compassion on behalf her surrogate brother.

As for Mr. West, this shocking display might actually land him more fans in the world than enemies in the country music industry. Everyone loves a blunt, honest egomaniac more than they love an innocent, wholesome angel. I will coninue to support his music, and this is precisely one one of the reason's why. Drake said it best on a Kanye track: "the problem with these other rappers is they ain't ever real." Yeezy is; but maybe a lil' too real...

Lost In Translation

2009-09-13T16:26:00.002-04:00

So here's my situation: I'm eating dinner with my host mom, Christine, and another college student boarding in her apartment for two weeks. She's from Germany, and speaks better French than I do. My host mom is proficient in both English and German. I'm proficient in Ebonics.

I want my host mom to speak only in French, but I respond in English 90% of the time. The German girl wants to converse in French as well, but also wants to "work on her English more." The ensuing conversation turned into a mock UN committee hearing, where no one was satisfied and no one truly understood the stories told at the dinner table. If this repeats, I can forget about any progress in ma deuxieme langue.

Emancipation

2009-09-12T09:01:00.005-04:00

To be quite honest, I didn't think I'd get around to creating this blog. I've always pondered it, but never had the motivation to actually do it. I don't know what made today any different than all those other days when I passed over the google sign-in. Nonetheless, I am glad it happened. I guess I've always shied away from an audience, one that could judge and critique any and every word that I express myself with. My teachers have been doing it since Kindergarten, why wouldn't the rest of the free world do it? In fact, I've been my own biggest critic, disallowing myself the opportunity to write my most sacred thoughts even in a personal journal. What did I fear?

It doesn't matter now. More than aything, this blog symbolizes my apathy towards the world's feelings. I will not allow society to question, to judge, to critique, to show malice towards me, to make me fear reading my own words for fear of reprisals. Today I emancipate myself from introspection.

Currently, I am across the pond, in a country not of my own. This small journey fufills a part of my aspiration to see the entire world. But now, it's time for the world to see me...