A few months ago, I was talking to my brother Chris on Skype. It was a normal conversation. We were talking about his study abroad and my personal experiences. There wasn’t anything overtly special about it other than I hadn’t talk to him in a while. Over the summer we had had several long telephone conversations about similar topics.
He finally asked what I was going to do for Christmas. Originally, I was hoping that one of my flat mates or friends would be able to host me for Christmas. That didn’t happen. Things fell through or people’s houses were already way too full. That sort of thing. Anyway, Chris asked about the possibility of coming home for a few days. I thought it was a possibility but also was a ludicrous idea. My brother is a kind of travel whore. He has even admitted to being way too attached to his passport. Within a minute of this idea he already had sent me some possible flight details.
The game plan was to fly me into St. Louis via Air Canada. My itinerary was from Heathrow to Toronto then Toronto to St. Louis on Christmas Day. He was going to have to drive through St. Louis anyway and it wouldn’t look suspicious at all. My brother was going to have to play a gig that morning in a church in Louisville and then drive up to Mount Pleasant. This isn’t the first Christmas that has had to happen and it surely won’t be the last. He would hit St. Louis at around 4:30 right as my flight got in.
The only problem with the plan, and it really wasn’t a problem but was more of a physical hurtle to cover was staying up all night in Heathrow just because my flight was so early in the morning. There was no reason to get a hotel. I had planned to stay up all night Christmas Eve watching movies on my laptop. The hesitation to buy the tickets lasted about 20 minutes. I felt that it was too good of an idea to pass up on. It also felt like it was straight out of a John Hughes movie a la Planes, Trains and Automobiles. It’s not surprising this came to mind considering I was going to have to utilize pretty much all forms of transport to get home.
I also needed to come up with a good lie or at the very least a good reason why I couldn’t skype with them on Christmas Day or Christmas Eve. The light bulb went off when I was talking with my flat mate Caitlin. My lie to my parents was that I had been invited on a trip down to France with her and her family. I had to modify it slightly when the trains between the UK and mainland Europe were cancelled due to bad weather. My family and I skyped on the 23rd. They asked why I had been invited. I hadn’t thought of how to answer that question but then another light bulb went off and without missing a beat I told them that with me in the picture, it brings the cost of the “trip” into group rate level. So, theoretically, I was doing them a favor by joining. After the conversation, I emailed Chris and told him that I had the perfect lie to cover our tracks.
On Christmas Eve around about noon, I quietly went up to Harborne to get a burger from the Plough. I ate quietly whilst slowly contemplating my travels ahead of me. I got a fat boy burger and a pint of purity ale. It was one of the most delicious burgers I’ve ever had. It consisted of a beef patty and a grilled chicken sandwiched between two buns. It was sort of like eating a mixed grille sandwich. It was delicious.
When I got back to my flat I decided to take a nap so I would have enough energy to stay awake that night. I had to stay awake so that I would crash on the plane. (I really shouldn’t use those two words in the same sentence: crash and plane.) I was awoken a few hours later by a phone call from my friend Victoria wishing me luck on my travels. I’m glad she called because it woke me up and got me focused. I had already packed the previous night on the 23rd.
I carried my bag and backpack down to University train station, transferred at New Street and then went on down to London Euston. Carrying my bag that far was the worst part of the journey. I was bringing home a lot of books. I hadn’t realized how heavy that would be. I could use many adjectives to describe that part of the journey. None of my adjectives would be very nice. The train ride to Euston wasn’t anything special. It was quiet and there were few people on board what with it being Christmas Eve.
I then carried my bag through the London Underground transferring at Green Park station onto the Piccadilly line to head straight to LHR. That took about 40 minutes. Once at LHR, I found out pretty quickly that all the ticket counters were shut off so I was going to have to spend the night in the arrivals section of the airport. That sucked because there was very little choice for food and drink on that side of the gate. I did find a 24 hour Costa. I plopped down and proceeded to watch movies all night on my laptop whilst sipping on some tea. I watched The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, The Conversation and The Night of the Hunter. All classic films and more importantly, all good films. There was very little which could be said of the evening other than it was surprising at how many other people were doing the same thing I was doing as well as one guy who I don’t think was all there. At one point he had a very vivid and very animated conversation with himself.
Once that was done, I finally got over to the ticket counter and waited to be checked in. I had a conversation with a man from Kenya who was heading to Canada. I also helped an Iranian woman, who could hardly speak any English with her bags. I hope she made it alright.
I then got through security and surprisingly enough, they did not make me take my shoes off. That was a first. Past security, there were a lot of stores in the departure gate. Several restaurants, jewelry stores, luggage shops and a few other gift/alcohol shops awaited beyond the security checkpoint. I killed time perusing stores. I bought some candy at a Boots store for the flight. I then decided to get something to help me sleep on the flight at a café. I ordered a scotch and plain water. The waitress gave me a strange look, checked her watch and shrugged her shoulders. It was 8 in the morning but I didn’t care. It was 5 o’clock somewhere.
I checked in at my gate and got a hot drink before boarding. Once on the plane I was hoping to fall asleep fast. Alas my best laid plans were all for naught. There were two screaming children a row or two back. I know it wasn’t their fault and that they didn’t understand but my God was it annoying.
I ended up watching more movies. In the span of 15 hours, I had watched six movies. I love movies but that’s just getting ridiculous.
In Toronto, customs was interesting. They asked me odd questions about why I, as an American, went through Canada to get to America. Once that was out of the way, I got some pizza and found my gate. It was an agonizing two and a half hour wait. The view of the city wasn’t that great either, through no fault of the airport. The weather was cloudy and there was a slight drizzle. I could barely make out the CN tower from a distance. I had been there some years prior so that was interesting to see it again albeit from a different perspective.
I crashed on the floor. I woke about 20 minutes later to the sound of some voices near me. Two people, who were also on the same flight as me, were quietly talking. We struck up a conversation. They lived and went to school in Wales though they weren’t Welsh or English. I couldn’t remember their nationality but it was an interesting conversation and, more importantly, it was a time killer. They made fun of the Welsh which was hilarious. When I got back, and asked my flat mates about this, they all agreed that the Welsh were the butt of many jokes. We shook hands and I checked into my flight.
I was excited. I was nearing the homestretch. I only had one two hour flight and a three hour car ride ahead of me. There were no hiccups or delays. Everything was sailing smoothly. The bad weather in the central part of the States was no problem. We flew over them. Looking down through the window, it was like looking down on mashed potatoes for the entire flight. The worst part of the flight was that the glare from the sun off the cloud gave me a slight headache. I decided to wear my sunglasses and I just laid back and was in that state of semi consciousness were one isn’t quite asleep or awake. My legs were twitching from exhaustion as well as the surge of adrenaline.
Upon landing in St. Louis, I walked through the airport with a spring in my step. I do remember passing by an airport bar and thinking about getting a celebratory drink and then I remembered the horrible truth that in the US, I was still underage. Oh well. It was merely a passing thought. I also was annoyed by a poster they had of an American beer in front of Big Ben in a show of how they are an international beer because deep down, not many people in the UK drink those beers on a regular basis. It’s about Bavarian beer or ales and not much else.
I did a lap through the baggage claim. Chris wasn’t there. Suddenly I had a horrifying thought that he had been in a car crash. That’s when I realized, while brilliant though our plan may be, there was a small problem that there was no way for each of us to communicate with each other if something tragic were to happen. Chris also mentioned that he himself had had a passing thought of “what if?” “What if the plane were to crash on takeoff or landing and was nothing more than a massive explosion for high def news?” He said that he wouldn’t have had a mental neurotic breakdown if that happened. Thankfully it didn’t. The second I turned around, there he was walking through the entryway.
I called his name and we got my bag. I then told him of my lie with the group rate portion of the trip. He stopped and said that sounded completely legitimate. At this point in the journey, I’m flying high on adrenaline. The finish line is in sight. I could see it with crystal clear vision. Dad called several times and my brother would look at me and go, “Shut up.” He and Dad argued a bit about the route he took and why it was better to go one way or another. I forgot how witty Chris can be. I had to bite my hand to keep from laughing. After the call Chris said he would tone it down a tidge. He did make the mistake of using “we” when meaning to refer only to himself in the car. Dad didn’t catch this.
Outside of the Iowa state line, we stopped at the Flying Jay for coffee and gas. It was funny because Chris asked if he should go for the house blend or the French roast. It’s gas station coffee. This isn’t like walking into a high brow coffee shop. It’s going to be black and disgusting so the only option is to make it as sweet as possible by dumping in more sugar than is needed.
One last phone call to Dad and then it was another half hour to Mount Pleasant. Once in town we stopped. Chris gave me one of those small cheap bows you put on gifts to put on and then he asked how I wanted to do this. I told him to drop me off at the corner about a block from the house. Upon doing so, I had completely forgotten how cold Iowa winters are when compared to the UK. The snow on the ground was the loose kind of snow which just would fly up your jeans upon each step. There’s a wood patch right next to the road which leads to our house. Upon the edge of the wood, I checked to see whether or not there was anybody outside the house for one reason or another. There wasn’t. I couldn’t see where the cars were parked but I decided to go the cautious route. I snuck down through our yard to the front porch. I crossed to the edge of the house. I looked to see if there was anybody at the side porch. There wasn’t. I then crouch walked and checked each window that I passed before making it to the entryway. As soon as I hit the top step, I noticed my Dad in the window cooking. I thought he had seen me. He hadn’t but that didn’t stop me from barreling through the door and into the house.
“HI!!” I shouted as soon as I entered the house. Chris was right there. Dad didn’t really notice. Mom was coming around the corner to tell us to shut the door. Once around the corner she stopped and saw who it was. She was shocked. There was a stunned silence for about 90 seconds with awkward laughter coming from Tom’s girlfriend Jen. Dad couldn’t really say anything either. Mom then feebly said, “You’re supposed to be… in France.” I started to quickly take off my coat. My bow had fallen off and nobody had really seen it. Oh well.
As soon as recognition wore off my parents gave me big hugs and my brother Tom was just like, “Why didn’t you tell me?” Chris and I thought that Tom might have blown the surprise by accident and the surprise was like, 90 percent of it. Chris and I looked at Tom and both said, “I think we won this year Tom.” There was no gift that he could give which would have been able to match ours at all. I think though that I might have raised the bar way too high to be able to ever match this one ever again.
We ate dinner and I told them about my flight and our little plan. Afterwards we unwrapped gifts. I didn’t get hardly anything at all. That’s the problem with coming home unannounced. Oh well. Mom told me that she doesn’t really remember unwrapping gifts. To be honest, neither do I. Though, I could hardly stay awake through it.
I slept pretty soundly that night. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed my bed. Maybe it was just the exhaustion, I don’t know but it was a pretty damn good sleep. I will say this, rapidly switching time zones twice in less than a week plus the flights and travel in general, is terrible for one’s sleeping pattern.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
An Interesting Conversation
I know it has been a long time since I’ve blogged but I’ve been incredibly busy lately. Anyway, let’s go through this one by one, all the little events that have happened since my last post.
A few days before Christmas, I was up in Harborne to go shopping for some food from the Sainsbury’s Local. I decided to stop into the Oxfam bookshop just to kill some time. I did end up picking up a book whilst there but in the process I met a very interesting old man. He was about 70 or so. The conversation got started by all accounts on a very normal circumstance but was elevated by an odd little passion of mine. I overheard him discussing how he was going to go down to Heathrow in the next few days. He looked like he had done it before so, I decided to ask him for some advice as I was going to have to go down to Heathrow in the next few days. He told me where to go and what to do. He was very nice about it. He asked where I was headed and I told him my Christmas plans. I’ll talk about those later as that is going to take some back story.
He wished me luck but then out of the corner of my eye, I got a flash of something steel, red and blue. I took a closer look and I asked him if his wristwatch was the Rolex GMT with the Pepsi blue bezel. He told me that it was. I complemented him on it. The conversation then went from watches to travel horror stories. He talked about flying to Vegas. I told him that I had done the same and how I flew over the Grand Canyon. He told me about how he was in the RAF and had been stationed in Australia where they had done some nuclear testing. He said that he had personally seen about six nuclear bombs go off. He then told me about traveling across the Orient express as well as taking the Transsiberian down to China. His next trip was to go to India. This was a man who had been around the world. It was an interesting conversation to say the least.
A few days before Christmas, I was up in Harborne to go shopping for some food from the Sainsbury’s Local. I decided to stop into the Oxfam bookshop just to kill some time. I did end up picking up a book whilst there but in the process I met a very interesting old man. He was about 70 or so. The conversation got started by all accounts on a very normal circumstance but was elevated by an odd little passion of mine. I overheard him discussing how he was going to go down to Heathrow in the next few days. He looked like he had done it before so, I decided to ask him for some advice as I was going to have to go down to Heathrow in the next few days. He told me where to go and what to do. He was very nice about it. He asked where I was headed and I told him my Christmas plans. I’ll talk about those later as that is going to take some back story.
He wished me luck but then out of the corner of my eye, I got a flash of something steel, red and blue. I took a closer look and I asked him if his wristwatch was the Rolex GMT with the Pepsi blue bezel. He told me that it was. I complemented him on it. The conversation then went from watches to travel horror stories. He talked about flying to Vegas. I told him that I had done the same and how I flew over the Grand Canyon. He told me about how he was in the RAF and had been stationed in Australia where they had done some nuclear testing. He said that he had personally seen about six nuclear bombs go off. He then told me about traveling across the Orient express as well as taking the Transsiberian down to China. His next trip was to go to India. This was a man who had been around the world. It was an interesting conversation to say the least.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
A Serious Avatar
This past week I sort of took it easy and decided to go to the movies... a lot.
On Saturday I went to see A Serious Man at The Electric. This is probably one of the bleakest films the Coen Brothers have ever done. It is even bleaker than No Country for Old Men and that is one of the most bleakest films in recent memory. However, that is not to say that A Serious Man isn't one of the funniest movies released this year. There was one joke, one of the darkest and disturbing jokes I've ever seen that had me belly laughing so hard that people in the audience actually pointed at me. It just was that funny. It also tackles serious questions about faith and if God even is communicating with us or if life is just merely chaos. I thought it was well done without being on a soapbox. Also, like all good art, it leaves the question open rather than didactic and solvable. Discussion is key and this film feels like it is trying to open up a discussion while also being incredibly funny. It also feels like one of their most personal projects in recent memory.
About three hours after A Serious Man, I saw Me and Orson Welles. This movie was dull. It had some interesting things happening such as Christian McKay's performance as Orson Welles but the movie itself was just... boring. It felt like it was trying to be a classical Hollywood film in the sense that it was really trying for that snappy dialogue that served well in films such as The Thin Man and even Welles' Citizen Kane but it just didn't work overall. I was bored and looking at my wristwatch throughout most of the last act.
However, one of the more interesting experiences I had this past week was just within the last 12 hours of this post. My flat mate Adam and I went to see Avatar in Imax 3D. I'm not a big fan of 3D just because it's always felt gimmicky. However, in this film, it works. It works in subtle ways. It does not try and be flashy with the 3D technology except for at the beginning of the film in the first few scenes. The plot itself is somewhat clunky but hey, so is most of Star Wars plot. Essentially it is like Dances with Wolves but with blue aliens. This is not the film you watch because of the plot but because of the visuals. And my God the visuals are astounding. James Cameron really knows how to create a world and an atmosphere which anyone would want to just live in. Lush jungles and vistas as well as an entirely new culture for the screen. This is the kind of film that brings the kid in me to life. The kid in me who read many crappy science fiction novels and hey, I'm planning on going again in a few hours to see it in Imax. I'm sort of a sucker for event films.
I'm also planning on spending the entire day at The Electric on Saturday. I'm planning on watching It's a Wonderful Life, Citizen Kane and possibly but not definitely The Red Shoes. All on 35 mm.
On Saturday I went to see A Serious Man at The Electric. This is probably one of the bleakest films the Coen Brothers have ever done. It is even bleaker than No Country for Old Men and that is one of the most bleakest films in recent memory. However, that is not to say that A Serious Man isn't one of the funniest movies released this year. There was one joke, one of the darkest and disturbing jokes I've ever seen that had me belly laughing so hard that people in the audience actually pointed at me. It just was that funny. It also tackles serious questions about faith and if God even is communicating with us or if life is just merely chaos. I thought it was well done without being on a soapbox. Also, like all good art, it leaves the question open rather than didactic and solvable. Discussion is key and this film feels like it is trying to open up a discussion while also being incredibly funny. It also feels like one of their most personal projects in recent memory.
About three hours after A Serious Man, I saw Me and Orson Welles. This movie was dull. It had some interesting things happening such as Christian McKay's performance as Orson Welles but the movie itself was just... boring. It felt like it was trying to be a classical Hollywood film in the sense that it was really trying for that snappy dialogue that served well in films such as The Thin Man and even Welles' Citizen Kane but it just didn't work overall. I was bored and looking at my wristwatch throughout most of the last act.
However, one of the more interesting experiences I had this past week was just within the last 12 hours of this post. My flat mate Adam and I went to see Avatar in Imax 3D. I'm not a big fan of 3D just because it's always felt gimmicky. However, in this film, it works. It works in subtle ways. It does not try and be flashy with the 3D technology except for at the beginning of the film in the first few scenes. The plot itself is somewhat clunky but hey, so is most of Star Wars plot. Essentially it is like Dances with Wolves but with blue aliens. This is not the film you watch because of the plot but because of the visuals. And my God the visuals are astounding. James Cameron really knows how to create a world and an atmosphere which anyone would want to just live in. Lush jungles and vistas as well as an entirely new culture for the screen. This is the kind of film that brings the kid in me to life. The kid in me who read many crappy science fiction novels and hey, I'm planning on going again in a few hours to see it in Imax. I'm sort of a sucker for event films.
I'm also planning on spending the entire day at The Electric on Saturday. I'm planning on watching It's a Wonderful Life, Citizen Kane and possibly but not definitely The Red Shoes. All on 35 mm.
Last Week of Classes
My last week of classes was pretty uneventful. Although, man do British professors like to give out mince pies or treats of some sort or another.
It's nice. The most interesting treat given was in my Cold War Film course. My professor gave us a champagne orange juice mix. Unlike the horrible, awful, no-good mix given at the social during the winter ball, this one at least had some flavor. It wasn't too bad. It wasn't a home run either but hey, I'm not going to turn down a free drink. Personally, I prefer scotch with a touch of water but you can't always get what you want. Though if you go to the off license then you sure as hell can buy it.
Most of my classes consisted of just wrapping up the year and making sure any immediate questions about the papers were answered sooner rather than later.
The most interesting thing which happened during my lectures happened on Friday before my Theatre and Cultural Politics course. Some members of class met up before hand at a pub down in Selly Oak called the Bristol Pear. It was a decent pub and the food wasn't bad either.
It was also somewhat interesting because I went to class with an energy buzz. The sort of energy buzz which is generated by a pint of Guinness, a double Jack and coke and a Bourbon and water. Discussing Angels and America whilst being moderately intoxicated was quite interesting.
Also it was somewhat funny because the first part of lecture was to list off what are some of the perceived notions about Americans. John Warwick was the lecturer. He's also an American. He said that two of us were excluded from discussing this topic. When they brought up the arrogance of calling it the World Series, I had to get involved. I just offhandedly said that we recruit the best from Japan and foreign baseball teams. Warwick stopped class and said that he thought it was pretty obvious who couldn't speak during this activity. The class laughed but it was worth it. I made a bit of a fool of myself again later on when I was able to list off the years Rambo III and Firefox, both terrible films, were released. I quickly explained that I know way too much about films and had to study them, Rambo specifically, in a previous class.
Now it's off to write papers. I have to write 20,000 words by January 12th or something like that. Either way, it's not a lot of time. I've sort of slacked off until now. Mostly because I don't feel the pressure yet. I will and it will get done. It will get done. As fast as humanly possible but when the pressures on, that's when the writer in me comes out.
It's nice. The most interesting treat given was in my Cold War Film course. My professor gave us a champagne orange juice mix. Unlike the horrible, awful, no-good mix given at the social during the winter ball, this one at least had some flavor. It wasn't too bad. It wasn't a home run either but hey, I'm not going to turn down a free drink. Personally, I prefer scotch with a touch of water but you can't always get what you want. Though if you go to the off license then you sure as hell can buy it.
Most of my classes consisted of just wrapping up the year and making sure any immediate questions about the papers were answered sooner rather than later.
The most interesting thing which happened during my lectures happened on Friday before my Theatre and Cultural Politics course. Some members of class met up before hand at a pub down in Selly Oak called the Bristol Pear. It was a decent pub and the food wasn't bad either.
It was also somewhat interesting because I went to class with an energy buzz. The sort of energy buzz which is generated by a pint of Guinness, a double Jack and coke and a Bourbon and water. Discussing Angels and America whilst being moderately intoxicated was quite interesting.
Also it was somewhat funny because the first part of lecture was to list off what are some of the perceived notions about Americans. John Warwick was the lecturer. He's also an American. He said that two of us were excluded from discussing this topic. When they brought up the arrogance of calling it the World Series, I had to get involved. I just offhandedly said that we recruit the best from Japan and foreign baseball teams. Warwick stopped class and said that he thought it was pretty obvious who couldn't speak during this activity. The class laughed but it was worth it. I made a bit of a fool of myself again later on when I was able to list off the years Rambo III and Firefox, both terrible films, were released. I quickly explained that I know way too much about films and had to study them, Rambo specifically, in a previous class.
Now it's off to write papers. I have to write 20,000 words by January 12th or something like that. Either way, it's not a lot of time. I've sort of slacked off until now. Mostly because I don't feel the pressure yet. I will and it will get done. It will get done. As fast as humanly possible but when the pressures on, that's when the writer in me comes out.
The Winter Ball
Last week on Tuesday night we had our Winter Ball. It was a formal event in which we all dressed in suits and ties to eat a three course meal. The ticket for said event cost £25. Was it worth it? I couldn't really say.
A lot of my friends and flat mates were going. I decided I should go as well. There was a slight problem of not owning a suit but I rectified that situation a few weeks before the ball by going out to Bullring (I went to Suits You) and purchasing a very nice Ted Baker single breasted three button suit with three shirts, three ties, a new belt, two pairs of cuff links and a new pair of black dress shoes. They made such a killing on me, and my God was it an arm and a leg and a thigh, that they threw in a travel bag at practically no extra charge. My rationale behind buying such a nice suit was because well, it will come in handy beyond just tonight. Why buy a cheap suit which will get destroyed when I could buy a nice one which I could get dry cleaned and have it on hand for future formal events as well as job interviews and anything of that nature.
Back to the event at hand. We all got dressed in suits and ties and then we went down to the Social. The ticket said "Free Drinks" at the social. What that "Free Drinks" actually entailed, vague though it may be, was one free drink which was a cheap champagne flavored drink mixed with orange juice. It was a terrible, bland disgusting, flavorless and soulless drink. I rectified that situation by going up to the bar and ordering a Rum and Coke just to wash the sickly flavor from my mouth.
We then went down to the coaches which were going to take us to the Aston Villa Football Grounds. We were to have our meal inside of one of the executive suites. It was like a ballroom. Wood floors. A bar at one end of the room and a jazz band at the other. The jazz band was too close to my friend's table. They said it was annoying. I didn't sit there not because I didn't want to but because it just worked out that way. I sat with Sachin (Magic Man) and his flat mates. Sachin is known as Magic Man because he's so good with magic drinks. He has a whole routine with a deck of cards which ends with the card turning into a glass deck. He's really good at sleight of hand. I always keep my wallet in a safe place around him. He's not going to do anything but... just in case he ever wants to pull any tricks. Nah, he's actually a really good guy.
There were five bottles of wine at the center of the table with streamers, party poppers and a "fun box" with party nick knacks. The five bottles though were cheap, disgusting wines which had more in common with vinegar than wine. Again, I had to rectify this situation by going up to the bar and ordering a double jack and coke on the rocks with a lemon wedge. That cost me an arm and a leg but frankly, I would rather pay out money to get a good drink at an event like this than to dress up and drink terrible wine. It also had the added effect of getting my pallet somewhat numbed so I could stomach the bad stuff. My dad once told me that you drink the good stuff first, then you drink the bad stuff.
The first course was a minestrone soup and a roll. The soup itself was actually pretty good. It was a good warm up round until we got to the main course. Turkey with gravy, stuffing in the center, potatoes, green beans and cranberry sauce. It wasn't the greatest piece of poultry I've ever had, but then again, this was a mass produced meal. I didn't expect much from it. It was better than I thought it was going to be. The final course was a really good cheese cake. It had a layer of chocolate at the bottom. It was lush.
Afterward they had some announcements from people who got elected into office for our living area. It's Residential Advisers. Entertainment office, treasury and things of that nature. Ho hum stuff.
Throughout the meal I was having a pretty good time. I talked with a girl who was a golf management major. Yes, the University of Birmingham offers that as a major. She wants to own a golf course. I thought that was pretty interesting because you don't really meet that everyday.
After the meal is when fun took a nose dive. We went to get photos as a flat and as friends. It didn't go so well. People bum rushed the photographer and people just got agitated, especially amongst my group that we decided to get out of there.
We went downstairs. There were nine of us. We ordered a taxi. They sent us two. the first took home four leaving five. The second arrived but it wouldn't be able to take us all. Mark got angry with the driver. For a second I thought a fight was going to break out. Thankfully, another group of taxis arrived and took us home.
We all broke up and went to bed.
All in all, I think I had a good time but it was jaded at best. Some people made absolute fools of themselves. One guy, the entertainments officer, Ash, showed up at the venue absolutely battered. He was just a fool with streamers encircling and entwining around him. Most people who were civilized were less than impressed. Rod remarked to me later that he has only ever seen Ash whilst he is drunk. I will say this, it was entertaining to watch however I don't think he should be the one in charge of it.
The emotional drama at the end of the night was... well, it was less than impressive. The jazz band they had wasn't the greatest and they were way too loud throughout most of the night. It should have been a function with quiet music in the background not anything more.
I suppose I could nitpick the hell out of it but that's just what I do. I nitpick the hell out of a lot of things. I enjoyed it but if I had a choice I probably would not want to go again. I don't think I'm going to make the summer ball to be perfectly frank.
A lot of my friends and flat mates were going. I decided I should go as well. There was a slight problem of not owning a suit but I rectified that situation a few weeks before the ball by going out to Bullring (I went to Suits You) and purchasing a very nice Ted Baker single breasted three button suit with three shirts, three ties, a new belt, two pairs of cuff links and a new pair of black dress shoes. They made such a killing on me, and my God was it an arm and a leg and a thigh, that they threw in a travel bag at practically no extra charge. My rationale behind buying such a nice suit was because well, it will come in handy beyond just tonight. Why buy a cheap suit which will get destroyed when I could buy a nice one which I could get dry cleaned and have it on hand for future formal events as well as job interviews and anything of that nature.
Back to the event at hand. We all got dressed in suits and ties and then we went down to the Social. The ticket said "Free Drinks" at the social. What that "Free Drinks" actually entailed, vague though it may be, was one free drink which was a cheap champagne flavored drink mixed with orange juice. It was a terrible, bland disgusting, flavorless and soulless drink. I rectified that situation by going up to the bar and ordering a Rum and Coke just to wash the sickly flavor from my mouth.
We then went down to the coaches which were going to take us to the Aston Villa Football Grounds. We were to have our meal inside of one of the executive suites. It was like a ballroom. Wood floors. A bar at one end of the room and a jazz band at the other. The jazz band was too close to my friend's table. They said it was annoying. I didn't sit there not because I didn't want to but because it just worked out that way. I sat with Sachin (Magic Man) and his flat mates. Sachin is known as Magic Man because he's so good with magic drinks. He has a whole routine with a deck of cards which ends with the card turning into a glass deck. He's really good at sleight of hand. I always keep my wallet in a safe place around him. He's not going to do anything but... just in case he ever wants to pull any tricks. Nah, he's actually a really good guy.
There were five bottles of wine at the center of the table with streamers, party poppers and a "fun box" with party nick knacks. The five bottles though were cheap, disgusting wines which had more in common with vinegar than wine. Again, I had to rectify this situation by going up to the bar and ordering a double jack and coke on the rocks with a lemon wedge. That cost me an arm and a leg but frankly, I would rather pay out money to get a good drink at an event like this than to dress up and drink terrible wine. It also had the added effect of getting my pallet somewhat numbed so I could stomach the bad stuff. My dad once told me that you drink the good stuff first, then you drink the bad stuff.
The first course was a minestrone soup and a roll. The soup itself was actually pretty good. It was a good warm up round until we got to the main course. Turkey with gravy, stuffing in the center, potatoes, green beans and cranberry sauce. It wasn't the greatest piece of poultry I've ever had, but then again, this was a mass produced meal. I didn't expect much from it. It was better than I thought it was going to be. The final course was a really good cheese cake. It had a layer of chocolate at the bottom. It was lush.
Afterward they had some announcements from people who got elected into office for our living area. It's Residential Advisers. Entertainment office, treasury and things of that nature. Ho hum stuff.
Throughout the meal I was having a pretty good time. I talked with a girl who was a golf management major. Yes, the University of Birmingham offers that as a major. She wants to own a golf course. I thought that was pretty interesting because you don't really meet that everyday.
After the meal is when fun took a nose dive. We went to get photos as a flat and as friends. It didn't go so well. People bum rushed the photographer and people just got agitated, especially amongst my group that we decided to get out of there.
We went downstairs. There were nine of us. We ordered a taxi. They sent us two. the first took home four leaving five. The second arrived but it wouldn't be able to take us all. Mark got angry with the driver. For a second I thought a fight was going to break out. Thankfully, another group of taxis arrived and took us home.
We all broke up and went to bed.
All in all, I think I had a good time but it was jaded at best. Some people made absolute fools of themselves. One guy, the entertainments officer, Ash, showed up at the venue absolutely battered. He was just a fool with streamers encircling and entwining around him. Most people who were civilized were less than impressed. Rod remarked to me later that he has only ever seen Ash whilst he is drunk. I will say this, it was entertaining to watch however I don't think he should be the one in charge of it.
The emotional drama at the end of the night was... well, it was less than impressive. The jazz band they had wasn't the greatest and they were way too loud throughout most of the night. It should have been a function with quiet music in the background not anything more.
I suppose I could nitpick the hell out of it but that's just what I do. I nitpick the hell out of a lot of things. I enjoyed it but if I had a choice I probably would not want to go again. I don't think I'm going to make the summer ball to be perfectly frank.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Endgame
This past weekend I went down to London to see a play. Endgame by Samuel Beckett. It was a very interesting play but I'll get to that later.
The Friday before I went though was a pretty interesting one. My theatre and cultural politics course was another really interesting one. This time we were discussing the ethics of Hell Houses which are "haunted houses" but they are told from a Christian perspective. So, there would be scenes depicted suicide or abortions or a gay man dying of aids or ravers and afterward they would be dragged down to the fiery pits of Hell by demons. It's all that fire and brimstone crap. The kind of Christianity which is really disgusting. Gandhi once said that "I like your Christ but not your Christians." So true. Another interesting quote came from one of our readings. "Haunted houses are meant to scare the bejesus out of you, while Hell Houses are meant to scare the Jesus into you."
However we were not looking at it from a perspective of good or bad performance. We were actually supposed to be looking at it fairly objectively. We were supposed to be looking at the mechanics of what this sort of theatre was doing. It was a very interesting lecture and the lecturer, John Warwick was another American. He was also asking very tough questions. He told us that all theatre is exclusionary in some form or another. It was hard hitting, blunt and to the point. We were not discussing ethics but mechanics.
Many people in the lecture were a bit thunderstruck by it and sort of either missed the point or tried to make it into an ethical debate. I was on the edge of my seat for most of it. After class, Serafina and I had a pretty lengthy discussion about it. We parted ways because she had to finish work on a project.
Later on that night, my friends from Oakley Court and I grabbed dinner at the pub. Green Man. God, I love that place. I wasn't planning on going but, hey I just can't say no to a good pub meal. I had the grilled lemon chicken with jacket (baked) potatoes and peas. I also had a pint of Guinness with it. I downed the Guinness pretty quickly. That stuff tastes so good. I had another pint. This time it was an ale called Ubu. I do enjoy a good ale. Don't worry, I'm not becoming an alcoholic. I do feel that one can enjoy alcohol responsibly.
The meal was good but I grew weary and headed home. I passed out and woke up that morning pretty early. I had soup for breakfast and killed time before I had to be at the station.
I collected my tickets and I was a little concerned by the way they printed out. I thought I had only purchased a one way ticket. Thankfully I hadn't but still, it was a worry.
The train ride down was uneventful. Although it was sunnier than normal which was a shock. I actually had to put my sunglasses on during the train ride. Once in London I grabbed a tube map and proceeded to head where I needed to go. I got off at Oxford Circus and I went to a Bella Italia for lunch. It's an Italian chain here in the UK. It's sort of like the Olive Garden only it's a lot nicer.
I headed to Embankment station and from there I went across the river Thames via a walkway bridge. I saw the Eye which is a giant sightseeing Ferris wheel. At the base were many street performers as well as a small Christmas market. I walked across another bridge and saw one of the major landmarks of London. Big Ben and Parliament. Big Ben isn't as big as they say. It's a little underwhelming. Old Joe, the clock tower on campus is actually taller than Big Ben.
After exploring around for a little bit, I headed back to try and find where I needed to go for my play. That was a bit trickier. Thankfully I gave myself plenty of time just in case something like this happened. I ended up taking several wrong turns. I broke down and bought a street map. Found where I needed to go and arrived with a 1/2 hour to spare.
Endgame is a play by Samuel Beckett. He is sort of a major figure in the play world. They recently had a showing of Waiting for Godot, his other seminal work which starred Ian McKellen. That play was so successful that they are bringing it back for a limited 10 week run in the spring. Yes, I'm going to buy tickets to see that.
Endgame doesn't really have a plot. It's four characters are living in what is essentially a post-apocalyptic world. Hamm is blind. Clov can barely walk. Nell and Nagg, Hamm's parents, live in waste bins. They more or less looked like demented Oscar the Grouch off of Sesame Street.
I'm fortunate at having seen the play because it was the second to last showing of it. It was a strange play. Intense doesn't even scratch the surface. I was very claustrophobic whilst watching it. I did have killer seats but the Duchess Theatre is a lot smaller than the Old Vic. One of the cooler set ideas was the window curtains, when moved, actually had quite a bit of dust fall from them. The door leading to the unseen kitchen creaked and creaked once open.
It was a one act play lasting only 100 minutes but I felt like I got my money's worth.
After the play, I walked around a bit in the rain and found a nice pub. I had fish and chips which were a lot better this time around as well as a nice good ale. Then I found my way to Euston train station and went home.
All in all it was a pretty good day.
For mementos of my play going experiences I plan on buying the programs of each show I attend.
The Friday before I went though was a pretty interesting one. My theatre and cultural politics course was another really interesting one. This time we were discussing the ethics of Hell Houses which are "haunted houses" but they are told from a Christian perspective. So, there would be scenes depicted suicide or abortions or a gay man dying of aids or ravers and afterward they would be dragged down to the fiery pits of Hell by demons. It's all that fire and brimstone crap. The kind of Christianity which is really disgusting. Gandhi once said that "I like your Christ but not your Christians." So true. Another interesting quote came from one of our readings. "Haunted houses are meant to scare the bejesus out of you, while Hell Houses are meant to scare the Jesus into you."
However we were not looking at it from a perspective of good or bad performance. We were actually supposed to be looking at it fairly objectively. We were supposed to be looking at the mechanics of what this sort of theatre was doing. It was a very interesting lecture and the lecturer, John Warwick was another American. He was also asking very tough questions. He told us that all theatre is exclusionary in some form or another. It was hard hitting, blunt and to the point. We were not discussing ethics but mechanics.
Many people in the lecture were a bit thunderstruck by it and sort of either missed the point or tried to make it into an ethical debate. I was on the edge of my seat for most of it. After class, Serafina and I had a pretty lengthy discussion about it. We parted ways because she had to finish work on a project.
Later on that night, my friends from Oakley Court and I grabbed dinner at the pub. Green Man. God, I love that place. I wasn't planning on going but, hey I just can't say no to a good pub meal. I had the grilled lemon chicken with jacket (baked) potatoes and peas. I also had a pint of Guinness with it. I downed the Guinness pretty quickly. That stuff tastes so good. I had another pint. This time it was an ale called Ubu. I do enjoy a good ale. Don't worry, I'm not becoming an alcoholic. I do feel that one can enjoy alcohol responsibly.
The meal was good but I grew weary and headed home. I passed out and woke up that morning pretty early. I had soup for breakfast and killed time before I had to be at the station.
I collected my tickets and I was a little concerned by the way they printed out. I thought I had only purchased a one way ticket. Thankfully I hadn't but still, it was a worry.
The train ride down was uneventful. Although it was sunnier than normal which was a shock. I actually had to put my sunglasses on during the train ride. Once in London I grabbed a tube map and proceeded to head where I needed to go. I got off at Oxford Circus and I went to a Bella Italia for lunch. It's an Italian chain here in the UK. It's sort of like the Olive Garden only it's a lot nicer.
I headed to Embankment station and from there I went across the river Thames via a walkway bridge. I saw the Eye which is a giant sightseeing Ferris wheel. At the base were many street performers as well as a small Christmas market. I walked across another bridge and saw one of the major landmarks of London. Big Ben and Parliament. Big Ben isn't as big as they say. It's a little underwhelming. Old Joe, the clock tower on campus is actually taller than Big Ben.
After exploring around for a little bit, I headed back to try and find where I needed to go for my play. That was a bit trickier. Thankfully I gave myself plenty of time just in case something like this happened. I ended up taking several wrong turns. I broke down and bought a street map. Found where I needed to go and arrived with a 1/2 hour to spare.
Endgame is a play by Samuel Beckett. He is sort of a major figure in the play world. They recently had a showing of Waiting for Godot, his other seminal work which starred Ian McKellen. That play was so successful that they are bringing it back for a limited 10 week run in the spring. Yes, I'm going to buy tickets to see that.
Endgame doesn't really have a plot. It's four characters are living in what is essentially a post-apocalyptic world. Hamm is blind. Clov can barely walk. Nell and Nagg, Hamm's parents, live in waste bins. They more or less looked like demented Oscar the Grouch off of Sesame Street.
I'm fortunate at having seen the play because it was the second to last showing of it. It was a strange play. Intense doesn't even scratch the surface. I was very claustrophobic whilst watching it. I did have killer seats but the Duchess Theatre is a lot smaller than the Old Vic. One of the cooler set ideas was the window curtains, when moved, actually had quite a bit of dust fall from them. The door leading to the unseen kitchen creaked and creaked once open.
It was a one act play lasting only 100 minutes but I felt like I got my money's worth.
After the play, I walked around a bit in the rain and found a nice pub. I had fish and chips which were a lot better this time around as well as a nice good ale. Then I found my way to Euston train station and went home.
All in all it was a pretty good day.
For mementos of my play going experiences I plan on buying the programs of each show I attend.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Postmodernism Back to Back
I had a pretty interesting Friday lecture in my Theatre and Cultural Politics course. So far that course has been pretty lethargic. None of the topics have been that interesting until last Friday.
We were discussing sort of Postmodern politics with beauty aesthetics and cybernetics. It's a little weird and hard to describe. We had to read Alan Ayckbourn's play Henceforward... which is about a man, his cyborg and a strange meeting to prove that he is a competent father who should be allowed to see his daughter. That's the gist. There's more to it as there always is. It was a pretty solid play. Typical of Ayckbourn in that it is absurdly funny in places.
Back to the discussion though. One of the articles we read involved this woman named Orlan who films her own plastic surgeries and sells them as art. Her face is now a pastiche of what "art" has called the human figure as beautiful. She has the forehead of the Mona Lisa for instance because that is what people have called beautiful. It's really complicated but the discussion it incited was pretty interesting.
At least it was to me and another girl. Saraphina is her name. It's a strange name but she seems pretty cool. what happened was we were discussing this woman and of course everybody is taking the very basic sides of either what she is doing is ethical or horrifying. Discussion wasn't really moving forward. Finally, after having my hand raised for quite a bit, I pulled discussion on another tangent. I asked the class how many were wearing makeup because isn't that changing your figure in some way shape or form? Isn't it changing your body even if it is only temporary? It lead discussion down a more useful tangent than the dialectical good or bad of what this woman was doing. Of course, whether you agree with Orlan or not, she has made a lot of money doing these surgeries so, I don't really think she ultimately cares about her face so much as her pocketbook.
Another little incident that happened in class was a few minutes and a few slides later we were looking at this other performer who had all these hooks in his body which could be moved by the audience members via computer. Yes, it's another ethical dilemma. We didn't spend much time on it but a lot of people in class made grimaces or small comments on how disgusting that was. I decided to say something way out of left field and asked, "What's wrong with a little sadomasochism?" Nobody laughed but Saraphina. Immediately I'm like, I need to talk with her after class. I feel like I made a friend that day.
Today in my thriller course we had an interesting discussion on postmodernism in relation to Paul Auster's New York Trilogy. It's one of my favorite topics. The professor asked who has studied postmodernism and I was the only one who raised their hand. It was a good lecture and I got to show off how much I already knew.
What was the most interesting was how lecture actually ended. It's held in the Richard Shackleton library which is a small room with a big table. It is surrounded by bookshelves. Some of these shelves have glass sliding panels. Literally, at the last moment of class, at the last comment from the lecturer, two of the glass panels fell off and smashed on the ground. It was close to three of us, me being one of them. It actually hit a girl's chair but thankfully she was leaning forward. It missed her by about three inches or so. Nobody screamed, nobody was hurt but everybody was stunned.
It was one hell of a way to end a lecture.
We were discussing sort of Postmodern politics with beauty aesthetics and cybernetics. It's a little weird and hard to describe. We had to read Alan Ayckbourn's play Henceforward... which is about a man, his cyborg and a strange meeting to prove that he is a competent father who should be allowed to see his daughter. That's the gist. There's more to it as there always is. It was a pretty solid play. Typical of Ayckbourn in that it is absurdly funny in places.
Back to the discussion though. One of the articles we read involved this woman named Orlan who films her own plastic surgeries and sells them as art. Her face is now a pastiche of what "art" has called the human figure as beautiful. She has the forehead of the Mona Lisa for instance because that is what people have called beautiful. It's really complicated but the discussion it incited was pretty interesting.
At least it was to me and another girl. Saraphina is her name. It's a strange name but she seems pretty cool. what happened was we were discussing this woman and of course everybody is taking the very basic sides of either what she is doing is ethical or horrifying. Discussion wasn't really moving forward. Finally, after having my hand raised for quite a bit, I pulled discussion on another tangent. I asked the class how many were wearing makeup because isn't that changing your figure in some way shape or form? Isn't it changing your body even if it is only temporary? It lead discussion down a more useful tangent than the dialectical good or bad of what this woman was doing. Of course, whether you agree with Orlan or not, she has made a lot of money doing these surgeries so, I don't really think she ultimately cares about her face so much as her pocketbook.
Another little incident that happened in class was a few minutes and a few slides later we were looking at this other performer who had all these hooks in his body which could be moved by the audience members via computer. Yes, it's another ethical dilemma. We didn't spend much time on it but a lot of people in class made grimaces or small comments on how disgusting that was. I decided to say something way out of left field and asked, "What's wrong with a little sadomasochism?" Nobody laughed but Saraphina. Immediately I'm like, I need to talk with her after class. I feel like I made a friend that day.
Today in my thriller course we had an interesting discussion on postmodernism in relation to Paul Auster's New York Trilogy. It's one of my favorite topics. The professor asked who has studied postmodernism and I was the only one who raised their hand. It was a good lecture and I got to show off how much I already knew.
What was the most interesting was how lecture actually ended. It's held in the Richard Shackleton library which is a small room with a big table. It is surrounded by bookshelves. Some of these shelves have glass sliding panels. Literally, at the last moment of class, at the last comment from the lecturer, two of the glass panels fell off and smashed on the ground. It was close to three of us, me being one of them. It actually hit a girl's chair but thankfully she was leaning forward. It missed her by about three inches or so. Nobody screamed, nobody was hurt but everybody was stunned.
It was one hell of a way to end a lecture.
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