Thursday, June 10, 2010

How I was almost barred from going abroad...

Text Message:
From: Mommy!
Received: Thursday, Jun 10 1:04pm
Message: "Urgent ur application to study in ghana has be rescinded...letter received today"

Kenyon almost got burnt the hell down.

I called the Kenyon Office of Global Engagement after receiving this text message. It was 1:06pm when I made the phone call. I had a rehearsal at 1:00pm (more on the show I'm working on in a later post).

Anyone who knows me knows that it takes a lot for me to be late to a rehearsal.

I called, and the conversation went like this:

Scene: Lobby of NYU Tisch School for the Arts. Rainy Thursday Afternoon. The room is filled with the chatter of artsy NYU theatre & film students.

Jamal (attempting to be calm/cool): Hi, this is Jamal Jordan. My mother got a letter today saying that you rescinded my OCS [Off-Campus Study] approval? Could you...explain this please?
Person on Phone: Yes. I have your file right here, actually. It says that your GPA for this semester is too low.
Jamal: But my GPA is [none of YOUR damn business, dear reader].
Person on Phone: Well, according to our records, your GPA is 2.23.
Jamal: ...That's not my GPA.

Then I called the Registrar.

Jamal: Hi,the OCS office has the wrong GPA for me. They say my GPA is 2.23. It's not 2.23. Could you fix it?
Person on Phone: I'm sorry, I don't understand.
Jamal: The OCS office has the wrong GPA for me. I assume it's your fault. Fix it. [I didn't say those actually words, but that's effectively what I said...]
Person on Phone: If you purchase another transcript, we can send it to them, and that should--
Jamal: No thank you. Bye.

Then I called the Center for Global Engagement again.

Jamal: Hi, I just called you 10 minutes ago.
Person on Phone: Yes, I remember.
Jamal: I'm panicking. Is there anything I can do while I wait for someone who can actually help me to show up?
Person on Phone: No there isn't.
Jamal: Ummm...
Person on Phone: Okay. Bye!

Eventually (15 painful minutes later), they fixed it.

I still don't know how they thought my GPA was 2.23.




Thursday, May 27, 2010

The Quest for A Black Barber in the Bronx

I have a meeting at Noon.

My mother has been pestering me to get a line-up (if you don't know what this is, go here) for about a week, so I decided that I could fit this in before the meeting.

The meeting was a 30-minute train ride away. I, of course, factored in 10 minutes of train-delay/lost time. My goal was to be on a rain by 11:10am.

Here's how that went down.

10:30am -- Leave my apartment. Walk down 181st street to look for a barber.

10:33am -- Find an open barber shop.

The sole barber has only one man in his chair.

Me: How much longer will you be?
Barber: *Blank stare*
Me: Hey, how much longer will you be?
Barber: *Nods Head* Yes.
Me: [Internally: I didn't ask a "yes" or "no" question.] I said, how much longer will you be? Can I get a line-up?
Dude in Chair: Yo man, he's doin' my head. He's going to be a while.

With this, I leave. I notice that the man in the chair is bald, and the barber has his clippers in one hand and a blow dryer in the other.

This is why I will never let anyone who isn't black touch my head.

I left.

10:44am -- Keep walking. Cross Grand Concourse.

There were no open barbershops on 181st Street. Sad, I decided to walk up to Fordham Road (Approx. 190th Street--A little under a mile from where I was) to scope out barbershops/kill time.

Apparently, every barbershop in the Bronx is run by brown people.

I have nothing against brown people, but, don't forget--their hair is straight.

I don't get a line-up.

10:58am -- Board the D Train.

11:00am-11:58am -- What should've been a 30 minute train ride turns into an hour-long train ride. Thanks, MTA

12:00pm-12:08pm -- Realize that I forgot to write down the address of my meeting. I run around 5th Ave./Madison Ave. like a mad man.

12:09pm -- Find meeting location. Realize that I have to take an elevator up 33 floors.

12:10pm -- Panic.

12:11pm -- Reach Destination

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Leg 1: New York City

I'll admit, this is odd.

I'll be spending the next year studying abroad. My fall semester will be spent in Legon/Accra, Ghana and my spring semester will be spent in Durban, South Africa. Like many other study abroad students, I made plans to keep a blog (because, of course, people care what I think.)

This blog was originally going to start on August 9th, when I touch down in Africa, but I decided to start early.

I just got to New York City, where I'll be spending my summer. I'll be interning with two theatres, and, hopefully, have lots of ridiculous adventures.

And I'm going to blog about it...but I plan on keeping my blog a secret until the second leg on my world tour (Ghana) begins. I don't know why. I had a really great reason why yesterday, but I forgot.

Hopefully, in the two months that I'm here, I'll get the hang of posting about my life every week, and making blog posts that are actually interesting.

Yesterday, on my flight from Detroit to New York, the reality of the next year finally began to sink in for me--I'm going to be hopping from location to location every few months for the next year of my life. It's terrifying. I don't know what to expect. I had a really romanticized vision of what I could be like, but I don't want to jinx it or anything.

Anyway, right now, I literally have no clue what to expect out of my summer. I don't know who I'll be spending time with this summer--I need to hurry and make some friends. I only have seven episodes of Mad Men left. I don't know what kind of work I'll be doing. I have my first meeting with the powers-that-be of the Movement Theatre Company tomorrow. It's a company of young theatre artists of color (like me!). I can dig that.

Maybe they'll all be amazing, and I'll have an amazing, tight-knit group of talented, attractive, nice, kind friends who all have apartments scattered around convenient locales through New York City.

A kid can dream, right?

Either way--here's to a reflective, amazing, fun, scary, life-changing summer. Woo!

Peace and Love,
Jamal