What I Was Thinking.

Old Posts

Angst and heartbreak straight from my freshman year of college.  Enjoy!

Little Alternatives to Crying (or, nonsensical rantings)

waiting winning losing

winning losing waiting, losing 

putting that thing back together and painting it a new color. it'll stay in my chest as long as I can keep it there
last time it got out it bounced its little self all over the walls and made a mess of every hallway
those things aren't like skin
they aren't like women who are back on their feet days after giving birth
when that new life is its own the pain goes away and the essence of softness is all that remains

but when you let that thing out of your chest, if you think you're gonna get it back the way it was you are wrong

baby I rewrote The End. We changed our lives. we grew
we grew up and acted down, and it was fresh cold
I grew faster, I was so much taller and you shrunk me and stood
stood on my toes and then left me there, half buried
and you ran
you ran faster than I could, but it wasn't a bird, it wasn't like the sun
it wasn't drinking in the air like life
it was down, falling like you do, falling into countries and metaphors
yawning at emotions when they try to get out 

doubt stayed awake 419 days

muted like brass, sad and unsure

but you are here
and i am here
and we tested the waters while you slept

You didn't think to jump.
I didn't think not to.

Tee hee hee. I always knew I liked Billy Collins. Maybe all Emily Dickinson needed was a good roll in the hay (Thanks M for showing this to me!).

http://homepages.sover.net/~nichael/nlc-poetry/bc1.html

Taking Off Emily Dickinson's Clothes
Billy Collins

First, her tippet made of tulle,
easily lifted off her shoulders and laid
on the back of a wooden chair.

And her bonnet,
the bow undone with a light forward pull.

Then the long white dress, a more
complicated matter with mother-of-pearl
buttons down the back,
so tiny and numerous that it takes forever
before my hands can part the fabric,
like a swimmer's dividing water,
and slip inside.

You will want to know
that she was standing
by an open window in an upstairs bedroom,
motionless, a little wide-eyed,
looking out at the orchard below,
the white dress puddled at her feet
on the wide-board, hardwood floor.

The complexity of women's undergarments
in nineteenth-century America
is not to be waved off,
and I proceeded like a polar explorer
through clips, clasps, and moorings,
catches, straps, and whalebone stays,
sailing toward the iceberg of her nakedness.

Later, I wrote in a notebook
it was like riding a swan into the night,
but, of course, I cannot tell you everything -
the way she closed her eyes to the orchard,
how her hair tumbled free of its pins,
how there were sudden dashes
whenever we spoke.

What I can tell you is
it was terribly quiet in Amherst
that Sabbath afternoon,
nothing but a carriage passing the house,
a fly buzzing in a windowpane.

So I could plainly hear her inhale
when I undid the very top
hook-and-eye fastener of her corset

and I could hear her sigh when finally it was unloosed,
the way some readers sigh when they realize
that Hope has feathers,
that reason is a plank,
that life is a loaded gun
that looks right at you with a yellow eye.
--From Picnic, Lightning
(University of Pittsburgh Press)

Old experiences revisited

I wrote this about a month ago when I spoke at Hillel on Shabbat.  I'm a little proud of it, so I thought I'd post it here.

Shabbat shalom, everyone. 

We all know Parshat B’Shalach – it’s a fantastic story.  God works miracles through Moses and ten plagues later, the Israelites are packing their belongings and leaving Egypt.  The Exodus begins, and God continues to impress.  God sends the Israelites out of Egypt cloaked by a cloud during the day, and by a pillar of fire by night.  When Pharaoh’s chariots close in on them, God works through Moses once again to split the sea for the Israelites and then close it on the Egyptians.  God makes Mannah rain down from the sky, and turns the bitter water of Marah sweet.  It has all the elements of a great story, but with just these details it feels as though it’s missing something.

 

In the summer of 2006 I went on my first trip to Israel with my best friend and 23 kids we didn’t know. In mid-July we were way up north.  We had just toured Safed and taken a “water hike” in the southernmost part of the Golan Heights.  We were in our rooms at Kibbutz Hukok when Hezbollah began firing katyusha rockets into Israel.  Our counselors explained what was happening and told us we needed to be packed and ready to leave in ten minutes.  We could see the missiles flying overhead as we called our parents to let them know we were relocating and that we were safe.  We didn't have time to stow our belongings properly under the bus, so we just shoved them in the back.  A few of us sat in the back and braced the bags.  We were tense and uncomfortable and overwhelmed.  Our group was just getting to know each other, and we were too preoccupied to make small talk. 

 

About 20 minutes into our hour-long drive the bus lurched forward.  Someone’s backpack fell on my head, but we did our best to keep heavy things from falling.  Our madrichim and driver got off the bus, came back on, and announced that the bus had hit a sheep.  Some vegetarians on the bus were horrified, some of the weird kids got off to see the damage, but the rest of us relaxed and laughed at the irony.  One guy yelled, “yeah, schawarma for dinner!”  Why did this happen?  We were fleeing a war zone as fast as we could and God sends a sheep to slow us down?  

 

This bizarre thing had happened, and it chilled us out and we connected over it.  The Israelites, too, had distractions and humanizing moments during their departure.  They also had to pack their bags in a hurry.  They packed the ingredients for bread, which they ended up not needing since God provided Mannah in the desert.

 

According to the rabbis, Moses’ staff alone didn’t split the Sea of Reeds.  An old man figured God was waiting for the people give a sign that they trusted God, so he walked into the water, praising God until the water was up to his nose.

 

The Matzah, the Mi Chamochah and the sheep added a human element to these stories.  Despite the surrealness of the escapes we can come back to the stories over and over again and relate to them every time.  They represent the way we as Jews connect to everything in our lives – through food, through music, and through laughter.

Shabbat Shalom!

 

I am a nail polish fanatic. I am also a Hunger Games fanatic! That book series is AWESOME. Forget team Peeta / team Gale, this book is about girl power and inner strength, not some hot guys. Glam Polish, in her infinite awesomeness, is having a giveaway of China Glaze's new Hunger Games - inspired collection, "Capitol Colors." I could not be more excited. These colors are SENSATIONAL! So pretty! And as I am a NEW nail fanatic, I would love love love to add these to my small but growing collection. Check me out, Glam Polish! Ohh the awesomeness. Be well!
-Maddie.

http://glam-polish.blogspot.com/2012/01/500-follower-giveaway-china-glaze.html

Images.

Hey kids.  I'm thinking about getting a new tattoo sometime soon.  These are some images I'm interested in...if any of you are artsy and wanna pretty these up/think of a similar design that might suit me by all means take a crack at it!  Greatly appreciated.  These are all just ideas in the beginning beginning stage.

    I love this flower.  I would get it on my shoulder, I think.  Although I'd love it if it had 18 pieces total including the petals, middle part, etc.

 I super super love this image.  I love pomegranates.  I have a white pomegranate flower on my forearm already.  I like this image but i'd like if it were a little more detailed, sort of a toile design.

 I'm thinking most seriously about one of these hamsas.  I like them the way they are, but again, I'd love more detail.

 

 Jewish star from a Chagall painting.  Chagall is my favorite artist.  His work is so joyful, colorful and emotive.

 awesome vintage fashion enthusiast with beautiful beautiful quarter sleeve tattoo.

Women Can Be Misogynists, Too

 

 

Today in one of my classes we watched this clip.  For anyone who doesn’t know, this cute little video advertises The Women’s Fund, a great organization that empowers women and girls.  The video is great - it’s a good example of the belief that feminism is not just for women anymore.

(The only issue I have with this video is that save for Columbus Mayor Michael Coleman, the video only features mid-aged white men.)

When asked for our reactions toward the video, a young woman in my class raised her hand and said, “I really like this video.  It pulls me in because I am, like, the opposite of a feminist - I’m from San Francisco, so ‘feminism’ has a stigma around it.  So being a person that hates feminism, I liked seeing regular guys talking up The Women’s Fund.”

While I’m glad that the video drew her in, I was very insulted by her ignorance.  She basically said that being a feminist is taboo, bad, dangerous.  She insulted the feminism that keeps me and my friends, many of whom are rape survivors, strong and involved and focused.  Sure, some feminists and feminist dialogue is extreme, but there are extremists in EVERY group and association - religious, social, political…

I wanted to confront this girl, but sometimes it’s just not worth the effort. I know that the work I do for women will begin to make up for the ignorance that some people choose to have toward the feminist movement.  I am and will always be a proud woman, co-survivor, ally, FEMINIST.

Tell me, how do you respond to women who are sexist against women?

August 17, 2010: The Room and Stupid Kids

During the "Year Course Shabbat Weekend" we were planning on doing our own cult showing of the famously bad movie "The Room."  For those of you who've never heard of this movie, look it up, and don't watch it alone.  It's TERRIBLE.  But it's one of those movies that's so bad, it's good.  We decided to see if The Room was playing anywhere in the city.  We discovered that Friday, June 25, was the seventh anniversary of the premiere of The Room, and it was playing in the East Village.  So we got our stuff together and headed downtown.

It was hilarious - to a point.  The movie is made better by the audience callbacks - audience members yell at the screen and throw spoons whenever a spoon is seen on screen (which is surprisingly often).  There was one kid sitting directly behind me, however, who didn't understand that you pick your moments with callbacks.  Bussy, the idea is not to yell "BITCH!" whenever the leading woman was on screen.

In one of the scenes, two characters are sitting in a diner having a conversation.  When they get up to leave, the kid sitting behind me yells, "You forgot to pay! JEW!"

I was so shocked I didn't know what to do.  I was furious, and then confused.  I sank down in my seat.  I felt...threatened.  I'd never felt like that before.  It surprised me, and I started crying, which surprised me more.  My friend A, sitting next to me, turned around and got in the kid's face.

"Why the f--- would you think that's appropriate?  Do you realize how f---ing insulting that is?  F--- you, you IDIOT!"

I left and paced outside, trying to calm down.  Eventually, the rest of my friends followed.  We got some food and went home.

Why was I so offended by that?  I still haven't completely figured it out.  I've been called a "dyke" at feminist events during the year.  I've had arguments when it was clear the other person was ignorant about my faith or my beliefs or my political views.  But we were in the East Village in New York City, the most diverse city in the country.  It sucked to realize that the ignorance my grandfather fought against in the South (he was a civil rights activist and director of the south ADL in the 1960s) was still alive in the North.  Did he even know why he chose to use the word "Jew" as an equivalent to the word "cheap"?  In the 1800s and 1900s Jews in Europe were forced out of their jobs and the only jobs available were unappealing jobs such as banker, moneylender, and jeweler. 

I wouldn't expect the kid to know what he was saying.  But it's frightening to me that phrases like "Jew you out of a deal" and "she was gypped" exist.  We're insulting groups of people that were persecuted and ridiculed ("gypped" refers to Romanis or "gypsies," who were nomads persecuted during the Holocaust).  Every expression has a past, I guess, and it's difficult to know when to reprimand somebody for what they're saying.

I'm rambling.  But tell me what you think:


Are phrases like "Jew you down" and  getting "gypped" equivalent to saying "that's so retarded" or "that's so gay"?  How do you react when you hear this?  Do you use these expressions?

June 30, 2010: New York Snacks

 

I don't have a lot of time to blog, because the city is keeping me busy.  Well...I do have time, but I've been using it to either chill out,explore, or sleep.  So here's a bite-sized look at my time in New York so far.

 This past weekend was our Young Judea Year Course reunion weekend, held at my friend "Z"'s apartment in uptown Manhattan.  Some of us lived in New York, and others came in for the weekend from New Jersey, Maine, and Illinois.

We made samosas, chicken with pink "Ah-So" sauce, Israeli salad, cooked veggies, basmati rice, fresh fruit, and pie.

The 14 of us gathered around the little floating Shabbat candles and sang the Shabbat blessings.   I felt so happy and warm to have all of my friends together again, just doing our thing - talking, laughing, drinking, and relating to one another through our experiences and our Judaism.

                                The group.  Hooray for friends and food!

I don't smoke, but my friends smoked nargilah (hookah) until around 11:00 when we left to see a cult film called "The Room" (more on that in a later post).

I put a drink umbrella into the filter and took a picture. 

After storming out of  returning from "The Room" showing, we headed back to the apartment, where a few of us cleaned up the apartment and washed the dishes before bedtime.  Sleeping arrangements consisted of six people spooning on a futon, three on an air mattress, the host and his girlfriend in another room, and me and my friend "S" in the third room.  Everyone went to sleep around 4am. 

I woke up around 11:30, and most people were still asleep.  A little after noon the boys cooked "shakshuka," an Israeli breakfast of tomatoes, tomato paste, eggs, and other veggies.   They also brewed some strong Turkish coffee.  The boys claim that the protein and the serious dose of vitamin C in shakshuka is the ultimate hangover cure. 

I wouldn't know...but since I don't eat tomatoes, my friend "D" (pictured here) made me "moon over miami"/"rocky mountain toast"/"eggs in a basket"/toast with a cooked egg and cheese in the middle.  Yum.

Breakfast ended up being at, like, 3 in the afternoon.  In the evening we went to a fantastic comedy show at The Laugh Lounge in the East Village.  My friend "S" and I took pictures of graffiti and gingerly pulled artful stickers off of hydrants, lampposts, and bike racks.

We also encountered a bicycle that was coccooned in crocheted yarn - "S" had heard of this person before - instead of using spraypaint to graffiti, he/she crocheted over objects.  The bike was completely covered in pink and purple yarn.  Very impressive.  (I personally didn't take this picture, but this IS the bike we saw.) 


If I could crochet like this, I'd be done with the baby blanket I'm making in like, five days.

On Sunday, after some group drama and a little separation time, I and a couple of the Year Course boys went to the Manhattan Gay Pride Parade downtown.  It was...well, fabulous!  

Despite seeing some great drag, a color guard called the "Flaggots", Catholics that approve of homosexuality, and a man dressed as Jesus,this was my favorite part:

Congregation Simchat Torah, which had a huge, colorful float in the parade.

 

Tennessee Williams.

I haven't read or seen much of Tennessee Williams' work, but I'm hoping to change that soon.  His work is fascinating, and he was pretty interesting as well.

While in London, we bought tickets to see Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.  I wasn't drawn to the play itself when I passed the advert on  wall of the escalator leading down to the tube.  Here's what drew me in:

See those two on the right?  Perhaps you recognize them?  That would be Mr. James Earl Jones and the gorgeous, poised, and talented Phylicia Rashad.

The show was incredible.  Mr. Jones is 79 years old, but on the stage he's so full of life you'd never know it.  

Phylicia Rashad played Clare Huxtable on The Cosby Show.  She sang on the show, she recited poetry, she was poised and graceful.  She was my TV mom.

After the show I went to the stage door to get autographs.  Mom reminded me to ask James Earl Jones if he remembered being honored at a benefit in Boston for the Anti-Defamation League.  Mr.  Jones received an award with my grandfather at that event.

About a half hour later, Phylicia Rashad came out.  I was so excited I was shaking as I handed her my program.  I congratulated her, told her how wonderful I thought she was, and then cried in front of her.  It was a little embarrassing.

By the time we had lined up at Mr. Jones's car, there were only ten or 15 people in line.  A few clutched photos of Darth Vader.  As he trudged over to the car he said in his booming voice, "Ah, the few. The happy few."  We all laughed nervously.

When it was my turn, I saw Mr. Jones looked very tired.  The heart he puts into his characters takes a lot of energy.

He asked what other shows we'd be seeing while in London.  We told him we were going to see "War Horse," and he commented that it's a very unique show.  I think he fibbed when he said he remembered the ADL conference in Boston, but it was still incredible to meet him.

Oh! Right...

Day 7 Memorial

Facts of the Rwandan genocide.

 In 2002 the government put the death toll for the ethnic slaughter at 1,074,017 with Tutsis as 94% of the dead.

March 13, 2010.  Day 7 of the 100 days of remembrance of the Rwandan genocide of 1994.

Teaching Genocide.

Genocide [jen-uh-sahyd]. –noun. the deliberate and systematic extermination of a national, racial, political, or cultural group.

A group of radical pro-lifers called the Genocide Awareness Project are on Ohio State's campus this week.  They display enormous signs with blown-up pictures of mangled, bloody aborted fetuses (they are not "dead babies," they were never alive nor were they babies), and images from the Holocaust.  That's right, they compare abortion to the Holocaust.  They pervert the word "genocide" to fit their agenda.  The images are grotesque, but pretty standard.  Most of the pictures of aborted fetuses are of third-trimester abortions, which aren't legal in the United States.  Meaning the pictures are old and manipulated.  Their tactic is shock and fear; they believe that if women knew what aborted fetuses look like, maybe they won't get abortions.  I'd like to think women do their research before they make a decision like choosing whether or not to let a pregnancy come to term.  I know I would.  VOX, the Voices of Planned Parenthood group on campus, counter-protested with petitions and signs.  They also handed out condoms, pins, and stickers shaped like condoms that said, "just wear it."

The pro-lifers have the right to say whatever they want, even if we don't agree with their hateful, ignorant, woman-hating tactics.

What really pisses me off about this group of people is their intentional misuse of the word "genocide."  I made signs that I plan to use on Wednesday to spread some truths about what "genocide" really means.

The OSU club Right To Life purposely brought the Genocide Awareness Project to campus during Holocaust awareness week.  This is an insult to the tens of millions of people who were murdered in genocides this century alone.  Let's take a look back in time and learn about genocide:

1915-1918: The Armenian
Genocide considered the prototype for future genocides in one of the bloodiest centuries of modern history.  Over 1,500,000 Armenians, about half the Armenian population, were killed by Ottoman Turkey during WWI.

1939-1945: The Holocaust 6,000,000 Jews and more than 5,000,000 others considered "undesirables" were killed by Nazi Germany in Europe during WWII.

1975-1979: The Cambodian Killing Fields 1,200,000 Cambodians were killed by Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge political party.

1994: Rwandan Genocide In a 4-month period, 800,000 Tutsis killed by ethnic Hutu militias.

2004-?: Genocide in Sudan Janjaweed, government-backed Arab militias, have engaged in campaigns to displace and wipe out entire communities of African tribal farmers.  Nearly 300,000 civilians have died and some 1.6 million have been forced from their homes.

When the Genocide Convention was passed by the United Nations in 1948, the world said, "Never again."

In the twentieth century "never again" became "again and again." The promise the United Nations made was broken, as again and again, genocides and other forms of mass murder killed 170 million people, more than all the international wars of the twentieth century combined. (via the Genocide Education Project - "Learning the past, building the future.")

keep thinking, keep acting.

http://agahozo-shalom.org/

www.savedarfur.org/