We live in a lonely world. Our society is filled with social networking, instant messaging, chat rooms - yet how much time do people spend on Facebook updating their status messages in the hopes that someone out there will care enough to comment? And then isn't it disappointing when it's just a "lol?" You know they're not even really laughing.
Holy Hyrax/Ezzie put up a video yesterday about Twitter. I have never Twittered, I never understood the point of Twitter...to me it just seems like having only the status update part of Facebook. I'm not sure why that sounds like fun, but to plenty of people - it does.
At one point in the video, someone asks, "Who are they talking to?"
The reply was, "No one. And everyone."
We want so badly to be heard, to be noticed, to be cared for that we'll do anything to get attention. It's so rare that people are available to actually have a conversation. All you can do is blurt out these status messages in the hopes that someone will reply and - you're filled with an odd hope for...something because - hooray! Human interaction!
Little spurts of human interaction are so often all we get nowadays. And most of the time, they're not even in person. They are through text on a screen. Are these people even really your friends? Do you call someone your friend who only talks to you occasionally through the computer? How do we define 'friend' nowadays?
Don't you see how much we're starving for closeness? I sometimes wonder if there were as many depressed people hundreds of years ago as there are today. I have no idea. It doesn't even matter. I'm just curious. I wonder how much richer our society would be if we actually had time for one another.
You want to talk about the New York mentality? The epitome of the New York mentality, to me, is when you feel like you have to pencil yourself in for a ten minute slot in the middle of someone's busy schedule just to say hello.
Maybe that's why people Twitter. Or use facebook. They may waste hours on there, but each thing is done in quick, two-second intervals. That's all people have time for. It's like little hiccups of human connection and then back to the whirlwind of demands and projects and papers and meetings and life.
Is that really life?
Maybe we should have a snail mail campaign where we actually write each other letters - handwrite! (Does anyone remember how?) - just to return to some state of comraderie that used to exist. We all know so many people - more than we can all handle with proper attention - and have so little time.
On the flip side, in an age where modes of communication take an instant, people expect immediate responses. There's no time to think. No time to reflect. No time to just breathe. And if someone doesn't respond immediately, the other person starts to overanalyze why.
We try to multitask everything - including our relationships. You're talking to one person, gchatting another, and texting another all at the same time. I'm guilty of this, too. I'm not saying I am free from this age we've entrenched ourselves in. But it's ruining the way we interact with each other. It's ruining our ability to give something real attention. So no one really gets full attention, and then they need to seek it out elsewhere. They twitter. They rapidly change status messages on Facebook. On gchat. They're calling out for someone, anyone, to care. To pay them some attention.
We're human. Human needs don't change. We all need that attention. Let's start giving it to each other, please? I know I'm going to try.
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
The Problem With Modern Orthodoxy
[Disclaimer: I don't presume to know everything about Modern Orthodoxy or labels in general. If I get anything wrong, I do apologize. Let me know and I'll try to fix it.]
No, I am not going to post about the Sneetches again, but I am going to argue that the term "Modern Orthodoxy" is one of the more meaningless labels we Jews plaster onto each other.
The concept behind Modern Orthodoxy sounds clear - some sort of synthesis of Torah and the modern world, right? But what does this mean in practicality? Is it YU's Torah U'Mada? Is it Bnei Akiva's Torah v'Avodah? Is it something else entirely?
The truth is, the history of it doesn't matter much when it comes to how it's applied nowadays, because the fact is that people aren't analyzing what it means when they call someone "Modern Orthodox." The issue which arises is that Modern Orthodoxy covers a huge range of religious levels, from those who loiter around the more modern end of the spectrum and those who hang out on the more Orthodox end. And some prefer to take a stroll every now and then, spending some time on the more modern side of things, some time on the more orthodox side. Some sit on a seesaw, rising and falling from one extreme to another. And still some perfer to picnic somewhere in the middle.
The point is that the term Modern Orthodoxy can be and is applied to all of the following people:
A. The girl who goes to a co-ed school, very co-ed camp, wears tank tops and shorts when it's hot enough, sweat pants when it's cooler - skirts to school, probably, hangs out with a lot of guys, not at all shomer negiah, keeps shabbos and kosher.
B. The girl who goes to a single-sex high school but still hangs out with guys, wears pants when she's not in school, short sleeves, not quite shomer negiah, is otherwise in keeping with halacha (for the most part).
C. The girl who has a bit of co-ed in her life but not a ton, wears skirts the cover the knee, sleeves that cover the elbow, shomer negiah, cares about and keeps halacha.
I was going to add D, the girl who has absolutely no co-ed in her life, but to be honest, I have never met anyone, even on the more yeshivish side, who has never had any sort of friendship with a guy (which doesn't mean such people don't exist, I just have yet to come across them). So I'm not sure how much D is actually an ideal as opposed to a reality.
Even while making this list, I felt a certain amount of disgust with myself. For one thing, notice that I am judging these people based on two main principles: mode of dress, level of co-edness. Nothing about the girl's (and you can imagine this list for a guy, as well) connection with God, with the Torah, etc. No ideology involved there at all. Of course, you would think that if one cared enough about halacha, she would try more to keep it. I think that is assumed when such judging occurs, and I think that while this is usually somewhat valid, it should also be done with care and caution. It is good to be open minded about why people do what they do instead of assuming you know.
But benefit of the doubt is not the point of this post (although it's good to remember that it is a principle in Judaism, for all those who are genuinely concerned with following Jewish principles). The point is that if you were to tell someone you have a Modern Orthodox friend, what would that mean? Would that person think your friend is like girl A? or B? or C? Or something in between? Or something else?
Notice how none of the descriptions in my list have anything to do with principles of an ideology. It's all about externals. Because I think that Modern Orthodoxy has lost its ideology. It seems to have become this loose term to describe people who are not Conservative Jews - they're definitely Orthodox, but are not Yeshivish...
Isn't that insane? To presume to lump together everyone in between Conservative and Yeshivish? Don't you realize how wide - how vast - that spectrum is?
And that is why, in my opinion, Modern Orthodoxy, as a term, means nothing. As the idea it once was - does that still exist? But that is not how the term is thrown around. The idea is no longer connected to the name.
So if I were to call myself Modern Orthodox...what would that mean? What would I be saying about myself? I don't think I would be saying very much. All I'd be saying is...I am more modern than Yeshivish.
I was going to propose a new label called "Orthodox Jews Who Keep Halacha," but even that is problematic, because define "keeping halacha." Halacha according to whom? Keeping halacha means different things to different people, just like being modern means different things, being frum means different things, being machmir means different things.
The problem with labels is that they spawn new labels. Once you name a group of people, you've got to also address the subgroups. And the subgroups of that. And the subgroups of that. You see how it's never ending?
I am increasingly frustrated with being labeled "Modern Orthodox." Because it says absolutely nothing about who I am or how I practice Judaism. I am frustrated with my own list of stereotypes. No one should fall into a list of types.
Why can't I just be seen as a Jewish girl who keeps and genuinely cares about halacha and the Torah, without being stamped with a label? I'd like not to be defined by a term. I'd like to be defined by who I actually am.
No, I am not going to post about the Sneetches again, but I am going to argue that the term "Modern Orthodoxy" is one of the more meaningless labels we Jews plaster onto each other.
The concept behind Modern Orthodoxy sounds clear - some sort of synthesis of Torah and the modern world, right? But what does this mean in practicality? Is it YU's Torah U'Mada? Is it Bnei Akiva's Torah v'Avodah? Is it something else entirely?
The truth is, the history of it doesn't matter much when it comes to how it's applied nowadays, because the fact is that people aren't analyzing what it means when they call someone "Modern Orthodox." The issue which arises is that Modern Orthodoxy covers a huge range of religious levels, from those who loiter around the more modern end of the spectrum and those who hang out on the more Orthodox end. And some prefer to take a stroll every now and then, spending some time on the more modern side of things, some time on the more orthodox side. Some sit on a seesaw, rising and falling from one extreme to another. And still some perfer to picnic somewhere in the middle.
The point is that the term Modern Orthodoxy can be and is applied to all of the following people:
A. The girl who goes to a co-ed school, very co-ed camp, wears tank tops and shorts when it's hot enough, sweat pants when it's cooler - skirts to school, probably, hangs out with a lot of guys, not at all shomer negiah, keeps shabbos and kosher.
B. The girl who goes to a single-sex high school but still hangs out with guys, wears pants when she's not in school, short sleeves, not quite shomer negiah, is otherwise in keeping with halacha (for the most part).
C. The girl who has a bit of co-ed in her life but not a ton, wears skirts the cover the knee, sleeves that cover the elbow, shomer negiah, cares about and keeps halacha.
I was going to add D, the girl who has absolutely no co-ed in her life, but to be honest, I have never met anyone, even on the more yeshivish side, who has never had any sort of friendship with a guy (which doesn't mean such people don't exist, I just have yet to come across them). So I'm not sure how much D is actually an ideal as opposed to a reality.
Even while making this list, I felt a certain amount of disgust with myself. For one thing, notice that I am judging these people based on two main principles: mode of dress, level of co-edness. Nothing about the girl's (and you can imagine this list for a guy, as well) connection with God, with the Torah, etc. No ideology involved there at all. Of course, you would think that if one cared enough about halacha, she would try more to keep it. I think that is assumed when such judging occurs, and I think that while this is usually somewhat valid, it should also be done with care and caution. It is good to be open minded about why people do what they do instead of assuming you know.
But benefit of the doubt is not the point of this post (although it's good to remember that it is a principle in Judaism, for all those who are genuinely concerned with following Jewish principles). The point is that if you were to tell someone you have a Modern Orthodox friend, what would that mean? Would that person think your friend is like girl A? or B? or C? Or something in between? Or something else?
Notice how none of the descriptions in my list have anything to do with principles of an ideology. It's all about externals. Because I think that Modern Orthodoxy has lost its ideology. It seems to have become this loose term to describe people who are not Conservative Jews - they're definitely Orthodox, but are not Yeshivish...
Isn't that insane? To presume to lump together everyone in between Conservative and Yeshivish? Don't you realize how wide - how vast - that spectrum is?
And that is why, in my opinion, Modern Orthodoxy, as a term, means nothing. As the idea it once was - does that still exist? But that is not how the term is thrown around. The idea is no longer connected to the name.
So if I were to call myself Modern Orthodox...what would that mean? What would I be saying about myself? I don't think I would be saying very much. All I'd be saying is...I am more modern than Yeshivish.
I was going to propose a new label called "Orthodox Jews Who Keep Halacha," but even that is problematic, because define "keeping halacha." Halacha according to whom? Keeping halacha means different things to different people, just like being modern means different things, being frum means different things, being machmir means different things.
The problem with labels is that they spawn new labels. Once you name a group of people, you've got to also address the subgroups. And the subgroups of that. And the subgroups of that. You see how it's never ending?
I am increasingly frustrated with being labeled "Modern Orthodox." Because it says absolutely nothing about who I am or how I practice Judaism. I am frustrated with my own list of stereotypes. No one should fall into a list of types.
Why can't I just be seen as a Jewish girl who keeps and genuinely cares about halacha and the Torah, without being stamped with a label? I'd like not to be defined by a term. I'd like to be defined by who I actually am.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
The Perfectionist
Even this, even now, I can't write. There is this blockage to everything I once knew how to do. Because suddenly, one day, I came down with a plague - Perfection. And if it's not perfect, then I'm terrible at it. If a single sentence is extraneous, if something doesn't sound right, if the writing is only okay, if it needs to be edited still further and further and further and further and further and further and--
Then I can't. I can't do it. Then I don't want it. And I know nothing can be perfect. I can never make it perfect. So then I don't want it. Even though I do. I really, really do. But I can't stand it not being perfect. I can't stand the way every single tiny ugly imperfection glares at me, scratches at me screeching like sharp nails on a blackboard, makes me cringe and wince with discomfort because it's so very, very wrong.
Then I can't. I can't do it. Then I don't want it. And I know nothing can be perfect. I can never make it perfect. So then I don't want it. Even though I do. I really, really do. But I can't stand it not being perfect. I can't stand the way every single tiny ugly imperfection glares at me, scratches at me screeching like sharp nails on a blackboard, makes me cringe and wince with discomfort because it's so very, very wrong.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
My Candidate Can Beat Up Your Candidate!
Otherwise known as...Why Too Many JBlogospherians Are Too Immature To Engage In Political Discussion.
True, I don't read a TON of blogs, but I do read a few. And in the few that I read, nearly every political discussion deteriorates almost from the start into:
"Right-wing racist extremists!"
"I thought liberals were supposed to be tolerant! I guess they only are if you agree with them, huh?"
"Obama is finally bringing us hope again, you racists!"
"Orthodox Jews are racists!"
"Actually, you're racist because you voted for Obama because he's black!"
"Extremists!"
"Racists!"
You all sound like angry children in a schoolyard. And I want to cover my ears until all the screaming stops and you can all talk like civilized adults. And I'm probably the youngest of all of you. I thought maturity comes with age and experience. I guess not.
If you don't believe me, look at the posts and comments here and here, for example. Those aren't the only places, just the ones I'm highlighting. In fact, the only place I haven't seen this kind of fighting since the election on a widely read blog that discusses politics is on SerandEz. Yeah, there have been arguments, but not like THAT.
So what's with all the name calling and the overly dramatic angry shouting, the over generalizing, the insults? Can't people talk about an adult subject with adult maturity? Can't people have a civilized debate? Can't people argue intelligently? Because all those comments just make you guys look really stupid. On both sides. It's like you don't have a more intelligent response than to shout insults and call people "racist" and "extremist."
Do you all have to pay a visit to the principal's office until you can calm down?
True, I don't read a TON of blogs, but I do read a few. And in the few that I read, nearly every political discussion deteriorates almost from the start into:
"Right-wing racist extremists!"
"I thought liberals were supposed to be tolerant! I guess they only are if you agree with them, huh?"
"Obama is finally bringing us hope again, you racists!"
"Orthodox Jews are racists!"
"Actually, you're racist because you voted for Obama because he's black!"
"Extremists!"
"Racists!"
You all sound like angry children in a schoolyard. And I want to cover my ears until all the screaming stops and you can all talk like civilized adults. And I'm probably the youngest of all of you. I thought maturity comes with age and experience. I guess not.
If you don't believe me, look at the posts and comments here and here, for example. Those aren't the only places, just the ones I'm highlighting. In fact, the only place I haven't seen this kind of fighting since the election on a widely read blog that discusses politics is on SerandEz. Yeah, there have been arguments, but not like THAT.
So what's with all the name calling and the overly dramatic angry shouting, the over generalizing, the insults? Can't people talk about an adult subject with adult maturity? Can't people have a civilized debate? Can't people argue intelligently? Because all those comments just make you guys look really stupid. On both sides. It's like you don't have a more intelligent response than to shout insults and call people "racist" and "extremist."
Do you all have to pay a visit to the principal's office until you can calm down?
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Confessions Of All The Teenage Drama Queens Requested
(Today my dad insisted that I write about something controversial. I'm pretty non-confrontational and I actually have no desire to push anyone's buttons, so I'm going to compromise and, instead, heavily criticize something I know is very popular that I just can't stand. I know that's not the same as being controversial, but that's the best I can offer at this present time)
Just out of curiosity...
What's with all the Twilight hype?
I finally read the book and found it to be poorly written, the plot unoriginal and stupid, the characters pretty flat, and Edward more annoyingly stalkerish than attractive. The romance wasn't even done well. It was irritating, over-the-top, and I didn't believe it for a second.
I just don't get it. Am I the only sane person out there? Is there something I'm just not understanding? Has the quality of literature diminished so far that people actually think this stuff is good?
I'm all for people reading novels they can actually understand as opposed to more difficult literary works - that's fine with me. Not everyone is an English major. But there is still a difference between well-written, well-plotted stories and, well, trash.
I've heard, on numerous occasions, Twilight being called the next Harry Potter. Come on! Even Harry Potter wasn't the best written of novels, but at least it was a good story, had a good plot, and had some really fun characters. Twilight has none of that. I'm sorry. It's too trite. Too cliche. Too obvious. Too dull. I was bored while reading it. I have absolutely no desire to read the other ones in the series. It actually made me nauseous just to read the first one. The overly sappy romance on every single page made me want to just barf.
Is it that our society craves soap operas? Is it that people are so unsatisfied with their own relationships, they live vicariously through characters flat enough that anyone can insert herself in? Is it that people thrive on heavy gossip? Is this why so many teenage girls are obsessed with Gossip Girl? One Tree Hill? The OC? I don't get it. Can't people go and live their own lives instead of spending an eternity wishing they had the thrilling (???) drama of fictional characters? Trust me, there's enough real drama out there. You don't need TV and novels to provide it for you. No, you're not going to fall in love with a vampire, though. Sorry. But so what? Do you want to live in the world? Or do you want to live on TV?
I mean, on the one hand, some of the fun of reading is because things happen in books that don't necessarily happen in life and it's fun to pretend, for a few hours, that they could. But on the other hand, be careful what you let suck you in. It's a mistake to think that just because a character is described as good looking, that he is a good character. Just because a character is "hot" doesn't mean he's complex! Edward is in no way complex. Sorry. Neither is Bella. She's too flat. She has none of the complexities of human beings. She's too perfect. Making her a klutz does not give her realistic character flaws. It's very superficial. It makes no sense that every single boy in her school should be obsessed with her. It makes no sense that she has no sense of self-preservation. It makes no sense that she would not care that Edward has been spying on her every night the entire school year. Where is the tension here???
Our society seems to settle for stories that are way too simplistic if it actually thinks that a human girl falling in love with a hot vampire - and then nothing much happening except their constantly professing their love to each other and saving each other from random things - is a good story.
If you really want to read an exciting vampire thriller/romance, stick with Dracula. Seriously. Not that Dracula is spectacularly written either, but at least it's a much better story!
It actually truly bothers me that so, so, so many girls will become obsessed with a book, or a TV show, or a movie just because the guy is really good looking. Is everyone that shallow?
A HOT GUY DOES NOT A GOOD STORY MAKE.
And if people can no longer tell the difference between something well-written and something trashy, then I mourn for our literary future. I really, really do.
Just out of curiosity...
What's with all the Twilight hype?
I finally read the book and found it to be poorly written, the plot unoriginal and stupid, the characters pretty flat, and Edward more annoyingly stalkerish than attractive. The romance wasn't even done well. It was irritating, over-the-top, and I didn't believe it for a second.
I just don't get it. Am I the only sane person out there? Is there something I'm just not understanding? Has the quality of literature diminished so far that people actually think this stuff is good?
I'm all for people reading novels they can actually understand as opposed to more difficult literary works - that's fine with me. Not everyone is an English major. But there is still a difference between well-written, well-plotted stories and, well, trash.
I've heard, on numerous occasions, Twilight being called the next Harry Potter. Come on! Even Harry Potter wasn't the best written of novels, but at least it was a good story, had a good plot, and had some really fun characters. Twilight has none of that. I'm sorry. It's too trite. Too cliche. Too obvious. Too dull. I was bored while reading it. I have absolutely no desire to read the other ones in the series. It actually made me nauseous just to read the first one. The overly sappy romance on every single page made me want to just barf.
Is it that our society craves soap operas? Is it that people are so unsatisfied with their own relationships, they live vicariously through characters flat enough that anyone can insert herself in? Is it that people thrive on heavy gossip? Is this why so many teenage girls are obsessed with Gossip Girl? One Tree Hill? The OC? I don't get it. Can't people go and live their own lives instead of spending an eternity wishing they had the thrilling (???) drama of fictional characters? Trust me, there's enough real drama out there. You don't need TV and novels to provide it for you. No, you're not going to fall in love with a vampire, though. Sorry. But so what? Do you want to live in the world? Or do you want to live on TV?
I mean, on the one hand, some of the fun of reading is because things happen in books that don't necessarily happen in life and it's fun to pretend, for a few hours, that they could. But on the other hand, be careful what you let suck you in. It's a mistake to think that just because a character is described as good looking, that he is a good character. Just because a character is "hot" doesn't mean he's complex! Edward is in no way complex. Sorry. Neither is Bella. She's too flat. She has none of the complexities of human beings. She's too perfect. Making her a klutz does not give her realistic character flaws. It's very superficial. It makes no sense that every single boy in her school should be obsessed with her. It makes no sense that she has no sense of self-preservation. It makes no sense that she would not care that Edward has been spying on her every night the entire school year. Where is the tension here???
Our society seems to settle for stories that are way too simplistic if it actually thinks that a human girl falling in love with a hot vampire - and then nothing much happening except their constantly professing their love to each other and saving each other from random things - is a good story.
If you really want to read an exciting vampire thriller/romance, stick with Dracula. Seriously. Not that Dracula is spectacularly written either, but at least it's a much better story!
It actually truly bothers me that so, so, so many girls will become obsessed with a book, or a TV show, or a movie just because the guy is really good looking. Is everyone that shallow?
A HOT GUY DOES NOT A GOOD STORY MAKE.
And if people can no longer tell the difference between something well-written and something trashy, then I mourn for our literary future. I really, really do.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Nondescript Descriptions
When you're reading a well-written book, it's generally expected that each of the characters in it will have unique characteristics separating them from each other, so that it doesn't feel like you're reading about a bunch of cardboard cutouts who all have the same personality. There are certain words, in my own writing and speaking, that I like to avoid. One of those words is "nice." Another is "cute." Sometimes, those words actually make sense. For instance, a two year old is cute. A weekend can be nice.
But when someone is describing a guy to me and the only adjective I get is "nice," well, great - so I know he's not a bully. But what does that really tell me? If you think of all your good friends, I'll bet you can describe them all as "nice." But that would be lumping them all together in the "nice" category when there are so many things which set them apart! So if someone thinks a guy is good for a girl - why? Because they're both nice people? So many people are nice! That's almost like saying, "he's a guy" (I know, I know, there are also plenty of people out there who aren't nice, but still). Why else? Why should this particular nice girl want to date this particular nice guy?
This extends even outside dating. If you want to recommend someone for any reason - there's always got to be more you can say about him/her than just "nice."
The issue I have with "cute" is that it often gets used in an "lol" kind of way. If someone tells you a story or about something that happened to him/her and you respond, "cute," it's often just a way of saying, "I don't have much to respond to that so I'm going to brush it off with this little useful word that doesn't really mean anything in this context." Some people actually use it in a way that means they were interested, but way too often it's used in a patronizing kind of fashion. Think about how it would feel if you were the other person - if you had just expended all this energy telling a story and the only response you got was "cute." People use "lol" in much the same way. How many people actually find something funny when they type "lol" (I'm not even going to ask about how many people actually laugh, because that's even fewer). But at least "lol" is not a real word, so it's useful for its purpose.
Cute is also used to describe a person another girl thinks is somewhat amusing, but not really anything more than that. As in, "Her? Oh, she's cute." Or, "aw, she's really cute." Um, hello, if you're not at least ten years older than me, it's very offensive to be thought of in such a patronizing manor! It means you don't take me seriously, you just see me as a little girl.
"Cute," "nice," so many other words...you know what they are? They are masks for people's laziness. We can all, I assure you, think of better ways to describe someone than just "nice" and we can all, if we put in a little effort, react better to the things people tell us than just "cute." I'm not saying anyone should be overly self-conscious about speaking (although it's generally a good idea to think a little before you speak) - I'm just saying it would be nice if people could put in a little more thought while interacting with someone else.
If I were to describe myself, I would not say merely "nice." And if I were to describe this blog, I would not say, "it's cute." I don't think those descriptions really give a taste of anyone, or anything, even on just a surface level.
But when someone is describing a guy to me and the only adjective I get is "nice," well, great - so I know he's not a bully. But what does that really tell me? If you think of all your good friends, I'll bet you can describe them all as "nice." But that would be lumping them all together in the "nice" category when there are so many things which set them apart! So if someone thinks a guy is good for a girl - why? Because they're both nice people? So many people are nice! That's almost like saying, "he's a guy" (I know, I know, there are also plenty of people out there who aren't nice, but still). Why else? Why should this particular nice girl want to date this particular nice guy?
This extends even outside dating. If you want to recommend someone for any reason - there's always got to be more you can say about him/her than just "nice."
The issue I have with "cute" is that it often gets used in an "lol" kind of way. If someone tells you a story or about something that happened to him/her and you respond, "cute," it's often just a way of saying, "I don't have much to respond to that so I'm going to brush it off with this little useful word that doesn't really mean anything in this context." Some people actually use it in a way that means they were interested, but way too often it's used in a patronizing kind of fashion. Think about how it would feel if you were the other person - if you had just expended all this energy telling a story and the only response you got was "cute." People use "lol" in much the same way. How many people actually find something funny when they type "lol" (I'm not even going to ask about how many people actually laugh, because that's even fewer). But at least "lol" is not a real word, so it's useful for its purpose.
Cute is also used to describe a person another girl thinks is somewhat amusing, but not really anything more than that. As in, "Her? Oh, she's cute." Or, "aw, she's really cute." Um, hello, if you're not at least ten years older than me, it's very offensive to be thought of in such a patronizing manor! It means you don't take me seriously, you just see me as a little girl.
"Cute," "nice," so many other words...you know what they are? They are masks for people's laziness. We can all, I assure you, think of better ways to describe someone than just "nice" and we can all, if we put in a little effort, react better to the things people tell us than just "cute." I'm not saying anyone should be overly self-conscious about speaking (although it's generally a good idea to think a little before you speak) - I'm just saying it would be nice if people could put in a little more thought while interacting with someone else.
If I were to describe myself, I would not say merely "nice." And if I were to describe this blog, I would not say, "it's cute." I don't think those descriptions really give a taste of anyone, or anything, even on just a surface level.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
It Really Gets To Me...
...When Jews are cruel to other Jews. Being different doesn't mean taking it out on someone else. No matter how observant or unobservant one is, a Jew is a Jew is a Jew and that's not going to change. A person should feel ashamed of making fun of another Jew.
Maybe I'm too naive. Maybe I feel this way because I really identify with my Judaism as part of an entire nation and so I feel strongly about it, but perhaps someone who doesn't identify as much with all Jews really couldn't care less. But they should care. Treating someone with respect has nothing to do with how many halachot you keep or don't keep. It has nothing to do with anything other than being a decent human being and, when it comes to a Jew against another Jew, having somewhat of an understanding that you belong to the same nation, even if you practice differently. But I guess some people just don't feel that in the same way.
It just really upsets me.
Maybe I'm too naive. Maybe I feel this way because I really identify with my Judaism as part of an entire nation and so I feel strongly about it, but perhaps someone who doesn't identify as much with all Jews really couldn't care less. But they should care. Treating someone with respect has nothing to do with how many halachot you keep or don't keep. It has nothing to do with anything other than being a decent human being and, when it comes to a Jew against another Jew, having somewhat of an understanding that you belong to the same nation, even if you practice differently. But I guess some people just don't feel that in the same way.
It just really upsets me.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
From the Back of the Class
Story number one:
I am a front-of-the-class sitter. I go straight from one class to the next without dilly-dallying in order to get a front and center seat, especially in the classes that I like. Today, however, because I had to switch buildings in between classes, I was on time to my Gothic Novel class as opposed to early, which meant all the decent seats were taken. All the half decent seats were taken. All the somewhat decent seats were taken.
I had to sit in the very back behind at least seven rows of people.
I am short. I could hardly see the teacher. I like to participate a lot in class. This is difficult to do if you are short and sitting in the back and unable to see the teacher.
This is what it is like to be in a big class and be sitting in the back:
1. It is hard to see the teacher
2. People around you are talking
3. It is hard to feel part of the class discussion
4. It is like you are in your own 'back of the class' little world
5. It is very conducive for not paying attention and doing other things during class (such as, my personal favorites, writing stories and poetry)
6. It is not very conducive for being an active participant in the class itself
The moral of this story: learn to Apparate between school buildings in order to get to class early
Story number two:
Last night, I had a class in advertising copywriting. It's quite a fun class. We watched famous commercials and for homework we have to write an ad for vitamin water. I'm still trying to come up with an idea that isn't corny (corny being...having popeye holding vitamin water instead of spinach, things like that). But anyway, when I got to this class, I was early enough to get a seat in the front, and it was quite a good seat overall, but it was on the side. Why was this a problem? Well, like my Gothic novel class, this class is rather large. At the start of class, we went around the room saying our names, majors, and favorite commercials or moments from movies or lyrics from songs or just something memorable to us, but most people did their favorite commercials.
Well, not only was I on the side of the room, but I was on the wrong side. 'Going around the room' started from the other corner, which meant I was near last (luckily, I was not the last, there were two or three people after me). That meant that I had to sit through around twenty-something other people's favorite commercials before I would get to say mine - and what if they all took my ideas! Luckily they didn't (mine were M&Ms and cereal commercials, and the Folger's song), but the feeling was one of intense impatience. The fact of the matter was, I couldn't care less what the other people's favorite commercials were. I just wanted to say mine!
This is a common phenomenon - that people are sometimes much more eager to share about themselves than they are to listen to other people, or at least, it's much harder to listen to someone else when you're bursting with things to say than when you've already said it all and have the presence of mind to then listen to others (and the insurance that they can no longer steal your thoughts or ideas). And isn't it rather odd that a person can feel her idea stolen from her? If she thought of it independently of everyone else, but someone else expresses the same idea first, the other girl is seen as copying her, or feels as though she is, but really she is not, she just did not have the opportunity to express her thought or idea first.
This is known as the ME TOO syndrome. Do you find yourself constantly saying, "me too!" and wishing you had spoken first so that you'd be the one credited with the original idea?
Fear of this crept up within me as I waited ever so patiently for the 'around the room' game to reach my row of desks. It took a rather long time. Even though I was not in the back of the class, it felt as though I was. I was at the end of the class. It was not a fun place to be.
The moral of this story: gain ESP to know which corner of the classroom the teacher will call on first
I am a front-of-the-class sitter. I go straight from one class to the next without dilly-dallying in order to get a front and center seat, especially in the classes that I like. Today, however, because I had to switch buildings in between classes, I was on time to my Gothic Novel class as opposed to early, which meant all the decent seats were taken. All the half decent seats were taken. All the somewhat decent seats were taken.
I had to sit in the very back behind at least seven rows of people.
I am short. I could hardly see the teacher. I like to participate a lot in class. This is difficult to do if you are short and sitting in the back and unable to see the teacher.
This is what it is like to be in a big class and be sitting in the back:
1. It is hard to see the teacher
2. People around you are talking
3. It is hard to feel part of the class discussion
4. It is like you are in your own 'back of the class' little world
5. It is very conducive for not paying attention and doing other things during class (such as, my personal favorites, writing stories and poetry)
6. It is not very conducive for being an active participant in the class itself
The moral of this story: learn to Apparate between school buildings in order to get to class early
Story number two:
Last night, I had a class in advertising copywriting. It's quite a fun class. We watched famous commercials and for homework we have to write an ad for vitamin water. I'm still trying to come up with an idea that isn't corny (corny being...having popeye holding vitamin water instead of spinach, things like that). But anyway, when I got to this class, I was early enough to get a seat in the front, and it was quite a good seat overall, but it was on the side. Why was this a problem? Well, like my Gothic novel class, this class is rather large. At the start of class, we went around the room saying our names, majors, and favorite commercials or moments from movies or lyrics from songs or just something memorable to us, but most people did their favorite commercials.
Well, not only was I on the side of the room, but I was on the wrong side. 'Going around the room' started from the other corner, which meant I was near last (luckily, I was not the last, there were two or three people after me). That meant that I had to sit through around twenty-something other people's favorite commercials before I would get to say mine - and what if they all took my ideas! Luckily they didn't (mine were M&Ms and cereal commercials, and the Folger's song), but the feeling was one of intense impatience. The fact of the matter was, I couldn't care less what the other people's favorite commercials were. I just wanted to say mine!
This is a common phenomenon - that people are sometimes much more eager to share about themselves than they are to listen to other people, or at least, it's much harder to listen to someone else when you're bursting with things to say than when you've already said it all and have the presence of mind to then listen to others (and the insurance that they can no longer steal your thoughts or ideas). And isn't it rather odd that a person can feel her idea stolen from her? If she thought of it independently of everyone else, but someone else expresses the same idea first, the other girl is seen as copying her, or feels as though she is, but really she is not, she just did not have the opportunity to express her thought or idea first.
This is known as the ME TOO syndrome. Do you find yourself constantly saying, "me too!" and wishing you had spoken first so that you'd be the one credited with the original idea?
Fear of this crept up within me as I waited ever so patiently for the 'around the room' game to reach my row of desks. It took a rather long time. Even though I was not in the back of the class, it felt as though I was. I was at the end of the class. It was not a fun place to be.
The moral of this story: gain ESP to know which corner of the classroom the teacher will call on first
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
"Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon, Ron, doesn't mean we all have."
Chana wrote in her post, "In other news, I have recently been termed a Litvak, someone's hero and informed that I am a lower junior. Today's been peculiar."
So yesterday, I was called an English Major and I was told I was acting like Hermione. This made me happy because I do love Hermione, except I ALSO love Ron and I ALSO love Ginny and, man, I'd LOVE to be a Weasley! But I supposed Hermione's good, too.
In other random news, I went to Duane Reade to get medicine and this was the bill:
Puffs tissues - $2.59
Vicks 44 cough syrup - $6.49
Nyquil - $7.99
A little tiny bottle of eyedrops - $10.99!?!?!?!?!?!?!
What? Is this country having a shortage of eyedrops or something? THERE IS NO WAY THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE MOST EXPENSIVE THING I BOUGHT TODAY. AND THERE IS NO WAY EYEDROPS SHOULD COST ELEVEN DOLLARS.
End rant.
So yesterday, I was called an English Major and I was told I was acting like Hermione. This made me happy because I do love Hermione, except I ALSO love Ron and I ALSO love Ginny and, man, I'd LOVE to be a Weasley! But I supposed Hermione's good, too.
In other random news, I went to Duane Reade to get medicine and this was the bill:
Puffs tissues - $2.59
Vicks 44 cough syrup - $6.49
Nyquil - $7.99
A little tiny bottle of eyedrops - $10.99!?!?!?!?!?!?!
What? Is this country having a shortage of eyedrops or something? THERE IS NO WAY THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE MOST EXPENSIVE THING I BOUGHT TODAY. AND THERE IS NO WAY EYEDROPS SHOULD COST ELEVEN DOLLARS.
End rant.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Mischief Managed? Not Yet.
I would like to note this post by Chana (and I hope the html worked there because I'm on a computer at work that has the words 'crappy computer' written on it and I have to say, it does live up to its name. This internet browser doesn't even let me get to facebook, it's so old. Er, not that I've tried going on facebook while at work. Heh). It talks about a human desire to destroy, especially if you are the type of person who likes to create.
I'd like to put my own spin to it. This is something I've felt nearly all my life.
I am the good girl. I have always been the 'good girl.' When I was little, I rarely got punished in school (okay, there was that one time in Nursery when I threw a book and got sent into the corner, but that's only because the book had been thrown at me and everyone knows that when you get a book thrown at you, you hurl it quickly back), I (nearly) always did my homework, and, most of all, I was quiet. I was shy and because of that, never talked back to the teacher, or to my counselor in camp. I listened. I lined up when we were supposed to line up, I went where I was told to go, I did what I was told to do. At that point in my life, I saw no reason to talk back, no reason to contradict, unless I wanted to push the limit and see how far I could go before I got into trouble. But while I wasn't a goody two-shoes, I saw no reason for getting in trouble if I didn't have to.
The thing is, after having the reputation of 'good girl,' it starts to get tiring. I felt as though I had stopped being interesting. Being a good girl was boring.
In either seventh or eighth grade, we'd had a layl iyun in school (when just my grade stayed back after school and we learned informally and had discussions and things, I don't remember it much) and a bus took everyone from my community home. There was one girl in my grade (not on the bus with us) who was a hypochondriac (I hope I spelled that right. Spelling was never my forte). And I mean, to the point where all of us knew it and none of us liked her for it. And I'm not sure why, but on the way home, as we passed a store selling wheelchairs, crutches, ace bandages, and other medical things, I blurted out, "Hey look, it's so-and-so's store!"
I don't know what made me do it, but suddenly, I heard cheering. The girls on the bus were applauding my nasty comment. They slapped me five and beckoned me to join them in their rambunctious joking around in the back of the bus. For once, I felt included among the obnoxious girls. I was obnoxious. And...it felt good.
The next day, I went back to being the 'good girl,' but from then on, I knew I had it inside of me to be mean, to be obnoxiuos, to be daring when it came to my behavior.
A few summers later, when I was going into tenth grade, I was in sleepaway camp and I had this strong desire to raid the entire devision. Again, I was sick of being the 'good girl.' I wanted to be bad. Luckily, I had a friend in a similar situation.
Now, you have to understand, it wasn't as though I'd never raided before. Despite being a 'good girl,' I was always rather mischievous. I did not consider my summer complete if I didn't go on at least one raid a month. I had a group of friends who I'd always go with and, of course, all the fun was in managing to get to the boys' bunks in the first place - we never actually did much when we got there (we'd usually go in and wake them all up with our flashlights and then run away when shmira [people on duty to catch campers out of bed] came along) but had an awesomely fun time sneaking around camp, hiding under bunks, that sort of thing. And we had gotten caught a few times, but never sent to the main office and I, proudly, did not tell who was with me or who I was when I was asked by a shmira person once. So yes, I was an experienced raider. But what I wanted to do that summer was something different. I wanted to do something destructive.
So my friend and I woke up early the last week of camp and toilet papered the entire campus (our division had our own campus at the end of the main camp). True, it wasn't that destructive, but it was the best we could do at the last minute when we planned the whole thing. And it felt good. I had wanted to do something like steal all the benches in the chadar ochel (dining room) but my friend pointed out that it was too much work for us and too inconvenient because then we'd not have benches, either.
The points is, I know what Chana meant in her post, and still, there is a large part of me completely and utterly sick of being thought of as 'good' all the time. I want to be bad. I want to cause mischief. I want to pull pranks and make trouble and be known as a wild daredevil. It's just that my annoying conscience gets in the way too much.
*sigh*
I'd like to put my own spin to it. This is something I've felt nearly all my life.
I am the good girl. I have always been the 'good girl.' When I was little, I rarely got punished in school (okay, there was that one time in Nursery when I threw a book and got sent into the corner, but that's only because the book had been thrown at me and everyone knows that when you get a book thrown at you, you hurl it quickly back), I (nearly) always did my homework, and, most of all, I was quiet. I was shy and because of that, never talked back to the teacher, or to my counselor in camp. I listened. I lined up when we were supposed to line up, I went where I was told to go, I did what I was told to do. At that point in my life, I saw no reason to talk back, no reason to contradict, unless I wanted to push the limit and see how far I could go before I got into trouble. But while I wasn't a goody two-shoes, I saw no reason for getting in trouble if I didn't have to.
The thing is, after having the reputation of 'good girl,' it starts to get tiring. I felt as though I had stopped being interesting. Being a good girl was boring.
In either seventh or eighth grade, we'd had a layl iyun in school (when just my grade stayed back after school and we learned informally and had discussions and things, I don't remember it much) and a bus took everyone from my community home. There was one girl in my grade (not on the bus with us) who was a hypochondriac (I hope I spelled that right. Spelling was never my forte). And I mean, to the point where all of us knew it and none of us liked her for it. And I'm not sure why, but on the way home, as we passed a store selling wheelchairs, crutches, ace bandages, and other medical things, I blurted out, "Hey look, it's so-and-so's store!"
I don't know what made me do it, but suddenly, I heard cheering. The girls on the bus were applauding my nasty comment. They slapped me five and beckoned me to join them in their rambunctious joking around in the back of the bus. For once, I felt included among the obnoxious girls. I was obnoxious. And...it felt good.
The next day, I went back to being the 'good girl,' but from then on, I knew I had it inside of me to be mean, to be obnoxiuos, to be daring when it came to my behavior.
A few summers later, when I was going into tenth grade, I was in sleepaway camp and I had this strong desire to raid the entire devision. Again, I was sick of being the 'good girl.' I wanted to be bad. Luckily, I had a friend in a similar situation.
Now, you have to understand, it wasn't as though I'd never raided before. Despite being a 'good girl,' I was always rather mischievous. I did not consider my summer complete if I didn't go on at least one raid a month. I had a group of friends who I'd always go with and, of course, all the fun was in managing to get to the boys' bunks in the first place - we never actually did much when we got there (we'd usually go in and wake them all up with our flashlights and then run away when shmira [people on duty to catch campers out of bed] came along) but had an awesomely fun time sneaking around camp, hiding under bunks, that sort of thing. And we had gotten caught a few times, but never sent to the main office and I, proudly, did not tell who was with me or who I was when I was asked by a shmira person once. So yes, I was an experienced raider. But what I wanted to do that summer was something different. I wanted to do something destructive.
So my friend and I woke up early the last week of camp and toilet papered the entire campus (our division had our own campus at the end of the main camp). True, it wasn't that destructive, but it was the best we could do at the last minute when we planned the whole thing. And it felt good. I had wanted to do something like steal all the benches in the chadar ochel (dining room) but my friend pointed out that it was too much work for us and too inconvenient because then we'd not have benches, either.
The points is, I know what Chana meant in her post, and still, there is a large part of me completely and utterly sick of being thought of as 'good' all the time. I want to be bad. I want to cause mischief. I want to pull pranks and make trouble and be known as a wild daredevil. It's just that my annoying conscience gets in the way too much.
*sigh*
Monday, May 14, 2007
Passion For A Talent And Actually Having That Talent: The Same Or Not?
Frustration. It consumes me all over. I just wish, wish, wish that I could succeed at everything I love to do. Whether it be writing, acting, playing hockey...anything! Whenever I try, I seem to come so close and then it's whisked away, out of my reach.
Hockey:
I love hockey. I love playing it, I love watching it, I love ice skating, I love running, I love everything about it. But do I ever get to play? No. Of course not. I'm a Jewish girl. If my school doesn't have a hockey team, I'm out of luck. I can't play in a secular league like my brothers can. In high school, I started hockey intramural teams with a couple of people since we tried starting a league - and the league actually got started! But then my school wouldn't join - yes, the school who helped pioneer this league - because some of the coaches would be men. Admittedly, I wouldn't have felt comfortable playing hockey in front of a male coach even if we had joined, but still. It's the concept. The fact that a Jewish girls high school hockey league was started partly due to my high school inquiring about it and then we didn't even get to join. So now I get to watch my brothers play and they all totally forgot that I enjoy it too. At games they ask, "do you know what that penalty was? It's called crosschecking." They think I don't know how to play. They think, because I'm a girl, that I don't really care about it, either. Well, true, I'm not all obsessed with the stats of the season, but I do enjoy watching and I wish I could play.
Acting:
My God, I've loved acting ever since I knew how to play pretend. I mean, people may not think of that as acting, but that is what it is, really. Kids getting together and pretending to be people they aren't and acting out scenarios. House. That's acting. All imagination games are a form of acting. I think my love of acting and my love of stories go hand in hand. I love stories, I love telling stories, I love writing stories, I love acting out stories. So in day camp when some people put on Beauty and the Beast, I was entranced. Then in school we started putting on class plays. There was the siddur play and the chumash play which I remember having to say lines in Hebrew that I didn't even understand. I think that happens to all kids. But then in third grade, we put on a real play. Well, not really a real, real one, but a made up one suitable for third graders. It was actually really, really, really corny, about a girl who is a new student and the kids aren't nice to her, so she stays home from school and these people, like, Mrs. Tzeddaka, Mr. Chessed, and Mrs. Middot or something come and teach them how to be nice, then the new girl comes back the next day and everyone's friends. Yay! I wanted so badly to have an actual character, but no. I got to be narrator. Well, fine. I was eight years old at the time. All the parts were really small anyway, even the real ones, except the new girl, probably.
In fifth grade, we put on this mix of Broadway scenes and songs. Luckily, I had a small part in that. I almost didn't, until the play lady (who no one really liked) remembered she forgot to cast a duet part (oddly, since it was really just one character, but they decided they wanted it to be a duet). So I got to be Liat from South Pacific (which I've still never seen) along with an Israeli girl and we sang "Happy Talk" while doing these really weird hand motions. I also got to be a kid from The King And I because I was short and little.
That was the end of my real acting experience. In sleep away camp, the oldest main campus division always put on a play in August. When I was in the youngest division, they put on Annie and I got really antsy and couldn't wait until four years later when I'd get to be in the play. Every summer I'd look forward to it, until the year I was going to be in the oldest division. I can't even really complain about this. My parents decided to take us all to Israel in August, so I was there for the first month, but not for the play month. So after years of anticipation and waiting, I didn't get to be in it after all.
In high school in ninth grade, I tried out for Drama in the school production. Okay, you have to understand, everyone makes the school production. Everyone. Well, everyone, that is, except me. I must be wearing a sign on my forehead that says, "don't let me in your play" because it's still unfathomable to me why I didn't make it. Am I that awful of an actress?
In eleventh grade, the juniors and seniors actually put on a real play. We did "Witness for the Prosecution" by Agatha Christie. I made the play, somehow, but I had the smallest part. Oh, I had a ton of stage time. Probably the most stage time out of everyone. Except my entire part was to just sit on a stool and occasionally announce a witness or something. I was the court officer. That's not even a real character! It involved no acting whatsoever. Just sitting there with no expression and trying desperately not to laugh when the audience did. I couldn't even involve myself in acting so that I wouldn't laugh. I mean, I was just sitting there for two hours!
Then of course, there was this year, where I wasn't really in the play except for a line or two from the audience.
Writing:
I remember the day I decided I wanted to be an author. I was in the younger grades of elementary school and I was thinking about how I loved making up stories but that I couldn't grow up and be a storyteller because that's not a real job. I also wanted to be the person who made up movies (which is a real job, but at that young age, I didn't know that. I thought the actors just did it themselves, like when I played imagination games with my friends). So then I realized, if I couldn't tell stories, I could at least write them and make books. So I resolved to be an author when I grew up. From then on, I wrote all these random stories. Some are actually embarrassing, but hey, I was young.
Everyone came to accept the fact that I was a writer. It became part of my identity. The problem was that as I got older, it was sort of expected that I would do well in English class. And I did. I definitely did. But when I took AP English Comp., well, let's just say I did embarrassingly poorly on the AP. So much so that I would avoid the teacher the next year whenever I saw her in the halls. In twelfth grade AP English Lit., however, I did very well in class and decently on the AP. So I figured the year before was just a fluke.
My first semester at Stern, I took English Comp. (of course, since I did so atrociously on the AP and didn't get credit for it). I got all A's. The teacher really liked my writing and it boosted my confidence a lot. I thought, "I can do this! Piece of cake!" Of course, I also didn't really feel like I was learning anything. I'm not so sure that class was for me. In any case, I thought I was a good writer and was quite content with that.
Last semester, I took an English class where I didn't do so hotly on the paper. The teacher told me it sounded like I was writing to a hostile audience. The only explanations I can give for why that might be is because A. I had just had a fight with someone right beforehand about, of all things, Beowulf (Grendel, to be specific) and I think I was extremely protective of my own ideas and thoughts after that, and just very defensive in general. B. I had been told at least once or twice before that my writing sounded too wishy-washy, like I wasn't confident with what I was saying. I guess I, er, took it too far to the other extreme. Apparently. But anyway, even that was okay because afterwards, a lot of people told me that particular teacher is a hard grader, so that was alright then. I wasn't the only one in that boat.
Today I got back two papers from a teacher who really likes me a lot and who I like a lot and in whose classes I have been doing extremely well. But on the papers, though I didn't do horrendously, I didn't do as well as I'd have liked and, what hit me more than the grade was the fact that she didn't think my writing was good. She said it was weak and not developed. She asked me who I had for comp. and when I told her, she said, "well, you got something out of that class but not enough." But I wanted to insist, No, darn it, I didn't get anything out of that class and I was getting all A's! So how could I get this grade now and be told my writing is weak and my arguments undeveloped? Why is my writing not consistent? Or, more importantly, why can I not do excellently the majority of the time on English papers? Why, why, why??? I love to write, it is my passion, it is what I'm identified with. It's what I thought I was good at. Sure, creative writing and paper writing are two different things. But I always thought I was good at writing papers, too.
Why is it that whenever I fall in love with a talent or an activity, I can do average, I can do okay, but I can't do well? I can't enjoy it, sometimes I can't even get the chance to properly do it, and I can't feel pride in it.
It makes me wonder just what I am good at at all. I know this post is sort of whiny, but bear with me. It's written out of pure frustration. I almost wanted to cry when I got back to my room after getting back my papers today. No one has ever told me my writing was weak before. That I need better choice of diction. What is wrong with me?
Hockey:
I love hockey. I love playing it, I love watching it, I love ice skating, I love running, I love everything about it. But do I ever get to play? No. Of course not. I'm a Jewish girl. If my school doesn't have a hockey team, I'm out of luck. I can't play in a secular league like my brothers can. In high school, I started hockey intramural teams with a couple of people since we tried starting a league - and the league actually got started! But then my school wouldn't join - yes, the school who helped pioneer this league - because some of the coaches would be men. Admittedly, I wouldn't have felt comfortable playing hockey in front of a male coach even if we had joined, but still. It's the concept. The fact that a Jewish girls high school hockey league was started partly due to my high school inquiring about it and then we didn't even get to join. So now I get to watch my brothers play and they all totally forgot that I enjoy it too. At games they ask, "do you know what that penalty was? It's called crosschecking." They think I don't know how to play. They think, because I'm a girl, that I don't really care about it, either. Well, true, I'm not all obsessed with the stats of the season, but I do enjoy watching and I wish I could play.
Acting:
My God, I've loved acting ever since I knew how to play pretend. I mean, people may not think of that as acting, but that is what it is, really. Kids getting together and pretending to be people they aren't and acting out scenarios. House. That's acting. All imagination games are a form of acting. I think my love of acting and my love of stories go hand in hand. I love stories, I love telling stories, I love writing stories, I love acting out stories. So in day camp when some people put on Beauty and the Beast, I was entranced. Then in school we started putting on class plays. There was the siddur play and the chumash play which I remember having to say lines in Hebrew that I didn't even understand. I think that happens to all kids. But then in third grade, we put on a real play. Well, not really a real, real one, but a made up one suitable for third graders. It was actually really, really, really corny, about a girl who is a new student and the kids aren't nice to her, so she stays home from school and these people, like, Mrs. Tzeddaka, Mr. Chessed, and Mrs. Middot or something come and teach them how to be nice, then the new girl comes back the next day and everyone's friends. Yay! I wanted so badly to have an actual character, but no. I got to be narrator. Well, fine. I was eight years old at the time. All the parts were really small anyway, even the real ones, except the new girl, probably.
In fifth grade, we put on this mix of Broadway scenes and songs. Luckily, I had a small part in that. I almost didn't, until the play lady (who no one really liked) remembered she forgot to cast a duet part (oddly, since it was really just one character, but they decided they wanted it to be a duet). So I got to be Liat from South Pacific (which I've still never seen) along with an Israeli girl and we sang "Happy Talk" while doing these really weird hand motions. I also got to be a kid from The King And I because I was short and little.
That was the end of my real acting experience. In sleep away camp, the oldest main campus division always put on a play in August. When I was in the youngest division, they put on Annie and I got really antsy and couldn't wait until four years later when I'd get to be in the play. Every summer I'd look forward to it, until the year I was going to be in the oldest division. I can't even really complain about this. My parents decided to take us all to Israel in August, so I was there for the first month, but not for the play month. So after years of anticipation and waiting, I didn't get to be in it after all.
In high school in ninth grade, I tried out for Drama in the school production. Okay, you have to understand, everyone makes the school production. Everyone. Well, everyone, that is, except me. I must be wearing a sign on my forehead that says, "don't let me in your play" because it's still unfathomable to me why I didn't make it. Am I that awful of an actress?
In eleventh grade, the juniors and seniors actually put on a real play. We did "Witness for the Prosecution" by Agatha Christie. I made the play, somehow, but I had the smallest part. Oh, I had a ton of stage time. Probably the most stage time out of everyone. Except my entire part was to just sit on a stool and occasionally announce a witness or something. I was the court officer. That's not even a real character! It involved no acting whatsoever. Just sitting there with no expression and trying desperately not to laugh when the audience did. I couldn't even involve myself in acting so that I wouldn't laugh. I mean, I was just sitting there for two hours!
Then of course, there was this year, where I wasn't really in the play except for a line or two from the audience.
Writing:
I remember the day I decided I wanted to be an author. I was in the younger grades of elementary school and I was thinking about how I loved making up stories but that I couldn't grow up and be a storyteller because that's not a real job. I also wanted to be the person who made up movies (which is a real job, but at that young age, I didn't know that. I thought the actors just did it themselves, like when I played imagination games with my friends). So then I realized, if I couldn't tell stories, I could at least write them and make books. So I resolved to be an author when I grew up. From then on, I wrote all these random stories. Some are actually embarrassing, but hey, I was young.
Everyone came to accept the fact that I was a writer. It became part of my identity. The problem was that as I got older, it was sort of expected that I would do well in English class. And I did. I definitely did. But when I took AP English Comp., well, let's just say I did embarrassingly poorly on the AP. So much so that I would avoid the teacher the next year whenever I saw her in the halls. In twelfth grade AP English Lit., however, I did very well in class and decently on the AP. So I figured the year before was just a fluke.
My first semester at Stern, I took English Comp. (of course, since I did so atrociously on the AP and didn't get credit for it). I got all A's. The teacher really liked my writing and it boosted my confidence a lot. I thought, "I can do this! Piece of cake!" Of course, I also didn't really feel like I was learning anything. I'm not so sure that class was for me. In any case, I thought I was a good writer and was quite content with that.
Last semester, I took an English class where I didn't do so hotly on the paper. The teacher told me it sounded like I was writing to a hostile audience. The only explanations I can give for why that might be is because A. I had just had a fight with someone right beforehand about, of all things, Beowulf (Grendel, to be specific) and I think I was extremely protective of my own ideas and thoughts after that, and just very defensive in general. B. I had been told at least once or twice before that my writing sounded too wishy-washy, like I wasn't confident with what I was saying. I guess I, er, took it too far to the other extreme. Apparently. But anyway, even that was okay because afterwards, a lot of people told me that particular teacher is a hard grader, so that was alright then. I wasn't the only one in that boat.
Today I got back two papers from a teacher who really likes me a lot and who I like a lot and in whose classes I have been doing extremely well. But on the papers, though I didn't do horrendously, I didn't do as well as I'd have liked and, what hit me more than the grade was the fact that she didn't think my writing was good. She said it was weak and not developed. She asked me who I had for comp. and when I told her, she said, "well, you got something out of that class but not enough." But I wanted to insist, No, darn it, I didn't get anything out of that class and I was getting all A's! So how could I get this grade now and be told my writing is weak and my arguments undeveloped? Why is my writing not consistent? Or, more importantly, why can I not do excellently the majority of the time on English papers? Why, why, why??? I love to write, it is my passion, it is what I'm identified with. It's what I thought I was good at. Sure, creative writing and paper writing are two different things. But I always thought I was good at writing papers, too.
Why is it that whenever I fall in love with a talent or an activity, I can do average, I can do okay, but I can't do well? I can't enjoy it, sometimes I can't even get the chance to properly do it, and I can't feel pride in it.
It makes me wonder just what I am good at at all. I know this post is sort of whiny, but bear with me. It's written out of pure frustration. I almost wanted to cry when I got back to my room after getting back my papers today. No one has ever told me my writing was weak before. That I need better choice of diction. What is wrong with me?
Thursday, May 10, 2007
I Just Don't Understand
I stumbled across this post a short while ago about a children's program on Palestinian television and how they are preaching the fight against Israel and the West - in a kid's show. I mean, come on, people. I just cannot understand how so many people think the Palestinians are innocent. I can't understand how people feel bad for them, I can't understand why people aren't more afraid of the slow but steady spread of radical Islam throughout the Western world, specifically in Europe. Israel does so much to try and make peace but the Arabs do nothing. Oh, sure, they say they want peace, but they don't really! If they wanted peace, why would they be sending rockets into Israel from Gaza, the place Israel vacated so the Palestinians could friggin' get the country they've been whining about? If they wanted peace, then why were two Israeli soldiers kidnapped by Hezbollah on Israeli soil this summer and, not only that! The Red Cross is supposed to be allowed to see captured soldiers and prisoners of war and the like. But are the Israeli captured soldiers allowed to be seen by the Red Cross, to make sure they're still alive and being treated humanely? No! Why does the world not cry out about this? What if Israel stopped the Red Cross from seeing Arab prisoners? Oh, sure, then it would be headline news.
It just disgusts me, the whole thing. I'm sorry if this was rather ranty, but now I've gotten myself all worked up. I just feel like there's nothing I can even do about it. Oh, sure, I can sign petitions for the release of Israeli MIAs, I can send emails to senators, I can do all of that. But it doesn't feel like it actually does anything. Sometimes I wish I could just march up to...I don't even know anymore, I don't know who the right person would be to march up to, but whoever it is, march up to him (or her) and set things right!
It just disgusts me, the whole thing. I'm sorry if this was rather ranty, but now I've gotten myself all worked up. I just feel like there's nothing I can even do about it. Oh, sure, I can sign petitions for the release of Israeli MIAs, I can send emails to senators, I can do all of that. But it doesn't feel like it actually does anything. Sometimes I wish I could just march up to...I don't even know anymore, I don't know who the right person would be to march up to, but whoever it is, march up to him (or her) and set things right!
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Midnight Madness
Although I don't really have the time to spare writing a blog entry this afternoon, I also just finished taking a very draining final and need to chill for a moment or two, so I figured blogging might be a good release.
Last night was the annual Midnight Madness at Schottenstien dorm. What is this madness, you ask? Well, the Student Council decided that since we're all in the middle of finals, we might like to have some ice cream and pancakes in the middle of the night to help us get through studying! Great idea. The problem is, for someone like me who does not particularly enjoy crowds, it became very overwhelming. I really, really, really wanted pancakes. I did. But I just couldn't go down there. You see, large crowds tend to frighten me, especially large noisy crowds all stuffed into one lounge. So I hesitated, I reconsidered, I tried to assess whether I really wanted that pancake or could go without, and then I stood up and told myself, "No. No, you do want that pancake. You really do! And you are going to march straight down there, barge in, and get your pancake!"
Yes! I will get my just desert! I know, I know, that didn't make much sense, but I just had to say it.
Anyway, that's what I did. Of course, all of a sudden, as I was waiting for my pancake to finish cooking, I realized that I was still wearing my slippers. Ah well, I decided. It was so crowded in that room, no one would even notice. And the crowd was rather overwhelming. I couldn't wait to get out of there. It made me feel so small, so...insignificant. Here I was, little me, in the midst of a huge, noisy crowd of girls all pushing and shoving to get their pancakes and ice cream. I did not belong there. No, no. I belonged in the safety of my quiet room studying the philosophy of the Rambam.
I eventually did manage to make my escape, and with not only two pancakes (instead of just the one I intended on getting, since the person making them flipped another onto my plate before I could so much as back out of my spot at the table) but also with a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream, which is my absolute favorite! So all in all, it was good. All's well that end's well, huh? I also managed to get myself a black Stern zip-up sweatshirt. I figured I might as well, seeing as I already gathered the courage to plunge into the monstrous crowd and I didn't own any Stern or YU apparel as of yet anyway.
So there you go. The experience did make me a bit disgusted with myself, though. I mean, I don't want to be so insecure, to have so little confidence as to be afraid of going into the back lounge just to get some pancakes! Something I'll have to work on for next year. I must be braver in these social situations.
I mean, I must have a record here. I'm a junior at Stern and I've never even been up to YU! Well, once, sort of, to pick up the guys on the debate team, but that doesn't count seeing as I didn't even get off the bus.
Last night was the annual Midnight Madness at Schottenstien dorm. What is this madness, you ask? Well, the Student Council decided that since we're all in the middle of finals, we might like to have some ice cream and pancakes in the middle of the night to help us get through studying! Great idea. The problem is, for someone like me who does not particularly enjoy crowds, it became very overwhelming. I really, really, really wanted pancakes. I did. But I just couldn't go down there. You see, large crowds tend to frighten me, especially large noisy crowds all stuffed into one lounge. So I hesitated, I reconsidered, I tried to assess whether I really wanted that pancake or could go without, and then I stood up and told myself, "No. No, you do want that pancake. You really do! And you are going to march straight down there, barge in, and get your pancake!"
Yes! I will get my just desert! I know, I know, that didn't make much sense, but I just had to say it.
Anyway, that's what I did. Of course, all of a sudden, as I was waiting for my pancake to finish cooking, I realized that I was still wearing my slippers. Ah well, I decided. It was so crowded in that room, no one would even notice. And the crowd was rather overwhelming. I couldn't wait to get out of there. It made me feel so small, so...insignificant. Here I was, little me, in the midst of a huge, noisy crowd of girls all pushing and shoving to get their pancakes and ice cream. I did not belong there. No, no. I belonged in the safety of my quiet room studying the philosophy of the Rambam.
I eventually did manage to make my escape, and with not only two pancakes (instead of just the one I intended on getting, since the person making them flipped another onto my plate before I could so much as back out of my spot at the table) but also with a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream, which is my absolute favorite! So all in all, it was good. All's well that end's well, huh? I also managed to get myself a black Stern zip-up sweatshirt. I figured I might as well, seeing as I already gathered the courage to plunge into the monstrous crowd and I didn't own any Stern or YU apparel as of yet anyway.
So there you go. The experience did make me a bit disgusted with myself, though. I mean, I don't want to be so insecure, to have so little confidence as to be afraid of going into the back lounge just to get some pancakes! Something I'll have to work on for next year. I must be braver in these social situations.
I mean, I must have a record here. I'm a junior at Stern and I've never even been up to YU! Well, once, sort of, to pick up the guys on the debate team, but that doesn't count seeing as I didn't even get off the bus.
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Get Lung Cancer By Yourself
Smoking. That horrible, horrible activity which endangers the lives of all those around you. Smoking should be illegal. I don't mean to be insensitive to those who are awfully addicted and just can't go a day without smoking. No, I'm just trying to be sensitive to people like myself; people who love life, who want to live a smoke-free existence, who don't want to get lung cancer just because someone else can't get over his smoking addiction.
I was walking back to my dorm today and in front of me was a lady smoking, so I was getting every bit of it in my face. I tried to hold my breath so as not to inhale it, but my lungs were screaming and my brain was panicking. No! it was saying. Get out of here! Don't go near that stuff! It's poison! As soon as I got an opportunity, I scooted around the lady so that I was in front of her, so that I wasn't getting all her smoke that was drifting downwind from where she was coolly engaging her cigarette. But I knew I had already second-hand smoked. I could taste it. It was awful. And no amount of coughing could get rid of it.
When I was on Mach Hach Ba'aretz, the summer after tenth grade, I did the army program and I remember a good friend and I made up a song parody to "One Day More" from Les Miz the day before the army program was over. One part of it went like this:
One more day of air pollution
Get lung cancer by yourself
I will leave these smoking soldiers
'Cause I care about my health!
Yes, I am aware that people are addicted, that people try to break the addiction but they can't, it's hard, it's painful, and I'm sorry. But instead of catering to those who are addicted and allowing smoking to go on, how about catering to those who don't want their lives put in danger because of other people's stupidity? Because to begin smoking is stupid. Stupid. And I'm sorry, I want to live a good, long, healthy life. I don't want it to be marred by anything related to second-hand smoking.
Smoking should be illegal. I'm going to be harsh, but it is rude, it's obnoxious, it's selfish, and it's murder.
I was walking back to my dorm today and in front of me was a lady smoking, so I was getting every bit of it in my face. I tried to hold my breath so as not to inhale it, but my lungs were screaming and my brain was panicking. No! it was saying. Get out of here! Don't go near that stuff! It's poison! As soon as I got an opportunity, I scooted around the lady so that I was in front of her, so that I wasn't getting all her smoke that was drifting downwind from where she was coolly engaging her cigarette. But I knew I had already second-hand smoked. I could taste it. It was awful. And no amount of coughing could get rid of it.
When I was on Mach Hach Ba'aretz, the summer after tenth grade, I did the army program and I remember a good friend and I made up a song parody to "One Day More" from Les Miz the day before the army program was over. One part of it went like this:
One more day of air pollution
Get lung cancer by yourself
I will leave these smoking soldiers
'Cause I care about my health!
Yes, I am aware that people are addicted, that people try to break the addiction but they can't, it's hard, it's painful, and I'm sorry. But instead of catering to those who are addicted and allowing smoking to go on, how about catering to those who don't want their lives put in danger because of other people's stupidity? Because to begin smoking is stupid. Stupid. And I'm sorry, I want to live a good, long, healthy life. I don't want it to be marred by anything related to second-hand smoking.
Smoking should be illegal. I'm going to be harsh, but it is rude, it's obnoxious, it's selfish, and it's murder.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
