The Underdog Triumphs

Goodbye May

2006-05-30T22:50:00.000-05:00

I have a love/hate relationship with the month of May. Every year it's a month of challenges and transitions. Winter ends, in Chicago Spring is too short--if it exists at all. And like the flowers that bloom, new chapters begin.

So readers, the time has come to take my Italian adventure and make my dream come true. I joke that maybe I won't return. Maybe I'll stay and find a new life. Who knows what can happen, and that is the most exciting part of life's little journeys.

Ciao!

Hits and Chicks

2006-05-21T19:47:00.000-05:00

My dad and stepmother called that they were still 10 minutes away from the restaurant. I decided to be brave and take a seat at the bar. I ordered my Pino Grigio minding my own business when I noticed a lady standing beside me. (Now is a good time to preface saying that restaurant is between a hotel and theatre where my stepmother joked that you had to be over 70 and wearing a Jewish star to be admitted.)

I innocently glanced up at the tall, chubby lady wearing funky glasses. She smiled at me, stuck out her hand and said, "Hi, I'm Rachel." Unenthusiastic to shake a strangers hand, I dimly smiled and said, "Susie."

"So, where are you in town from?"

"Oh, I live near by...Just waiting for my parents for dinner."

"Oh. Meeting your parents huh. Well I'm just getting ice for my juice," magically producing a mini-can of Dole pineapple juice.

Holding back laughter. "Oh, well, that's good."

"Yep, just trying to get my daily vitamins!"

I nod.

"Well, it was nice to meet you Susie. Have a good night, see you around."

God I hope not. Did I just get hit on? It strangely felt like it. I just about downed the rest of my glass wondering if my natural makeup and bohemian clothes make me look like a lesbian. Then I came to my senses asking myself, what does a lesbian even look like? This afternoon I was watching an old episode of Seinfeld and a reporter thought Jerry and George were gay companions. They kept freaking out about it once it was printed in the paper, but then always added the comment, "not that that's a bad thing!" So, maybe getting hit on by a lesbian is not a bad thing, it was kinda flattering.

We sat at a table by the window. I watched some older gentleman leave the restaurant and light their cigarettes when I noticed one of the old guys is holding a wooden hitter box. For those who may not know, it's a wooden box that holds a hollow metal cigarette, basically, you put your weed in there. I watched as they stopped outside the window in front of the planter. I told my dad to watch as the guy set his cigarette on the side of the planter, lit the metal cig, then quickly switched back to the real cig. Now, I've done this in public before, years ago, in college. We'd do it in bars, or in beer gardens surrounded by people near my own age who were probably doing the same thing. But these guys were like older than my father, I'd guess between 65-70. I quipped that if I had to go watch a play in that theatre I'd probably have to get stoned too.

My dad then questioned, "how do you know what that is." I answered, "Because I used to have one dad, you know, for when I used to smoke pot recreationaly." "What does that mean?" "I don't know, it was a word mom came up with to describe my once in a while partaking." Silence. "But remember dad, you never caught me on the back porch with _______, that was one of your other children."

I love that in situations like this, sometimes its easier to blame a sibling for something they once did. Refresh the old mans memory to make myself like the innocent child who never got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. I guess that's one of the great reasons we have siblings.

Future Thoughts

2006-05-18T15:17:00.000-05:00

A wise voice simply once said to me, “Susie, stop trying to get people to like you.” I don’t even remember what the discussion was about—I imagine I was retelling a story about what happened that day at work, or how a friend, family member, or fellowman “disapproved” of me in some way which left a shitty feeling because someone displayed feelings of not liking me. I remember feeling ashamed hearing that statement because I never realized other people noticed that specific one, of my many, great flaws. I also had always prided myself on being a nonconformist who didn’t care whether people liked me or not. But there it was, said, out in the open, a statement floating there that must be explored.

Stop trying to get people to like you.

I often hear that voice in my head reciting that provocative statement. I remember emailing the wise voice and admitting I had been ashamed of the realization. I wrote that I never considered myself approval seeking before and I was bothered that it was brought to the surface. I spent a lot of time pondering my approval seeking behavior. In my eyes, it was subtle, never overtly trying to get people to like me by doing such idiotic things as bringing arm loads of doughnuts to the office on a daily basis or something to that over-the-top sort. But opinions did matter. And of course, being human, they sometimes still do. But I no longer feel shame because I’m more cognizant of my thoughts and the unhealthy behavior that may ensue. And why should I be ashamed of my flaws? I realize they make me who I am, and honestly, that’s really not that bad.

I am a human being filled with love, compassion, integrity, respect, honesty, and dignity, yet I make mistakes, big and small, and that’s okay, because I need to learn from them in order to prosper in the future.

Looking towards the future is my new focus. If people don’t like me-—I’m okay with that. What other people think doesn’t ultimately matter in my life. Life is what I choose to make of it, how I choose to live it, and only I can control thoughts about how I feel about myself. I refuse to be a prisoner.

Fill your bowl to the brim and it will spill.
Keep sharpening your knife and it will be blunt.
Chase after money and security and your heart will never unclench.
Care about people’s approval and you will be their prisoner.
-Lao-tsu

Running on 6 hours of sleep

2006-05-17T09:06:00.000-05:00

I stayed up until 12:30 last night watching Grey's Anatomy season finale--I need to discuss.

First, I have to honestly say that acting chops were busted out in the 2- (or was it 3?) hour finale. I absolutely love Christina's turn for the human and George's scene in the hall with Meredith. That one resonated with me the most--his speech about knowing she didn't love him and that he'd rather have one night with her than nothing at all. George reminds me of me--the constant longing for something that was never yours complete with unreciprocated feelings, yet the want to experience someone is so strong that your blinded by reality. (Wow, I need a shot of tehina after that self-analysis).

Now on to Meredith and McDreamy, I have to say I'm a little McBored.

I'd rather watch an episode of Doc the dog--whose death got a cheap tear from my eye.

Denny and Izzie-also got a cheap tear from my eye, although I wonder when they really fell in love? Did I miss it?

Callie-I wonder if she was ever a GLOW girl (Goregeous Lady or Wrestling, anyone (besides Ben and Carla) remember that early 80's mania?)

Anyway, that's my 2 cents.

Chugging Tehina

2006-05-16T09:54:00.000-05:00

If I wrote for The Onion, I would probably elobrate and embelish what happend at around 9:30 last night at Pita Inn.

Me: Tziv, 2 O'clock, Kenny Rogers is taking shots of tehina.

Tziv looks at me like I'm nuts.

Me: I'm serious, that guy over there is drinking a cup of tehina!

Tziv starts laughing.

Me: Hurry! Hurry! He's doing it again. You have got to look! Look now! Look now!

Tziv's face is turing red with laughter. "Susie, I can't look now. It's too obvious."

Me: I can't beleive Kenny Rogers is taking shots of tehina. That's so gross!

Tziv is still laughing as Kenny Rogers and friend get up and leave.

Me: Look at his plate. (There are five clear mini-cups stacked up on his plate.)

Tziv: Holy shit!

Maybe you just had to be there.

"You're a Fool"

2006-05-03T10:35:00.000-05:00

Found in this mornings Chicago Tribune:

`The T stands for talking'

Published May 3, 2006

NEW YORK -- If Dr. Phil can dispense advice, why not Mr.T?

The TV Land network announced Tuesday that it will start "I Pity the Fool," a series where "The A-Team" star travels across the country dispensing inspiration and advice.

"The T stands for talking," he said in an interview with The Associated Press. "I'm going to talk it up. It's what I've been doing all my life."

The series starts in October. He'll offer help to people struggling with personal or professional problems.

"My show ain't no `Dr. Phil,' with people sitting around crying," he said. "You're a fool--that's what's wrong with you. You're a fool if you don't take my advice."

Clooney

2006-04-27T22:09:00.000-05:00

I have always had a thing for George Clooney often saying, "he's the oldest I'd ever go." But today, I really have a thing for Clooney. Sometimes celebrities do the right thing by using their celebrity to get national attention to an important cause and God Bless Clooney for bringing world-wide attention--after millions of others have tried--to the situation in Darfur.

And I'm also proud to be Illinoisian as Senator Barack Obama--for lack of better word--Rocks. Um, yeah there are much better and distinguished terms to descibe Obama--but the wine is hitting me...and I just got so tired I can actually feel my eyes getting heavy. Oh yes, I must sleep, besides I've had awesome dreams lately. Good night moon.

How was your day?

2006-04-27T22:01:00.000-05:00

I think what I want most out of life (at least at the present), is when I walk through the door, after a 12 hour work day, is to have someone greet me with a glass of wine and ask: how was your day? I'd be too happy to be home and too tired to answer, but it's nice to be asked. It's a simple question on the surface, but it rings a deeper meaning. How was your day (when heard on a--well--daily basis) means, I care about hearing about it, or at the very least, I care enough about your well-being to ask.

Then I would take a hot shower. And then, I would ask for a footrub. And get it.

Shut up!, it's my fantasy.

Notes on Procrastination

2006-04-19T16:38:00.000-05:00

The words vision, empowerment, motivation, organizational change, leader, follower, subordinate, among hundreads of others have been numerously typed today. I waited 8 weeks to start my 30 page paper due in 6 days. I've been pulling some research at the library or from journals online for weeks now, but only now am outlining and piecing it all together. I've actually (despite the blog title), have rocked it today. I've cranked out beautiful sentences and at end of paragraphs in red font written notes on what else needs to be included in order to create meaningful segues. Could it be that in strange way I'm actually having fun writing a paper?

I'm also starting to think that the older I get, the easier school work is. Sounds strange because grad school work is suppose to be hard, it's not as much hard as it is time consuming. Mentally of course, school is harder--which I somewhat attribute to also working full-time among many other of life's little reasons.

Side note: I have Tyra Banks' talk show on the background and there are women on who are only attracted to gay men. One just declared, "I love gay men so much I wish I was a gay man." Now there is a woman talking about being in a relationship with 2 gay men--Tyra asked her if she slept in the middle, she replied, "no, on the end." Surprise, surprise. I love gay men as much as the next straight girl, but I don't want to have sex with them knowing they're not going to dig it. To each thier own.

Okay, back to school work. Thank you Judaism, for having holidays I don't celebrate, but still get the benefit of 2 days off of work. I don't know what I would have done without today and tomorrow off...Procrastinate until the weekend I suppose. I must admit, 6 days advance, I'm pretty proud of myself.

Side note 2: Funny that the word "blog" is not in blogger's spell check dictionary thing.

Thoughts From An Exhausted Mind

2006-04-16T19:59:00.000-05:00

I love Sunday nights. They are quiet, reflective, meditative-especially a rainy night like tonight. I'm thankful for silence especially after a week of FF&M. Family, food and matza. Throw too many Baum's in one room and it begins to get ugly. I think I actually wrote "the get ugly" part after hearing it on a re-cap of Desperate Housewives which is blaring in the background. It's not as good as last year. Commercial. Speaking of TV, I still have to watch this week's Amazing Race. I'm obsessed. Only my best friend watches it and she doesn't get as worked-up about it as I do. I watched Gilmore Girls this afternoon. How can Rory love that jerk Logan and not hot lil' Jess? I'm sorry to say, but that show has really run it's course. I'm also terribly missing Felicity lately. There are moments when I suppose I get sentimental and think to myself, "I feel like watching Felicity."

Anyway, Sunday nights are great for getting in bed early, surrounding oneself with the NY Times and the Chicago Trib reading with ABC on in the background. I think I need to crawl back in bed, back to ABC and my papers.

Passwords

2006-04-07T17:57:00.000-05:00

WARNING! SCENES OF THE HUMAN CONDITION AHEAD!

I woke at four this morning thinking I had indigestion. I took some Tums but five minutes later I was kneeling in front of the toilet trying to not to view last nights Thai dinner I had with Paige. I guess she was smart to stick to a vegetarian curry dish. The morning couldn't have been more disastrous. At 7 am I realized I was out of toilet paper and started crying. I made myself throw on some clothes and go to Jewel. You would think at that time of the morning I could make a quick trip picking up TP, Canada Dry, and saltines. But I got stuck behind double transaction coupon lady. As my nausea increased I dreamt of running her skinny ass over with my shopping cart I was using for support. I made it home safe with out a public display of puke. And since the stomach cramps and nausea continued I decided to call into work. It couldn't have happened on a worse day because the 105 forefather of the institution I work for died the other day and his memorial was being held today in the auditorium. My boss freaks out at these kind of events where self-important peeps with deep pockets show up. The funeral kit had been prepared for years. I picked up the flowers yesterday. Our publicist got word to all press. The catering was ordered. The memorial books at the printer. I'm sure she would have just given me the job of lint picker-upper if she could have today. But instead I got workaholic attitude. All that she asked is if I would periodically pick up messages through out the day.

A half hour later I tried. I couldn't remember how to get in the system so I called her again, and got cut off when I tried to apologize for not being there "things are crazy I don't even time to hear you apologize again. We'll talk Monday." I tried checking my messages again but blanked on my voicemail password. For the past year and some months I have checked voicemail several times a day. And several times a day I knew the password and now it was erased from my memory. I called the receptionist to search my office for it to see if I had it written down in a folder I logically call, "Handy Info to Know." But it was no where. I tearfully called my dad and asked him to do hypnosis on me to help me remember. It didn't work, but it helped me relax.

Why do all have like 300 passwords anyway? For personal things I use the same 3 passwords. For work I only have 2-to unlock my computer, and for voicemail.
In American we need passwords for passwords. If "Big Brother" is supposedly watching our every move, do we need passwords? Identities are still stolden on a daily basis, the passwords obviously aren't controlling that. Are passwords really protecting us or causing us to go crazy that we need to seek mental help and medication. That's two more points for healthcare system. It is a vicious circle.

It finally occured to me at around noon when I was finally in a relaxed state. Now if there was only a password to cure stomach cramps and nausea.

Doubts

2006-04-04T22:10:00.000-05:00

My friend Meg said my grad school doubt is totally normal. All grad students at one time or another get overwhelmed, doubt their intentions, and get the blues. I'm a newbie; I still have 2 years to go. 2 years in the cohort, 2 years of spending weekends in coffee shops--I will be impressed if my laptop survives another 2 years. And since I am fortunate enough to have work paying for grad school, that means I stay at my job for another 2 years. I feel my life may be on hold for the next 2 years.

There is nothing more dreadful than the habit of doubt. Doubt separates people. It is a poison that disintegrates friendships and breaks up pleasant relations. It is a thorn that irritates and hurts; it is a sword that kills.
-Buddha

The End of The Voice

2006-04-01T09:13:00.000-06:00

The conversation ended like all others on that Saturday morning in January. The Voice said "We’ll talk later this week. Bye.” The Voice waited for me to say bye, but instead I let it listen to my sobs a second longer and then silently hung up. At the time I didn’t know it would be our last conversation. But I wasn’t surprised it was. It was months in the making. I was still full of ideas of possibilities and The Voice wasn’t and let me know it a year before. But I never accepted it. A part of me still doesn’t, even though I have been forced to.

There were only words, millions of words exchanged; there was little that was ever left unsaid. Except that simple word, “bye,” which has haunted me for months now, because it means finality, but more importantly it means I have to accept it. If I am mad or angry at anyone it is I for not accepting. I have forgiven all except me.

The Voice and I often spoke about and related to music. The Voice would like and deeply grasp the words that sound so simple in Jeff Buckley’s most popular song “Last Goodbye.” This is our last goodbye. I hate to feel the love between us die. But it’s over. Just hear this and then I’ll go. You gave me more to live for, more than you’ll ever know.

The Last of the Singles

2006-03-26T16:54:00.000-06:00

I just got off the phone with my friend Julie who recently got engaged to be married. The last couple of years we only talk a few times a year, email a few more times than that--she sounds absolutely fantastic and I couldn't be prouder or more happy for her, but I'm envious.

As 10 year olds running around at camp she was always the "cute little one" without having to try to hard to be cute. Having 3 older brothers she was tough like a boy and could hold her own. As we grew up, a part of her saddened and became self-conscious and I never really understood why. At a fit 5 feet with big blue eyes, light hair and delicate features she never was short of a camp boyfriend. It was the girls she had trouble relating to, as did I. In college she decided to live at home only 45 minutes from campus but I think she felt farther away than that--at five minutes away I felt just as far. The year I lived alone she was one of my only social outlets going for the occasional drinks or dinner. After she graduated, like me, she worked a series of really low-paying crappy jobs while still living at home. I think we related well to each other because we were both so lost.

But she found herself some how. She lived out her dreams and passions by spending a couple of years in Israel. She came back last year and moved to Atlanta to live with her boyfriend of now a couple of years. She has a great job and is living a life she enjoys. Which I think is fantastic and well deserved.

I rarely compare my life to those of my friends mostly because it is an unhealthy habit. But like I said before there was always something in Jules I could relate to. Except now I found almost nothing. It was weird to hear her use the word "we" so many times because I am still just a me.

I think I just hope that like she turned her life around, I will too. I need to start living out those dreams and finding those passions. I'm definitely not as lost as I used to be, but there are times when I still lose my way.

Gray Matters

2006-03-20T22:00:00.000-06:00

I just spent the last 10 minutes flipping my hair in all different parts to see all my newly (?) accumulated gray hair in the mirror. I knew I had some underneath on my locks on the right side, but now it's everywhere. Maybe if I had good lighting in my own bathroom I would have noticed it sooner. It's a blessing and a curse. I like my natural hair color and I'm too poor to get it professionally dyed, and although I used the box method multiple times in high school, it serious now. It's not cool anymore to have a purple sheen--now I have to dye it to match my natural tones.
To cover something.

I know, I know, I could go "al naturale"--but I don't want to. My hair is my best asset. And I'm only 27 dammit! Besides, my 90 year-old bubbie dyed her hair until a few years ago.

I know I'm still really young--I'm just having one of those moments where I feel really old.

Italian Dreams

2006-03-19T19:18:00.000-06:00

This was written 2 weeks ago in my school notebook to be published at a later date (although I didn't mean for 2 weeks to go by).

I'm sitting in the Italian Cafe watching the wet snow while sipping my vanilla lattee. I need a break from my work--too much research has been done on these dense leadership theories and concepts. I frequent this cafe on Sunday afternoons to do some work and daydreaming. Today's dream will soon become a reality.

An act of generosity has allowed one of the few dreams I have in this life to come true.

As I glance at the bar I remember the first time I came here with Brad. How we ooh'd and ahh'd over the cookies, lattes, even the little spoons. We commented on the photo of the baby hung on the wall. "My daughter," the owner proudly declared. He based the cafe on ones found in Venice. Next time he is here I will have to ask if there is a specific one so I can visit when I travel there in June.

3 days in Rome, 3 days in Florence, and a couple of days in Venice. I can't wait to walk through the piazzas, sample the gelato, sip my espresso in the morning at an outdoor cafe people watching and soaking all the culture in. I read somewhere that an advantage of traveling means you can be anyone you want. While Tziv and I are in Italy we will ooze sexuality--go out to nice dinners wearing black dresses, heals and makeup (a stretch for me but I think Italy is great place to start working on the lack of self-confidence and maybe, pervertedly, I can't wait for all the lewd hoots and shouts of "Bella.")

During the day we will go to art museums, walk the streets and window shop--one of my favorite scenes from a movie is from Six Degrees of Separation when Stockard Channing was strangely allowed to take a little lift to the top of the Sistine chapel and slapped the hand of God. Another favorite scene of a movie is the infamous one from Roman Holiday when Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant slip their hands into the Mouth of Truth.

I am bursting with excitement. I will never be able to express my thanks to Tzivia for this extraordinary gift--for giving me something to look forward to and memories to share for rest of our lives.

The Tribe

2006-03-10T20:44:00.000-06:00

I just watched the most amazing documentary short on Sundance. It explains the history and current state of American Jewry (and Barbie) better than anything I have heard, read or scene.

Check it out.

Go to Sundance, then scroll down to the Tribe. click on "the tribe" by tiffany shlain.
http://festival.sundance.org/2006/watch/index.aspx

My First Haiku

2006-03-02T16:53:00.000-06:00

A haiku for you
Math is punishment for whine
Let's drink it instead

5-7-5

2006-03-01T20:15:00.000-06:00

My boss Betsy assigned me homework. I am suppose to write a haiku.

5-7-5

Now every time I whine I am suppose to do it haiku.

5-7-5

I still clap out my syllables.

5-7-5

It involves math, therefore I freeze.

Guess I have to stop whining. I can't do haiku.

Binge & Purge

2006-02-18T18:29:00.000-06:00

I am in the process of getting rid of stuff. I just want to make my life a little less congested, and in order to do that, I need to get rid of stuff.

Over the years I have bought and accumulated lots of junk. Lots of things I don't know what to do with. My closet is filled with old albums filled with photos of people who are no longer my friends. Movies on VHS that I used to have to time to watch again and again. Dishes my mother have has given me. Art supplies for projects left unfinished. Books and clothes that need to be donated. Shoes that I've never worn, or only wore once because they were so painful I never wore again. I have piles of magazines that I hold onto because I haven't had a chance to read them, yet I can't throw them out because what if they contain that one story that will affect my life?

So I ask myself what am I ready to get rid of. It doesn't feel right throwing out photos, even if they are painful to look at? And what if some snowy afternoon I decide like watching the last episode of The Wonder Years? Or I finally get an outfit to go with those brown clogs? Deciding what stuff I am ready to get rid of is hard. But for sanity reasons, I must get rid of stuff.

Bush Sucks

2006-02-07T10:27:00.000-06:00

I rarely get political...but here is another reason why Bush sucks: He plans to slash funding to the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, by over $150 million! Read about it here.

All I have to say is take your 6 conglomerates that control 90% of the media and shove 'em where the sun don't shine.

One Woman's Football is Another Woman's Ballroom Dance

2006-02-01T15:45:00.000-06:00

My last semester in Kansas was quiet. I had less than a handful of friends, challenging graduate level courses, soup for dinner almost every night, and was borderline agoraphobic. But every Sunday night I looked forward to seeing Sandy Duncan's blonde up-do and glittery dress as she hosted ballroom dance competitions on PBS.

I was addicted to it. It brought me into another realm--part fantasy and part hypnotic with a bit of humor mixed in. I love to watch the men's perfect posture and the women's toned legs. I love how great dancers make it look so effortless, though I know I would trip over my own feet if I tried. I love the costumes, hair, and music. I love how the faces of some competitors are so fierce, while others look genuinely happy and proud.

Last night PBS started airing America's Ballroom Challenge, it's only a two-part series and now hosted by Marilu Henner, but I sat for an hour in my chair mesmerized.

Maybe I have loved ballroom dancing since I first saw the classic Australian flick Strictly Ballroom, or maybe it was how beautiful I thought the Japanese film Shall We Dance? was. It doesn't matter really how I came to love it. It just makes me happy to watch it.

So, next Wednesday night between 8 and 9 pm, don't call, I will be happily in my realm.

Deletion

2006-01-17T21:52:00.000-06:00

I wrote this truly fantastic, poignant, funny and contemplative post yesterday afternoon at work. But due to spell check, pop-up blocker and a slip of a finger, it was gone. Lesson learned; I will never again blog at work.

Karma works it magic once again.

The fantastic lost post contemplated my prior week of mis-communication where either I said too much, too little, or nothing at all. Hence losing my voice on Saturday afternoon and be it Tuesday night still sounding like a throaty sex operator cum Peter Brady.

Now I'm just feeling like a mime who is desperate to wipe off the white mask, black eyeliner, and red lips and open his mouth in order to tell people to "fcuk off." I really don't want to tell people to fcuk off, but the frustrating is growing. I really just want to say things like "good morning," and "hey wasn't Sandra Oh so cute when she accepted her Golden Globe?"

So, blog lost, frustration growing, mashed potatoes growing cold, I'll part with this: It's hard to find yourself, when you can't even find your voice.

Jack Schitt

2006-01-10T16:22:00.000-06:00

Jack Schitt

A history lesson for the rest of us.

Like a Sister

2006-01-06T13:57:00.000-06:00

"It was cute of you to call to check up on me other night." I said

"Yeah, well what are older brothers for?"

"Do you really think of me as a little sister?!?"

I have that stigma. I have always had that "little sister" relationship with guys.

But C'mon, who describes someone they used to have phone sex with as a "little sister!"

Ipod Obsession

2006-01-05T13:36:00.000-06:00

Ever since I received the Braun Tassimo TA 1400 Hot Beverage System I have been obsessed with getting the ipod. See, I got the Tassimo as a gift from my overly generous aunt, but I don't need it. I like my coffee maker. It's one of the only things that fits on my barely-there kitchen counter. I have the gift receipt and plan to return it--I know how much she paid because my mom traded hers in for a bitchin' Kitchenaid mixer. It's a good amount. I have also have $50 visa check card, so that just about covers the 4GB Ipod Nano I've been spying. Which is kinda funny because 3-4 years ago I made my friend repeatedly explain to me what an MP3 player is. I just didn't understand how this small contraption held music. I still don't really understand the logistics of it, but who cares-I want to download new music and episodes of This American Life. I want to join my fellow train commuters wearing those white buds that never really stay in my ears.

Here is the problem. Marshall Field's doesn't sell ipods. I'm forced with a hefty gift card amount. I'm not really a typical girl who like shopping for expensive shoes or clothes. I could get a Kenneth Cole purse or something, but against the ipod I don't feel it compares or will be my friend or protector on the train when a creepy guy sits next to me or hops from train car to train car begging for money. The ipod will keep me company. It will be with me on my neighborhood walks and help encourage me at the gym.

I am told I could try to sell the return card on Ebay or a gift card exchange website. (If anyone has ever tried to do that please advise.) It scares me for some reason. Also, if anyone out there is pondering shopping at Marshall Fields before the bastard Macy's arrives I will sell it to you. Just think, time is ticking for you purchase something really nice and still be able to get the big green shopping bag with the famous clock on it. Keep the bag in good shape and I'm sure you can one day sell it on ebay for a few bucks. Chicago history is at stake! This is the best guilt I can up with people. I'm begging now, someone please buy my Marshall Fields return card from me so I can buy an ipod!

I'll be your best friend...

Resolution Schmolution

2006-01-03T21:01:00.000-06:00

Fizz asked me at the bar on New Year's Eve if I had made any resolutions. I initially said I hadn't and mumbled something about not liking to make goals because then I have to work to fulfill them. I realized there was something really wrong with that statement. So I continued to ramble almost non-stop for what seemed like 5 minutes about things I want to work and improve upon this year.

Mainly, I want to be genuinely happy for more than like a day at a time. I'm increasingly getting better at that. I also need to date more, and (gasp!) set a goal that I want to average a date a month. I really need to stop beating myself up about things and learn to balance stress. I'm really mindful that my week off of work and school was really stress-free and I'm trying to carry that feeling with me. I even made a list in my journal about things I can do to de-stress. Of course there is the usual go to the gym more, cut down on sugar, take 10-minute walks at lunch...there is so much I could probably come up with that I want to improve upon--but I've decided to not to stress myself about it and just learn to accept things--me--as they--I--are. All in all, 2005 was not bad--and I have a feeling 2006 will be even better.

Good Bagel

2005-12-08T21:13:00.000-06:00

My dad said my grandfather used to say, "Keep your eye upon the bagel, and not upon the hole." So even though today had it's tough moments, I'm keeping my eye upon the bagel by sharing some good things that happend today.

1. After noticing that absolutely no one, anywhere, smiled yesterday I decided to make the Design Department happy by leaving them a note saying "have a smile on me" with a freshly baked banana bread. I also went a tad out of my way to pick up a special vegan treat for Tony. It made me decide I want to do something nice for someone everyday.

2. I liked that my dad called me at work to tell me how horrible the weather is and I shouldn't drive home. He was relieved when I told him I took the train.

3. Kittymoon said I could help her make a BUNDT cake tomorrow night. (I have a mysterious obsession with bundt pans, therefore I am super excited).

4. Finished another great autobiography today. Will blog about my latest reads and (why I wish I was friends with the authors) soon.

4 As I walked home from the train I realized I made a good investment in the boots I bought Sunday afternoon.

5. I gave myself permission to take the night off and forget about cleaning, school work, dishes, etc. and just watch bad TV like the O.C., and good TV like Everwood (which strangely me have a short, cathartic cry).

6. Mom calling all of her children to make sure "all her ducks were in a row," and at safely at home.

7. Climbing into bed to do some more vegging under the down comforter.

Lilah Tov (Good night)

An Afternoon of Nephews

2005-12-02T13:24:00.000-06:00

Wednesday afternoon was spent swooning of the cuteness of my new nephew at his Bris, and kvelling over my other nephew at his Bar Mitzvah practice.

Nephews are a good a thing when you don't yet have children of your own. You can spoil them, play with them, make them laugh, take them to movies they're not suppose to see or teach them about music they're not suppose to hear--and at the end of a day you can give them back.

It's really amazing to watch someone grow up see the person they become. My nephew has a great sense of humor, is incredibly sweet and sensitive, loyal and loving towards other people--almost to a fault. He has become quite a man. Watching him practice the other day brought tears to my eyes. I know how determined he is to do well. How behind on his Hebrew he was, how disconnected to Judaism he felt. And there he was, flawlessly reciting his Torah portion. He is a man.

Turkey

2005-11-24T08:58:00.000-06:00

I wish the bald eagle had not been chosen as the representative of our country; he is a bird of bad moral character...The turkey is, in comparison, a much more respectable bird, and wihtal a true original native of America...He is, though a little vain and silly, it is true, but not the worse emblem for that, a bird of courage, and would not hestitate to attack a grenadier of the British guards.

Benjamin Franklin, letter of January 26, 1784.

To my friends, family and strangers--far and near, I am thankful for all of you for being in my life. Hope you all have a great Thanksgiving.

A Thought

2005-11-22T21:02:00.000-06:00

A thought:
We miss so much here, so very much and for so long now: I miss it to, just as you do. I'm not talking of outward things, for we are looked after in that way, no, I mean the inward things. Like you, I long for freedom and fresh air, but I believe now that we have ample compensation for our privations. I realized this quite suddenly when I sat in front of the window this morning. I mean inward compensation.

When I looked outside right into the depth of Nature and God, then I was happy, really happy. And Peter, so long as I have that happiness here, the joy in nature, health and a lot more besides, all the while one has that, one can always recapture happiness.

Riches can all be lost, that happiness in you own heart can only be veiled, and it will still bring you happiness again, as long as you live. As long as you can look fearlessly up into the heavens, as long as you know that you are pure within, and that you will still find happiness.

Anne Frank
February 23, 1944

Ira Gets Married

2005-11-20T19:55:00.000-06:00

When I walked into the office last Monday morning Betsy said she had some bad news for me and brought me the ripped out page from Time Out Chicago. It was an article about the 10th anniversary of my favorite NPR program This American Life. And there it was amongst the list of why host Ira Glass has a had a busy a year--three little words--"He got married."

Ira Glass isn't suppose to get married! Not when he's in negotiations to come to my cultural institution and help open an exhibition about nostalgic Jewish vacation spots and do a live taping of TAL! He's the last single, celebrity, intelligent, funny and Jewish guy on my list!

I love his commentary with Django Reinhert-esqe music playing in the back. His giggle. His storytelling. I love that he started this radio documentary show featuring stories about ordinary people and places. I love the sweetness and feeling of nostalgia I get while listening. Ira Glass's voice is like a big hug or a cup of cocoa--it's warm and fills me up in a way that is hard to explain in words.

Oh well. Can't really mourn what you never had anyway. Good for Ira. I'm a little bitter, but I'm a TAL fan for life.

It's Here

2005-11-17T18:31:00.000-06:00

A shock to the system as it first slaps my face. A bitter feeling arouses as my shoulders tense up and arch forward as I fight my way against the wind.

I wish I were a bear so I could hibernate only to awake when Spring is in the air.

I feel myself starting to think about my winter hibernation as I wait--teeth chattering--on the "L" platform or walking to work, blocks from the lake. I dream of home and my down comforter. I think about the soup recipes I will try and debate with myself about renewing my Netflix membership. I remind myself to search for my long johns, and curse myself that I haven't yet bought a big comfy couch.

I always think I will never unnecessarily leave the house. But every year is the same--it just takes some adjusting to. Soon we'll all be commenting that it's warm out--when it's 40 degrees.

Pity Party

2005-11-13T16:50:00.000-06:00

Right now, I should be in San Francisco smoking a J with my bro gearing up to go to the Rolling Stones concert.

Instead I'm here in the Windy City, drinking decaf, procrastinating finishing my paper for Tuesdays class thinking about how life rarely turns out the way you think it does.

I was having a discussion with a friend recently about just that. Maybe because I ended up having a miserable college experience that I used to daydream about how life would be after graduation and I moved back to Chicago. I fantasized about having a fabulous job, wardrobe, apartment, and boyfriend. Tons of friends to call to brunch and meet for evening cocktails.

Instead the only job I could find was a secretarial position and I ended up having to stay with my dad and stepmom for a year and a half. I worked as a secretary for 3 years. There are only aged, fading clothes in the closet. My apartment is less than fabulous. Boyfriend has yet to even make a cameo.

How much more can I do to help myself change my life?

In the past year I gained new employment, finally not a secretary. I joined a gym, bookclub, went on dates, started a Master's program...but there are still holes. Still hopes I'm waiting for to fill them. But how much longer will it take until I feel I have this fabulous life I've been waiting for?

Hard to be a Woman: Part Deux

2005-11-07T20:16:00.000-06:00

Lately, women in their mid-40's (maybe even 50's), are telling me I should either "spend 10 minutes a day doing my make-up" or "accentuate your features with a little rouge." I don't wear makeup on a regular, daily basis. It's hard enough to put on my eye liner sober at 7 pm on a Saturday night, let alone sleepily at 7 am. I'm lucky if I remembered to throw my burts bees lip balm in my work bag.

Truth is, I do get a tad more attention when I'm rockin' blush and colored lip gloss. But the attention is not enough to enough to get me motivated to wear it daily. Maybe because I only attract freaks...maybe it's lack of confidence...or maybe I just don't like goop on my face for 14 hours a day.

At the gym this morning I was watching Tyra Banks' talk show. She was asking the audience if they ever thought about celebrities when they were having sex. Of course one man stood up and said, "you, Tyra." She lifted up her dress to reveal her girdle, or in this day and age I think they call them affectionately "Spanxx." She retorted, "You gonna fantasize about this! About the cellulite on my booty!"

You gotta love a model who is not ashamed to embrace herself as she is, like the rest of us, cellulite and all.

As for me, I think I'll keep going sans makeup because I'm usually more comfortable with out it.

Getting Back on the Horse

2005-10-31T19:57:00.000-06:00

I did a brave thing.

I posted a personal ad on Craigslist.

It was the typical "Nice Jewish girl seeks nice Jewish boy to spend time with going to cultural events, drinking wine, listening to live music, etc. etc." The responses were varied--let us meet the contenders shall we?

The Ashton Kutcher
greetings fellow Heeb, i definitely think I'm lookingfor the same thing you are and hopefully when all is said and done we can have dinner and go from there. I;m 23( don't delete cause im 23, im way stable and pretty mature)
He sent a picture of himself working out and it was titled, I kid you not, "Bicep."

The Anti-Semite
If I fuck you do I get the bag of gold hanging around your neck?

Master Hoo: The Jew Fucker
....I have fucked so many slutty Jewish girls silly that I consider myself an expert at it.
Pic for pic, and you too can have my dick. I love that Jewish moan.... :)
Mstr hoo
I didn't know we had a special moan--we must ad a throaty "Cha" to it.

The Closer
27/m/Chicago. Pharmaceutical Sales Rep. Jewish. Attached is my pic. Please send yours.

The Redundancy
I'm also a Heeb and I happen to live in Evanston. I'm 42, single, no kids, never been married. I do a lot of bicycling and I swim at a health club during the colder months.
Sounds too similar to someone I already know...and 42, c'mon, find someone in your own generation.

The Compensator
Hi my name is Noah and I live in Evanston. I am successful, own my own home and take care of myself.
Mazel Tov!

The Possibility
....I am definitely part of the tribe! :) I am 6'2 180, brown hair, green eyes, I would say fairly intelligent (everyone has their moments) :) and I am an artist.
Mmm...a humorous, tall, artsy Jew...we'll have to see about this one...

Sometimes it's Hard to be a Woman

2005-10-25T15:06:00.000-05:00

There are many reasons why it sometimes sucks to be a woman. The more well known arguments include giving birth, monthly hormonal upheaval, earning 75 cents to every dollar a penis makes, under-garments and cosmetics are a rip off-- but today it's hard to be a woman while shopping for tires.

I was actually unsure I even needed new tires--last week after the tune up the guy told me my tires were bad and quoted me $89 per tire and $80 labor. I politely passed and said, "Maybe next month." I had a feeling I was being taken. I called my dad to ask the average price of tires and how do you know when you need new tires. He called a discount place 45 minutes away, their quote: $275. So, now at least I had a base price to search for.

I did my own investigating in my neighborhood. I got quotes in the upper 300 dollar range-one asshole even said, "and we highly suggest an alignment, that will run $99.95." I say, "So 4 tires and labor is $375 and and a wheel alignment is a separate $99.95?" "That's right. Not all places you call are going to tell you that you need one after putting on new tires." Me: "And this is including the sale price of the tires?" Asshole: "Yes ma'am."

3 phone calls later, I found the right price. $47 per tire. Free alignment inspection (and no, you don't need an alignment after putting on new tires). $293 total. When I got there, tire guy came outside to look at the tires, he had kind eyes so I asked, "I don't mean to sound stupid, but does it even look like I need new tires?" He smiled and graciously pointed out all the cracks and said it seemed I had all the original tires on the car. Inside he told me that if I want to spend $3 more per tire, for a better tire, they are offering a $50 rebate. Total with rebate: $256.

Sorry, wasn't taken today Asshole. Hope you go out of business soon!

C-Squared

2005-10-22T22:32:00.000-05:00

The thing I like about weddings is that everyone beams their happiness and love onto others. It's like everyone is on ecstasy--all smilely, touchy-feely and thirsty for a drink.

I sat next to a charming couple named Chuck and Carmine--they were probably in their mid-60's, but they were young and vivacious. She told about their recent trip to Vegas and how they loved this dueling piano bar. Chuck and I talked about jazz. They told a sweet story about how when they travel they have to give the dog "doggie prozac." I wanted to hug them and take them home with me--but instead I invited myself to go boating with them (they keep a boat a Montrose Harbor-I've been looking for someone with a boat for a long time now.)

But what I loved about them is that she couldn't keep her hands off him-not in a gross "60-somethings-making-out" kinda way, but an arm around the shoulder, a kiss on the cheek, a squeeze of a hand--and he didn't take his eyes off of her when she got up to do the electric slide.

I wanted to ask what their secret was--I wanted to know how they kept it so alive. I wanted to know where to get Carmine's vivacious spirit and where I would have to go to pick up a Chuck.

There is so much I want to know.

Martha and Me

2005-10-19T20:28:00.000-05:00

The mini-obession started a couple of weeks ago--I was at my sisters on Rosh Hashanah and caught Martha Stewart's new talk show. I had read about it in magazines and newspaper articles--they all said things like "it's the softer side of Martha."

I watched a pregnant Jennifer Garner make baby food with her and in a separate segment Martha showed her new and different ways to use a digital camera and computer to make the perfect baby announcements. And they were perfectly lovely. And I sorta fell in love too.

Last week due to Yom Kippur I had another two days off of work. I tuned into Martha and was taken by her as she showed a previously filmed segment in which some quaint town grows huge pumpkins and then they carve them into little boats, decorate them and race. She made beautiful glittery pumpkin centerpieces and invited a long-time fan--a school principal with a thick southern accent--to cook with her. He gushed just the right amount while telling her about collecting all of her magazines--and how he was the first one at Wal Mart or something at
12:01 am to buy her new collection of DVDs.

Martha has never been better, she smiles and makes witty remarks--she tells stories about jokes she has pulled at dinner parties such as placing plastic bugs in the food.

Today, having 2 more holidays off of work--I did the unthinkable.

I had already been to the gym, had breakfast, showered and dressed, ready to run out to do errands--but it was 10 am--I was going to miss Martha. And she was having on the author of this new book I've been reading about everywhere called Julie and Julia --what was a girl to do? So I put in a tape and set the VCR.

I later went to Crate and Barell to get a wedding gift--the only decent thing left on the registry under $50 was a carving board and platter--the store clerk-a Where's Waldo look alike-went "down to the basement" to retrieve one and I started wondering around the stores convincing myself I needed things like a flora baby bundt pan or a mini-loaf pan to make banana bread--finally Waldo found me in all my "I wanna be like Martha" tizzy and said my package would be at the counter waiting. I had an overly caffeinated freak-out, saying I was ready to check out now before I convinced myself I needed baby bundt pan and confessing that Crate and Barell can really make a single person feel inadequate. Waldo sounded like he heard this "single girl argument"before, saying I could create a registry for my birthday, or for a new apartment. I should--after the $100's I've invested into the blessed day for others. It's payback time I thought for a split second--then I realized it would be plain sad. The optimist in me says, I'll have day of registry at some point.

After I took myself to a chick flick today (In Her Shoes), I went to the Border's down the street to get some decaf and look around. I picked up the Julie and Julia book, the current issues of Martha Stewart Living and Health and and had a seat in the cafe. The first few pages of Julie and Julia sucked me in--I had a gift card in my purse and just knew I had to have it--hardcover and all.

Then I opened the Living magazine, and the page I happen to open to had a picture of a big, delicious looking Chocolate and Ginger Bundt Cake on it. Oh the irony.

I think I've been over Martha'd.

And I need to go back to work.

Sound of Silence

2005-10-18T21:43:00.000-05:00

I have been taking late afternoon or early evening walks around my neighborhood lately. I don't put on headphones, or walk at any particular pace--I just walk, like in a conscious trance. I'm aware of all that is around me. The old houses built close together, the chairs, swings and toys on the front porch, the couples holding hands pushing a stroller or walking their dog, the multi-generational families getting out of the car and heading towards the red front door and the leaves in their stages of color crunching under my feet. I can't help but smile when I see the neighborhood kids tossing a ball or playing tag as the air begins to crisp and at any moment they will probably be called into dinner in their houses that seem so inviting.

I picture what the houses look like inside and picture myself walking barefoot on the wood floors hearing the creeks and whistle of the radiator. I can see myself standing in the kitchen chopping vegetables and making a hearty soup or stew from scratch or laying on a cushy couch reading in front of the big front window.

A sense of warmth emanate from these houses and I see the possibilities of what life can someday be.

I Heart Beck

2005-10-01T12:02:00.000-05:00

Last night I crawled into bed at 8 pm and was flipping through the five or so channels I get in semi-clearly with an antenna and found Beck on the PBS concert show Austin City Limits . He started off playing two melancholy songs on acoustic guitar solo in the spotlight. For the third, he put down his guitar, grabbed the microphone in one hand, a harmonica in the other, got the audience to clap and stomp their feet and played a little ditty. It brought back a memory of a Beck concert I went to almost 10 years ago at Metro. He was fresh with the hit Loser which I thought was destined to be a one-hit wonder, but he proved me wrong as he danced across pulling kids up on stage to beat box with him. He was a natural perforer and I actually I developed a school girl crush on his naturally "hipster" look, and after last night--the crush is definitely back.

I have always loved musicians who experiment with sound--after doing a few numbers with the Flaming Lips accompanying him on stage, he was alone in the spotlight again kneeling down in front of a Harmonium crooning one of his darker songs. While some people--including myself, hated Sea Change when it first came out, others loved it. It took me awhile to erase the upbeat Odelay and Mellow Gold sounds out of my head and appreciate what he had done with this new album. Beck constructed a melancholy, vulnerable and beautiful album. He experimented with a new sound and it worked. Very few artists can pull that off successfully and that is why he has had loyal followers for so long.

Another cool thing about Beck is although a lot of his tracks experiment with various instruments and electronica, he still finds a way to perform them in concert similar to how they are on CD. He finally danced his ole' Beck way while Flaming Lips played "Where It's At," in a sad way, the dancing looked forced, and his energy seemed to come only when he stopped dancing but leaned over playing the keyboard. I guess a true musician is happier experimenting than having to play the same tired songs again and again. Tired or not, he did look cute dancing.

Leona's Wisdom

2005-09-29T21:00:00.000-05:00

I look to the Leona's sign to tell me my fortune. A little game I created for myself while driving down Sheridan Road. 3 weeks ago I pondered "What can be untied should not be cut." Last week it said "A book is like a little garden in your pocket." It took starting a couple of books to settle into the one I'm reading now. It was a lonely week--so I looked to a book for warmth and friendship. Once in awhile, after a great book, I miss a character--miss hearing their words, their presence in my thoughts.

I was IMing with a distant someone recently and asked them, "Can this be untied?" After a brief, friendly chat I received a wish of "I hope your life gets better soon--" which is the kind of statement that signals a sort of finality. But I realized that the relationship doesn't necessarily have to be looked at as cut. We're not tied either, but 2 loose ends looking for something different to be connected to.

Last night the sign said, "Business is great! Drivers Wanted!" Maybe its best not to read too much into that--because I'm looking more for a co-pilot.

Torn

2005-08-31T10:03:00.000-05:00

I was upset last week for the "what could have been," there was a fire in my apartment building. I was awoken at 1:30 am by a fire alarm and a fireman screaming in the hallway to get out. The fire was contained to one apartment, and everyone was fine.

A few days later, the hurricane has destroyed New Orleans. I see the pictures on the news, read the stories in the paper, my heart just plunges and my eyes fill with tears for these people who have lost literally everything.

When traumatic disasters happen to other people, I am always reminded on how lucky I am. It's a feeling that makes me feel torn because I feel lucky because of other peoples misery. There is something wrong with that. So I give to charity because I want to help, but also to overcome my feelings of guilt. There is something wrong with that too.

I have no idea how it feels but am devastated for them. I feel helpless and wish I could do more than just send a check to a relief organization where I just hope that a good fraction of what I send actually helps provide for the victims. Right now people are looting looking for food and water, America's Second Harvest claims that 100% of proceeds given will go to Hurricane Katrina. Guess I have to believe them.

Growing Pains

2005-08-29T20:17:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I had to work at a Middle Eastern festival representing the cultural institution where I work full-time. There I ran into my best friend from high school/college yesterday. We caught up and talked about what were doing now--each of us trying to sound more together than I'm sure we really are. I kept thinking about the past and the way she use to make me feel--I could feel my heart grow cold, as it does when I'm around people I don't particularly like.

I've been disappointed so many times in my life, that I sadly have little faith in people these days. I've learned that sometimes we just have to say goodbye. But saying goodbye is hard. Especially when we still the love the other person but are forced to let go. Sometimes friendships and other relationships aren't meant to be. We learn from each other, hopefully walk away with a few intangible things and move on. On paper it seems easy, but in reality if was a real, truly connected relationship--deep down, a part of ourselves go missing.

Every time I drive down Sheridan Road, I look forward to seeing what is written on the Leona's sign. Yesterday it said, "don't cut what can be untied." I repeated it a few times in my head, my mind continued to review the statement over and over the rest of the night. What happens if can't be untied? Then you cut it? How many knots are in it? What if you want to untie it, but the other person wants to cut it?

I decided I liked that little proverb because it resurged my hope in that things can work themselves out if both ends decide to work together and untangle the mess before the shears are dug out. There is a strange sense of comfort in that.

I have become (un)comfortably numb

2005-08-24T18:17:00.000-05:00

The dentist told me it was okay to rinse now. I leaned over and grabbed the dixie cup filled with mouth wash--I attempted to sip and swish as it all dribbled out the left side of my mouth. I laughed and said I couldn't, then she said, "oh the muscles are probably not working yet."

Everyone hates the dentist. It's not their fault really that we take such bad care of our teeth. I haven't had to have in a filling done in almost 10 years, so I guess today it was my turn. I had a mini-anxiety attack in the cab on the way to the office. Then I went numb. Then there were drill sounds. That is what gets me, I hate that sound, it's like fingernails on a chalk board. I think that sound alone will prevent me from eating anything with sugar for a long, long time.

In the elevator after my appointment I went to put on lip gloss. I tried to rub my lips together as one often does after putting anything on their lips. My bottom lip slid up under my top front teeth. I noticed in the mirror reflection my top lip not moving. My lips look stretched out and turn down at the corners.

I got home from work an hour early and not knowing what to do with myself I decided to wait out the numbness and take a walk by the lake. I found myself trying to whistle along to the Zero 7 CD. Once again, the lips fool me again as the bottom one juts out as the top stays in place.

I'll be happy when the numbness wears off...even though it was kinda funny while it lasted.

Special thanks to Mr. 007 who told me that today is the Gutte's Birthday...still wishing that comeback. I'm raising the glass of water that I have to tilt my head all the way back to sip, and wishing you a happy one.

Someone's

2005-08-23T19:57:00.000-05:00

Someone wrote me an email today that totally made me feel guilty about something; truth is I forgot to mention my grandfather died from the cancer I am doing a charity run/walk for. I was tired, and needed to get the letter out as the date is growing closer--I'm not good at asking for money, even if it is for a good cause. And I don't know how, but I forgot. I wrote a bad letter. I made a mistake. I make a mistake (or four) everyday.

Someone told me I beat myself up too much about things. Today that person supported me and told me how proud they are of me.

Someone who had known me for a long time reminded me recently that I've crossed a lot of shit off my "Self-Improvement-To-Do list," and I should give myself a break.

Another someone bought me big, baby blue Underdog T-shirt and today I got to thank him for it(he had to call me...But...)

I met two other someone's for dinner tonight and it was fun.

My dad always told me to focus more on the positive then the negative. I have to remind myself that while some "someone's" let me down or make me feel bad, other, more positive "someone's" are there to pick me up. And that makes life good.

Cactus Flower

2005-08-19T17:34:00.000-05:00

I decided to take the afternoon/early evening to feel sorry for myself. I decided to fuck it-I need to feel it to get through it. I've felt this disappointment before--I've grieved the loss of the fantasy before--Studs Turkel wrote a book called Hope Dies Last, I read it because I liked the title. That's kinda my philosophy--I've always had my hope...but does it die? I don't know because mine has never fully died. I've tried to kill it, but it won't die. I mean aspects of hope have--or better yet things we once hope for we eventually get over--but it's the duration of "eventually" time that makes it feel like our bed is a cactus we are forced to lie upon.

William H. Macy's character in the movie Magnolia repeats over and over in one scene I have love to give. All of a sudden I felt I was in his characters shoes. I've wanted to shout that at people before too. Sometimes you can't fix a broken person. It's not that they are beyond repair, but they don't want to hire you as their handyman...they want say, Jesus to fix them. And one thing I'm not, is Jesus.

Ironic how the song Far Away by Carole King just came on.

You're far away
doesn't anyone stay in one place anymore?
it would be so fine to see your face at my door
it doesn't help to know
your so far away

So after laying in bed for an hour feeling lonely and sorry for myself, I decided to get out of bed and practice unhealthy habits for tonight only. So I put on Carole King, dug up the secret stash, am slamming down a trashy wine cooler, and made Cocoa Krispie treats. I'm letting myself feel this tonight only...then it's time to move on.

4 Blogs in 1

2005-08-17T06:52:00.000-05:00

I keep emailing myself things I want to blog about--but other stresses have taken course the past few days, and now I think I'm fighting an impending Summer cold, so I'm condensing 4 blogs into 1 and ditching my morning workout.

How I love the Ira Glass, let me count the ways--well except for this one little thing--he's taking This American Life to Showtime...and I'm in the camp of Will His Voice Carry?

Blogs Can Bite, a pondering phrase for all of us bloggers...how much is too much? What topics are taboo? I have had someone ask me not to blog about something...we have a constitutional right...but we also have liability and relationships at stake. Something to ponder.

These are some cool photos by a Chicago photographer Nick Campbell, he's no Diane Arbus, but he captures that raw element of humanity that makes us stare at the photos for a few extra moments.

For those of us who love the reality show America's Next Top Model, this is an interview not to be missed with the Janice Dickinson. She disses Tyra, the contests, fellow models and puts the word fun back in dysfunctional. Gotta kinda love her after reading it.

There, 15 minutes and 4 blogs in 1.

G-d's little Wink

2005-08-10T20:58:00.000-05:00

It didn't start out like any other morning. I woke at 7, skipped the gym, got seats on both "L's" I take to get to work. Usual hustle around my desk covered with papers perched in the hallway. It went downhill before lunch when I remembered I forgot to move my car to the other side of the street due to weekly street cleaning. Then I went out for lunch and ingested some bad thai food, and made my stomach worse by breaking my own cardinal rule--don't drink the office coffee. (By the way, where does that cardinal rule expression come from anyway?) Then I had a marketing meeting and a goodbye party with kosher chocolate cake for a girl who's leaving the museum to go to grad school. Then the message on the cell phone that my dad wants me to go condo shopping with him on Saturday which prompted a discussion with my boss about responsibility and how I was stressed out enough trying to decide whether or not I am going to do the Masters in Nonprofit Management program at the cultural institution where I work. Basically everyone says "It's a free master's degree, you're an idiot not to do it." But it was a helpful discussion and I was feeling a bit better until the crisis in the Design department, preceded by the crisis in the Development Department which makes me just want to yell at everyone and ask JUST BECAUSE I SIT IN THE HALLWAY DOESN'T MEAN I'M LITERALLY YOUR FUCKING HALLMONITOR, DO YOUR OWN DAMN WORK, I'M BUSY ENOUGH IN MY DEPARTMENT AND I'M NOT DOING IT FOR YOU, AGAIN YOU FUCKING, SPOILED, LITTLE JAP. By the way, that has to do with Development Department girls, not my vegan guys in the design department--I like them--it's all our fault that an ad due in 15 minutes slipped through the cracks--only after my boss and the head of design sparred at each other for 10 minutes did I realize I had fibed about the actual due date, which is Friday--good thing I do that, right?

So it was a rough one, but both "L" trains came in decent time, and I checked the car to retrieve an impending ticket but didn't find one. And a UPS delivery notice was surprisingly stuck to mailbox, delivery attempt from Story People--someone--and I think I know who--because it has to be one of 2 people who I recently discussed these with--must have bought me one. And I smiled, because even though I yet to see it, it's nice to be thought of.

So I took a long evening walk and thanked G-d for sending me a little wink...even bad beginnings turn into happy endings.

The Germans Love the Gutte

2005-08-04T19:55:00.000-05:00

A friend joked today that I may have found my soulmate--his name is Dietmar Eichelberger, he's a German Art Collector who has put his Steve Guttenberg memorabilla on display in a show called Das Gutte: Celebrating the Life of Steve Guttenberg.

Who would of thought an American girl like me, and a German man like Dietmar would have such a unique love in common.

It's refreshing to know that a German is capable of holding a Jew like the Gutte in such high esteem. Now let's all salute our arms the ole German way and chant, DAS GUTTE!

Thanks Fizz for making my afternoon full of big "tee hee's."

Chopping Veggies with Al Green

2005-07-31T20:11:00.000-05:00

I like to cook. Partly because I really love chopping vegetables. For some reason it calms me and I practice fancy techniques I have seen on TV. I blare Al Green and swivel my hips around the kitchen, glass of wine in hand. While balancing the cutting board between the stove and sink in my 3" x 8" kitchen, I imagine my future life where I am making a great feast for a hungry hubby and I get to dance in a kitchen filled with stainless steel and marble counter tops.

Sometimes I cook meals, like I did tonight, that were so good I wish I had someone here to attest to how good my cooking can be. I now understand how the chef's on TV mmm and ahh into the cameras how delicious their own cooking is and now I feel it necessary to cease snickering at them.

I made a tofu and vegetables stir-fry with brown rice. I varied the recipe slightly--instead of vegetable oil I used toasted sesame oil, and used a Korean zucchini "the sweetest variety," and a sweet pepper. It is the same shape as a red or green pepper but is white and actually very sweet for a pepper. (Farmer's Markets rock!)I have never made my own stir-fry marinade before, and now I will never buy one in a bottle again. This is the perfect sweet and tangy sauce.

Just like a book, CD or movie, I believe that when you find a good recipe it must be shared.

SIDE OF SUGGESTIONS for the best food related films:

1) Mostly Martha
2) Big Night
3) Like Water for Chocolate

The Difference Between Mom and Dad

2005-07-29T17:40:00.000-05:00

Last night my mom called me after she watched the ABC show about internet dating, Hooking Up. She said a little softly into the phone, "did you know shagging meant having sex?"

To Thong Or Not To Thong...

2005-07-26T12:21:00.000-05:00

Last night, while talking to a male friend, we strangely got on the topic of thongs. (First it was what males wear under bike shorts and next thing you know women's under garments.) He claims that all his girlfriends in the last 10 years have only wore thongs.

I was puzzled.

Really? Really? No way...I don't actually own a pair myself...so of course I started the whole self-doubt thing...Could this really be that all young women around me are wearing thongs while I sit day after day in granny panties? What is wrong with me?

Nothing.

And I know this, because then he said something to sort of, read those women's magazines, they should be able to tell you what women are doing.

Life With Father

2005-07-20T20:24:00.000-05:00

So it's been brought to my attention that the Octopus quote was strange...Especially coming from my dad. And I can totally see how that would be really strange. But then again, you didn't grow up with him.

You didn't get to experience the way burnt tongue smelled up your living quarters for a week. Or how we were always the last kids to be picked up from anywhere. You didn't get to sit through 2 marriage ceremonies, or at 15 years old have condoms left on the dining room table for you because weeks before his wedding he said, "I don't need them anymore." And you really don't know humiliation until you're at the corner video store trying to rent a movie when the kid behind the counter tells you you have a fine for a very engaging film called "Humongous Hooters." And for some reason in my family, all of our nicknames are "dick." Not in reference to human anatomy, but it's what you call one when they say spill a glass of water or forgets to get an oil change.

So now that I've dysfunctionalized my father even more--let me tell you why the comment wasn't too strange.

If wasn't for him I wouldn't have a sense of humor. Growing up on SNL and old Belushi and Chevy Chase movies raised the funny antennas and taught me how to laugh. I wouldn't know that he sacrificed a lot to send us to camp, private school, and trips to visit our friends. I wouldn't know what a strong work ethic was. I wouldn't know anything about cars. I wouldn't know how to give and expect nothing in return. I wouldn't know that hours of research and talking to people helped form decisions he influenced us to make.

I remember he used to have folders for each of us kids. Each was filled with fliers and newspaper articles about things that we were interested in. When I was suffering through horrible jobs and unemployment, he talked to people, scoured job bulletin boards everywhere he went, and he believed, when I knew better, that I was qualified for jobs I really wasn't. He had confidence in me when I had none.

And that's what a father should be. He should be able to pick you up and bandage your knee when you fall. He should provide strength and help build your character. He should be able to accept you and listen with out judgment. He should constantly ask "how's the car?" And that's all what mine is. Inappropriate humor is just something I've learned to live with--and I just have to roll my eyes and laugh at how lucky I still am.

Octopus Garden

2005-07-17T22:03:00.000-05:00

This is what my dad said as we went through the car wash today:

Now I know what it's like to be inside an octopus when it orgasms.

One is the Loneliest Number

2005-07-15T19:01:00.000-05:00

I sit in my apartment on a quiet Friday night. All I hear is the hum of the air conditioner, it is around 7 pm and I just got home from my long day, from my long week of work. Actually, I left work at 3:30, the perks of working for a Jewish organization. I went for drinks with a friend from work.

Over martinis at the South Loop Bar Louie she told me more about the man she is going to marry. She is genuinely in love with a man who currently resides in Arkansas, he is divorced, age 37 and has 3 kids. He is her soon to be sister-in-laws brother, who she just met about 4 weeks ago. I remember the smile on her face the week they met and how they stayed up every night to the wee hours of the morning just talking. She told me that week that she was going to marry him. She just felt it, he was the one. She will sacrifice a lot to be with this man--and understands that when she takes him, she takes the whole package. And she's more than open to it.
She was amazed at how well her son got along with his children.

She said that she just can't wait until he moves here so that she can go home to him. Sometimes, on a night like tonight, I feel the quietness in my life. I walk into to the cramped apartment, observe the mess that is always accumulated by Friday, the one chair in front of the window, the fixing a meal for one...one is the loneliest number.

I am envious of her love for this man because it is so genuine--so un-forced. I have no idea how this feels and I want to know what it is like. I want to know what it is like to have someone to come home to.

The Icy Truth

2005-07-12T21:07:00.000-05:00

The most terrifying thing is to accept oneself completely.
-Carl Jung

Sometimes people know us so well that they deliver us a truth about ourselves and it's like we just got slapped in the face with a bucket of icy water. It is suppose to wake us up and we are suppose to realize it so we can change our actions.

So why don't we?

Instead when truth is pointed out to us--and we agree with it, we feel small and vulnerable and strangely compulsed to do it more until something or someone else changes. It becomes a game of "want," "what if," or "my way."

I am one of the most self-aware people I know, ironically I even know what I keep blind to myself. And yet I make the same mistakes, tell myself the same lies, and drive myself crazy about things I can not change. I'm really good acknowledging these things, but not at accepting them.

And when I do, I hope to Learn to accept that "what is" is. (C. Smith Summer)

Past, Present, and Future

2005-07-08T11:40:00.000-05:00

Ten years ago: July 1995-Summer before my Senior year of high school. I spent 3 1/2 weeks of the summer living in a tent at a Jewish camp in upstate New York. It was a special program where you lived like Socialists and had jobs and made your own rules. It was a mock Kibbutz, or socialist movements they have in Israel. Ah, what a summer. Got high in the woods, smoked a lot of cigerettes around the campfire, badly sprained my ankle, got felt up. It was a summer to remember.

Five years ago: July 2000. I was home interning at a company who did public relations for motion pictures studios. It was an uneventful summer, with the exception that I got to be on a float in the gay pride parade and toss out Legally Blonde packs of pink glitter and tank tops. Then I mourned having to go back to Kansas to finish one more semister.

One year ago: July 2004, let's see, I was working full-time at a social service agency and part-time at a Borders Bookstore. Yep that's about it.

Yesterday: Woke up at my mom's house to see that London trains exploded. Got really depressed at the state of the world, especially how the media Americanized the story by trying to scare us into never taking public transportation again while saying that it's still okay, instead of just expressing our empathay and condolences.

Then I went bra shopping with my mom and found out I've decreased a cup size. I never thought these suckers would shrink. Amazing. Had lunch, came back to my city, did pilates, went to babysit for a new family who had the cutest 9 month old, which made the clock start ticking. Shit.

Today: Had breakfast, watched Ellen at the gym, writing this, thinking about buying new sneakers and treating myself to sushi for lunch (I did make $45 last night...) then meeting up with ACat and C. for Chocolate at Ethels Chocolate lounge.

Tomorrow: Hitting the Farmers Market for more fresh berries, lunch with Dad, a little reading at my favorie park off the lake, then I guess we'll see...

Five snacks I enjoy: ice cream, cheese, grapes, pita with Hummus, and bubble tea lattes.

Five bands that I know the lyrics of MOST of their songs: Wilco, Coldplay, Rolling Stones (okay, they have A LOT of songs, I'd say I know half), U2, and R.E.M.

Five things I would do with $100,000,000: buy a house in Italy, buy a house in Israel, set up funds for my family, set up a chaitable foundation of some sort, and invest in commercial real estate.

Five locations I’d like to run away to: any city in Italy, selected cities in Israel, Alaska (supposedly 5 men to every 1 woman--may have a shot there), Greek Isles, and Arizona or Vermont (never been to either, but are both appealing for different reasons).

Five bad habits I have: negative thinking, emotional eating, the occasional cigerette, waiting for rain to clean the car, and waiting to so my laundary until the hamper overflows.

Five things I like doing: sitting by lake and reading, seeing movies, talking to close friends on the phone, going out for breakfast, and drinking coffee and perusing bookstore.

Five things I would never wear: 3-6" heels, halter top, scunchie, mini-skirt, and leotard.

Five TV shows I like: Conan O'Brien, Reno 911, Amazing Race, Friends, and Becker (ya know, that old show with Ted Danson, it's been my 9:30, channel 26 obession lately).

Five movies I like: Garden State, Hero, Cinema Paradiso, Talk to Her and Almost Famous.

Five famous people I’d like to meet: (I'm assuming this has to be people still living ?) Nelson Mandela, Dalai Lama, Adam Sandler, Matthew McConaughey, and Bill Withers.

Five biggest joys at the moment: Having the week off work, the fact I have no one to answer to but me, the sun is shining, my plants are still alive, and looking forward to a fun weekend.

Five favorite toys: umm, I don't have any...this thing I bought at this Bachorlette Shower/sex party sucked.

Five People to tag: Um, ACat, were you tagged? Fizz, ya interested? I don't have any more blog friends that that :(

Dear Hollywood

2005-07-05T10:31:00.000-05:00

Dear Hollywood,

My 12 year-old nephew just discovered the comic genius that was John Belushi. Excitedly he asked me if I had ever seen The Blues Brothers or Animal House, two comedy classics, that of course I had seen numerous times growing up. Then he asked me what else Mr. Belushi has been in and where is he nowadays? I had to break the news that he was dead, and my nephew was a little crushed questioning me "He's dead? I love that guy! He can't be dead!" And that's when I said, "But you know who's not dead? Steve Guttenberg!" Nephew said, "Who's that?" I said, "Who's that!? Haven't you ever seen any of the Police Academy movies? Short Circuit? Three Men and a Baby?

He had no idea who I was talking about--and then I was a little crushed. I grew up on Steve Guttenberg movies--the above mentioned plus Amazon Women on the Moon, the geriatrics comedy Cocoon, and let's not forget he is the king of "part two's," Short Circuit 2, Three Men and a Little Lady, Police Academy 1-4, Cocoon 2...

There is something about The Gutt (pronounced the g-OO-t; long O like MOO) that was, and I think still is, selling. He's goofy, sweet-faced and is cute in that next door neighbor or older camp counselor type of way.

All this adds up to one thing: bring back The Gutt! Hollywood, I beg you, he's hurting for that return role that will have people--and Comedy Central--re-running all 4 Police Academy films all the time. He needs that Bill Murray Rushmore career resurrecting type of role. He's not too old,(not that that matters for men in your Hollywood world). I mean isn't it time the "Little Lady" got married? I can picture the comedy that would ensue as Ted Danson, Tom Selleck, and The Gutt fight over who gets to walk her down the isle. It's time for a Three Men reunion. I don't think Ted and Tom are that busy these days. Call 'em.

Hollywood, you've rid this world of lots of great talent, where is Ralph Macchio? Where is the kid that was in The Neverending Story or the kid who played Sylvester Stallone's son in the classic arm-wrestling flick Over the Top ? There are a lot of important people from my childhood that are now M.I.A., and I want them back!

Now all you give me is Vin Diesel, Johnny Knoxville, and Paris Hilton? I mean she wants to retire and she hasn't even done anything! And please, Vin Diesel has already resorted to the "changing diapers as an undercover cop" role--what's he going to do next, run for Governor of California?

Now according to IMDB The Gutt has done stuff the last few years, http://imdb.com/name/nm0000430/, but where is he really? I beg you to give us another chance with The Gutt, did you not see Diner? The guy has got genuine talent!

It may not have been fair to compare him to the comic genius of John Belushi--but I think it's a sad, sad day when I say his name to a 12 year-old, mention his classic 80's movies, and he looks at me as if I was making up this once beloved actor.

Once again Hollywood, I beg of you, BRING BACK THE GUTT!

All my love,

The Underdog

The Great Happiness Debate

2005-07-03T09:25:00.000-05:00

I had a debate last night with Mr. 007--that's double-O-seven, as in like "Bond, James Bond." I call him that for his similar sounding last name, and because he's sort of an(inter)national man of mystery--or is that Austin Powers?

So we debated love and happiness, as separate entities, and together. He doesn't think people are genuinely happy and that we are all broken in some way. Together we've been reading "The Art of Happiness" by the Dalai Lama, and he was comparing to that level of happiness--which according to the Lama is obtainable by training the mind. He asked me how many genuinely happy people do I know.

It's a complicated question and answer. A few people come to mind. But then again, I know that they have struggles, their lives are not perfect, and they--as we all--have had to perservere to overcome obstacles. Truth be told, I'm not in their mind, I don't know how truly happy they really are. But they have that something in their life--they are close to their families, have an active social life, generally don't "sweat the small stuff," and are just filled with goodness.

Maybe happiness is defined how we want it to be defined. For example, I want all the things I have just listed and assume, that if I had all these things, plus a mate, I would be happy.

And that's the other thing: are couple's really happier than the rest of us?

While finding a mate may bring us great pleasure, it is not a guarantee for lasting happiness. He kept reiterating that 50% of marriages end in divorce. He, like I assume most, is most afraid of what happens when you run out of things to talk about. And that's when the professionals would tell you to try and do things to "spice things up." But it's a perfectly valid fear as wires fizzle and connections sometimes break overtime.

We talked about the types of couples we know. The young 20-something couples I know are glowing and hopeful about what their future holds. 007's 30-something couples, have been married 5-10 years, may have some toddlers in tow, and the couple's have already lost their "mojo," or as 007 suspects, they may they never had it to begin with.

Life is all about perspective.

There are no right or wrong answers in this debate of love and happiness. But is 007 right, are we all broken in a way? We have all had to deal with shit. Deal with disappointments, rejections, loss, hate, loneliness--these massive life events have changed us at our core. Made us more suspicious, less open, plain sad--look at all the negative terms I've used in the last 2 sentences.

I do believe--or really want to believe that like the Dalai Lama, that with some mindful training, I can overcome the negative and turn it positive. I may be broken in ways, but I truly believe I'm not beyond repair.

And 007, he's not either.

The Reality Show Whore

2005-06-28T23:05:00.000-05:00

An old college roommate of mine is an Average Joe, on of course, the show by the same name. We no longer speak, haven't in years--there was no closure, no goodbye, just phone calls and emails that went unreturned. It was a hellauva year that started out with lots of partying, lots of laughter, and bonds that were tighter that Sister Mary Margarets chasity belt. He and I would often sneak off to be alone, either in a locked room to take one more hit from the bowl, or like once when we snuck off at one in the morning to go to a casino 50 miles away. He brought out the spontaneous side in me, which was about the only gift he ended up giving me.

Here's a little background--he's one on those guys who makes you feel so special that he manipulates you into falling for him. He's charming, intelligent and funny. Like one of his favorite music artists would say, "he's quick with a joke, or to light up your smoke, but there's some place that he'd rather be." And that some place is not actually with you, but the skank at the back of the bar wearing a tank with no bra and a skirt so short she's self-consciously tugging it down "accidentally" revealing her throng straps and crack...a classic "come fuck me" look in the lovely state of Kansas.

Seeing him as an "Average Joe" after all his manipulative games was surprisingly kinda fun. It was fun seeing him get hit in the face with a dodgeball. And it was fun seeing him sweat hoping he wouldn't get put on the bus to the land of plastic surgeons and life coaches. It was fun knowing he more than likely was playing the producers when he declared "I can see myself really spending the rest of my life with her." (Or something of that sort.)

What I didn't expect was my reaction to him. After almost 5 years of not talking I find myself still angry for events past. Still angry that another manipulative bitch made him choose who to be friends with, her or me, and because he was such a pussy and couldn't stand up to her, he was forced to choose her.

I didn't expect that I would have flashes of memories of "home movies" made from my own camcorder. Tonight on the show he walked into the house kitchen and said something like "we're already eating!" with the emphasizes stressed on the "ing"...Only the way he could pronounce it. I flashed back to a piece of video I shot where my 3 other roommates and I were in the kitchen in the middle of the night preparing a munchie feast and he was over the stove making his traditional queso dip. I see a photo in my head of us at the park with him and his guitar and how we used to make up songs and laugh til it hurt. I see the photo of us taken on Halloween that he gave me on Hanukkah that he hung over my bed in that small stuffy room in that dirty and falling apart old house.

Why is it we sometimes keep the harsher memories? I hate to admit that thinking about these good times and good memories have actually made me smile.

It's so easy to play to the victim as it's so hard to forgive and let go of the feelings of hurt that lived with me for so long.

I thought I had let go a long time ago. But hearing his voice, and seeing how he's--dare I say--grown up?--at this moment, I still hold feelings of hurt and anger--but also, for the first time, in a long, long time, I think I miss him.

Auntie Jennie

2005-06-25T23:01:00.000-05:00

Today my sister and I went to visit our great Aunt Jennie. Part out of guilt, part out of genuine desire we made the hour trek south to the home where she now resides.

The home I always remembered though was a three story walk up on Kenneth avenue on the north side of Chicago. Plastic covered the sofas, statues of the Virgin Mary lived amongst glass bowls and picture frames on the bureaus. (For those of you confused due to last blog, my mom converted to Judaism, hence her family is Catholic.)

As a young adult we sporadically went her apartment on Sunday afternoons for the traditional Sicilian Sunday dinner. Lots of pasta with her special homemade sauce, chicken, meatballs, cookies, and breads. But the main attraction was always Auntie. At less than 5 feet she was always smiling, cracking jokes and making sure we all ate enough.

When I was a young college student living in the city, I'd stop every once in while, always bringing her a McDonald's hamburger. She was never short of thank you's and as a Crochet maven, I even got a new grayish silver scarf out of the deal.

Today her face lit up when we interrupted the bingo game (usually a big no-no in that environment, but she wasn't even playing anyway) and we walked over to say hello. We went to here small room to talk, and realized how much she was mentally slipping. We talked of our cousins wedding and three times in a row she worried no one would come pick her up and take her to it. She knows she's 94 or 95, but doesn't remember the year she was born. We spoke of our mother and she asked if she was still with us. She kept referring to all this new family she has, but we realized it us. She just doesn't recognize us anymore.

It's hard to fathom how the brain works and how it must feel-if it feels-when it begins to slip. Memories have a way of slowly fading from our brains after a time, but what happens when you begin to forget your whole life?

In the meantime, I look forward to giving the violet shawl she crocheted for me as a child, to my daughter (when and hopefully if I have one). And my mom has her recipe for spaghetti sauce. And the glue that always held my mother's side of the family together is only an hour away. I have the time to see her more, and a great desire to see her smile and hear her make jokes from behind the walker about taking her out dancing.

2005-06-23T20:01:00.000-05:00

A Triumph of My Own

"The Underdog Triumphs," the title of my 9th grade English class writing portfolio. I cut the phrase out of a magazine and pasted it on the flap of the brown accordion folder. By the end of the year it was filled with various pieces of writings from why everyone in my school were posers, to a page filled with song lyrics and my analysis of them.

The 15 year-old life consisted of a forced dress code of long skirts, morning prayer, secular and religious studies. It was a Jewish high school during the peak of grunge, O.J. Simpson and Beverly Hills, 90210. So naive and lost trying to put the pieces of adolescence together.

I moved from a small town to a big city; a land of no Jews to many Jews. From a town where I once recognized white faces on streets filled with green grasses, to crowded one-way streets lined with apartment buildings, and a rainbow of colors flooding down Devon Avenue. I was lost.

I was an underdog.

Still am.

For I believe we all have some underdog in us.

And we should.

Otherwise we wouldn't appreciate those moments when we did triumph.

And we wouldn't know how fucking unbelievably good it feels.