Odds, Ends and Bits of Brain Matter

10:45 pm - Yes! Yes! YES!

( Read this. It's worth it. )

03:21 pm - each life has its place

I had so much fun with my Shakespeare final - I literally wrote "Claudio doesn't so much deliver this speech as he throws it like a pie in Leonato's face." I titled each of my essays using a quote from my professor (ie the "dream" soliloquy in Richard III got the title "Things That Go Bump in the Subconscious")

I left Seeyle skipping. Well, not literally.

I haven't worn my knee brace in two days, and we're still feeling good. Will see what my therapist has to say about that today.

Sunday: such amazing energy. Smiling at stars through tree branches - looking into the eyes of Beltane.

I rediscovered swings. I missed them, their ability to take me places. Devi showed me where they were and let me go. I got reacquainted with old memories, worlds I'd created and forgotten, characters that survived - not quite like the picture of Dorian Gray, but close enough. Later, I say Thanks, I had fun on the swings. He grins. No, you didn't. I grin too. It wasn't about the swings.

To do:
- Arab-Israeli paper: 3-5 pages
- Sociology research paper: 8-10 pages

Due: TOMORROW.

*keels over and dives back into the paper pile*

02:06 pm - and you can tell everybody...*this* is your song

01. Reply with your name and I will write something about you.
02. I will then tell what song/movie remind me of you.
03. If I were to apply an o'clock to you, it would be...
04. I will try to name a single word that best describes you.
05. I'll tell you the most memorable moment I've had with you.
06. I will tell you what animal you remind me of.
07. I'll then tell you something that I've always wondered about you.
08. Put this in your journal.

04:48 pm - oh well, they're doin their job

My life as of late has been full of wonderfully dizzying complexity. I can't even begin to process all the stuff that's been happening outside of class, but I need to get through the next week and a half first!

How is everyone's Passover going? I'm still, believe it or not, trying to sort out my various observances concerning kosher for passover-ness. I was definitely the kid in elementary school who would offer to trade pieces of matzah (as my Gentile schoolmates cried "Matzah? I love matzah! Like, so totally much!) for the cheese off their slices of pizza. But I never ate the crust or the dough - that was the point, right?

Apparently, I'm wrong. According to tradition, I'm not supposed to eat anything that's come in contact with leavened products. Well, that makes life a hell of a lot more unbearable. I mean, I get the point; we wandered for forty years in the desert, but we had manna, for the love of george! We didn't have to eat matzah forever in the wilderness, and we shouldn't now. Yargh.

Then there's the Ashki/Sephardi debate. Do I eat beans and rice, or do I stick with potatoes? I've decided it might be worth it to do beans but not rice, or rice but not beans; both feel too much like cheating, and one feels like not enough. I mean, I am 1/4 Sephardic...

I think I might sway towards rice because our senior banquet this week features sushi. *salivates* Maybe I can just take the fish off the rice and have it as sashimi...yum.

I've never been a big fan of kashrut, and never pretended to keep kosher, so , yeah. This seems all fine by me.

PS. Alaskalight, it turns out that some of the music went through last night; I just had to search through folders to find it :-)

06:38 pm - ma nishtanah halaila hazeh...

In honor of Passover coming up:

Ask me four questions. I have to answer them honestly. I have to answer them all. :-)

09:39 pm

Doing the Day of Silence by myself was really strange. Last year and the year before, I was an organizer; I spent my day being visible, running around, making sure everything was in order and ready. I scribbled lots of hasty notes to people, and spent time being a leader, (or an organizer as the nonprofits up here would have me say).

This year, I felt invisible. My silence was like a burqa, (or in Iran, a chador) - one of the garments worn by Afghani women under the Taliban. I had about 20 or so homemade cards in my pocket to hand out to people, as well as some bristling irritation.

Smith has three - count them - queer organizations. Not one of them sponsored an event surrounding what has to be the largest institutional queer 'thing' (for lack of a better word). Anyone who wanted to do it was utterly on their own.

I spent time on Smith's campus, and some time in downtown Noho. I ran into lots of people who knew what I was doing, and some who didn't. I only ran into one other person who was keeping the silence. And she should know - she's quite fucking awesome.

I broke the silence at 6:00PM EST, standing by the dam. Unsure of how to do it, I opened my mouth and let out a sound - a note, actually - and sang until I ran out of breath. I couldn't hear myself at all over the dam; in fact, I don't even know what note I sang. Just that I could feel it reverberating in my chest, and it felt so - so good. I had just sat completely silently through a two-hour choir rehearsal. As most of you know, there isn't a much greater form of torture than to not lot let me sing.

And to this girl, a high school first-year, whom I love dearly, who kept the silence for her first time:

Me: how'd you break the silence? just a yell?
Her: a yawp

Current Mood: tired

11:08 am

( Time-killing in Neilson )

02:52 pm - she is wishing she could tell them that she loves them and she needs them

( That ridiculous Forbidden Book Meme )

I made a shirt today. It felt good.

03:10 pm

Hi Paps -

I told my choir director today that I'm not going to Anapolis to sing Verdi for religious reasons.

But I'm not coming home - I can't.

I would love to be at your seder; to see everyone, to enjoy the company, the meal, Mammy's charoset. But this year, I think, I need to go out and find my own way. Maybe next year, when I'm feeling more comfortable with who I am and I what I believe, I'll be able to come home. But this isn't the right time. I hope you understand.

I had a short discussion with my father today about oranges. This is the other reason I can't come home. For years, I've been unhappy with my father's seder, as a seder. The people and the food are wonderful; but during the course of the seder itself, I tune out. It has so little relevance to me; the language of the haggadah we used to use (before I wrote a new one) was so pretentious. And there was so little singing, and so little discussion of anything. In a way, it was tradition; it was how I was raised, and because of that I'll always feel a connection to it, it'll always feel comfortable.

But a seder isn't always about going through the motions and feeling comfortable. A seder means order, yes, but it is up to the participants to find new things to grapple with and think about, new challenges within that order every year.

It's making me cry (quite literally) to think that in order to find that challenge, in order to find what I want, I have to miss seeing my family, who will always be more important than random intellectual/spiritual pursuits in the grand scheme of things; I hope you'll all forgive me for this one year.

The reason I'd rather not come to my father's seder than fight it out with him, is because today I realized that it is his perogative to run his seder as he pleases; I can only ask him to change, and I've done that, and he has refused, which is his right. I think the other reason I'm not nearly as angry as I could be is because you're putting an orange out. And because you've made that choice to include me in your seder (not that Dad hasn't; he's still using my haggadah) in a way that very recently has become very meaningful to me. Thank you, Paps. Thank you.

B'ahava,
~Dandoo

02:52 pm

Hey MJ -

Just now, as I was heading back to my house, I heard the strangest sound coming from behind me. A quick glance revealed a middle-aged Chinese man in kahkis and a polo shirt, singing at the top of his evidently well-trained lungs. It was a song in Chinese; I couldn't tell if the song was classical or folk, but it sounded more like something you'd hear in the streets of a village.

I always thought I was brave to walk barefoot down sidewalks, singing whatever I felt like, but here in Noho, too many people recognize Indigo Girls, Simon and Garfunkel - even my quirky Jewish niggunim (melodies without words) don't attract the same strange looks this man did. I followed him as far as my house, grinning idiotically and wanting to slap those who turned around, and took their headphones off long enough to determine who had interrupted their little musical bubble and shoot the culprit a dirty look. This man wasn't an oblivious creature by any stretch; he noticed. And kept singing anyway.

He turned at my house, heading for the small parking lot across the street. As I climbed the stairs to my room, I could still hear him through the open windows.

My garden of silk flowers hangs in place of curtains. During the first warm days, I took a single strand of pink flowers and green leaves and wound it around my braid. Your girls would've been proud.

I hear the plans for DoS are in full swing; here, there's more publicity about Sexual Abuse Awareness month and student government elections than anything else. No one's even mentioned the Day, though I'll be participating, and I imagine most others will - if someone brings it to their attention in time.

I'll be writing something to the START gang soon, in time for Wednesday; if it could be shared at the breaking the silence party, that would be awesome.

I had a long conversation with my animal (or, as my friend says "my
little Jungian alter-ego"). My animal thinks I should dance naked in the middle of campus. My animal thinks I've been inside too much. My animal thinks I should learn to speak Yiddish fluently. My animal thinks that since I can wear jeans again (my knee finally is un-swollen eough) I should be flagging in public. And finding a way to attain a fake ID. And frequenting dyke bars.

And perhaps working on my sociology paper.

Love,
~D

12:14 am - when snipers are in action and only a few have been killed

We went to see Charming Hostesses, which is a fabulous a cappella group of three African-American Jewish women singing diaspora music, and southern eastern European Ladino music (think Balkans, Morocco). They were edgy, they were political, they weren't always pretty but they were always beautiful. They were sexy and sensual and some of their songs shot through my body like thunderclaps or orgasms. It was awesome, really really awesome. There were only twenty or so people there, so afterwards, everyone hung out and talked to them. I was really really in the mood to sing, so Caitlin told me to go for it and I started humming the Freedom Song. Caitlin started singing with me, and slowly, everyone stopped talking - and then the CHARMING HOSTESSES JOINED US!!! And a few others in the crowd. Instead of singing the song, they just harmonized so beautifully. The sound was rich and full and as I started to sing the melody, full voce, in the middle of the chapel, everything in the universe fell into harmony and sync with one another. I think there's a word in either Buddhism or yoga for it, and it's not nirvana. But it's when you transcend all boundaries and connect with the universe as a whole, on a primal, fundamental, beautifully raw level.

Current Mood: elated

03:15 pm

Had an awesome little shopping excursion in town today - even though I was with choir people, it got my mind off of Verdi. I can't wait for tonight to be over.

One of the guys from the Naval Academy choir slept on my floor last night. I've discovered there's a difference between being polite and being polysyllabically polite. The navy guys are the latter. It's very nice.

I had the strangest tea at lunch today - Tibetan tea. It's salty and buttery, and tastes oddly compelling, once you get over the idea of salty tea.

Yum.

Current Mood: cozy

10:55 am - Sometimes when someone / Has a crush on you / They'll make you a mix tape / To give you a clue

Prizes and bubbles go to the one who gives me the name and origin of the quoted song.

Wild Asparagus is kind of awesome. Considering that asparagus itself is one of about three things I don't eat, the fact that a group called Wild Asparagus can woo me (with bagpipes nonetheless) is kind of awesome.

I'm going contradancing next month. This is way freaking exciting news.

And I've been officially talked off the ledge and will, after tonight's "election", be Tikun Olam (social action) chair for Hillel. *gives a long dramatic groan*

In other really exciting news, I got into Hopkins, the co-op house on campus. I'm gonna be cooking next year!!

10:33 am - I have dreamed on this mountain

This weekend has been so, so beautiful. I just want to be outside and dancing like a sprite.

Current Mood: gleeful

03:00 pm - some bright morning when this night is over, I'll fly away

The Jew Entry Continued and Concluded

I want to be a big Jewish mother one day, preferably with several kids, possibly with a partner or two or ten. Yet, I don't want to take the route of my parents and have temper tantrum scenes with my kids over reciting blessings, going to Hebrew school, having a bar/bat mitzvah. I want to raise my kids with the culture of Judiasm: strong, stubborn, loving women, a zest and passion for learning, plenty of matzah ball soup, Jewish songs and affectionate Yiddish nicknames. I want them to know about Israel, and why so many Jews feel an inexplicable connection to it. I want them to feel that they have a port in every storm, that any Jewish community around the world will welcome them as Jews, and that is something they can never lose.

And what if I don't? It's my perogative to raise my children as I please, until they can think for themselves and make those decisions on their own, but at this point in my life the idea of imposing my views on even a baby seems remarkably oppressive (not to mention fodder for my future children's hours with a therapist...). Maybe I have to convince myself that some of those things I believe are right, and true, and good. But I don't. I'm so firmly convinced that religion and spirituality and culture is different for everyone that right now I can't say with conviction that I'm right.

Back to Yiddishkeit (Jewishness).

I've started wearing my magen David, my Star of David necklace every day instead of just on Shabbat, the Sabbath. Why? I'm not sure entirely, but lately, it's become very important to me to wake up each day and remind myself that I am a Jew, was raised a Jew, and will always be a Jew. I don't know why this is so important to me. It was never important to me when I lived in New Jersey, in a largely Jewish community - lots of people wore stars and necklaces with the word chai (life) on them, but I never saw any importance in identifying myself as a Jew to the rest of the world. Then again, living in a small town meant that everyone knew I was Jewish, if only because I was absent from school on all the Jewish holidays. When I got to college, one of my main groups of friends was the college Hillel, and there was no need to identify myself as a Jew to them. It's only recently that I've begun to realize that there is a much larger community here, one that doesn't automatically assume I'm Jewish. Even my name doesn't give me away right away - I don't have one of the standard Jewish names (something with gold, stein, berg, rosen, man, or weitz in it, among others). Nor is my name Sarah or Rachel - ever since I started going by Dane, it's been even less of a giveaway. I speak as much Yiddish as your average New Yorker (sorry D, had to steal that line), and I have no accent or overwhelmingly large nose. The only identifier I have is my star, and I've begun to cling to it.

I was once told by a Hebrew School teacher that if I'd lived during the Holocaust, I would've survived because my hair was (then) light brown/blond and I had light hazel eyes. I didn't look like the stereotypical Jew - in fact, at that age, people sometimes thought I was Irish. I was thinking of this incident when I began to wear my star full-time. I don't want to pass as a gentile. I am a Jew, and to take that from me is to take a part of my past, present, future and identity.

Now I just have to figure out exactly what I believe.

Current Mood: contempletive

01:11 am - I'm a Jew, I'm a Jew, how bout you?

Tonight, I want to talk about being Jewish. Being a jew. A Jew, a yid. Even a red sea pedestrian.

It's something that's been tumbling around in my mind lately, and tonight I saw Trembling Before God, a documentary about gay and lesbian orthodox Jews. I felt like I had nothing in common with the Jews in the film, but I also knew that if I had to, I could pass for one of them. I know what clothes to wear, what songs to sing, how to act - at different times in my life, I've passed for many different kinds of Jews. I've never found a sect I couldn't at least pretend to fit into.

When in BCHSJS (oh that wonderous of places), my hebrew high school, the divisions among students were clear; there were the secular Jews who wanted little or nothing to do with religion, the wiccan/pagan Jews, the crunchy hippie feminist Jews, the Conservative secular Jews, the Modern Orthodox, the traditional Orthodox...we may have even had a few Hasids in there. Nearly every group thought I was 'one of them.' I felt that no matter what I did, what clothes I wore or what services I went to, that each group would claim me as their own. The Orthodox rabbis invited me to sit at their tables with their families, I went to women's tefillah services and traditional mechitza services (in which men and women are separated by a wall), I sometime skipped services and hung out with crowds of pot-smoking angsty poets. In my last year of BCHSJS, I explored my tradional side (more on that http://www.livejournal.com/users/ladyliberal/24394.html?nc=8 ) but I was still accepted, claimed even, by the members of the other groups.

At home, I was raised Jewish but not to be a Jew - every Friday night my family lights candles and says blessings over wine and challah that my mom bakes every week, yet I never learned that being Jewish could make me different from other people. I learned that at camp, mostly, where the majority of kids weren't Jewish. I became the token Jew in some groups, answering questions about why public schools were closed on Yom Kippur, and why Jewish men wear little beanies on their heads. It was a point of pride for me, being different. I belonged to a culture that others didn't - my speech was occasionally peppered with Yiddish, and I understood the significance of such things as one's Grandma's matzah-ball soup.

I need to sleep, but this entry will be continued in the future.

Current Mood: exhausted

09:08 pm - no bombs can kill the dreams I hold...

Spring Break: An Outline
I. Florida
   A. Is like a giant mall, in a state.
   B. Grandma's Wedding
     1. Hair straightening (see two prior entries)
     2. Got set up with grandson of groom
       a. I think I scared him.
     3. I think I'm never ever getting married. Ever.
II. Jersey
   A. Sucks royally
   B. Got sick with head cold
     1. At least I missed the Smith stomach flu epidemic
   C. Was total Slug
   D. Hanging in City With Mom
     1. Was awesome
     2. Jewish Museum exhibit
       a. Jewish women in 19th century
       b. French salons
       c. I want to be Oscar Wilde's penpal
     3. St. P's Day Parade
       a. People are strange
       b. Firefighters in green berets protest
       c. Damn you, crosstown bus! (the 86)
III. Northampton
    A. Sweet Honey In the Rock
      1. Was linguistically defyingly brilliant
      2. I want to be a bass when I grow up
      3. I wanted to dance, but there was no space
    B. Devi's
      1. Cat thinks he's a dog/squirrel
      2. Is awesome for letting me crash with him
      3. Shabbat was relaxing like whoa
      4. Havdalah at Umass
      5. Cupcakes for breakfast. 
        a. Yum
        b. Cream cheese frosting w/o cream cheese
      6. Crazy fit of schmaltz poem-writing
        a. Left me sick
        b. Was intense
        c. I hope she likes it
    C. Back at Smith
       1. Loads of unfinished work
       2. And unrehearsed choir stuff

Current Mood: a tad overwhelmed

09:56 pm

This would be Jen a.k.a. chthonicsiren hacking into Dana's journal. Well alright, I have her permission.

With that, I announce the long-awaited, much-anticipated.... *drumroll*

( Dane with straight hair! )

02:44 pm - everybody loves a melodrama

I have made the ultimate sacrifice for my grandmother's wedding.

I straightened my hair. Completely.

It feels defeated. Beaten into submission.

I can't wait to wash it.

07:25 pm - if I could, I surely would stand on the rock where Moses stood

I've renewed my passion for dead white German guys. Mendelssohn, Brahms and Schubert have been wooing me collectively for a few months, and Friday night I finally succumbed to their efforts. Singing Franz's "Gott is mein hirt" (God is my shepherd, for those of you who forgot to brush up on your German) with a period instrument (pianoforte, for those interested) in a chapel with acoustics to make your mother cry...it was beautiful.

In a completely different way, singing 'Sweet Prospect' with 200 women on a stage built for 50 was also beautiful, even mugasmic. Sweet Prospect is a late 19th century revivalist hymn that's about heaven, and what it's like there. It's forceful, it's strong, and it's best sung while marching in time. When sung by 200 women, it's a force to be reckoned with.

Those two concerts (and the 24+ hours of rehearsal we had this week) left me so drained. And falling down the stairs and banging myself up (no additional harm to the knee though) wasn't fun.

However, re-reading Much Ado About Nothing for my Shakespeare class *squee!* was a ticklish and amusing endeavor. I realized that Pedro, my beloved Pedro, is really one of the most boring characters in the play. Who cares - I didn't play him boring. I played him off like the bloody fairy he is.

In other news, Cobby and I have declared mutual exclusivity on each other's friendship. We will dedicate large and impressive works of art and poetry to each other and claim sole responsiblity for each other's brilliance.

In still more news, I still don't have an outfit to wear to my grandmother's wedding. This is getting to the point of slightly disturbing...

Current Mood: accomplished