Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Study study study

Last month, when I met with another Rabbi in regards to my progression in my conversion, I was quite torn. On one hand, I really wanted some guidance in knowing what to expect for the duration of my conversion, on the other hand, my soul was doing flip after flip trying to make sense of my transition, and my health was worrying to a critical point. All my symptoms were pointing to a reality not even I could ignore- but I had to, I needed to focus on what the Rabbi would say.
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When it breaks, it all breaks. From broken hearts, to broken TVs, to a Broken phone, and then a broken being? It was all piled up. Just breath.
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And suddenly, from all the reoccurring dreams of stairs and all the confusion in between, for the first time in years- I finally dreamt of a blue sky. That's all I remember from last night, a sky so periwinkle and bright, that it felt like velvet.
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The reoccurring question of my day to day life has been "why would you convert". For a question that is posed daily- I never can seem to give an universal answer. I suppose I tailor the answer for the individual that asks. Anywhere from: "duh!I did it to marry rich", to a long explanation of fate and the beauty of pain, to "Jews need more people like me! mwah!", back to the whole explanation of destiny, then back to: "it's a strong feeling I cannot explain".
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All of my hearts cries have found peace with the month of Adar, of course- next month is another ride to take, but I am re inspired by those around me and their dedication, on any level. Channah and Nooman sat with me last night as we reviewed daily prayers, a meeting we will hold twice a week until I am confident enough to recite them correctly on my own. Nooman went line by line, explaining the root word and incorporating Biblical Hebrew into the modern day Hebrew so I could better understand it. Channah patiently went over each sound of each syllable, pointing out the tones and how to pronounce Biblical Hebrew, something I've learned to follow along to, but couldn't pronounce on my own. We went over Ashri until a thin headache formed across my head. We went over the morning Brechots until I couldn't remember if I even knew Hebrew at all.
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I think so far, I realized so much more about this conversion than I would ever have anticipated. There are some key ingredients that make and break a convert- for me it's been: the social nuances, detailed knowledge of the purpose of a string on shabbat, Shiurs, prayers- Israel, conflict, Aramaic, Biblical Hebrew- Modern Day Hebrew and hoping you know the difference, and when you don't, having humility to admit- you don't know. and the constant question of: Is it worth it?? Why am i doing this!?
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I always believed one of the most important virtues someone could have is humility. When I was 19, I made a conscious decision to want to become a more humble person. To admit why I am hurt, or offended, or to know I should not be so selfish with my own happiness. No one is perfect- and I've realized it's a baby step process. The last two years have truly tested the essence of who I am. I've went from true elation to true devastation and have tried to find my balance in between. It's not about being broken and not being able to be fixed. It's about being able to run with your replacement parts- and even those have no warranty.
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There are some things in the recent past that have deeply saddened me. But it's no longer on a rational day to day level- it's more of a spiritual blemish sort of sad- a "I wanna hug you but I'm scared of you, and by the way- we need more avocados and it all doesn't make sense" sort of sentimentality (no one is really supposed to get that last line of nonsense). But I am proud to say with the sun shining, and in between my dreams- there is something really to appreciate here- thus being, life in general. I am slowly learning to take it one episode at a time.
xx

Monday, February 26, 2007

How aliaspail makes his music

How my brother reinvents music. (gotta love it).

mic in meine mund.

I have to admit, I not a fan of open Mic's in the traditional sense. I am eerily reminded of my teens when I fought to be understood in my rebellious hair cuts and my need to experience life through protesting and developing political ideology. I also associate it with awkward people who can only say how they feel in limited syllables that seem to only make sense after copious amounts of drugs and Seinfeld.
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I am also very wrong in my judgments.
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So after meeting a friend for a quick few drinks in my local watering hole, I hopped into a cab to lend some moral support for a friend who assembled an open mic night. When the city you move to doesn't offer what you need it to- it's time to create and make it the city you want it to be. Something along the lines of: being the change you want to see. Seeing the change you want to be. Being the sea when the tide changes. Changing of the tide in the sea. Seeing change in your tea. Two timing the sun and sea. Swaying tea on the sea of trees. mwah.
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Much respect to my home girl for having enough humility to risk something that could have turned off instead of on. To share personal talent with her friends and strangers, and even more respect at having a personal talent and being impressively good at it. I admire that.
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Yesterday I found out about two people a little more, and that's a really good feeling to have. I don't want to be mundane. I think I'll add a new flavor every week. Even if my knee swells up because of my chosen tastes.
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My fears of the week:
  • the high tech industry as a way of life.
  • that avocados are going out of season
  • hearts of palms are becoming too expensive.
  • will be able to pass my conversion exam?
  • that avocados are going out of season
  • that avocados are going out of season
  • are sandstorms really healthy for us?

Saturday, February 24, 2007

Shabbat Spazieren













There was a sandstorm in the sky today- made one feel a bit drunk with their senses. My temp roomie and I took a Shabbat stroll to the beach.
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low and behold.. just down the street from us, was someone's trash which became my very own 5 min treasure.









My Adidas were thrown off as I found my very own pair of Cinderella shoes. Now- Halachichly speaking, it is not wrong to skate, but using anything that could be a form of transportation is wrong. So I figure, a few minutes of reliving my teens isn't SO bad, secondly, since when does one come across a pair of blades that are your size?









me loving my skates, my blades.. i'm so happy. Goodbye Henry. Hello rollerblades.











all the years of street hockey flow into my legs as I show some moves I learned in 1993.
I did in fact injure my bad knee. Because i'm smart like that.








Adios Rollerblades. I'll let the smaller people on my street receive you as a new-used gift.Off to to lie on the beach and observe what a sandstorm looks like from the Sea.















Friday, February 23, 2007

My existential crisis I have named Henry has come to a close. My dreams are easily interpreted, and I suppose if my subconscious turned my gowned self around to climb back up the uniquely carved steps, well- maybe my everyday conscious should do the same.
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Summer is on her way, she's stopped off in Lod, but is back on the Ayalon Expressway due to arrive any moment in Tel Aviv. I wait for her impending arrival by slipping out of those smoky clubs to grab a cold beer with friends and watch the waves. The light of the airplanes flying in create a faux path of light, as if the sun still left her mark hours before.
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Although I will be sleeping in my bed at home. I will be living outside from now on. Meeting girlfriends on the corner in between grocery store visits, on benches with fresh, fruit smoothies. I'd get a dog just to have some more company outside, but roommate says no- and so does my time schedule.
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It's time for my mid-afternoon nap.

Thursday, February 22, 2007

Stairs..again?

Tsiki's sister commented on Passover slowly approaching us next month. "You can feel it in the air, we can at least". When she made that statement- I can honestly say I felt a sense of relief. And I told her so- it made me feel like I am not so crazy. Often, I feel a bit dramatic in my thoughts, and misunderstood- but after conversations with those who knew me before and after, the realization is: it's pretty normal to feel this way. I have also realized that, although many nuts and bolts in my brain and soul have been rewired- a lot of of my essence remains a constant.
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I went to bed extremely early last night. I laid there- with the windows closed tightly and my headphones on, depriving myself of the senses I use everyday and forced myself into silence. A meditative calmness that I truly neeeded after a day of buses and cubicle walls. I thought about my hesitations of coping with another year gone by, another cycle that will begin with memorials and remembrances and the possibilities of conversion. I thought about the time where this time of year didn't mean a roller coaster of emotion into a holiday that is only a month away, and a reminder of the deepest pain I've ever felt in my soul.
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It was three years ago, that I was laying bricks on the province of Phuket, helping sea gypsies rebuild the homes they lost in the Tsunami. Ending the long summer days with a walk around a pond where victims where found, through homes destroyed.. onto the empty beach with the sun greeting us before it set into the ocean floor. I worked hard to relive that time, in my heart- Tsunami relief-where there was disorder around me, but order in my soul. The last two years came in the form of order around me, but a disorder in my soul and a loneliness from losing the most important thing that ever happened to me.
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And then I fell asleep and I was dressed up in a long gown, in a museum.. a large, museum where even the architecture was art. There were long flights of wide steps, each step uniquely carved, of a marble like stone. Each flight was at least 75 steps and I had to pick up my long gown as I ran up and up and up. I finally reached a long, large hallway and entered into a large ball. I sat next to Tsiki's mother and I was very weary about the environment around me. But I knew it to be good and promising. A man sat next to me, who I trusted- and I felt safe. And all these emotions began to stir inside of me and I became scared- that feeling was familiar. When the light adjusted certain qualities of Tsiki shown on his face and I became scared- because it wasn', but when the shadows would fall, like some sort of mind trick- this essence of Tsiki would glow through him. I found myself making an excuse and hurriedly leaving. And after I ran down the stairs, I realized I couldn't keep running these stairs. And I gathered my gown once again and climbed back up the stairs. Because it was beautiful in there- in that hall, and I was scared- and it's ok.
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xx

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Mishna my brain out.

A few like-minded individuals and I have been fortunate enough to find one another for a bi-weekly Shiur. Maybe I should be more accurate, a few brilliant people and then.. myself get together as they compile some great presentations to cause different parts of my brain to ache and throb to the melody of The Flaming Lips.
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I took my existential crisis with me, it wore a lily on the lapel of it's corduroy coat. Perhaps my crisis became my friend during the first time our group met, when Calev twisted our brains to think of our own definitions of G-d and how the wise men of Judaism define him? (among other things)
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During this Shiur, we discussed the algorithm in the Mishnah to determine which claimants deserve how large a part of estate when an estate should be divided due to ones death. We had a couple theories to compare it to- Aristotle's Proportional Rule, Ramban's method of the Equal Shares Rule, Ra'abad's Rule (who??), and the how the Mishna Ketubah would divvy up an inheritance.
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It's a nice way to determine someones perspective on the world. I can see myself judging peoples character by knowing which approach they would choose. You know..smacking my gum while twisting my hair into little knots on my head: "So like, are u more proportional like Aristotle? or Are you a Rambam kind of guy like myself????"
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Things i have come to learn about my existential crisis in the last 24 hours:
  • It is lactose intolerant.
  • Its appetite is not as big as I once assumed when I had Sushi with it last Saturday.
  • My existential crisis is a cock-block.
  • It has better fashion sense than I do.
  • Prefers carrots and is more thoughtful than I am after 6pm on weekdays.

Monday, February 19, 2007

Realizations

Realizations about an existential crisis:
1. Barkan Cabernet Sauvignon does not cure an existential crisis.
2. Time with an existential crisis is like a guy you hooked up with the first time- very weary, but go with the flow to see what happens.
3. G-d is on vacation when you ring him.
4. Your Rabbi becomes part of "G-ds" Mafia and you wonder what they are gonna do to you when the Star of David is stamped on your right hand for entrance.
5. Putting up new wallpaper on your computers does not remedy an existential crisis.
6. Your own countryman are to blame for your crisis.
7. eating your co-workers chocolates that SHE received for VD does not quell the crisis.
8. You cannot put the crisis out with a fire extinguisher. You just end up upsetting your roommate and there's a lot of cleanup.
9. The soundproof professional ear phones your roommate owns do not block out the existential crisis in the evening.
10. an Existential crisis cannot be peeled with a potato peeler. Instead, it must be chopped and blended with a banana and orange juice.

Sunday, February 18, 2007

Help, i'm having a crisis.

A friend of mine commented that I am having an existential crisis at the moment. Based on my comment that the chairs we were sitting in are simply not chairs. What he may not have realized that if you ever listened to me public speak to different groups- The metaphor for grief I always used was :"It's like going to sleep in the comfort of your own bed and waking up in a home that is not yours, but with your things in it, and not knowing what happened. not even a chair is the same to you."
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My first existential crisis was at the age of 5. My mother would walk me to my Pre-school across the train tracks in Frankfurt. She would always hold my hand in her gloved one then slip our hands into her London Fog coat. My left hand would swing freely next to me and I would hold it in front of my face and think: "This is my hand, my hand is in front of me- it is an extension of my body, and although I can feel it, my eyes cannot feel it when they look at it." (I don't think my vocabulary was at that level, but you get my gist.)
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When I was a wannabe skater chick at the age of 14, I bought a book entitled "Physics and Philosophy". The 18 year-old clerk at Barnes and Noble looked at me and says "That's really great girls like you are into this kinda stuff". " My cheeks became red and I smiled to cover up the fact I had no idea about either topic but had the need to pretend I was beatnik like that and wanted to be that cool girl like that-with a cap on, drinking Lattes like that and quoting philosophers whose names I couldn't pronounce correctly...like that.
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I am so over wanting to be deep. So, when my friend calls me on what he sees- I'm thinking "no!no!no! I am not that teenager wondering about the universe and if our choices are what they are because she hasn't experienced it!!!" I'm not claiming to have experienced it either. I'm just saying- what I have experienced makes me wonder really why we live in concrete jungles. And what this (hands flurry in air), is all about.
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My heart becomes full when I think of the day I check out of concrete jungle, and into the land of Israel. Peace and quiet- next to a vineyard, working for a winery. I'd get a cow, name her Susi the cow and I'd grow things that are green, and knit- I'd learn to knit. Then, when my toes wriggle in the soil that "I" mixed- then this whole philosophy of life will truly make sense and I can go back to dancing in the mirror to Billy Idol.
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I have compiled a remedy to fight existential thoughts that make you feel 14.
The Ginrod's remedy to cure existential thoughts:
1. stove top popped kernel corn with a dab of salted Irish butter and 3 pinches of salt.
2. Ben and Jerry's Chocolate ice cream, eaten from the carton.
3. Two avocados in a bowl for general room decor.
4. Watching the E! Channel over and over until you think you care that Britney Shaved her head.
5. Remember that your x has bowel movements.
6. Throw out your old underwear.
7. Give up on the idea that you were destined to be a rock star. Miss the idea. Take the idea back, but don't tell anyone.
8. Read CNN.com and realize how stupid Americans can be and that there can't be a reason for the universe because G-d created Americans and let them vote for Bush.
9. Convince your co-workers you are a lesbian to see if they treat you differently.
10. Touch people on their nose and make a ewok- like sound.
Thanks for your time.
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I am grateful because you choose to include my blog in your reality. Now please eat some ice cream.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Honor thy Parents..

It took me 2o years to know who my father was. You know how it goes. You spend your whole life being your father's daughter. Listening to his stories of World war II Berlin, and somehow you thought it was no big deal. You'd walk past him as he played his accordion, with tears in his eyes, and you assumed every father had a great story packaged under the tree. You always assumed every parent had their story, whether it was frost bite in Poland, or taking a boat to Ellis Island. You didn't really pay attention, didn't Mr.Houston next door also have his story, even if he was born and bred in the Midwest?
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It took moving to Germany in 2000 to really understand who my father was, and it wasn't from asking people about him. I knew about him, I was my father's daughter, a Doring-born and bred. I heard every story, and if I didn't get it the first time, I got it the second, and the 14th! It took speaking to others and their experience to truly understand the essence of my father. It took to experience past my re-introduction to Germany in 2000 to know who he was. It was only then I understood what the essence of the man Siggy was.
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It only took me half a year later to know who my mother was. I was on a whim, my first life outside of the U.S- not on vacation- I had the travel bug. I had a Master Card in my right hand, and a major need to shake the left one. After Morocco and Italy, I had the sudden thirst to go to the Philippines. "Why not?? i'll pay that card off when I get home and serve tables for a few months..." was my reasoning. "It's election time!!" My mother reasoned with me. " You're too white to go to Pangasinan right now!!". -As I ignored her motherly concerns,Oh to be 21 again.
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It took me a mini-lifetime to get to her village. The next day, I took a stroll down the same dirt road my 3 year-old self walked with her Grandfather 18 years before. My grandmothers who I never met saw me along the road, stopped- and with big grins and exclaimed "Vinda!!- You are your mother's daughter!!!
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If my experiences going to my motherlands took so long to realize my own parents had a life before me. How can my life relate to my present?
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I spoke to Anat, from the girlfriend group tonight. "how is Uri's mom?" I nonchalantly ask about her late boyfriends mother- as if we haven't witnessed the ultimate grief of a mother.
"We wear our mask susi" She starts- and we both know that we sing and dance like everyone else- the only difference, the only one up on life with have with out counterparts these days is: we know what could happen tomorrow, and in a place like this, it's almost anything.
xx

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Happy VD


Any day where you get Chocolate as gifts and Champagne as drink is fine by me!



Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Me this time last year.

It's quite interesting to read your state of mind at the exact same time the year before. For that reason- I enjoy blogging. Everything becomes a progression- at the same time, I see how everything is a cycle as well. We are not far from the people we were a year before, or many years before, the change is the complexity of life- added on responsibilities of being an adult- the hangover of sentimentality from experience, one's weight.
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Life to me is Layered Like an onion, slightly sweet- crisp- brings a tear to your eye but a necessary flavor in life. After all, an onion is a key ingredient to many recipe bases...la la la..
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I don't miss my mother any less, but I finally got to speaking to the Bet Din. And of course- you all know the outcome of that =)
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Feb 13th 2006
I'm sitting on my Ikea barstool with my laptop in front of me, I had just completed another couple hours of working on my freelance job that always feels like a dead end. At this moment in time, I am yearning for some philosophical brain stimulation and a big hug. I need a wise leprechaun to show me the secret path into the babbling brook where all your fears are floating in glossy pink bubbles and when they pop, you simply laugh harder.
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I bought my brother a flask before I left for Thailand. It read "The harder it gets, the harder I laugh" engraved on it. It was my permanent quote back then. Hardship was something that fueled the fire in my ass. I grew ten feet taller with stress and challenge.
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Today was my second attempt to go to the Rabbinical Court to familiarize myself with my conversion classes that begin in two weeks. Seems easy enough doesn't it? Last week my attempt failed by an overly aggressive security guard. I left in tears, sitting on the bench outside, weak and exhausted from all the effort. I came home and called the teacher and explained my fears of doing it all in Hebrew. "Usually the women that attend these classes have an Israeli boyfriend or husband to help them with the translations", the teacher told me. I sighed deeply into the phone. "Yes I realize that Yair, but unfortunately I don't". I then hang up the phone and the familiar sickening loneliness that creeps into the right ventricle of my heart.
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Another reminder of last Spring. Today, well- who knows the exact reason. It could be how I made an absolute unforgivable fool of myself last night. It could be work. One thing I have realized, is that because of the business of moving in and getting settled. I haven't allowed myself any time to grieve.
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I understand for many of my friends, they have forgotten my baggage. Because they don't carry my pain, they assume I no longer do either. I assume I no longer carry my pain. But then I hear someone that sounds like Tsiki, or a man that stands like my father and I am biting my trembling lip as I briskly walk home, hoping the sunglasses I just bought are big enough to cover it up. I am still fragile, I am almost a fool to pretend I'm not. I crave to hide away, I crave my mother at times like this. I want to be picked up from the bathtub in a towel and how she would wrap my head in another while I leaned my head on her chest, she'd dry my hair as I listened to her heartbeat. 10 months After 12 it will be more promising.
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I am enjoying the entertainment on the bus. Growing up in Oklahoma, we never took buses. First cars came at 16 and upgraded when we were 21. It's impossible to live in Tulsa without a car. Now, I rely on the buses to get me to work. I get to stare at peoples faces behind my big dark glasses with a soundtrack in the form of my ipod and Arcade Fire in my ears. I get to stare at people staring at me- Old women with large breasts rocking back and forth with the bus. I stare at the girls with too much makeup, I reach out and scratch their face to see how many centimeter's of base has been applied. I blink. I smell the students Cologne. "Polo Sport" I smile to myself. My first boyfriend at 17 wore it religiously. By this time my head is swaying with the motion of the bus.
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Relaxing Metropolitan Meditation.
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I am already looking forward to the weekend but it's only Monday. I am already looking forward to running but my back isn't healed. I am already publishing a book in my head when it hasn't been written. I am already talking to people I wrote off. I am pleased this day is finished, I am not a big fan of myself today.

Monday, February 12, 2007

Gematria


I've been working like a high- tech dog lately. Between work and a tidbit of freelance, my aching Rhomboids and my Teres Major have been nagging at my conscious, asking the never ending question of: what is it all about??
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I showed up in Beni Brak, unexpected by my tutor. Ever since the meeting, our trilogy has been out-of-contact. She was surprised to see me, and I'm so used to her that I sat down at the table and we began to talk.. like old hens.
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My meeting last week with the "other" Rabbi was intimidating. I'm not big on admitting this, but I have stage fright. Yes yes, the Ginrod is a social creature, -and she's been in plays, documentaries, short film, spoken word. La La La....anyway, From my history, I have never passed a test, Never spoken in front of a crowd without forgetting my own language (or anything i memorized). I've tried a lot of things, but am not necessarily good at anything I do, I am simply a silly girl trying to put words together so people can read them and understand. I'm Trying to get to the point where the breeze envelopes me and I smile and go about my days.

As much as I am a social creature, I freeze. One could imagine how I felt being interviewed for an hour an a half with question after question of my knowledge of something I fell into a couple years before. Last week, I had to rest my stress out.

What am I doing?
What Have I Done?
Is it worth it?

These thoughts are haunting me everyday. I can't tell you what the next two months are gonna be but they will be something significant.
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My tutor and I had some time to pass. "Have you picked a name susi??" she asks me. "No, I can't decide. I want to do gematria. It's so ginrod". "Ok.." she responds, and we start.
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If nothing is everything, and my sense is nonsense- Well, I have a lot of nonsense to figure out- because we took 6 different,individual numbers, and found three relevent meanings to them in the time of our meeting. I found my name, that makes sense in every essence possible. We both became like adolescents, she just as excited about my completion as I am. That woman.. knows me. Who would have thought. A haredi woman from Bnei Brak and me, acting like homies on a Monday night.


(please excuse my lack of flo', I had a couple glasses of wine in celebration of the sun shining for two days straight.)

xxxxxxxxxx

Saturday, February 10, 2007

Stinging thought of a Ginrod.

There are moments when I feel I am in love. Especialy when the morning breeze slips in quietly through the window causing my hot coffee to steam a little higher.
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I've been thinking of my father lately, I brought him up last night in conversation and realized how much I missed him. As my friend said "Too bad memories can't hug, they can only Sting, that's unfair isn't it?". I am comforted with the hum of the refrigerator and the birds chirping outside. I usually leave the house at 7:15, i don't hear a lot of birds during that time, so this is a weekend exception.
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Last night, my dreams were of the apartment. And not going outside because of the rain. Time has no relevance in my dreams, sometimes it's in the 1920s, sometimes in the 50s, in the present- it fades into different era's. As I opening the door from the rain outside, there were two animals looking for refuge, a Ram without the long horns and a petite sheep. Followed by an Albino woman. They came in and I gathered all the greens in my refrigerator and spread them on the floor to feed the animals as I sat at the dinner table with the Albino.
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To see an albino in your dream, represents purity or eternal life. You need to be more accepting and tolerant.

When I was a teenager, I was obsessed with dream interpretation. Even meditating to achieve Lucid Dreaming. Either or, It was simply an odd dream. A friend said today that there is something in the Gemorah about dreaming of an Albino and it's significance. Can anyone elaborate?

Winter Ball was Fabu, it's nice to end a week that began so stressful with dinner and dancing.

xx

Nooman and I showing off our coordination with Pink.

Many thanks to Jaqui- O for making me look like a lady for the first time in years!


Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Captured thought of a Ginrod

Dearest Tsiki,
I have an hour to get these tears out. The Rabbi is ready to meet with me. I did the dishes,with Imogen Heap "Hide and Seek" keeping me comfort. It's as if the last 2 years of my hardship slammed into me. Here I am, with my soul wide open, scared-excited- anticipating, waiting.
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In one of our last conversations, when you were in the tower near Hebron, we discussed our future, you stood by me that month as I coped with the loss of my father. "We're gonna be the greatest couple ever!" I exclaimed, looking forward..always looking forward. Our children would have been Moroccan, Romanian, German, and Filipino. We planned our trip to South America, Graduate school in the U.S...we loved dreaming ...Despite the loss of my father, you kept my light burning. In the end of the conversation, I became quiet.
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Do you remember? ?-and with all my heart, i asked you to be careful- i told you i realize how painful death is and my heart could not take another one. " Don't worry sooz- it's only reserve service" as I heard the other soldiers chatting behind you. "you are the most important thing in the world to me" I stammered. "If anything happens, please get up. Just get up". "You are too sooz! "There is only one person in the world for me, and that's you." .You said.
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If you wanna make G-d laugh, make a plan.
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The last two years have been a whirlwind. I have come to learn so many things- and the difference in between. I learned Judaism backwards, I sat Sheva for you- but they didn't tear my shirt as I mourned, we didn't even have a ring. I blindly woke up each day, looking for little miracles to keep me going. I saw birds sitting on branches around me, how clouds would glow in the sunset. I sat, staring at the Sea and let the wind slap me. I drove every morning with Jerusalem in front of me. My dreams told me I would be OK, and this is the path. I rode that path with our family, with our friends, and my new ones. I kept you in memory by the Hamsa you gave me until it fell off near our anniversary. Did I feel this things or did I make them up?

I learned to live with my sewn heart. I was happy with a lot, but I was also very lonely. The Rabbi is ready to meet me Tsiki, how can I explain my sincerity. When will it be enough? I feel as things begin to take shape, an important factor that defined me, that has become me, is changing and i am afraid.
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I made a promise to myself and for the sake of life in general that I would be strong, but I am weak, when you died- everything I thought I was vanished and I had to replant a new seed. Every time I built myself up this year- there was another memorial, another anniversary. Another speaking engagement, another war. Another soldier. a friendship lost.
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This meeting tonight is of what I have sown, and I wonder when I sit across from him, what he will think. Will he see a light- or a confused twenty-something year old trying to make sense of senseless things. What name of G-d will be with me tonight? Is OK to be scared Tsiki? Am I the only one that sees the symbolism in this? Is it OK to be scared, happy, sad and in love, all at the same time?
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Will i be a beautiful person because of my convictions? Or do I make my convictions beautiful?
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Wherever you are, I'm thinking of you. I'm scared, but I am ready to step forward into the sapling that has grown in the midst of all that has brought me here. Thanks for showing me true love Tsiki, I've used that knowledge in everything I have done since you left us. In case you didn't know, I've done a lot.

Monday, February 05, 2007

Quiz Me (with fixed link)


Quiz doesn't work. That's cool, another time when i'm bored.
In the meantime. i would like to share with you a poem i sang to my two Goldfish on my workdesk.
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( it will sound better with an elderly woman's English accent)
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Fishy Fishy Fishy,
Swimming in a bowl.
you've got no place to go.
but you're very very gold.
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Fishy fishy fishy
don't each too much food.
or you won't grow very old.
cuz your stomach's will explode.
Please feel free to add paragraphs.
Thanks,

Sunday, February 04, 2007

Stairs


My heart is in my throat this week as I pretend to patiently wait for the phone call from my Rabbi that will determine if this conversion is next week, 2 months, or half a year..
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Ever since Israel came into my life, I've seen myself as a different person. I suppose a place like this will do it to you. I looked at pictures when I was in my early 20s and analyzed that naive girl staring back at me. If she ever knew what her mid-twenties were going to be like, she would probably laugh madly and then ask "why" in a worry some matter- of- fact way.
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I had a dream last night I was in a mansion. But it was all a maze, M.C Escher stairwells leading me higher and higher then stopping. I'd jump a banister to find another staircase with hopes it led somewhere. Certain rooms were filled with material items, beautiful vases, exotic paintings, children's toys. I came to the top of the mansion and found myself outside, as if on top of a mountain, and in order to reach the garden, I would have to jump on a pulley like device that would bungee me to the bottom.
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I'm terrified of heights.
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absolutely terrified.
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but this was the only way down, you couldn't return to the mansion, I had to take this route to be outside in the Garden where everyone was expecting me.
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It was a risky jump to grab hold of the cord that would ferry me in- but i did it with my eyes closed and i could feel the heavy air on my skin and I glided down. Upon landing I looked up and the big cliff until my heartbeat went back to normal and I simply walked into the beautiful garden of the mansion that really wasn't there and everything faded.
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For the sake of my sanity, I pray this week will prove to have a spoonful of fate incorporated with a lot of dancing. The rain is good to have, but I'm ready for a dab of summertime.