Courtesy of: SnapKnot
Sunday, June 29, 2014
Sunday, February 22, 2009
The Zionist Dream
Hiya Folks,
I awoke this morning remembering my dream, which is fairly rare for me. Last night I dreamt of the Kinneret, the Sea of Galilee. I dreamt of it with such a high water level that it was barely recognizable as the sea I know and love. It was nearly a stormy ocean, with waves crashing against the rocks. There was even a little island in the sea, and interesting animals came out to enjoy the water, including hippopotamuses, deer and body-less moose (I guess that's where the dream got kind of ... dreamy).
For those that don't know, the water level of the Kinneret is terribly low. There was a red line that it dropped below years ago, so logically they lowered the red line. Now it is below that red line, too. It is also just a sad sight to see. I now spend many days on a Kibbutz on the Kinneret and see its sorrowful state on a daily basis. There is an old dock on the Kibbutz with old rusty stairs that lead down to nowhere in particular, many meters above the water level. It is a vivid portrayal of how far we are from the sea's much fuller past.
The level of the Kinneret is something that every Israeli thinks about, because there is little fresh water in this itty bitty desert that around 10 million people are sharing. When it rains in Israel, religiously speaking, it is a blessing, as it is something that is prayed for all winter long in order to water our crops. But religion aside, when it rains, even when it's gross and cold outside and you are caught in it and soaked, everyone is still a little happy that it is raining because it means more water for the Kinneret.
The Kinneret is also just a beautiful landmark in Israel. It played an important role for the Zionist pioneers who built the first Kibbutzim near its shores. Its beauty is remarkable, the stuff of much Israeli poetry.
So, all these things considered, I was really happy to have woken up with this dream in my mind. I felt like a real Israeli, like a real Zionist.
And in only 4 months!
I awoke this morning remembering my dream, which is fairly rare for me. Last night I dreamt of the Kinneret, the Sea of Galilee. I dreamt of it with such a high water level that it was barely recognizable as the sea I know and love. It was nearly a stormy ocean, with waves crashing against the rocks. There was even a little island in the sea, and interesting animals came out to enjoy the water, including hippopotamuses, deer and body-less moose (I guess that's where the dream got kind of ... dreamy).
For those that don't know, the water level of the Kinneret is terribly low. There was a red line that it dropped below years ago, so logically they lowered the red line. Now it is below that red line, too. It is also just a sad sight to see. I now spend many days on a Kibbutz on the Kinneret and see its sorrowful state on a daily basis. There is an old dock on the Kibbutz with old rusty stairs that lead down to nowhere in particular, many meters above the water level. It is a vivid portrayal of how far we are from the sea's much fuller past.
The level of the Kinneret is something that every Israeli thinks about, because there is little fresh water in this itty bitty desert that around 10 million people are sharing. When it rains in Israel, religiously speaking, it is a blessing, as it is something that is prayed for all winter long in order to water our crops. But religion aside, when it rains, even when it's gross and cold outside and you are caught in it and soaked, everyone is still a little happy that it is raining because it means more water for the Kinneret.
The Kinneret is also just a beautiful landmark in Israel. It played an important role for the Zionist pioneers who built the first Kibbutzim near its shores. Its beauty is remarkable, the stuff of much Israeli poetry.
So, all these things considered, I was really happy to have woken up with this dream in my mind. I felt like a real Israeli, like a real Zionist.
And in only 4 months!
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Made It!
Hello One and All,
I made it to Israel! I had quite a harrowing journey, including getting to the airport on the 21st only to find I didn't actually have a ticket booked and actually leaving the 22nd. It was awful. I cried. I don't want to talk about it right now.
Now it is Shabbat, a peaceful quiet time in Israel, time when I can reflect on things that have happened over the last week. I'll take this time to reflect on some of my early observations of life here in Israel:
When I arrived, I walked through the doors of customs out to the waiting area where I knew a group of friends would be waiting to greet me with cheers and hugs and well-wishes. The first person who got to me was my Mom who gave me a big hug and a kiss to which all my friends responded with a collective, "Awww!" Then I got the rounds of hugs from friends which was so wonderful.
There were about 15 people there to greet me, which was amazing. Little did I know, had I arrived when I was supposed to (you'll recall I left a day late...) there would have perhaps more than twice that many people. One person told me it was good that I arrived late because I would have set some sort of record and made other new immigrants jealous. Still, every little while I see someone or get a call and the first thing everyone says to me is that they are sorry they couldn't make it the airport. It was a very supportive first day!
The next thing that happened was a party at my new house. It was SO fun! There were so many people there I was so happy to see! I also got to meet our partners in crime, the other Ramat Gan kvutsa, the Shbrits (Spanish and British). I knew two of them already, but meeting the other three was fantastic. They are so sweet. One of them in particular was interesting, and she is Tash. Here is the Tash story:
Around January, Habonim Dror was sent into a crazy debacle as two important parties in Israel began to fight with one another (a necessarily perfunctory explanation). In order to deal with the complex situation, we in North America decided to start colluding with our British brethren. We had many phone conversations with them and, importantly to this story, new facebook friends were made. I made friends with one girl in particular who worked there, Tash. We started messaging back and forth and inexplicably our conversations became deep and intimate very fast. We just seemed to speak the same language. It was wonderful. So for about ten months we were in regular contact and talking about our lives, love, sadness, happiness, and other intense things. I met her in person on Thursday night. It was so great to see her, but it was also clear that there was a bit of awkwardness as we both were evaluating the transition from virtual facebook friends to real life flesh friends. We chatted a bit on and off during the party, but it wasn't until the night was winding down that we found ourselves sitting in comfy chairs with each other in a relatively quiet corner. We began talking and all of a sudden it clicked and the transition happened quite fluidly. We talked about our excitements and our fears about everything in Israel (she also just moved here in August). Afterwards we verbally acknowledged how good it felt to know that it wasn't a fake fleeting facebook thing we had.
The next day I went with some of my kvutsa-mates and some of the Shbrits to the park to play some frisbee. This was awesome because it isn't cold here and we can go to the park and play frisbee! Yeah! Unfortunately, during this frisbee game, one of my kvutsa-mates met up with her boyfriend for an ominous discussion and came out of the comversation no longer in a relationship. This was very sad. We all got home and everyone was in the house getting ready for Shabbat dinner. She was clearly distressed by the break-up, and one of my kvutsa-mates prodded her with a simple, "Spill the beans." Then she did! She just opened up, and talked about what happened and we talked with her and supported her all together.
Here is why this is amazing for me: In my previous situation, if something big happened to one of us, the immediate response was not for everyone to sit together, but rather for that one person to turn to just one other kvutsa-mate. Only later, perhaps weeks later, when we had scheduled all-together time would it come out into the open, and then it was only really a report, not an opportunity for us to support that person. This had many reasons for happeneing, but all in all I think it was not so good for group dynamics, as some people were just never turned to and some people were always turned to. Now that I've experienced the alternative, a collective support network, I can confidently say that it is much more rewarding overall. If you used to live with me in Brooklyn and are looking for more information on this, contact me directly.
Now it is Shabbat. I am in a cute coffee shop in Tel-Aviv with Naomi and Nadav, and you know what?
I am happy.
I made it to Israel! I had quite a harrowing journey, including getting to the airport on the 21st only to find I didn't actually have a ticket booked and actually leaving the 22nd. It was awful. I cried. I don't want to talk about it right now.
Now it is Shabbat, a peaceful quiet time in Israel, time when I can reflect on things that have happened over the last week. I'll take this time to reflect on some of my early observations of life here in Israel:
When I arrived, I walked through the doors of customs out to the waiting area where I knew a group of friends would be waiting to greet me with cheers and hugs and well-wishes. The first person who got to me was my Mom who gave me a big hug and a kiss to which all my friends responded with a collective, "Awww!" Then I got the rounds of hugs from friends which was so wonderful.
There were about 15 people there to greet me, which was amazing. Little did I know, had I arrived when I was supposed to (you'll recall I left a day late...) there would have perhaps more than twice that many people. One person told me it was good that I arrived late because I would have set some sort of record and made other new immigrants jealous. Still, every little while I see someone or get a call and the first thing everyone says to me is that they are sorry they couldn't make it the airport. It was a very supportive first day!
The next thing that happened was a party at my new house. It was SO fun! There were so many people there I was so happy to see! I also got to meet our partners in crime, the other Ramat Gan kvutsa, the Shbrits (Spanish and British). I knew two of them already, but meeting the other three was fantastic. They are so sweet. One of them in particular was interesting, and she is Tash. Here is the Tash story:
Around January, Habonim Dror was sent into a crazy debacle as two important parties in Israel began to fight with one another (a necessarily perfunctory explanation). In order to deal with the complex situation, we in North America decided to start colluding with our British brethren. We had many phone conversations with them and, importantly to this story, new facebook friends were made. I made friends with one girl in particular who worked there, Tash. We started messaging back and forth and inexplicably our conversations became deep and intimate very fast. We just seemed to speak the same language. It was wonderful. So for about ten months we were in regular contact and talking about our lives, love, sadness, happiness, and other intense things. I met her in person on Thursday night. It was so great to see her, but it was also clear that there was a bit of awkwardness as we both were evaluating the transition from virtual facebook friends to real life flesh friends. We chatted a bit on and off during the party, but it wasn't until the night was winding down that we found ourselves sitting in comfy chairs with each other in a relatively quiet corner. We began talking and all of a sudden it clicked and the transition happened quite fluidly. We talked about our excitements and our fears about everything in Israel (she also just moved here in August). Afterwards we verbally acknowledged how good it felt to know that it wasn't a fake fleeting facebook thing we had.
The next day I went with some of my kvutsa-mates and some of the Shbrits to the park to play some frisbee. This was awesome because it isn't cold here and we can go to the park and play frisbee! Yeah! Unfortunately, during this frisbee game, one of my kvutsa-mates met up with her boyfriend for an ominous discussion and came out of the comversation no longer in a relationship. This was very sad. We all got home and everyone was in the house getting ready for Shabbat dinner. She was clearly distressed by the break-up, and one of my kvutsa-mates prodded her with a simple, "Spill the beans." Then she did! She just opened up, and talked about what happened and we talked with her and supported her all together.
Here is why this is amazing for me: In my previous situation, if something big happened to one of us, the immediate response was not for everyone to sit together, but rather for that one person to turn to just one other kvutsa-mate. Only later, perhaps weeks later, when we had scheduled all-together time would it come out into the open, and then it was only really a report, not an opportunity for us to support that person. This had many reasons for happeneing, but all in all I think it was not so good for group dynamics, as some people were just never turned to and some people were always turned to. Now that I've experienced the alternative, a collective support network, I can confidently say that it is much more rewarding overall. If you used to live with me in Brooklyn and are looking for more information on this, contact me directly.
Now it is Shabbat. I am in a cute coffee shop in Tel-Aviv with Naomi and Nadav, and you know what?
I am happy.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Speech Therapy
Hiya Blog Fans,
Today was Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. I was asked by my synagogue to deliver a speech about why I love Israel as a precursor to an appeal for people to invest in Israel Bonds. I agreed to do this speech and saw it as a great opportunity to spread my ideals of Judaism and Zionism to a very different crowd.
The past two years I have been the Mazkir Tnua of Habonim Dror North America. In those two years I had myriad opportunities to deliver speeches on Zionism to lots of different sorts of crowds. I realized, or perhaps simply this became the case from practice, that I am pretty good at it. I strike the right balance between informal jokey self-deprication and hifalutin idealism.
Over the course of about a week I crafted this speech. I was kind of nervous because this was a conservative synagogue I was talking to. This was not my movement, who shared my ideals, or a Jewish Agency Task Force, where at least we share the same goals and there is a shared vocabulary. A synagogue, a conservative one, is an institution based on religion - something I'm not so keen on - and explicitly propagates a Diaspora mentality, not to mention that Conservative Judaism is kind of...well...conservative. (Please forgive me if this post has already gone above some of my reader's heads...I'll bring it back down in a minute)
By yesterday I was satisfied with it, I ran it by my Mom and my hairdresser/friend Tommy and they both liked it a lot. I was not afraid in my speech to mention Zionism, to talk about Habonim Dror and my ideals, to be bold and idealistic.
I arrived at synagogue and I was a little nervous. I had given plenty of speeches before, but my largest audience until then was perhaps around 180 people. This sanctuary had upwards of 300 people in it, perhaps more...I suck at estimating crowd sizes, could've been 20 people for all I know. I got up on the Bima as my name was announced and began my speech. I spoke slowly and enunciated. I made eye contact with the crowd and swept my gaze across the entire room. I emoted. I was pretty happy with my delivery, frankly.
Afterwards my mouth and throat were both very dry and was nothing I could do about it because of stupid Yom Kippur and stupid fasting.
As the rest of the morning and afternoon progressed at synagogue, I did my normal routine of wandering around to while the time away. During this whiling, I was shocked to find many many people approaching me to tell me how much they liked my speech. Some of them were your garden variety, "Hey, Good Job" or "Yasher Koach" (for all my Jews out there). Some of them were pretty nice praise like "It struck just the right tone" or "It was perfectly put together". And two people went so far as to say, "It was the best speech I have ever heard delivered in synagogue!" I was humbled.
It felt good. It made me feel good about my decision - that is, my decision to move to Israel. It made me feel validated. It made me feel like I know how to talk about what I believe in a way that touches anyone and everyone. I was pretty proud of myself. It felt good.
Today was Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. I was asked by my synagogue to deliver a speech about why I love Israel as a precursor to an appeal for people to invest in Israel Bonds. I agreed to do this speech and saw it as a great opportunity to spread my ideals of Judaism and Zionism to a very different crowd.
The past two years I have been the Mazkir Tnua of Habonim Dror North America. In those two years I had myriad opportunities to deliver speeches on Zionism to lots of different sorts of crowds. I realized, or perhaps simply this became the case from practice, that I am pretty good at it. I strike the right balance between informal jokey self-deprication and hifalutin idealism.
Over the course of about a week I crafted this speech. I was kind of nervous because this was a conservative synagogue I was talking to. This was not my movement, who shared my ideals, or a Jewish Agency Task Force, where at least we share the same goals and there is a shared vocabulary. A synagogue, a conservative one, is an institution based on religion - something I'm not so keen on - and explicitly propagates a Diaspora mentality, not to mention that Conservative Judaism is kind of...well...conservative. (Please forgive me if this post has already gone above some of my reader's heads...I'll bring it back down in a minute)
By yesterday I was satisfied with it, I ran it by my Mom and my hairdresser/friend Tommy and they both liked it a lot. I was not afraid in my speech to mention Zionism, to talk about Habonim Dror and my ideals, to be bold and idealistic.
I arrived at synagogue and I was a little nervous. I had given plenty of speeches before, but my largest audience until then was perhaps around 180 people. This sanctuary had upwards of 300 people in it, perhaps more...I suck at estimating crowd sizes, could've been 20 people for all I know. I got up on the Bima as my name was announced and began my speech. I spoke slowly and enunciated. I made eye contact with the crowd and swept my gaze across the entire room. I emoted. I was pretty happy with my delivery, frankly.
Afterwards my mouth and throat were both very dry and was nothing I could do about it because of stupid Yom Kippur and stupid fasting.
As the rest of the morning and afternoon progressed at synagogue, I did my normal routine of wandering around to while the time away. During this whiling, I was shocked to find many many people approaching me to tell me how much they liked my speech. Some of them were your garden variety, "Hey, Good Job" or "Yasher Koach" (for all my Jews out there). Some of them were pretty nice praise like "It struck just the right tone" or "It was perfectly put together". And two people went so far as to say, "It was the best speech I have ever heard delivered in synagogue!" I was humbled.
It felt good. It made me feel good about my decision - that is, my decision to move to Israel. It made me feel validated. It made me feel like I know how to talk about what I believe in a way that touches anyone and everyone. I was pretty proud of myself. It felt good.
Saturday, October 04, 2008
Family Ties ft. Alex P. Keaton
Whatup,
I've been out of New York now for six days. I am currently in San Francisco. In the time I've spent away, I've mostly been with my family. That was the main goal of this trip, to visit my family all in one fell swoop. In some sense, it is strange that I would pack visiting my family into one short trip before I leave the country in a forever-ish way, but it really just speaks to the issue that I am not very close with my family.
Moving away has really made me think about this issue a lot. I've never been close to my family. I don't really have a sense of what makes my particular family important to me. I understand we share the same blood, but I don't have a strong sense of having shared experiences. I feel like my family doesn't really know me at all, actually. I've never felt like I could talk to anyone in my family, and I still don't confide in any of them for anything serious. Here is a little anecdote: the day I broke up with Lindsey (I know I said I wouldn't talk about this...), the only reason I even bothered to tell my parents - by email - was that she had a plane ticket to DC for Thanksgiving that my parents bought for her and I didn't want my parents to not be able to cancel it.
So when people ask me how my family feels about me leaving, the answer is, "I don't really know." When I told my parents about my decision they took a pretty hands off approach and just said, "OK, we support you." I, frankly, was appreciative of this, because it is better to accept that we are distant than to meddle in my affairs when they have no place in my life. That may sound harsh, but I truly feel that way. When you've spent your whole life without your parents there for you in the way you want, you kind of resent it when they think they can tell you what to do. You gotta give to get, right?
With my brothers it is a similar story. I've never been close to my brothers. One is 5 years older than me and the other nearly 10. We spent very little childhood with one another and never were in school together. It's nice that they both live out in San Francisco so I can visit them together and not have to make two separate trips. My brothers in recent years have clearly made more of an effort to try and get close to me, which I've been at times warm to and at times cold. Everything feels fake when it has taken this long for people to try and be close to me. My brothers are nice, and we have fun together, but I couldn't tell you how either of them feels in the slightest about me moving. When people ask, I usually just make something up that is sufficiently vague.
The big question is: Am I happy with things the way they are? Yes and no. I obviously realize that things could be better. This is not an ideal family situation. But frankly, I don't break down and cry when I think about it. I make it work. And I don't really need it to change. I've created my own family structures in my life, like the kvutsa I live in. And the movement in Israel is such a supportive social network. I am comfortable and happy with the structures I've intentionally created for myself.
At the dinner table with my Mom and Dad a couple days ago, my Mom started to get sad thinking about me leaving. She was worried about me. "What if he needs us? He'll be so far away!" My dad laughed and replied, "Yeah, like he's really leaned on us so much for the last two years." Which is the truth of it. I don't depend on my parents, so I'm not sad about leaving them. And frankly my Mom is in Israel almost six months out of the year. In the six years since I moved away for college, my parents have visited me less times than I can count on one hand. I'm sure I'll end up seeing my Mom MORE once I'm in the Tel-Aviv area, where she also has an apartment.
So that's my family situation. It ain't pretty, but it works. Or it doesn't. Who the hell knows?
I've been out of New York now for six days. I am currently in San Francisco. In the time I've spent away, I've mostly been with my family. That was the main goal of this trip, to visit my family all in one fell swoop. In some sense, it is strange that I would pack visiting my family into one short trip before I leave the country in a forever-ish way, but it really just speaks to the issue that I am not very close with my family.
Moving away has really made me think about this issue a lot. I've never been close to my family. I don't really have a sense of what makes my particular family important to me. I understand we share the same blood, but I don't have a strong sense of having shared experiences. I feel like my family doesn't really know me at all, actually. I've never felt like I could talk to anyone in my family, and I still don't confide in any of them for anything serious. Here is a little anecdote: the day I broke up with Lindsey (I know I said I wouldn't talk about this...), the only reason I even bothered to tell my parents - by email - was that she had a plane ticket to DC for Thanksgiving that my parents bought for her and I didn't want my parents to not be able to cancel it.
So when people ask me how my family feels about me leaving, the answer is, "I don't really know." When I told my parents about my decision they took a pretty hands off approach and just said, "OK, we support you." I, frankly, was appreciative of this, because it is better to accept that we are distant than to meddle in my affairs when they have no place in my life. That may sound harsh, but I truly feel that way. When you've spent your whole life without your parents there for you in the way you want, you kind of resent it when they think they can tell you what to do. You gotta give to get, right?
With my brothers it is a similar story. I've never been close to my brothers. One is 5 years older than me and the other nearly 10. We spent very little childhood with one another and never were in school together. It's nice that they both live out in San Francisco so I can visit them together and not have to make two separate trips. My brothers in recent years have clearly made more of an effort to try and get close to me, which I've been at times warm to and at times cold. Everything feels fake when it has taken this long for people to try and be close to me. My brothers are nice, and we have fun together, but I couldn't tell you how either of them feels in the slightest about me moving. When people ask, I usually just make something up that is sufficiently vague.
The big question is: Am I happy with things the way they are? Yes and no. I obviously realize that things could be better. This is not an ideal family situation. But frankly, I don't break down and cry when I think about it. I make it work. And I don't really need it to change. I've created my own family structures in my life, like the kvutsa I live in. And the movement in Israel is such a supportive social network. I am comfortable and happy with the structures I've intentionally created for myself.
At the dinner table with my Mom and Dad a couple days ago, my Mom started to get sad thinking about me leaving. She was worried about me. "What if he needs us? He'll be so far away!" My dad laughed and replied, "Yeah, like he's really leaned on us so much for the last two years." Which is the truth of it. I don't depend on my parents, so I'm not sad about leaving them. And frankly my Mom is in Israel almost six months out of the year. In the six years since I moved away for college, my parents have visited me less times than I can count on one hand. I'm sure I'll end up seeing my Mom MORE once I'm in the Tel-Aviv area, where she also has an apartment.
So that's my family situation. It ain't pretty, but it works. Or it doesn't. Who the hell knows?
Monday, September 29, 2008
My Bags are Packed and I'm Ready to Go
Shalom Chaverim,
Over this past weekend I packed up all my belongings. It's a funny thing, moving. I always imagine I don't own a lot and for some reason take a weird sort of pride in this fact. Perhaps I like to think of myself as able to pick up and leave on a moment's notice, or perhaps it is some Buddhist concept of detachment from the material world. Whatever it is, I always end up realizing that I am much more of a packrat than I thought.
But ironically this also ends up being a good thing in the end. I find lots of old things that I forgot existed that I associate with memories long past. Yesterday I found a picture Brent drew of me on a placemat. It is a caricature to be sure, with a cartoonish nose and a clown's lips, but damn it all if every person I show it to thinks it looks just like me. I also found an old comic strip Dan and I made for the McGill Daily. It was utterly ridiculous, but hey, I'm a published comic artist! I find old remnants of my relationship with Lindsey, I find pictures of my time in Japan, I find edible undies (for real!), I find pieces of me that make me who I am.
But I can't keep all this stuff. It is simply too much. So I have to painfully go through each little memory and decide how important it is to me. Placing value judgments on memories sucks. I threw away Brent's pic, but I kept the comic strip. I threw away the edible undies (they were expired anyway), but kept the pictures of Japan.
It is strange that I am still living this transient lifestyle. I haven't lived in the same abode for more than 2 years since leaving home when I was 17. I've moved between countries several times, too. I moved to Israel after high school, then Maryland, then Montreal, then NYC and now back to Israel. A funny little circle. When, though, do I settle down? When do a finally call a place home? I want to be a part of Israeli society, but I don't even know how to do that, what with my crazy nomadic life.
Or maybe the thing I want to muse on in this post is how memories are carried in life. I always am amazed at how much I can forget in life. I look at one thing - a picture, a postcard, a button, a little slip of paper - and all of a sudden it's like someone turned on a light, or like when you walk into a previously unseen room in a dungeon crawling game and the whole thing becomes unlit on your map. Every time I choose to throw something away, am I forever sealing off that room from my memory? That is a frightening thought.
Anyway, for the next ten days I'll be out of NYC for the holidays. I'll be visiting home and San Francisco to take care of seeing all my family in one fell swoop. Plus, I'll get to see old friends from the DC area and say my goodbyes to them, too. I don't know if being away will provide more or less opportunities to post, but I'll do my best. Thanks for starting to read again, readers. And to the n00bs, welcome!
Shana Tova!
Over this past weekend I packed up all my belongings. It's a funny thing, moving. I always imagine I don't own a lot and for some reason take a weird sort of pride in this fact. Perhaps I like to think of myself as able to pick up and leave on a moment's notice, or perhaps it is some Buddhist concept of detachment from the material world. Whatever it is, I always end up realizing that I am much more of a packrat than I thought.
But ironically this also ends up being a good thing in the end. I find lots of old things that I forgot existed that I associate with memories long past. Yesterday I found a picture Brent drew of me on a placemat. It is a caricature to be sure, with a cartoonish nose and a clown's lips, but damn it all if every person I show it to thinks it looks just like me. I also found an old comic strip Dan and I made for the McGill Daily. It was utterly ridiculous, but hey, I'm a published comic artist! I find old remnants of my relationship with Lindsey, I find pictures of my time in Japan, I find edible undies (for real!), I find pieces of me that make me who I am.
But I can't keep all this stuff. It is simply too much. So I have to painfully go through each little memory and decide how important it is to me. Placing value judgments on memories sucks. I threw away Brent's pic, but I kept the comic strip. I threw away the edible undies (they were expired anyway), but kept the pictures of Japan.
It is strange that I am still living this transient lifestyle. I haven't lived in the same abode for more than 2 years since leaving home when I was 17. I've moved between countries several times, too. I moved to Israel after high school, then Maryland, then Montreal, then NYC and now back to Israel. A funny little circle. When, though, do I settle down? When do a finally call a place home? I want to be a part of Israeli society, but I don't even know how to do that, what with my crazy nomadic life.
Or maybe the thing I want to muse on in this post is how memories are carried in life. I always am amazed at how much I can forget in life. I look at one thing - a picture, a postcard, a button, a little slip of paper - and all of a sudden it's like someone turned on a light, or like when you walk into a previously unseen room in a dungeon crawling game and the whole thing becomes unlit on your map. Every time I choose to throw something away, am I forever sealing off that room from my memory? That is a frightening thought.
Anyway, for the next ten days I'll be out of NYC for the holidays. I'll be visiting home and San Francisco to take care of seeing all my family in one fell swoop. Plus, I'll get to see old friends from the DC area and say my goodbyes to them, too. I don't know if being away will provide more or less opportunities to post, but I'll do my best. Thanks for starting to read again, readers. And to the n00bs, welcome!
Shana Tova!
Thursday, September 25, 2008
This Post Is Not Scripted
Yo Peeps,
Last night I did another subway show with Epione. It was successful and we had a huge crowd. Doing improv in New York has been a wonderful creative outlet for me and I am so grateful for what Epione has given me. But this past weekend I went to Montreal for a goodbye visit. As much as I did and experienced in my four years in Montreal, the thing that sticks with me, that had the greatest lasting impact, is improv.
I started doing improv when I began attending the University of Maryland. I knew I liked theater and I liked to be funny, so I auditioned for the sketch troupe, Sketchup, and the improv troupe, Erasable, Inc. I had no real experience in either field; I had only done basic stage productions in high school. I just trusted my instincts and went for it. My level was so poor, in the first scene of the first round of auditions for Erasable, Inc. I was birdwatching with a friend. She handed me the binoculars and said, "Look a bird!", and I took them and said, "There's no bird!" The troupe member watching immediately told me that in improv you don't block ideas. I ended up getting called back for both troupes (God only knows how!) and in the end Erasable, Inc. accepted me. I learned fast, I loved it, I performed a lot, I realized I was pretty good at this thing.
Then I moved to Montreal. I joined McGill Improv. My very first workshop was an Omega Workshop, for advanced improvisers, led by Marc D. Rowland and also attended by a couple fellows named Sean Michaels and Daniel Peter Patrick Beirne. This was wonderful foreshadowing. I had a blast in McGill Improv, making friends fast, getting to perform silly games with people, leading workshops, eating lunch and playing board games. I even got together a few friends (including aforementioned Sean and Dan!) and started a shortlived side troupe, Sparkletime Jazz. But after a couple years of McGill Improv, I was feeling down about my improvising. I felt like I had not only plateaued, but I had worsened! I was lamenting this to my friends in Without Annette when they all began to surreptitiously eye one another. I asked why they were doing that and they revealed the big secret: there was a new improv theater in town!
It was called Theatre Ste Catherine - named after the dirty hooker filled street it resides upon. I was intrigued so I checked it out. The workshops were run by a scraggly looking fellow named Eric Amber, Jr. He was some dude from Calgary who moved out here and built a theatre. His classes were...rough. He had a harsh teaching style that could easily make a man feel stupid. Well, after four years of improvising, I wasn't about to let him tell me what improv was. I was annoyed, frustrated, and angered by his improv teaching. I found being "directed" to interrupt the flow of a scene. But I stuck to it, with no other choice. After about a month, I was hooked. And I don't mean by a hooker on the street, I mean I liked the improv there.
I began to really improve in this new Johnstone-ian improv style. I loved the platform, the tilt, the narrative structure. The theatre began running a show every Sunday that anyone from the workshops could participate in and I did well in those shows, too! I became a regular, a known face, that fun guy everyone knows. In retrospect, I was a pretty early entrant into the theatre, watching now famous regulars first arrive and witnessing their painful bootstrapping process. I was becoming a top performer in the Anglo Montreal improv scene! The next year I was invited to join Without Annette, which was such a great honor. At the beginning of my last year in Montreal, I was performing or workshopping improv most days of the week. Slowly, my entire social network began to coalesce around improv.
Eventually I had to make a life choice about what to do after graduating. Improv was up there as a real choice - giving up everything and pursuing the improv career. Also up there was becoming the Mazkir of Habonim Dror North America (You can read about these decisions in my blog!). In the end, my values pulled me to New York to work for the movement and improv took a back seat. I still visited Montreal and performed on weekends that I was there, but as time went by, I could feel my skills deteriorating.
When I visited Montreal this past weekend, I was excited to perform at the theater once again, to try and relive my former glory in the slightest bit after a pitiful performance a few months back. But what struck me in my time in Montreal was not my performance (although it was pretty great), it was all my friends' performance. And not just on Sunday, but every day! In the years since I'd left Montreal, my old improv friends had become real comedic actors! I watched their improvised sitcom, The Bitter End, I saw them on the big screen in "Who Is KK Downey?", I watched them run private workshops, I saw them be the stars of the theater! They were really making it! I was so happy for them, I am so happy for them.
But here is the rub: that could've been me! Remember that big choice I made a couple paragraphs ago? What if I had stayed in Montreal and kept performing? Would that be me on the stage, on the screen, on TV? It is a weird feeling to watch an alternate reality. I could almost see a ghost image of me on stage with them, goofing around and making people laugh. I'm not jealous, because I am very happy with where I am in life right now (although scared and nervous). But seeing my best friends succeed, watching them turn Montreal into a true hotbed of cutting edge improvised comedy, was an amazing shock to me.
Now I am moving to Israel, where improv barely exists. I don't speak Hebrew well enough to try and join anything, and I have no idea if my schedule would even allow it. This once prominent part of my identity is falling even further away from me. I left Montreal, I'm leaving Epione, am I leaving improv? Is that part of the larger choice I've made? It's a scary thought. I love improv, I love how it makes me feel, I love making people laugh, I love being creative, I love performing. That's a lot of love to lose!
The only advice I have for myself is to live by these rules: Smile, Breathe, Be In the Moment, Say Yes, Make Others Look Good, Listen, Be Positive.
Last night I did another subway show with Epione. It was successful and we had a huge crowd. Doing improv in New York has been a wonderful creative outlet for me and I am so grateful for what Epione has given me. But this past weekend I went to Montreal for a goodbye visit. As much as I did and experienced in my four years in Montreal, the thing that sticks with me, that had the greatest lasting impact, is improv.
I started doing improv when I began attending the University of Maryland. I knew I liked theater and I liked to be funny, so I auditioned for the sketch troupe, Sketchup, and the improv troupe, Erasable, Inc. I had no real experience in either field; I had only done basic stage productions in high school. I just trusted my instincts and went for it. My level was so poor, in the first scene of the first round of auditions for Erasable, Inc. I was birdwatching with a friend. She handed me the binoculars and said, "Look a bird!", and I took them and said, "There's no bird!" The troupe member watching immediately told me that in improv you don't block ideas. I ended up getting called back for both troupes (God only knows how!) and in the end Erasable, Inc. accepted me. I learned fast, I loved it, I performed a lot, I realized I was pretty good at this thing.
Then I moved to Montreal. I joined McGill Improv. My very first workshop was an Omega Workshop, for advanced improvisers, led by Marc D. Rowland and also attended by a couple fellows named Sean Michaels and Daniel Peter Patrick Beirne. This was wonderful foreshadowing. I had a blast in McGill Improv, making friends fast, getting to perform silly games with people, leading workshops, eating lunch and playing board games. I even got together a few friends (including aforementioned Sean and Dan!) and started a shortlived side troupe, Sparkletime Jazz. But after a couple years of McGill Improv, I was feeling down about my improvising. I felt like I had not only plateaued, but I had worsened! I was lamenting this to my friends in Without Annette when they all began to surreptitiously eye one another. I asked why they were doing that and they revealed the big secret: there was a new improv theater in town!
It was called Theatre Ste Catherine - named after the dirty hooker filled street it resides upon. I was intrigued so I checked it out. The workshops were run by a scraggly looking fellow named Eric Amber, Jr. He was some dude from Calgary who moved out here and built a theatre. His classes were...rough. He had a harsh teaching style that could easily make a man feel stupid. Well, after four years of improvising, I wasn't about to let him tell me what improv was. I was annoyed, frustrated, and angered by his improv teaching. I found being "directed" to interrupt the flow of a scene. But I stuck to it, with no other choice. After about a month, I was hooked. And I don't mean by a hooker on the street, I mean I liked the improv there.
I began to really improve in this new Johnstone-ian improv style. I loved the platform, the tilt, the narrative structure. The theatre began running a show every Sunday that anyone from the workshops could participate in and I did well in those shows, too! I became a regular, a known face, that fun guy everyone knows. In retrospect, I was a pretty early entrant into the theatre, watching now famous regulars first arrive and witnessing their painful bootstrapping process. I was becoming a top performer in the Anglo Montreal improv scene! The next year I was invited to join Without Annette, which was such a great honor. At the beginning of my last year in Montreal, I was performing or workshopping improv most days of the week. Slowly, my entire social network began to coalesce around improv.
Eventually I had to make a life choice about what to do after graduating. Improv was up there as a real choice - giving up everything and pursuing the improv career. Also up there was becoming the Mazkir of Habonim Dror North America (You can read about these decisions in my blog!). In the end, my values pulled me to New York to work for the movement and improv took a back seat. I still visited Montreal and performed on weekends that I was there, but as time went by, I could feel my skills deteriorating.
When I visited Montreal this past weekend, I was excited to perform at the theater once again, to try and relive my former glory in the slightest bit after a pitiful performance a few months back. But what struck me in my time in Montreal was not my performance (although it was pretty great), it was all my friends' performance. And not just on Sunday, but every day! In the years since I'd left Montreal, my old improv friends had become real comedic actors! I watched their improvised sitcom, The Bitter End, I saw them on the big screen in "Who Is KK Downey?", I watched them run private workshops, I saw them be the stars of the theater! They were really making it! I was so happy for them, I am so happy for them.
But here is the rub: that could've been me! Remember that big choice I made a couple paragraphs ago? What if I had stayed in Montreal and kept performing? Would that be me on the stage, on the screen, on TV? It is a weird feeling to watch an alternate reality. I could almost see a ghost image of me on stage with them, goofing around and making people laugh. I'm not jealous, because I am very happy with where I am in life right now (although scared and nervous). But seeing my best friends succeed, watching them turn Montreal into a true hotbed of cutting edge improvised comedy, was an amazing shock to me.
Now I am moving to Israel, where improv barely exists. I don't speak Hebrew well enough to try and join anything, and I have no idea if my schedule would even allow it. This once prominent part of my identity is falling even further away from me. I left Montreal, I'm leaving Epione, am I leaving improv? Is that part of the larger choice I've made? It's a scary thought. I love improv, I love how it makes me feel, I love making people laugh, I love being creative, I love performing. That's a lot of love to lose!
The only advice I have for myself is to live by these rules: Smile, Breathe, Be In the Moment, Say Yes, Make Others Look Good, Listen, Be Positive.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
I'm Back So I Can Leave
Hi Blogosphere,
It's been 2 years, 5 months and 1 day since I last posted. Holy Be-Jesus. Why did I come back? Good question, self. It's not because I went through another break up, so you don't need to worry about that. I did go through a few in the past couple years, but that is inconsequential right now. No, I've got bigger fish to fry...
In exactly 4 weeks, on October 21st, 2008, I am moving to Israel. Moving for good. Well, statistically speaking not for good, as most bourgeois Americans like me give up on Israel after 2 or 3 years, but theoretically speaking FOREVER! This, as you might gather, is a big deal. Because it's a big deal, I decided to reopen the ol' Blog for business. It seems to be a good place for me to process and for friends to keep inside my deluded head.
I think this is a good idea, writing again. I like writing. I've been doing it a lot over the past two years in my job and I think I've got a certain knack for it. I'm no Said the Gramophone-er or anything, don't get me wrong, I just think I have a pleasant cadence - if one can even have cadence in writing. It's also a good idea because recently my friend Arin was visiting and she pointed out to me that I process things out loud. As in, I don't sit in a room and think about things, I sit with a friend and think about things otherwise I just don't think about things. In this case, you the readers are my friends and writing is me talking out loud.
So, we'll see how this thing goes. Hopefully I won't disappoint and prompt a new waitingforgbrowdy.blogspot.com.
Rock rock on,
Gil
It's been 2 years, 5 months and 1 day since I last posted. Holy Be-Jesus. Why did I come back? Good question, self. It's not because I went through another break up, so you don't need to worry about that. I did go through a few in the past couple years, but that is inconsequential right now. No, I've got bigger fish to fry...
In exactly 4 weeks, on October 21st, 2008, I am moving to Israel. Moving for good. Well, statistically speaking not for good, as most bourgeois Americans like me give up on Israel after 2 or 3 years, but theoretically speaking FOREVER! This, as you might gather, is a big deal. Because it's a big deal, I decided to reopen the ol' Blog for business. It seems to be a good place for me to process and for friends to keep inside my deluded head.
I think this is a good idea, writing again. I like writing. I've been doing it a lot over the past two years in my job and I think I've got a certain knack for it. I'm no Said the Gramophone-er or anything, don't get me wrong, I just think I have a pleasant cadence - if one can even have cadence in writing. It's also a good idea because recently my friend Arin was visiting and she pointed out to me that I process things out loud. As in, I don't sit in a room and think about things, I sit with a friend and think about things otherwise I just don't think about things. In this case, you the readers are my friends and writing is me talking out loud.
So, we'll see how this thing goes. Hopefully I won't disappoint and prompt a new waitingforgbrowdy.blogspot.com.
Rock rock on,
Gil
Saturday, April 22, 2006
A Short Treatise on the Nature of Friendship and Its Relation to the Blogosphere
Hi Buddies,
Recently, the reason that I haven't been posting as much has become apparent to me. Yes, it has to do with laziness, and yes, it has to do with procrastination, but frankly there is more to it than that. I think I really have friends!
That may sound odd, but I mean it. You see, ever since I moved to Montreal with Lindsey, I never really felt like I had very close friends here. Sure, I had fun with people and enjoyed them, but I never felt like I was connecting with people. As a reference, check out Thursday, September 29, 2005: Those Weak of Heart and Mind, Stop Here.
But now, I really feel like I have close friends here. I've really developed deep and meaningful connections with a lot of people. I talk openly and honestly with people, I am candid about my emotions with them, and they reciprocate! I have friends I talk to about sexuality, friends I talk to about relationships, friends I talk to about my feelings, friends I talk to about epic fantasy novels (Holla, Vinny!). I have friends that openly talk about the last time they cried! Its wonderful. It makes life feel fuller.
Of course it also has side effects. It has taken its toll of my blog. In the beginning my blog transformed very quickly from a random thought depository into a way for me to communicate my feelings in general to all those that cared. It really helped me deal with my recent tragedy with Lindsey.
And perhaps that's the very reason I have started opening up to friends. No longer having one consistent person to always turn to, I've needed to cope. So, I've moved away from just blogging to actually talking to people. It's quite a novel idea...talking to people face to face rather than writing a virtual diary that is open to anyone for reading.
Anyway, I wanted to use this space today to thank all my friends here in Montreal. You know who you are...and I don't, so I don't want to list you all and forget someone. But you are all very special to me. You've made my life a pleasure these past few months.
Ironically, this all had to happen just before I leave Montreal for good and perhaps never see some of you again. My friends are such important parts of my life, I don't want to look back in a couple months when I'm gone and have to think of them as "my college friends". How could these important figures ever fall under the generic boring and distant label "college friends"?
[Insert Sentimental Ending Note]
[Burst into tears dramatically]
[Exeunt]
Recently, the reason that I haven't been posting as much has become apparent to me. Yes, it has to do with laziness, and yes, it has to do with procrastination, but frankly there is more to it than that. I think I really have friends!
That may sound odd, but I mean it. You see, ever since I moved to Montreal with Lindsey, I never really felt like I had very close friends here. Sure, I had fun with people and enjoyed them, but I never felt like I was connecting with people. As a reference, check out Thursday, September 29, 2005: Those Weak of Heart and Mind, Stop Here.
But now, I really feel like I have close friends here. I've really developed deep and meaningful connections with a lot of people. I talk openly and honestly with people, I am candid about my emotions with them, and they reciprocate! I have friends I talk to about sexuality, friends I talk to about relationships, friends I talk to about my feelings, friends I talk to about epic fantasy novels (Holla, Vinny!). I have friends that openly talk about the last time they cried! Its wonderful. It makes life feel fuller.
Of course it also has side effects. It has taken its toll of my blog. In the beginning my blog transformed very quickly from a random thought depository into a way for me to communicate my feelings in general to all those that cared. It really helped me deal with my recent tragedy with Lindsey.
And perhaps that's the very reason I have started opening up to friends. No longer having one consistent person to always turn to, I've needed to cope. So, I've moved away from just blogging to actually talking to people. It's quite a novel idea...talking to people face to face rather than writing a virtual diary that is open to anyone for reading.
Anyway, I wanted to use this space today to thank all my friends here in Montreal. You know who you are...and I don't, so I don't want to list you all and forget someone. But you are all very special to me. You've made my life a pleasure these past few months.
Ironically, this all had to happen just before I leave Montreal for good and perhaps never see some of you again. My friends are such important parts of my life, I don't want to look back in a couple months when I'm gone and have to think of them as "my college friends". How could these important figures ever fall under the generic boring and distant label "college friends"?
[Insert Sentimental Ending Note]
[Burst into tears dramatically]
[Exeunt]
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Fresh Starts
Hello?
Today I was walking home, down the quiet street of Villeneuve, and I was listening to Beck's Odelay. Suddenly, I could here a loud ringing over the cool funk-country-alt-rock-white-soul rhythms of Beck. I lifted my headphones and my eardrums embraced the loving sound of church bells. In this most Catholic of cities, one little Jew found himself surrounded by the celebratory sounds of Easter bells ringing, and that little Jew was content. At that point I decided I needed a fresh start to things. Hey, if Jesus can, why not me?
So here I am. I want to start a new path of my life. On my current path I am a procrastinator, a hard-freakin-core procrastinator. I adjusted my life and routines until now around that fact. I did the minimal work necessary throughout all my schooling and waited until the last moment to complete that work. I would always put things off until people were breathing down my neck. But I've now entered an important phase of life where deadlines have simply ceased to be. All of a sudden I must be self-motivated. For the past four months, though, I've still been trying to avoid facing up to this fact. Hell, I've been procrastinating writing in my blog!
So, listening to those loud pure tones ringing across the city, I had a little revelation. I am going to start doing things. There are too many hours in the day wasted. There are too many times I know exactly what I could be doing and not doing it. I'm sick of laying in bed at night knowing exactly what I am not doing. You know the expression, "How do you sleep at night?" Well, I actually have trouble sleeping at night with the guilt I lay upon myself for procrastinating so much. But no more!
I have a job where I need to work on my own time, and I try to procrastinate. I could be making buttloads of money, literally buttloads, but I make the minimum because I procrastinate. No more!
I am currently the head of a summer camp. As summer approaches I have more and more responsibilities piling up which I try to put off. In the end, the camp will suffer. No more!
I am moving to New York in August to begin my tenure as the Mazkir (General Secretary, Executive Director, etc.) of my youth movement. It is a privileged position which I can use to make positive changes in the movement, nay, the world! Or I could procrastinate and let the movement remain stagnant for two years. No more!
In a few hours I am walking to Dan's house for Easter brunch. I will enter a new man. People will see me and bask in the light of...of...what's the opposite of procrastination? The light of getting shit done!
Today I was walking home, down the quiet street of Villeneuve, and I was listening to Beck's Odelay. Suddenly, I could here a loud ringing over the cool funk-country-alt-rock-white-soul rhythms of Beck. I lifted my headphones and my eardrums embraced the loving sound of church bells. In this most Catholic of cities, one little Jew found himself surrounded by the celebratory sounds of Easter bells ringing, and that little Jew was content. At that point I decided I needed a fresh start to things. Hey, if Jesus can, why not me?
So here I am. I want to start a new path of my life. On my current path I am a procrastinator, a hard-freakin-core procrastinator. I adjusted my life and routines until now around that fact. I did the minimal work necessary throughout all my schooling and waited until the last moment to complete that work. I would always put things off until people were breathing down my neck. But I've now entered an important phase of life where deadlines have simply ceased to be. All of a sudden I must be self-motivated. For the past four months, though, I've still been trying to avoid facing up to this fact. Hell, I've been procrastinating writing in my blog!
So, listening to those loud pure tones ringing across the city, I had a little revelation. I am going to start doing things. There are too many hours in the day wasted. There are too many times I know exactly what I could be doing and not doing it. I'm sick of laying in bed at night knowing exactly what I am not doing. You know the expression, "How do you sleep at night?" Well, I actually have trouble sleeping at night with the guilt I lay upon myself for procrastinating so much. But no more!
I have a job where I need to work on my own time, and I try to procrastinate. I could be making buttloads of money, literally buttloads, but I make the minimum because I procrastinate. No more!
I am currently the head of a summer camp. As summer approaches I have more and more responsibilities piling up which I try to put off. In the end, the camp will suffer. No more!
I am moving to New York in August to begin my tenure as the Mazkir (General Secretary, Executive Director, etc.) of my youth movement. It is a privileged position which I can use to make positive changes in the movement, nay, the world! Or I could procrastinate and let the movement remain stagnant for two years. No more!
In a few hours I am walking to Dan's house for Easter brunch. I will enter a new man. People will see me and bask in the light of...of...what's the opposite of procrastination? The light of getting shit done!
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Asking For Sense
Yo,
So there is this neat little service (that is free at the moment) in which you send in any question, ANY question, and it sends you back two human generated responses. It's so neat, I really like it. Just send an email to q@askforcents.com
It may be apparent to some people, but I can get pretty bitter about this whole "relationship end" thing. So, I decided to send a question in to ol' Q to see what he/she has to say about it.
Q: Why did she leave me?
A1: She found someone else she liked better.
Woah! How the hell could they know that context free? Is my story so boring and overdone that the simple unprovoked question of why she left elicits my exact situation?
A2: The hour was up.
A little less specific, but no less applicable to my life. Lindsey certainly had up and decided that the time had come and she didn't want to be with me anymore, she didn't love me anymore.
Anyway, then I decided to dig deeper. I asked about my future instead of my past.
Q: Should I make the next move, or does she really not want to be in a relationship?
A1: Move on, she is done with you
A2: Try first, if it doesn't work, there's no hard feelings
Uh oh, cognitive dissonance!
Anyway, for you, my readers', pleasure, a more frivolous question:
Q: Who is the prettiest celebrity of them all and where can I find a decent picture of him/her?
A1: Isabella Rossellini
A2: Scarlet Johansson
And, lastly, I leave you with a question -
Q: I have a $300 plane ticket to anywhere, and I have to book by Feb. 27th. Where should I go?
A: ...
So there is this neat little service (that is free at the moment) in which you send in any question, ANY question, and it sends you back two human generated responses. It's so neat, I really like it. Just send an email to q@askforcents.com
It may be apparent to some people, but I can get pretty bitter about this whole "relationship end" thing. So, I decided to send a question in to ol' Q to see what he/she has to say about it.
Q: Why did she leave me?
A1: She found someone else she liked better.
Woah! How the hell could they know that context free? Is my story so boring and overdone that the simple unprovoked question of why she left elicits my exact situation?
A2: The hour was up.
A little less specific, but no less applicable to my life. Lindsey certainly had up and decided that the time had come and she didn't want to be with me anymore, she didn't love me anymore.
Anyway, then I decided to dig deeper. I asked about my future instead of my past.
Q: Should I make the next move, or does she really not want to be in a relationship?
A1: Move on, she is done with you
A2: Try first, if it doesn't work, there's no hard feelings
Uh oh, cognitive dissonance!
Anyway, for you, my readers', pleasure, a more frivolous question:
Q: Who is the prettiest celebrity of them all and where can I find a decent picture of him/her?
A1: Isabella Rossellini
A2: Scarlet Johansson
And, lastly, I leave you with a question -
Q: I have a $300 plane ticket to anywhere, and I have to book by Feb. 27th. Where should I go?
A: ...
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
A Painful Step
Hi There,
Well, as I have climbed my Summit of Sadness, I've had to take one painful step after another. I guess that's how a Sadness Summit works.
A few days ago I was talking to a close friend who keeps in touch with Lindsey and she told me that Lindsey is still seeing this guy, which is the whole reason I got angry. It sounds trite and shallow when breezed over in my blog, but believe me, quite the story goes along with it. Anyway, finding this out left me feeling new feelings. I knew that had I ever felt like talking to Lindsey I would only want to ask her about him, which is a shitty thing that's not worth talking about anyway. So, finding this out now put me in a position where I knew the answer and wouldn't have to ask Lindsey were I ever to talk to her.
This set in motion a few events. Firstly, I immediately broke down into tears. It was a good cry, one that was a long time coming. It felt good, letting myself be swept over by so much of my pent up pain and unhappiness. Without my wall of anger, the levies disappeared and I was flooded with salty sadness.
Secondly, I realized I wasn't as angry anymore. My anger was truly turning into plain old sadness, a much more manageable emotion for me. I had accepted that whatever Lindsey did, it was her decision and she obviously made the right decision for her if she is still with the guy. So, what was there to be angry about? The Lindsey I knew and loved ceased to be, and this new Lindsey had no problem tearing my heart to shreds in order to make a decision that ultimately seemed to make her happier.
Thirdly, I got in touch with Lindsey and asked her if she wanted to grab a cup of coffee. It was a bold move, but I feel like I am ready to normalize relations. One other catalyst for this event was that a bunch of my close friends gathered in Toronto this past weekend, and it was so clear that I should have been there and the only reason I wasn't was because of the stupid break-up.
So, last night I met with Lindsey face to face just to chat for the first time in three months.
To be brief, it went better than I ever could have expected. There was no yelling, there was no arguing. There was honestly, there was a bit of crying, and there was just nice talking. It started out as just small talk, but I was making a concious effort not to be emotionally distant like I had been in the previous times I ran into her. Eventually I steered the conversation into talking about US.
I capitalized that to make it seem like a big deal. And it was. We hadn't talked about US for months. She asked why I had been so angry for so long, and I told her exactly how I felt my trust had been broken. I told her that I realized there are no good answers to my questions, and that they are better asked rhetorically. She asked for an example. I gave an example - Why was it suddenly an OK decision to hide her true feelings about this guy even though our relationship was built on and functioned quite well on the basic precept of honesty and openness?
Lindsey said some interesting things. She told me that I was a perfect boyfriend. I did everything right and that's why things were so difficult for her to figure out towards the end. She also told me that things may be obscured by the fact that she has been in a pseudo-relationship with this guy since our break-up, but she wanted to reassure me that she was confident that was not the reason she ended the relatiobship.
I told her that I have no reason to trust her when she says that.
We both cried, but in the end I truly believe that it was a good experience.
Hopefully this painful step will take me quite a bit closer to that summit.
Well, as I have climbed my Summit of Sadness, I've had to take one painful step after another. I guess that's how a Sadness Summit works.
A few days ago I was talking to a close friend who keeps in touch with Lindsey and she told me that Lindsey is still seeing this guy, which is the whole reason I got angry. It sounds trite and shallow when breezed over in my blog, but believe me, quite the story goes along with it. Anyway, finding this out left me feeling new feelings. I knew that had I ever felt like talking to Lindsey I would only want to ask her about him, which is a shitty thing that's not worth talking about anyway. So, finding this out now put me in a position where I knew the answer and wouldn't have to ask Lindsey were I ever to talk to her.
This set in motion a few events. Firstly, I immediately broke down into tears. It was a good cry, one that was a long time coming. It felt good, letting myself be swept over by so much of my pent up pain and unhappiness. Without my wall of anger, the levies disappeared and I was flooded with salty sadness.
Secondly, I realized I wasn't as angry anymore. My anger was truly turning into plain old sadness, a much more manageable emotion for me. I had accepted that whatever Lindsey did, it was her decision and she obviously made the right decision for her if she is still with the guy. So, what was there to be angry about? The Lindsey I knew and loved ceased to be, and this new Lindsey had no problem tearing my heart to shreds in order to make a decision that ultimately seemed to make her happier.
Thirdly, I got in touch with Lindsey and asked her if she wanted to grab a cup of coffee. It was a bold move, but I feel like I am ready to normalize relations. One other catalyst for this event was that a bunch of my close friends gathered in Toronto this past weekend, and it was so clear that I should have been there and the only reason I wasn't was because of the stupid break-up.
So, last night I met with Lindsey face to face just to chat for the first time in three months.
To be brief, it went better than I ever could have expected. There was no yelling, there was no arguing. There was honestly, there was a bit of crying, and there was just nice talking. It started out as just small talk, but I was making a concious effort not to be emotionally distant like I had been in the previous times I ran into her. Eventually I steered the conversation into talking about US.
I capitalized that to make it seem like a big deal. And it was. We hadn't talked about US for months. She asked why I had been so angry for so long, and I told her exactly how I felt my trust had been broken. I told her that I realized there are no good answers to my questions, and that they are better asked rhetorically. She asked for an example. I gave an example - Why was it suddenly an OK decision to hide her true feelings about this guy even though our relationship was built on and functioned quite well on the basic precept of honesty and openness?
Lindsey said some interesting things. She told me that I was a perfect boyfriend. I did everything right and that's why things were so difficult for her to figure out towards the end. She also told me that things may be obscured by the fact that she has been in a pseudo-relationship with this guy since our break-up, but she wanted to reassure me that she was confident that was not the reason she ended the relatiobship.
I told her that I have no reason to trust her when she says that.
We both cried, but in the end I truly believe that it was a good experience.
Hopefully this painful step will take me quite a bit closer to that summit.
Friday, February 03, 2006
The Summit of Sadness
Yo,
Today I was supposed to take a nice drive down to New York City with my good friends Immanuela and Dave. I was pretty psyched because a) Dave is pseudo-famous and I was name dropping like crazy and b) I figured it would be tons of fun with them.
Unfortunately, this morning at 10am (keep in mind we were scheduled to leave at 2:30pm) Dave called telling me this weekend turns out not to be so good for extenuating circumstances.
Well, I certainly wasn't about to drive down to NYC by myself. I ain't no bitch, plus it would suck. So, now I'm planning on bussing down, leaving at 11:45pm and arriving at 7:15am. The trip is actually an hour shorter than a day trip because there is only one rest stop. So, bonus!
Another bonus is that I get to see the Summit! I was worried I was going to miss the Improv Summit this weekend and ALSO Vaganza (the 24 hour show) next month. Now at least I get to see one, and even party a little bit afterwards! Wahoo!
Now back to the regularly scheduled program of me talking about my feelings and bullshit like that.
This past weekend I was in Lake Tahoe with my bros and friends. I was the youngest person there by about five years which was a little bit awkward.
What's interesting is the way my personality changes when I'm around my brothers. They are both kind of loud and obnoxious and they like being funny. In general I am very similar to them. But when I'm around them, I quiet myself. I stay almost totally silent. I don't make jokes, I don't act funny, nothing.
I think I really just want to distance myself from what I see in them. I find my brothers so annoying and childish and repulsive sometimes. I'm really scared that that is what I'm like to other people.
An unexpected side effect to my sitting quietly for long periods of time is that I had a lot of time to think. I ended thinking of Lindsey a lot. I got sad. I think my anger is generally subsiding, and now I get really sad when I think back on what I've lost. I think that's a good thing, because I've been waiting for the unbearable sadness to kick in. Frankly, I should be feeling that after five good years are so viciously ripped away from me.
Yay for sadness.
Today I was supposed to take a nice drive down to New York City with my good friends Immanuela and Dave. I was pretty psyched because a) Dave is pseudo-famous and I was name dropping like crazy and b) I figured it would be tons of fun with them.
Unfortunately, this morning at 10am (keep in mind we were scheduled to leave at 2:30pm) Dave called telling me this weekend turns out not to be so good for extenuating circumstances.
Well, I certainly wasn't about to drive down to NYC by myself. I ain't no bitch, plus it would suck. So, now I'm planning on bussing down, leaving at 11:45pm and arriving at 7:15am. The trip is actually an hour shorter than a day trip because there is only one rest stop. So, bonus!
Another bonus is that I get to see the Summit! I was worried I was going to miss the Improv Summit this weekend and ALSO Vaganza (the 24 hour show) next month. Now at least I get to see one, and even party a little bit afterwards! Wahoo!
Now back to the regularly scheduled program of me talking about my feelings and bullshit like that.
This past weekend I was in Lake Tahoe with my bros and friends. I was the youngest person there by about five years which was a little bit awkward.
What's interesting is the way my personality changes when I'm around my brothers. They are both kind of loud and obnoxious and they like being funny. In general I am very similar to them. But when I'm around them, I quiet myself. I stay almost totally silent. I don't make jokes, I don't act funny, nothing.
I think I really just want to distance myself from what I see in them. I find my brothers so annoying and childish and repulsive sometimes. I'm really scared that that is what I'm like to other people.
An unexpected side effect to my sitting quietly for long periods of time is that I had a lot of time to think. I ended thinking of Lindsey a lot. I got sad. I think my anger is generally subsiding, and now I get really sad when I think back on what I've lost. I think that's a good thing, because I've been waiting for the unbearable sadness to kick in. Frankly, I should be feeling that after five good years are so viciously ripped away from me.
Yay for sadness.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
On the Relevance of Spoons
Hiya,
One thing I really miss about monogamy is sleeping next to someone. It has to be one of my favorite things. Lindsey and I moved in together in May and we got to sleep next to each other every night. It was so wonderful.
I think it represents one of the greatest things about a relationship. It gives me a total sense of security. Deep down, I think I'm still afraid of the dark. Having someone next to me, someone I love and trust, fills me with comfort. It keeps me warm, both physically and emotionally. It is intimate in a totally wonderful way.
I don't like sleeping alone. I like snuggling, I like spooning.
I like being the little spoon.
---
I met up with Lindsey today for the first time in months.
Wow, I can't believe it's really been months! That's so sad.
We had to clear up some money stuff. I wasn't really ready to talk to her about my feelings, seeing as how I'm still pretty upset with her and her actions. I was just there to drop off some money and to pick up some stray things that were still at the house.
The whole time I was there I was so emotionally distant. I felt like I was watching myself talk to her. My voice was so hollow, I didn't laugh or smile, but we did talk a little. We caught up a little. It was really just an exchange of pleasantries.
In truth, it wasn't so pleasant.
One thing I really miss about monogamy is sleeping next to someone. It has to be one of my favorite things. Lindsey and I moved in together in May and we got to sleep next to each other every night. It was so wonderful.
I think it represents one of the greatest things about a relationship. It gives me a total sense of security. Deep down, I think I'm still afraid of the dark. Having someone next to me, someone I love and trust, fills me with comfort. It keeps me warm, both physically and emotionally. It is intimate in a totally wonderful way.
I don't like sleeping alone. I like snuggling, I like spooning.
I like being the little spoon.
---
I met up with Lindsey today for the first time in months.
Wow, I can't believe it's really been months! That's so sad.
We had to clear up some money stuff. I wasn't really ready to talk to her about my feelings, seeing as how I'm still pretty upset with her and her actions. I was just there to drop off some money and to pick up some stray things that were still at the house.
The whole time I was there I was so emotionally distant. I felt like I was watching myself talk to her. My voice was so hollow, I didn't laugh or smile, but we did talk a little. We caught up a little. It was really just an exchange of pleasantries.
In truth, it wasn't so pleasant.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Someone to Keep Me Warm
Hi All,
Ever since Workshop, Lindsey has been a super knitter. One of her very first projects ever was a scarf for me. She asked me what colors I'd like, I chose grey and black. I'm all about solids. It was a masterful creation. It changed widths continuously as Lindsey desperately tried to keep an even stitch count. In the end, one side wass two to three times as wide as the other. I have kept it and worn it ever since a) because it's warm, and b) to remind Lindsey that she wasn't always a master.
Lindsey also made me a great little brown and green tuque. It was perfect for mildly chilly days and it was hip looking. It was also from Lindsey's early days of knitting, but I always considered it one of her best creations and I wore it all the time. I called it "The Spring Tuque."
Yesterday was the first day I wore a scarf and tuque not made by Lindsey. It wasn't really on purpose. In Israel I received an amazing Habo tuque which I wear with pride now, and I found a slick black Nautica fleece scarf in my room. I just changed over to those. But to me it has meaning beyond that. I always wore Lindsey's knitted wear with pride, even if it wasn't the best quality. Now I don't really have that pride. I don't care. I'd rather just wear what's warmest. I guess it's just another step in distancing myself from her and everything she used to mean to me.
On a completely different note, in the past two days two people on completely seperate occasions encouraged me to get with Lauren because "she's hot." I wish I could just hand people a nice little letter that explained what I've been through in the past little while, what my previous relationship was like, and how I am now totally lost and scared when dealing with women.
That would really simplify things.
Ever since Workshop, Lindsey has been a super knitter. One of her very first projects ever was a scarf for me. She asked me what colors I'd like, I chose grey and black. I'm all about solids. It was a masterful creation. It changed widths continuously as Lindsey desperately tried to keep an even stitch count. In the end, one side wass two to three times as wide as the other. I have kept it and worn it ever since a) because it's warm, and b) to remind Lindsey that she wasn't always a master.
Lindsey also made me a great little brown and green tuque. It was perfect for mildly chilly days and it was hip looking. It was also from Lindsey's early days of knitting, but I always considered it one of her best creations and I wore it all the time. I called it "The Spring Tuque."
Yesterday was the first day I wore a scarf and tuque not made by Lindsey. It wasn't really on purpose. In Israel I received an amazing Habo tuque which I wear with pride now, and I found a slick black Nautica fleece scarf in my room. I just changed over to those. But to me it has meaning beyond that. I always wore Lindsey's knitted wear with pride, even if it wasn't the best quality. Now I don't really have that pride. I don't care. I'd rather just wear what's warmest. I guess it's just another step in distancing myself from her and everything she used to mean to me.
On a completely different note, in the past two days two people on completely seperate occasions encouraged me to get with Lauren because "she's hot." I wish I could just hand people a nice little letter that explained what I've been through in the past little while, what my previous relationship was like, and how I am now totally lost and scared when dealing with women.
That would really simplify things.
Monday, January 16, 2006
Questions
Hello,
Surprise! I posted!
So in the past couple days I've been asked by multiple people if I've moved on from the break up. In fact, to quote one person, "Are you interested in other girls yet, or are you still heartbroken?" My reply: "I'm still heartbroken, thanks for asking."
Its weird, its been a little less than three months. Should I be moving on? Should I be with other girls? Should I be...dating?! I don't know.
I do hang out with Lauren a lot. I enjoy being with her. I go to movies with her. I helped her build her bed. Is that dating? I don't think so. I just really enjoy hanging out with her. When does it turn into dating though? Is it just a matter of intentionality? Or is that too post-modern of me? Stupid postmodernism.
--Focus shift--
I sometimes look at Lindsey's name hanging in my IM list and consider clicking it. It would be so nice to talk to her. I imagine it in my head being so relieving and feeling so good. But then I remember that the Lindsey I want to talk to isn't behind that IM name. Its someone else. I would just be looking for something that isn't there. And then I get sad when I look at it.
--Focus shift--
I've been making a lot of jokes about my breakup. I guess it should seem obvious that I am using humor to deal with my sadness considering my lifestyle and personality. But I am constantly surprised by what comes out of my mouth.
Example: I was at breakfast talking about football and I commented on how Seattle beating Washington was like a symbol of Lindsey breaking my heart, because she is from Seattle and I Washington. It wasn't a particularly good joke, but I didn't make any promises here.
Although its a way with dealing with it, it still makes me sad. It hurts to make those jokes. So, why do I even make the jokes?
And it can be awkward. Its kind of like Holocaust jokes.
Oh jeez. Did I just compare my breakup with Lindsey to the Holocaust?
This is awkward.
Surprise! I posted!
So in the past couple days I've been asked by multiple people if I've moved on from the break up. In fact, to quote one person, "Are you interested in other girls yet, or are you still heartbroken?" My reply: "I'm still heartbroken, thanks for asking."
Its weird, its been a little less than three months. Should I be moving on? Should I be with other girls? Should I be...dating?! I don't know.
I do hang out with Lauren a lot. I enjoy being with her. I go to movies with her. I helped her build her bed. Is that dating? I don't think so. I just really enjoy hanging out with her. When does it turn into dating though? Is it just a matter of intentionality? Or is that too post-modern of me? Stupid postmodernism.
--Focus shift--
I sometimes look at Lindsey's name hanging in my IM list and consider clicking it. It would be so nice to talk to her. I imagine it in my head being so relieving and feeling so good. But then I remember that the Lindsey I want to talk to isn't behind that IM name. Its someone else. I would just be looking for something that isn't there. And then I get sad when I look at it.
--Focus shift--
I've been making a lot of jokes about my breakup. I guess it should seem obvious that I am using humor to deal with my sadness considering my lifestyle and personality. But I am constantly surprised by what comes out of my mouth.
Example: I was at breakfast talking about football and I commented on how Seattle beating Washington was like a symbol of Lindsey breaking my heart, because she is from Seattle and I Washington. It wasn't a particularly good joke, but I didn't make any promises here.
Although its a way with dealing with it, it still makes me sad. It hurts to make those jokes. So, why do I even make the jokes?
And it can be awkward. Its kind of like Holocaust jokes.
Oh jeez. Did I just compare my breakup with Lindsey to the Holocaust?
This is awkward.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Chronicles and Then Some
Hiya,
Today is a great day to post because my general feelings I want to post about coincide perfectly with Part II of the Chronicles I started a while back. So, lets start with the Chronicles:
The Chronicles Part II: Workshop Begins
When I flew into Israel I didn't know that many people on the program. There were dozens of new faces for me, whereas other people seemed to know each other already. That didn't matter all that much because the atmosphere at the beginning of a year long program is definitely one which helps you meet people. So I milled about making friends the first few days on a lovely little villa type place called Givat Shemesh.
I quickly met and got along with Lindsey. One of my strongest memories of those first few days was me and Lindsey dancing together in the swimming pool. I would hold her up and sing to her and spin her around. It was all friendly, I had no notions of sex or whatnot. In fact, that was one of the great things about the start of our relationship, there was little to no sexual tension to screw up our emotional connection. I had had a weird experience in the first few days of Workshop where a girl asked me if she could be the one to take my virginity. I was caught totally off guard by it, and my sexual drive kind of hid itself away in response.
After Givat Shemesh we moved to a little known Kibbutz in the Galil called Chanaton. We were having an intense seminar to prepare us for our upcoming trip to Poland. Our group really started bonding with each other. We had rooftop sing-alongs, people were making out left and right, it was great.
Lindsey and I had our first amazing connection here. We were lying down in a room together listening to music, one bud in each ear. I was playing my CDs for her, she had never really listened to the music I listened to. We were really enjoying it, but it was growing late and she had no intention of sleeping in my bed. She tried to pull away, but I said she had to stay for the rest of the song, it was only courtesy. She agreed and we layed together to the sweet tunes of Led Zeppelin's "Fool in the Rain". From that day forth it was our song, and it was a really meaningful moment for our relationship.
Our relationship continued to blossom on Chanaton, we listened to music, we talked, we had a lazy afternoon lap together on the grass all by ourselves. After Chanaton we had a week in Poland which was intense. Lindsey and I sat with each other on the bus rides and talked and had fun. After Poland we had four days of hiking through the north of Israel. We slept next to each other under the stars every night and talked. At times things became pretty deep and intense, conversation even evoked tears at times, but it was just a measure of how close we were. Still by this time there was no sexual tension, it was all sharing emotions and connecting mentally. It was great.
Things entered a whole new phase, though, once we arrived on Kibbutz. Tune in for the next Chronicles chapter: Life on Kibbutz!
So, thats the background. Here is the foreground.
I was just in Israel on a great trip for the past ten days. We travelled and challenged our thoughts on the present state and future of the movement. It was so fun, and the 20-ish people with me were all awesome.
One of the places we stayed at on the trip was Kibbutz Chanaton. I was overwhelmed with memories. I was not expecting to have such a strong reaction to the Kibbutz, but everywhere I turned I saw another spot of immense emotional association. I even walked into the very room where Lindsey had our music listening moment.
I couldn't hold it in at all. I burst into tears numerous times there. It reminded me so strongly of when things were perfect with Lindsey and me. I hed totally eliminated that from my mind since the break-up and especially so since things got really bad between us.
What was so painful is that I truly believe that the Lindsey of my memories is gone forever. The Lindsey that exists now is someone different, someone who doesn't want to be with me, someone who could so easily break my heart.
Suffice to say that I finally got that crying done that I've been waiting for for so long. And yes, Jamie played a very large role in that. She was on the trip with me and she was there for me when I was crying. I appreciate her so much, and don't tell Rufus, but I think that I may be spending a LOT of time with her in the next two years. So thats good.
Anyway, I'm back in Montreal now. I have to get my life in order, get a job, graduate, etc. Call me if you want to hang out, or if you just want to chat, or whatever.
And hopefully waitingforgbrowdy.blogspot.com can quit their bitching now.
Today is a great day to post because my general feelings I want to post about coincide perfectly with Part II of the Chronicles I started a while back. So, lets start with the Chronicles:
The Chronicles Part II: Workshop Begins
When I flew into Israel I didn't know that many people on the program. There were dozens of new faces for me, whereas other people seemed to know each other already. That didn't matter all that much because the atmosphere at the beginning of a year long program is definitely one which helps you meet people. So I milled about making friends the first few days on a lovely little villa type place called Givat Shemesh.
I quickly met and got along with Lindsey. One of my strongest memories of those first few days was me and Lindsey dancing together in the swimming pool. I would hold her up and sing to her and spin her around. It was all friendly, I had no notions of sex or whatnot. In fact, that was one of the great things about the start of our relationship, there was little to no sexual tension to screw up our emotional connection. I had had a weird experience in the first few days of Workshop where a girl asked me if she could be the one to take my virginity. I was caught totally off guard by it, and my sexual drive kind of hid itself away in response.
After Givat Shemesh we moved to a little known Kibbutz in the Galil called Chanaton. We were having an intense seminar to prepare us for our upcoming trip to Poland. Our group really started bonding with each other. We had rooftop sing-alongs, people were making out left and right, it was great.
Lindsey and I had our first amazing connection here. We were lying down in a room together listening to music, one bud in each ear. I was playing my CDs for her, she had never really listened to the music I listened to. We were really enjoying it, but it was growing late and she had no intention of sleeping in my bed. She tried to pull away, but I said she had to stay for the rest of the song, it was only courtesy. She agreed and we layed together to the sweet tunes of Led Zeppelin's "Fool in the Rain". From that day forth it was our song, and it was a really meaningful moment for our relationship.
Our relationship continued to blossom on Chanaton, we listened to music, we talked, we had a lazy afternoon lap together on the grass all by ourselves. After Chanaton we had a week in Poland which was intense. Lindsey and I sat with each other on the bus rides and talked and had fun. After Poland we had four days of hiking through the north of Israel. We slept next to each other under the stars every night and talked. At times things became pretty deep and intense, conversation even evoked tears at times, but it was just a measure of how close we were. Still by this time there was no sexual tension, it was all sharing emotions and connecting mentally. It was great.
Things entered a whole new phase, though, once we arrived on Kibbutz. Tune in for the next Chronicles chapter: Life on Kibbutz!
So, thats the background. Here is the foreground.
I was just in Israel on a great trip for the past ten days. We travelled and challenged our thoughts on the present state and future of the movement. It was so fun, and the 20-ish people with me were all awesome.
One of the places we stayed at on the trip was Kibbutz Chanaton. I was overwhelmed with memories. I was not expecting to have such a strong reaction to the Kibbutz, but everywhere I turned I saw another spot of immense emotional association. I even walked into the very room where Lindsey had our music listening moment.
I couldn't hold it in at all. I burst into tears numerous times there. It reminded me so strongly of when things were perfect with Lindsey and me. I hed totally eliminated that from my mind since the break-up and especially so since things got really bad between us.
What was so painful is that I truly believe that the Lindsey of my memories is gone forever. The Lindsey that exists now is someone different, someone who doesn't want to be with me, someone who could so easily break my heart.
Suffice to say that I finally got that crying done that I've been waiting for for so long. And yes, Jamie played a very large role in that. She was on the trip with me and she was there for me when I was crying. I appreciate her so much, and don't tell Rufus, but I think that I may be spending a LOT of time with her in the next two years. So thats good.
Anyway, I'm back in Montreal now. I have to get my life in order, get a job, graduate, etc. Call me if you want to hang out, or if you just want to chat, or whatever.
And hopefully waitingforgbrowdy.blogspot.com can quit their bitching now.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Music To My Ears
Hi All,
First, let me publically apologize to Zach. He has been pushing me to post for much too long and I have shirked that responsibility. Sorry, Zach. I still love you.
So, as of today, about 47 days after the seperation, I still have yet to have a serious good cry. Its getting painful, and frankly I want to cry in sympathy for myself. I am not sure why this is happening, but I know that I have not felt totally comfortable anywhere yet. I am soon going to be with my close friend Jamie for 2 straight weeks, and hopefully I will bathe her in salty delicious tears of pain.
But, if there is one thing that can get me close to tears, it's music. Music has always played a powerful role in my life. I love music and I think music loves me. Hopefully, one day music will NOT come home and end it with me out of nowhere.
Bitterness aside, certain songs really hit me hard...
[Editors Note: This is a long list. You have been forewarned!]
The number one song so far that really hurts to listen to is Carole King, "It's Too Late".
The killer chorus lyrics: Something inside has died and I can't hide and I just can't fake it
When Carole first sang this to me about 7 days after the end of my love, I was shocked to hear what Lindsey was unable to tell me at that point. It was so crystal clear and well sung by Carole, and I appreciated her straightforward attitude about it. No dancing around the truth of the matter, looking for the perfect words. All it needs is a little alliteration and a catchy tune. I love you Carole.
Interesting side story: I did a monologue on music for Uno, my long form improv show. I didn't want to talk about breaking up on stage, so I just briefly mentioned that music affects me strongly, and particularly Carole King. At intermission, Immanuela, a fellow improviser, approached me and told me she knew exactly what I was talking about with Carole King...It's Too Late. I was shocked by her spot on call. She had also gone through a big bad breakup and felt the sharp pain of truth in Carole's words. We then sang together in what I can only assume was a Sex & The City-esque manner, although truthfully I've never seen even one episode. I like Immanuela.
The next on my list is every song on "Sea Change" by Beck. This is the ultimate break-up album. I was deeply moved by it even when my relationship seemed strong and happy. After I lost the Lindsey I thought I had, I refused to listen to the album, knowing it would crush me. I broke my Beck embargo about 2 weeks later. It is so powerful, I can feel Beck's pain.
The most moving song: "Guess I'm Doing Fine".
The killer chorus lyrics: It's only lies that I'm living, it's only tears that I'm crying, it's only you that I'm losing, guess I'm doing fine.
How else can you respond to the question "How are you doing?" How else can you describe the dull and permanently residing pain in your heart and mind? Beck is a genius.
Another album that's tough to listen to is Joni Mitchell's "Blue". This is another monster breakup album. Every song is basically about sadness and the album is called Blue for Christ's sake! Its not the saddest, but just so you know, my favorite line on the album is from "Case of You":
Just before our love got lost you said/ I am as constant as a northern star/ And I said, constant in the darkness/ Where’s that at?/ If you want me I’ll be in the bar
The sarcasm and wit is priceless, all topped off by the qualifier "before our love got lost". Beautiful.
One cheesy one that I have to admit is John Mayer, "Comfortable". I randomly have this song in my playlist, and it ever so cheesily describes my loss.
The killer chorus lyrics: Our love was comfortable and so broken in.
Simple, but ringing with truth. Also the simplistic acoustics of the song make it even sweeter and harder to hear.
A great song is "I'll Never Fall in Love Again", by Burt Bacharach and Elvis Costello. You'll remember this from the 2nd Austin Powers movie. Its sweet melody and smooth singing hide the extremely bitter and even funny lyrics of the song. It sounds like a love song, but not when you here a line like this:
What do you get when you kiss a girl/ You get enough germs to catch pneumonia/ After you do, she'll never phone you
Pretty sneaky, Burt and Elvis. The whole song is about the suckiness of love. A real sucker punch for all the romantics out there.
Then there is the laundry list of songs that hold a special meaning that are going to forever remind me of different things in our relationship:
Led Zeppelin, "Fool in the Rain": This was our song. As simple as that. We listened to this song together one night in Israel. She wanted to go to bed, but I asked her to stay for one more song, and that was it. So anytime from then on I wanted her to be with me a little longer, I'd whip this little baby out.
A funny addition to the story is that I originally thought the chorus lyrics were "I love the love that I found." I thought it was such a good representation of how I felt. Only a few months later did I realize it was "Light of the love that I found." But it didn't matter, the song had taken its course in our history already with the wrong but special-er lyrics.
Aaron Neville, "Crazy Love": This was the song that was gently playing in the background the first time we made love. No joke, how perfect is that?
Hedwig and the Angry Inch, "The Origin of Love": This is our movie. This song is beautiful and also really fuckin rockin. It tells a Greek tale of how Love was created. It will forever remind me of Lindsey.
Colin Hay, "Beautiful World": This song was played on the season finale of Scrubs season 1. That is our show we watch together. It is a beautiful song.
The killer lyrics: My my my it’s a beautiful world/ I like sleeping with [Lindsey]/ She is one sexy girl full of mystery/ She says she doesn’t love me but she likes my company/ For now that’s good enough for me.
Those lyrics were the best because the original name was Marie. I changed it and it fit perfect because originally Lindsey and I just told people that we "enjoyed each other's company" in order to avoid being labelled a couple. It was sneaky, but it worked.
To end this EXTREMELY long list, I'll give my one song of an uplifting nature. It's Coldplay, "Everything's Not Lost". The final climax of the song, where he sings "Everything's Not Lost" fills me with hope and happiness. I really like the singer's voice and the power of his simple piano played really hard.
But then again, how could anything be lost when you are married to a beautiful woman like Gwyneth Paltrow? It's kind of cheating, and makes me bitter all over again...
First, let me publically apologize to Zach. He has been pushing me to post for much too long and I have shirked that responsibility. Sorry, Zach. I still love you.
So, as of today, about 47 days after the seperation, I still have yet to have a serious good cry. Its getting painful, and frankly I want to cry in sympathy for myself. I am not sure why this is happening, but I know that I have not felt totally comfortable anywhere yet. I am soon going to be with my close friend Jamie for 2 straight weeks, and hopefully I will bathe her in salty delicious tears of pain.
But, if there is one thing that can get me close to tears, it's music. Music has always played a powerful role in my life. I love music and I think music loves me. Hopefully, one day music will NOT come home and end it with me out of nowhere.
Bitterness aside, certain songs really hit me hard...
[Editors Note: This is a long list. You have been forewarned!]
The number one song so far that really hurts to listen to is Carole King, "It's Too Late".
The killer chorus lyrics: Something inside has died and I can't hide and I just can't fake it
When Carole first sang this to me about 7 days after the end of my love, I was shocked to hear what Lindsey was unable to tell me at that point. It was so crystal clear and well sung by Carole, and I appreciated her straightforward attitude about it. No dancing around the truth of the matter, looking for the perfect words. All it needs is a little alliteration and a catchy tune. I love you Carole.
Interesting side story: I did a monologue on music for Uno, my long form improv show. I didn't want to talk about breaking up on stage, so I just briefly mentioned that music affects me strongly, and particularly Carole King. At intermission, Immanuela, a fellow improviser, approached me and told me she knew exactly what I was talking about with Carole King...It's Too Late. I was shocked by her spot on call. She had also gone through a big bad breakup and felt the sharp pain of truth in Carole's words. We then sang together in what I can only assume was a Sex & The City-esque manner, although truthfully I've never seen even one episode. I like Immanuela.
The next on my list is every song on "Sea Change" by Beck. This is the ultimate break-up album. I was deeply moved by it even when my relationship seemed strong and happy. After I lost the Lindsey I thought I had, I refused to listen to the album, knowing it would crush me. I broke my Beck embargo about 2 weeks later. It is so powerful, I can feel Beck's pain.
The most moving song: "Guess I'm Doing Fine".
The killer chorus lyrics: It's only lies that I'm living, it's only tears that I'm crying, it's only you that I'm losing, guess I'm doing fine.
How else can you respond to the question "How are you doing?" How else can you describe the dull and permanently residing pain in your heart and mind? Beck is a genius.
Another album that's tough to listen to is Joni Mitchell's "Blue". This is another monster breakup album. Every song is basically about sadness and the album is called Blue for Christ's sake! Its not the saddest, but just so you know, my favorite line on the album is from "Case of You":
Just before our love got lost you said/ I am as constant as a northern star/ And I said, constant in the darkness/ Where’s that at?/ If you want me I’ll be in the bar
The sarcasm and wit is priceless, all topped off by the qualifier "before our love got lost". Beautiful.
One cheesy one that I have to admit is John Mayer, "Comfortable". I randomly have this song in my playlist, and it ever so cheesily describes my loss.
The killer chorus lyrics: Our love was comfortable and so broken in.
Simple, but ringing with truth. Also the simplistic acoustics of the song make it even sweeter and harder to hear.
A great song is "I'll Never Fall in Love Again", by Burt Bacharach and Elvis Costello. You'll remember this from the 2nd Austin Powers movie. Its sweet melody and smooth singing hide the extremely bitter and even funny lyrics of the song. It sounds like a love song, but not when you here a line like this:
What do you get when you kiss a girl/ You get enough germs to catch pneumonia/ After you do, she'll never phone you
Pretty sneaky, Burt and Elvis. The whole song is about the suckiness of love. A real sucker punch for all the romantics out there.
Then there is the laundry list of songs that hold a special meaning that are going to forever remind me of different things in our relationship:
Led Zeppelin, "Fool in the Rain": This was our song. As simple as that. We listened to this song together one night in Israel. She wanted to go to bed, but I asked her to stay for one more song, and that was it. So anytime from then on I wanted her to be with me a little longer, I'd whip this little baby out.
A funny addition to the story is that I originally thought the chorus lyrics were "I love the love that I found." I thought it was such a good representation of how I felt. Only a few months later did I realize it was "Light of the love that I found." But it didn't matter, the song had taken its course in our history already with the wrong but special-er lyrics.
Aaron Neville, "Crazy Love": This was the song that was gently playing in the background the first time we made love. No joke, how perfect is that?
Hedwig and the Angry Inch, "The Origin of Love": This is our movie. This song is beautiful and also really fuckin rockin. It tells a Greek tale of how Love was created. It will forever remind me of Lindsey.
Colin Hay, "Beautiful World": This song was played on the season finale of Scrubs season 1. That is our show we watch together. It is a beautiful song.
The killer lyrics: My my my it’s a beautiful world/ I like sleeping with [Lindsey]/ She is one sexy girl full of mystery/ She says she doesn’t love me but she likes my company/ For now that’s good enough for me.
Those lyrics were the best because the original name was Marie. I changed it and it fit perfect because originally Lindsey and I just told people that we "enjoyed each other's company" in order to avoid being labelled a couple. It was sneaky, but it worked.
To end this EXTREMELY long list, I'll give my one song of an uplifting nature. It's Coldplay, "Everything's Not Lost". The final climax of the song, where he sings "Everything's Not Lost" fills me with hope and happiness. I really like the singer's voice and the power of his simple piano played really hard.
But then again, how could anything be lost when you are married to a beautiful woman like Gwyneth Paltrow? It's kind of cheating, and makes me bitter all over again...
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Where Are They Now?
Hi,
The chronicles will not be updated today, sorry. Instead, I'm just gonna write...
Well, I got a new apartment. I moved out within a week and set up shop about 10 minutes down the road on Avenue De L'Esplanade. I like it here and my new roommate is nice. I don't see her very much, but when we do interact it is always positive. My room is spacious enough to offer me privacy and a sense of home.
Its been about 3 weeks since Lindsey told me she didn't want to be in our relationship anymore. Since then, we have seen each other a bit. We still have things to talk about, obviously. Actually, I was talking to her a week or so ago and she was able to articulate that she is not in love with me anymore. I was actually kind of glad to know, because I am still very much in the dark about whatever happened. I just know Lindsey came home one night and didn't want me anymore, and I had to accept it.
We aren't angry at one another which is lucky, I believe. If I had to deal with anger on top of everything else, things would get ugly. Any time I do see her though, I turn myself off emotionally. I try not to smile, cry, use expressive tones in my voice, or be excited about anything. I am making it a point to distance myself from her so that I can jolt my brain and heart into understanding that they are all alone, and this Lindsey character is not the one I thought I knew.
Frankly, I don't think my heart and brain have figured it out yet. But the gears are a-turning and I think I'm going to hit a breakthrough soon. You see, one piece of advice I got very soon after the whole thing was that I should keep myself busy so my mind doesn't wander too much. I took this advice and I have kept myself VERY busy. I am out of the house most of every day, I have travelled, I do improv out the wazoo. Unfortunately, I think I've missed something.
The other part of dealing with this whole thing is actually thinking about it. I haven't done that much. When I'm in public, I don't want to depress myself or cry, so I supress my thoughts and emotions. When I'm by myself, I somehow cannot cry, so my emotions are supressed again. Essentially, I am always supressing my emotions. I have trained myself over the past 5 years to only cry in front of Lindsey and now I don't have that anymore. It has also come to my attention that I can no longer even cry in front of myself! So this leaves me with an overwhelming number of tears hiding behind a dam that can only hold so much pressure.
I did cry a little bit a couple nights ago. It came as a suprise, lasted about 30 seconds and disappeared into the ether. I don't know how it came, so I can't repeat the process. Meanwhile, my body is feeling the pressure of such a major emotional turmoil being shoved away into darkness. I am getting headaches a lot, and I have started biting my nails a lot. I never had this disgusting habit before, but now its full force.
All I really want right now is to curl into a ball in someone's lap and cry a lot. I want to cry and ask ridiculous questions like, "Why me?" and, "Why doesn't she love me anymore?" and, "Why does it hurt so bad?". I want to do that and have someone gently comfort me, they don't even have to answer, because frankly there are no answers to the questions. But I don't have that.
So thats where I am now, 3 weeks after the person I thought I loved ceased to exist.
The chronicles will not be updated today, sorry. Instead, I'm just gonna write...
Well, I got a new apartment. I moved out within a week and set up shop about 10 minutes down the road on Avenue De L'Esplanade. I like it here and my new roommate is nice. I don't see her very much, but when we do interact it is always positive. My room is spacious enough to offer me privacy and a sense of home.
Its been about 3 weeks since Lindsey told me she didn't want to be in our relationship anymore. Since then, we have seen each other a bit. We still have things to talk about, obviously. Actually, I was talking to her a week or so ago and she was able to articulate that she is not in love with me anymore. I was actually kind of glad to know, because I am still very much in the dark about whatever happened. I just know Lindsey came home one night and didn't want me anymore, and I had to accept it.
We aren't angry at one another which is lucky, I believe. If I had to deal with anger on top of everything else, things would get ugly. Any time I do see her though, I turn myself off emotionally. I try not to smile, cry, use expressive tones in my voice, or be excited about anything. I am making it a point to distance myself from her so that I can jolt my brain and heart into understanding that they are all alone, and this Lindsey character is not the one I thought I knew.
Frankly, I don't think my heart and brain have figured it out yet. But the gears are a-turning and I think I'm going to hit a breakthrough soon. You see, one piece of advice I got very soon after the whole thing was that I should keep myself busy so my mind doesn't wander too much. I took this advice and I have kept myself VERY busy. I am out of the house most of every day, I have travelled, I do improv out the wazoo. Unfortunately, I think I've missed something.
The other part of dealing with this whole thing is actually thinking about it. I haven't done that much. When I'm in public, I don't want to depress myself or cry, so I supress my thoughts and emotions. When I'm by myself, I somehow cannot cry, so my emotions are supressed again. Essentially, I am always supressing my emotions. I have trained myself over the past 5 years to only cry in front of Lindsey and now I don't have that anymore. It has also come to my attention that I can no longer even cry in front of myself! So this leaves me with an overwhelming number of tears hiding behind a dam that can only hold so much pressure.
I did cry a little bit a couple nights ago. It came as a suprise, lasted about 30 seconds and disappeared into the ether. I don't know how it came, so I can't repeat the process. Meanwhile, my body is feeling the pressure of such a major emotional turmoil being shoved away into darkness. I am getting headaches a lot, and I have started biting my nails a lot. I never had this disgusting habit before, but now its full force.
All I really want right now is to curl into a ball in someone's lap and cry a lot. I want to cry and ask ridiculous questions like, "Why me?" and, "Why doesn't she love me anymore?" and, "Why does it hurt so bad?". I want to do that and have someone gently comfort me, they don't even have to answer, because frankly there are no answers to the questions. But I don't have that.
So thats where I am now, 3 weeks after the person I thought I loved ceased to exist.
Friday, October 28, 2005
The Chronicles
Hey,
I decided it might be fun, or useful, or interesting, or just a good use of time to chronicle my entire relationship with Lindsey. I know that not many of my blog readers know much about how things are or were, so this can also be useful for the general public.
Today on the chronicles: The Prelude to a Connection
The first time I ever met Lindsey Ross was the summer of 1999. I was at a camp called Moshava in the boonies of Maryland. Every summer, the older campers (I was a junior counselor that summer) have a get-together weekend with the older campers of the nearby sister camp in Pennsylvania. This summer, the junior counselors all got together at Moshava while the rest of the camp was on a hiking trip for three days. It was an awesome time...just us crazy 16 year olds with a whole camp to ourselves.
Lindsey was at that sister camp, Galil, that year. Although she is originally from Seattle and normally went to a different sister camp in BC, this summer she decided to stir it up a bit and went across the country for camp.
I didn't really know anyone from Galil, so it was a huge influx of new people to meet. We had a really fun few days, talking about interesting things and whatnot. Part of the whatnot was one night when we were hanging out in our lounge together. I was chilling on a couch with a few people, who happened to be girls. I decided to secretly play a game to see how many girls I could get to be with me on the couch at once. Only one other person even knew about this ridiculous game and took a picture of all of us each time I added a girl. One of the original two girls who was with me on the couch, and was there every time for every picture, was a quiet girl named Lindsey. I hadn't really talked to her, but that didn't stop me from sexually posing next to her in every picture. I was even licking her in a couple. Whatever, it was camp...
That was the extent of my interactions with Lindsey that first time. I didn't really hit it off with her then. In fact, I ended up hooking up with a completely different girl, who has a role to play later in the story. Jamie, if you are reading, I miss you.
The second time I ever met Lindsey was a few months later. It was October of 1999 and I was at a seminar for my youth movement in Toronto. Lindsey was also at this seminar. I don't think I even remembered her. But at this seminar we really connected. We hung out a lot and talked a lot.
The most special moment of this chance encounter in Toronto was when we walked together to a gas station down the street and shared pistachios for the very first time. The sharing of pistachios was forever etched in our relationship despite the fact that we weren't "together" or "in a relationship" at all that weekend.
That was about all that happened there, although I did insist on sitting next to her on the drive back to the airport...I was such a dork. I was a bit taken by her though. After the weekend, I got a hold of my good friend Jamie, of three paragraphs ago fame, and asked for Lindsey's IM name.
Ristretto6, a name I grew to know so well. We chatted a couple times, quite awkwardly. We didn't have much, but we knew each other, and at least liked each other. That was the extent of our shared time together before the mammoth life changing event I call WORKSHOP happened.
End Chapter 1.
I decided it might be fun, or useful, or interesting, or just a good use of time to chronicle my entire relationship with Lindsey. I know that not many of my blog readers know much about how things are or were, so this can also be useful for the general public.
Today on the chronicles: The Prelude to a Connection
The first time I ever met Lindsey Ross was the summer of 1999. I was at a camp called Moshava in the boonies of Maryland. Every summer, the older campers (I was a junior counselor that summer) have a get-together weekend with the older campers of the nearby sister camp in Pennsylvania. This summer, the junior counselors all got together at Moshava while the rest of the camp was on a hiking trip for three days. It was an awesome time...just us crazy 16 year olds with a whole camp to ourselves.
Lindsey was at that sister camp, Galil, that year. Although she is originally from Seattle and normally went to a different sister camp in BC, this summer she decided to stir it up a bit and went across the country for camp.
I didn't really know anyone from Galil, so it was a huge influx of new people to meet. We had a really fun few days, talking about interesting things and whatnot. Part of the whatnot was one night when we were hanging out in our lounge together. I was chilling on a couch with a few people, who happened to be girls. I decided to secretly play a game to see how many girls I could get to be with me on the couch at once. Only one other person even knew about this ridiculous game and took a picture of all of us each time I added a girl. One of the original two girls who was with me on the couch, and was there every time for every picture, was a quiet girl named Lindsey. I hadn't really talked to her, but that didn't stop me from sexually posing next to her in every picture. I was even licking her in a couple. Whatever, it was camp...
That was the extent of my interactions with Lindsey that first time. I didn't really hit it off with her then. In fact, I ended up hooking up with a completely different girl, who has a role to play later in the story. Jamie, if you are reading, I miss you.
The second time I ever met Lindsey was a few months later. It was October of 1999 and I was at a seminar for my youth movement in Toronto. Lindsey was also at this seminar. I don't think I even remembered her. But at this seminar we really connected. We hung out a lot and talked a lot.
The most special moment of this chance encounter in Toronto was when we walked together to a gas station down the street and shared pistachios for the very first time. The sharing of pistachios was forever etched in our relationship despite the fact that we weren't "together" or "in a relationship" at all that weekend.
That was about all that happened there, although I did insist on sitting next to her on the drive back to the airport...I was such a dork. I was a bit taken by her though. After the weekend, I got a hold of my good friend Jamie, of three paragraphs ago fame, and asked for Lindsey's IM name.
Ristretto6, a name I grew to know so well. We chatted a couple times, quite awkwardly. We didn't have much, but we knew each other, and at least liked each other. That was the extent of our shared time together before the mammoth life changing event I call WORKSHOP happened.
End Chapter 1.
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