Dec. 4th, 2015 11:49 pm
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I’m just... really not a fan of taking every single american christmas tradition, painting it blue and silver, and calling it a hanukkah thing. I just saw a picture of “hanukkah gingerbread houses” and it’s just like... that’s. that’s a christmas thing. that is not a hanukkah thing. Hanukkah sweaters and hanukkah wreaths and it all just feels like people are still just trying to tell me I should actually want to be celebrating christmas, and they’re helping me get around all those inconvenient religious limitations that are obviously preventing me from doing so against my will.

listen. no. I don’t want to celebrate christmas. I don’t want to celebrate extremely-thinly-veiled!christmas either. HOW IS THIS SO FUCKING INCOMPREHENSIBLE.

Oct. 1st, 2013 04:55 am
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sometimes it really bothers me how difficult it is for me to speak colloquial english without invoking Christian doctrine. I say "jeez" or even "cheese o' pete's" all the time. The second one, by the way, is my mother's usage that I picked up from her. My Jewish mother, who was born and raised in Israel, who probably didn't even know any Christians until she came to America as an adult. If I'm being sarcastic I'll often start sentences with "Gee." I talk about Hell all the time, and I use it as an expletive. If I don't want to swear, I use the word heck. I use the word heck all the time. And when I write out "OH MY GOD" on tumblr, I feel profoundly uncomfortable writing either "G-d" or "God." Because I don't want to write out "God," it feels disrespectful and— and— I was taught, as part of my religious education, truncated as it was, that one shouldn't do that, and I took it to heart. But if I write "G-d" I'm feel like I'm taking away the focus of what I'm saying, shifting it from "WOW A THING" to "LOOK AT ME, I'M A RELIGIOUS JEW." And I'm... conscious of the fact that I talk about my Jewishness a lot. I worry that I talk about it too much. That I can't get through a conversation without having brought it up at least once. I feel like I talk about it like I think it makes me special, like I'm too in people's faces about it. But I feel uncomfortable writing out God, and I also feel pressured to do so anyway, because that's the language that people around me speak. I want to speak like the people around me. I find my stream-of-consciousness wanting to use phrases like "jesus fuck" and "sweet bowling christ what is going on" and I have to stop and go back and delete them, because I'm a Jew and I don't like doing that. I compromise it a lot. Just. sometimes it bothers me, is all.
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Partner brought up the Pentecostal church today, and I asked him what Pentecost meant (for no reason I am sure)

turns out it's a holiday that would have originally fallen on the same day as Shavu'ot

was thinking about Shavu'ot lately.

I've only really celebrated it once, when I was nineteen, doing an ulpan on a kibbutz in Israel. We dressed in white (I wore white pants and a shirt with mostly cream-and-white colors, and a brown beaded choker I bought from my boss, who made that sort of thing by hand), and ate cheeses and cheesecake and dairy products, and

and

performed. With beautiful white flowers with yellow centers in my hair.

And danced. Also I watched Blood Diamond with Nicolas Cage, and it was not a good movie. I hate Nicolas Cage.

I did some things I am not ashamed of. I did other things I am very extremely ashamed of. I cannot look at white flowers with yellow centers without being ashamed.

I also read the book of Ruth, in Hebrew; it remains the only biblical passage I have truly read in its entirety. The person I was reading with helped me to understand every word, and talked to me about meaning and cultural context. In class, we talked about wandering in the desert and being given our laws.

Shavu'ot has a lot of meaning for me, now. I've still never celebrated it but the once.

I've been transliterating the Book of Ruth lately, though. Just for myself. Just so that I can read it without stuttering over every word, so that I can actually read it.
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If you're using "mother of Christ!" as an interjection, and it's not at the beginning of a sentence, do you capitalize the M?

Goodbye.
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Worf and I are here and safe; she is fascinated by squirrels and crows As Seen On Drugs, and I am Going To Sleep, for lo, it has been a Leora!day-long-period-of-time.

I also brought the rain with me; it rained like crazy the entire way. Teach me to not put things off, I guess. (Yes, those words are in their intended order.)

I now have Knives and Charitable Getting! It is like Christmas, in a world where a.) I celebrate Christmas, b.) Christmas happens at completely random and irregular times, and c.) Christmas presents are things that you buy for yourself, and then hide from yourself until you forget about them, and then surprise yourself with awesome gifts.

I like this world!

Goodbye.
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I think I have mentioned before that Edmund is a Magnificent Bastard and I adore him. But I just watched James Earl Jones's King Lear again and I would like to reiterate: that man is unapologetically evil, knows he's evil, takes full responsibility credit for his evil, is smart and clever enough to pull evil schemes off, is loved, is happy to be loved, fights to stay alive but when he's killed for being evil, accepts it as a hazard of being evil, and dies doing good, just kind of for kicks, because evil won't profit him at that point. I firmly believe that he and his two women are all happily creating havoc in Hell. With Shishio.

(and, of course, Rene Auberjoinois's Edgar is very pretty. You know, when he's, like, sane and clean and wearing clothes and stuff.)

There was a crazy evangelist a block away from work tonight as I left. Basic crazy evangelist fare- you're all going to hell, God judges you, God hates Catholics. It rather restored my faith in humanity to see so many people arguing with him.

You know, for the record, I don't think David saying he loved Jonathan more than woman meant that they were necessarily gay lovers. I always thought, well, yeah. David would never have seen a woman as an equal. Of course a relationship with an equal- with another man, a prince, a soldier- is going to be a deeper, more fulfilling one than any relationship with someone you see as being fundamentally inferior.

Of course, there's nothing saying they weren't. They were really quite remarkably close, dude.

The problem with me debating with evangelical Christians is that I am not very well-versed in Judaism. If you want to actually have a serious discussion about the Jewish people not accepting Jesus as the messiah, talk to a rabbi. Talk to someone in the yeshiva. Talk to someone who has actually studied the Tanakh. All I've got to bring to bear are a bunch of stories of King David, a few of Solomon, and some folk tales about poor, pious Jews living under various oppressive regimes. And Chelmites. Which are very entertaining, actually, so if you want to hear some just let me know, but they don't have a whole lot to do with Jesus.

Two-and-a-half-hour dress rehearsal at ten a.m. tomorrow morning. ******* ************* ********.

Goodbye.
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So I have a shiny shiny new iPod speaker system, with radio and a clock beside, and the sound is great and it's all just very shiny. It was my present for finding the afikoman, which I did in like a minute, hahahahaha. It was folded inside the drapes, and apparently Aba had insisted that it was too hard and I would never find it and HA. Too many years of Eema's fiendish hiding places and getting really creative about Mrs. Smith's Santa have made me a canny player of small-object-in-a-room-hide-and-seek, you guys.

Oh and hey, um, #amazonfail? Because they've taken the ranking systems off books deemed "adult," by which I mean anything to do with homosexuality, such as Heather Has Two Mommies or The Well of Sadness, which means that they won't come up on bestseller lists or certain searches and stuff like that. Books with explicit heterosexual sex or, y'know, dogfighting or something are totally cool still. Happy Easter, amazon, Aba was going to buy a $100 set of speakers from you, and I was debating buying Doctor Who Season One from you too, because you're, y'know, convenient and cheap. But really, I sort of think that "non-discriminatory" trumps "convenient and cheap," so... bye.

List of books that have had their sales rank removed: http://community.livejournal.com/meta_writer/11992.html

I heard about it on Sam's Cafe- the post is http://copperbadge.livejournal.com/2742329.html, and the following couple of posts have updates on the situation, and from there you can follow links for more information.

Anyway, that's it fer now. Back to your regularly scheduled fangirl squee.

Goodbye.

okay, so

Nov. 13th, 2008 04:59 am
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I get that RTD reuses names like it's going out of style (was it ever in style?) but this just occurred to me.

Yvonne Hartman.

Yvonne = feminine variant of John.

Hartman. Hart.

Yvonne Hartman. John Hart.

...

In other news, Martha! Hello! I like your hair! I really like your hips. But you can never compete with the cats in New New New (etc.) York. Novice Hame! Flanagan! Cats are really hot! ...I'm weird! But we all knew that!

Cheers for the little-old-lady lesbians, points deducted for homophobia still being within living memory in the year five billion and some. Points also deducted for the men always being in the driver's seat, and for the wives being weepy and useless and the ones who bring up "THINK OF THE CHILDREN." My jury is still out on the witches, because you have folklore on your side there. I approve of there being a Shakespeare episode, I disapprove of the idea that Hamlet was written in any way in honor of Hamnet. I was actually just telling Paul that it annoys me when people try to make inferences into Shakespeare's life from his works, like who he was in love with because of his sonnets and whatnot. One can write what they don't feel, and the purpose of art is not to provide insight into the artist. Mostly I am just madly jealous that Martha got to go see a Shakespeare play in the original and talk to the man himself and WHY didn't she just start asking him questions?!? (because it's only a TV show and they can't actually presume to provide definitive answers.) Oh and MAJOR POINT DEDUCTION for the Christ symbolism. I cannot stand Christ symbolism. I think I hate, a little bit, that I now know enough about Christianity to spot the Christ symbolism. At least when it's not subtle. And by the way, Who? Not Subtle. Martha and the Doctor in the bed, with the whole... right in front of me thing? Not Subtle. NS. Ach, this whole situation with the Doctor and Martha really just reads as a recipe for disaster, to me. Martha recognizes that the Doctor is so, so not over Rose and isn't going to be for a long, long time... and falls for him anyway, and it's just like, oh dear, Martha, I get the lure, I really really do, but you are setting yourself up for a world of heartbreak and I just hope you know what you're getting yourself into.

I didn't used to be able to spot Christ-symbolism. Not in Narnia, not in Jonathan Livingston Seagull, and I didn't even see it coming in the Jungle Doctor. My sole experience with Jesus had been something to do with bubble baths and a musical in which all I remember is that he was singing about being dead and I was going hang on, why are you dead? What killed you? You were just standing there. And why are you still singing?

I was so looking forward to seeing Queen Elizabeth be awesome! And she wasn't. And I was like, come on, that's Queen Elizabeth, she pwns everyone, and they didn't let her. and it's like come on, you spent all that time watching witches spin around in the air, let's cut some of that and spend a minute or two on the awesome that is Elizabeth I. But they didn't.

Going to sleep. Have bought milk, and onions, and biscuits, and $14 rosin. It's green. Don't ask me, that's all they had and I need rosin.

Goodbye.

Dec. 25th, 2004 11:09 am
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Hush a roy tally-ho
Archiover ahieeo
Archiover, cry the huntsmen,
Archiover aio.

...

Irish music makes me happy.

Happy Jews-go-to-the-movies day, everyone.

Goodbye.
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Those of you who know me even vaguely know how protective I am of anything that is MINE. At five o'clock this morning, my mother threatened to break everything on my shelves if I didn't get out of bed. She threw my blanket at it, knocking down two birthday girls, the fisherman I bought at Suzuki Workshop when I was six or seven, and the first cat I painted in Mexico, when we went to Cozumel. These things mean a lot to me, especially the cat. Fortunately none were injured in the fall, but it still really scared me that Eema would lose her temper like that. I was furious but of course couldn't show it, because that would only make the situation worse. So I think I'm going to go to Schuler's today and not come home.

Also yesterday I had the hiccups. In an attempt to startle me out of them, Paul threw his watch at me. He certainly didn't mean to hurt me, but it hit me in the mouth, and quite hard. It wasn't that it was so painful. You could have hit me ten times harder in the shoulder and I would have barely blinked. But whenever I'm hit in the face, I instinctively and completely involuntarily start to cry. So I did. He and Evan thought I was just laughing at first, so they were laughing along, except suddenly they realized there were tears in my eyes. That made Paul feel really bad. I tried to make light of it but I don't think it worked.

So at 9:30 I need to be at church to rehearse the Messiah. Have I mentioned yet how SICK I am of churches and Christianity? If anything, Credo has made me far less open-minded. I am sick and tired of Christmas. I hate Christmas. I hate having to sit in a church and listen to people preach Christianity. If I had my way I would never set foot in a church again. But I'm playing in one in three hours, so I have until then to write about Hamlet before my mother disowns me.

I thought this was vacation. I'm supposed to be enjoying myself. I have been perfectly miserable as soon as I stepped into my house. Everyone seems to be constantly angry with me. Everyone seems to get even angrier as soon as I give the slightest hint that I am not incredibly cheerful.

Well, guess what? I am not cheerful. I'm really upset and I want to be left alone. If I had a car I would totally run away right now. I don't know where I would go. Far away. Maybe north.

Eru, I'm so tired.

Goodbye.

I love...

Jul. 25th, 2004 04:06 pm
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...how I can spend three weeks at Christian Camp and STILL be the only one to not catch the obvious Christ symbolism in Spider-Man. I mean, I got it after Ayano/Rabican pointed it out, but not before. Then I was like, Oh yeah, he was standing with his arms out to the sides. Or something. I would never have gotten it. Why would it have been more subtle if he were carried at chest height? Was Jesus carried over people's heads or something?

Whatever.

I liked it. MJ still annoys me. She's just not a nice person. Inconsiderate. Has a tendency to use people/lead them on. I felt *so* sorry for Astronaut-kid. *hugs*

I've got more to say, but I'll say it when I come home from Schuler's.

My hair's all pretty and I'm wearing a black shirt and my new pretty blue pleated skirt. I'm sure you all care.

Goodbye.
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Then I need to go practice the stupid Handel. Grr. The buttons on my jacket sleeves are making annoying little clicking noises against the table as I type. I get the feeling sometimes that people here are trying to convert me. There are blue flowers outside the window though; they're pretty. And Megatokyo made me laugh today. There was Rent-a-Zilla. He always makes me laugh.

I miss home. I wonder if I can leave early? I want to go home... I don't want only two weeks before school... when am I going to write my fic exchange? Someone help me get ideas for that please.

Mrgh. I have to go.

Goodbye.
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I'm showing off my icon to Tiffany Allison and Ali. There are a hundred Alis, two hundred Hannahs, and one Jessie Neilson. !!! What is she doing here? Also, LETTER FROM AYANO YAYYAYAYAY! I can never be as cool as Fleance (FLEANCE!) but I will try to stay cool. I was trying to explain the Coolness of Fleance to Brook the Cello Fellow, and was ranting about him for maybe twenty minutes before Brook managed to communicate that he'd never read Macbeth. So then of course I had to explain the entire play to him, and he walked away. I bet he feels enlightened now. I've sketched a few pictures of Meavon and Terne, but they don't really look right. I'll have to work with that. I got a new sketchbook! Eema sent it to me. It's cool and Chinese. Or something. I need to practice soon; we have Big Orchestra today and I just got the piece. Plus Mr. Slowik moved me to 2nd violin on Summer, so I need to learn that part now. Good thing I never worked too hard on the 1st violin part.

I really miss you guys! Laura, I now sympathize with you. At least people here speak English.

Played frisbee yesterday, with Water Balloon intermission. I got hit twice, but I think I hit a few more than that, so, I win! Ever notice how many nicknames get given in Frisbee? Who do we have... Peterzone, Wizard Tim, Skywalker, The Beast, Speedy Gonzales, Gimp, Flippo, etc. etc. I'm Defense Girl, or D-girl. That's from my reputation of jumping madly up and down, screaming hysterically, whenever I'm guarding someone. After a while they outlawed it. I was mad. That's really the only thing I'm good at, and I'm not allowed to do it anymore! *Bitterbitterbitter* Johanna, though (Beast), is AMAZING. Someday I'm going to be that good. Oo! I didn't run into a wall today! I was really proud of myself. I was racing Wizard Tim for the frisbee, and I thought I was beating him, but it turned out that he'd stopped because ODE there was a BIG STONE WALL right in front of us that of course I didn't see. Inches from it, I realized it was there, and stopped with a shriek. I didn't get the frisbee, but I DIDN'T HIT THE WALL. That is so cool! Yay for not hitting walls! Of course, this was after I'd already twisted my ankle stepping in a drain, bashed my nose running into Ryan, and had Josh run into my back. But I still caught the frisbee, that last time, and we made the point. It was cool.

So while we were playing, out of nowhere, Josh drops to the ground, does a push-up, and runs away into the dorms. We all get really confused, but keep playing. A little later, he comes out dragging his cello case. We think that he's going to go to the conservatory and practice, but he brings it out onto the field. The game pretty much stops, because you don't want to play with a CELLO in your way. (If it were a viola, maybe.) Then all of a sudden, when we draw around, he opens the case, takes out two water balloons, and hurls them at the nearest people. The whole case is full of them! Then in comes Blair with even more... w00t. It was hot and humid and we were all sweating like horses, so that was a great relief, and we all ganged up on Mark because he's a counselor, after all, and that's what you do with them. He swears revenge. Beware. Also, this morning there were treble clefs on every single door in the dorms, and I swear I didn't do it. So we're waiting to see what that might mean.

Yesterday I did my laundry. I enjoy doing laundry. Maybe I'm just crazy, but I do. I put my clothes in the machine and then I sing and dance until it's done, then I put them in the dryer and sing and dance until they're done, and then I fold them while they're still lovely and warm and put them in my drawers and everything looks nice and neat. Also, I have my own little laundry basket. That thing is so cool. And these little tablets of soap, which are also cool. And I borrowed some stain stuff from someone random, and it ruined poor Corey's toothpaste, and I think Julie accidentally took some of my tachtonim. I'm going to go practice now, because lunch is in about half an hour, and I have a lesson tomorrow and ODE I CAN'T PLAY THE CARMEN WORTH A HILL OF BEANS. No really I can't. Sarasate is Eyal.

But I'm happy that I haven't forgotten how to type yet. Thanks for your letters, Ayano and Alberta. I haven't gotten Alberta's yet, but Ayano's has made my day for today. Wheee! Wild Thing! I think I auditioned for a play of that once. For the part of the dog.

...

Shut up.

Anyway, have a fun day, and write to me!

Goodbye.
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It is extremely limited though... I have to get moving soon; there's a concert today at two o'clock and we have a run-through at one. The cafeteria's closed for a couple days, so food has been... interesting. Anyway, I'm in a sort-of computer lab, with six computers. It's in the "Con," or conservatory. I should be practicing. Sue me. I want my internet. Carla next to me is looking at Lion King fanart. Some of it is *really* impressive. You'd think it was done by the animators. People here are nice. Also, everybody's very first priority is music. People weren't like that even at Interlochen. And this keyboard needs to die ODE. Macintosh computers are an invention of Eyal. Haley just walked in. I finally met someone with a louder, longer, and crazier laugh than mine! Let's see, what else is new. Er, not a ton. There are pretty flowers outside. I got to go to Jewish services yesterday (Mrs. Slowik was really nice and drove me out of town for it), but it wasn't the normal services. There were very few people and they spent most of their time talking politics. !!! But next week we'll find the proper ones. It was at least a relief after going to church every morning. I almost had the opportunity to get my soundpost adjusted by this crazy-famous European violin maker, but I think either Mr. Slowik forgot or the guy said no. Nobody ever told me. I have to go now if I'm going to fetch my coat (everything here is ridiculously air-conditioned), my violin, my stand, and find the Methodist church. I love how there are twenty churches within walking distance, yay.

I really wish I were home. A week is more than enough for me. I miss you all. Write to me, or e-mail me, or whatever.

Goodbye.
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'Twas the night before Christmas
And all through Rivendell
Not an elf-lord was stirring
Not even Glorfindel.

The bows were hung on their pegs with care
In hope that the orcs would never be there.
erm...

I'd attempt to write the rest for him, but I don't know the original poem well enough.

Oh well. I'm going snowing. Fare thee well, all, and I hope you had a merry Christmas.

Goodbye.
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Oren's gone. *sniffle* Bye, cousin. Good luck in Drom Amerika. Sorry I didn't get to spend more time with you.

I also got stabbed with icicles in my dreams by the fairies from A Midsummer Night's Dream, but it's all okay now, because there is SNOW.

Merry Christmas, all you Christians/Atheist-Children-Who-Get-Presents. Happy Seventh Day of Hanukkah, all you Jews. Is that just me? Inna counts as an Atheist-Child-Who-Gets-Presents.

We finally saw Lamb Chop's Hanukkah last night. That movie wins so much.

I got more presents! A practice mute and Josh Groban's In Concert CD and DVD. Niiice.

Yeah, that's my Christmas post. Enjoy it.

Goodbye.
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So, apparently, I've got some cousin-or-other named Oren who just got out of the army and is looking to travel to South America before taking a teaching job back in Israel. He had planned to stay in Manhatten for a couple weeks and find a job to raise the money. But he couldn't find one. So he's coming the day after tomorrow to stay with us for a couple weeks. The first time I heard anything about this was five minutes ago. And I don't think my parents were informed much earlier, either. The impression that I got was that he called Aba out of the blue and said "hey, I'm your relation, how about I come stay with you?" Aba was impressed by his directness, and said that he didn't think that his daughters would be able to call their Israeli relatives and talk to them as if they were family. No, I wouldn't! Of course I wouldn't! I wouldn't call up Barbara and Gerry/Ruth and Doug/Michael and Carol/Greg and Donna and ask to stay with them, even! The only people I would feel comfortable calling would be my parents, my friends, and my sisters. And we don't know anything about the guy! I mean- he could be a random serial killer... or not... but something! He's 21, or somewhere around there. This'll be his first time out of Israel/on his own. He grew up on a kibbutz on Lebanon's border where a really famous (military?) hero lived, Trumple-something. I apparently saw his statue there. I was probably, what, five? Anyway. It's a mainly agricultural place, considered highly dangerous, as in, you can hear shots from Lebanon all the time and you spend a good deal of your time in bomb shelters. He went to a high school with kids from a bunch of different kibbutzim. WE HAVE NEVER EVEN SEEN HIM IN OUR LIVES. How the heck are we going to recognize him when he comes off the plane? He's adopted, so we can't go on any family resemblance. Whatever. The old holding up a sign saying something like "HEY OREN, WE'RE YOUR FAMILY" method should work.

Dear Eru. Am I the only one whose mind is totally boggled by this?

On a different note- my great uncle Solomon (my father's father's brother) was the Johnny Appleseed of Israel. He and my grandfather came over from Russia, orphaned, at ages fourteen and fifteen. Solomon took apple seeds in his pockets and was the first to plant them in Israel- everyone had thought that they wouldn't grow because the climate wasn't right. But somehow they did and he had the first apple orchards.

...cool?

And I had that quartet gig at the church today, with Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Martela and Miss Kesler. They spelled my name Leora Noskin, which is really funny if you say it right, 'cause it's like I've got no skin, get it? heh... heh... *shuts up* Anyway. It was pretty routine, except for the whole "one rehearsal five minutes before the performance with no time to actually fix anything, i.e. BOWINGS." I got all the flats and was proud of myself. I also got $25. Not bad. It was the first Christian service I'd ever been to. Interesting. Who knew that Jesus celebrated Thanksgiving as a little boy? And the pastor quoted Peanuts. She also talked about Bobby McFerren, and how only the old people would know him. I was offended! Bobby McFerren was cool! Her analogy was the whole "don't worry, be happy" thing, and how he was not Jesus. It wasn't just like... I'm bored with all this churchy stuff, let's talk about cool singers! And two people got baptized, and four people got adopted as new members. And stuff. There was a fond. I had to stop myself laughing. Fonds. *snickers* Also, how sad is it when the pastor pours random holy water from the pitcher into a silver pan, and all I can think of is Galadriel's mirror? It's pretty darn sad. But I got asked to come and play again for their Cantata or whatnot in December. Hopefully that's paying, too.

Yeah. I'm totally weirded out by all of my relations. I apparently have hundreds of cousins that I don't know. I think Mrs. Fox put some funny magic in her albums and it infected me.

Back to reading about Asian immigrants and discovering, once again, exactly how much Americans truly suck. The verdict is that Americans suck. What the heck does Oren want to spend time in America for?

Goodbye.

Blarg.

Aug. 8th, 2003 10:54 pm
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There's nothing really to do, but I don't feel like going to sleep, therefore I am here to bug you all. Darn it, everyone's away! Paul's at Interlochen, Sara and John are in France, Ada's in Georgia, Caitlin's camping up north... etc. ON a brighter note, the Internet is FINALLY back up at my house, the computer is relatively undamaged, as is my sanity, shut up. I am starting to settle into a daily routine. I wake up around one o'clock, eat breakfast, and watch Sesame Street. I then catch the CATA bus to the mall, wander around a bit, and sit in Schuler's reading. I eat a piece of Olga bread, sniff all the smelly candles, and ride the bus home again. I eat dinner and go play Ultimate Frisbee at Cornell until dark, come home, go on the computer for a bit, and go to sleep. All in all, it is a quite enjoyable life. Tomorrow I'm going to the East Lansing Folk Festival and to The Merry Wives of Windsor and possibly to see Seabiscuit, if there is time. And then be at Frisbee by seven o'clock. One of these days I need to get to JoAnn's Fabrics by Frandor and buy a truckload of beads, and a beading needle, and beading thread. And then nobody will see me for a few days as I make stuff, yayyy. Leah needs to rejoin our quartet, curse her, and curse Eema for reminding me that she left. And curse Nathan Frisbees, because they suck, and I've actually given them a chance, so I know. And curse my shins, which hurt, and curse my hands and wrists, which hurt. Curse the whole right half of my forehead, which hurts from running smack into Mark Kroos during Frisbee. And curse my stomach, too, which hurts for no good reason, and curse my eyes for being tired when I don't want to sleep. And above all, curse my nasal cavities, because they are STILL full of plegm, and it makes my throat sore and I have NO VOICE and cannot sing worth a hill of beans, not that actually having my voice back would help, seeing as I can no longer sing, which kind of stinks because I like to sing and I stink at it. And Eema and Aba are now calling me Leo, to tease me, and it annoys me. And Eema won't let me adopt Cherie's kitten, but that's an argument that has been fought pretty much as logn as I can remember, so whatever. Those are my complaints for the day, hallelujah. A woman on the bus said "God bless you, sweetheart" to me when she left, which I thought was a bit odd, and the bus driver recognized me and said "you're not going to get lost today, are ya? Do you know where you're supposed to get off?" How the heck was I to know that you're supposed to pull the stupid yellow thing? Show me where that was written! Buses should come with instructions, darn it. Argh, I just broke a nail. Ow. Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow. I also read the first volume of Sandman, by Neil Gaiman. And by the same author, Coraline, about half of Neverwhere, and The Wolves in the Walls. The latter I read aloud to the Griffin puppet, which is *so cute* but costs fifty dollars. It's really detailed, so I can understand why, but it should be free to me because... because it likes me, that's why. I'm entertaining. It gets bored being on a puppet tree all day long. Yesterday I got cool new clothes from Meijer. Go Meijer. I now have nineteen hours on my driver's permit, go me. And the guy in the white car? His name is John. I don't care what his real name is. He is so John. And there are zebra-patterned seat covers. But I took a wrong turn. Quartet! *sobs* Seriously, I cried for something like three or four hours at Interlochen the day it really hit me that I had no quartet anymore. Leah, you will be eaten by some giant monster that I send out after you if you don't come back. My wrist is getting twinges that are annoying and ow, so I will stop typing.

Goodbye.
silentstep: the text "Team Hilarity" on a blue background, with sparkles (Default)
So, I'm sitting on the living room couch daydreaming, home alone, when the doorbell rings. I go to look over the balcony and see a middle-aged woman whom I do not know. I assume that it's a solicitor or a Jehovah's Witness or whatever and anyway, I'm still in my pajamas, so I start to go away when I see her bending over the funny new lock-thing on our doorknob. Oh, she must be leaving a note in the door, or perhaps a pamphlet on why my family should convert. I might as well get dressed anyway, it's three-thirty in the afternoon. But as I'm on my way to my room, I hear the door open, and she calls "Hello!"
"Hello!" I call back, not really thinking. Then I get to my room and, as I'm getting dressed, it strikes me. That door had been locked! She'd broken in, and now she knew that there was someone in the house! I began to panic. She must be a burglar! I lock my bedroom door, knowing that the lock could be picked by a three-year-old, and ran to my window. Maybe I could escape by taking the screen off, running along the balcony, and calling the police from my neighbor's phone. I looked at the narrow balcony and wondered if it would still hold my weight, after all these years. I could hear the burglar moving around downstairs. I should run to Eema's room- there was a phone there, a lock that worked, and I could escape out the back door from her bathroom if necessary. Proud of myself for thinking straight under pressure, I dashed to my door and tried to open it quietly, my heart pounding as it got stuck. I finally tugged it open and dashed across the hall, my hands slippery with sweat as I locked the door and scurried to the phone. What if she wasn't a burglar, but a kidnapper? Memories of Elizabeth Smart's kidnapping were running through my brain. Maybe even a murderer! She'd kill me and bury me in the woods, who knew her motivations, and I'd never get the chance to play the violin again. The frisbee players in the park would never know why I didn't show up. I might even get blood on the carpet, and Eema and Aba would have even more flooring troubles to deal with. My throat was dry as I called the office, momentarily forgetting the number as my brain explored every single morbid possibility.
"Okemos Travel, Michelle speaking!" Came the perky, cheerful voice. I tried to speak as low as I could.
"Hi Michelle, this is Leora. Is my mom there?" One must be polite, even in a crisis.
"Yeah, sure, Leora, wait one second." Surely the maddened serial killer prowling around downstairs had heard my hoarse whisper! Eema, come quickly, why is it taking you so long? Don't you know that your daughter is in mortal peril here?
"Hi Leora!"
"Eema-"
"Oh, no, your voice is gone!"
"Eema, is today cleaning day?"
"No, did you make a mess or something?"
"Eema, someone's here, and I don't know her, it's a blue car with a red triangle on the hood, and she came in and-"
"Leora, it's fine, she's here to work on the floors downstairs- oh, I should have told you, I'm sorry, you must have been scared!"
"No. No, it's okay, I was just wondering. I'm fine. I'm good. Bye, Eema. See you later."

*hits head on wall*

Oh well.

Goodbye.
silentstep: the text "Team Hilarity" on a blue background, with sparkles (Default)
So Eema wakes me up at seven o'clock on a Saturday grumblegrumble and asks me if I know why she's waking me up. Stupid question. Since when do I know anything in the morning? (Eyal, don't say anything about me never knowing anything. I was you for half the day yesterday, so if I didn't know anything it was because you didn't. =b)
"No."
"Quiz Bowl?"
"Oh yeah." And then, miracle of miracles, I GOT UP. And I fell asleep on the way to the tournament. Shut up.
I had left my nametag on the table in Safta's old room, so I got to be Eyal. Yay. I got to play a lot, actually, because there was only one competetive team in the morning, and we still won, albeit by ten points- saved by Sara's powering a question on the Mickey Mouse club. It started "Its members included Christina Agulera" and Sara gets it. Wow. But then, I got a bonus question on the Dixie Chicks. I also got a bonus question on the Three Musketeers- go Wishbone. "I am Athos. This is Porthos and Aramis." But Paul said "Dar-TAN-yin!" Argh! No Leonardo DiCaprio impressions! And there was also- "This novel was done in the form of a Siamese Pantomime in the Rogers and Hammerstein musical The King and I." I got it! GEooooooOORGE! And we have another quote:
Paul: We just sit around, drinking pop bottles and throwing them at each other.
I had to go home before lunch, though. Phooey. But Eema brought me a roast beef sandwich and it was good. And then Dvorak's American came on the radio! Played by the Guanary Quartet! So I listened to that until we got to the quartet rehearsal. Peter came after I did, which is bad, because while he wasn't there I was sitting and fuming that if he didn't come, I might as well not have come. Hard to sight-read Haydn while mentally yelling "I could be at a quizbowl tournament right now!" But then Peter came. And we got a wedding gig. Apparently, Bror's parents just had a hippie wedding on top of a mountain, so now they're really getting married. And then Bror, Peter, and Maddie talked about their different churches.
Leora: A fong? What's a fong? *suddenly realizes where she's heard this word before* Okay! So how, exactly, DO you fong someone?
Bror: No, no, a fond. It's like a pond. With an f.
Leora: Um, why is there a fishpond in a church?
Peter: No, not a fishpond. It's just a pool of water where you get baptized.
Leora: Oh.
Bror: *proceeds to tell a story in which some baseball fan runs into his church, dressed as a chicken, and falls into the fond*
Leora: Please tell me this wasn't part of the service.
Bror: No, it was, he just wasn't supposed to fall in the fond.
Peter: I wonder if we can get someone dressed as a Lugnut to run into our church...

See why I love being Jewish?

Yeah. And Paul's cats are cool. Except when they're on drugs.

Goodbye.

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