Nov. 12th, 2013 12:15 am
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when I was nineteen and staying on a kibbutz in Israel, I was seriously hella sleep-deprived.  Seriously hella sleep-deprived.  I mean, I was for most of my adolescence and early adulthood, right, because things are messed up in my brain, but like.  I would wake up every morning too late to go to breakfast and go straight to class or work, depending on the day, and then eat lunch and then go to either work or class, whichever one I hadn't been to yet, and then I would come back to my room and fall asleep.  I had no choice about this.  At least once I fell asleep on the staircase to my room.  The outdoor staircase.  The outdoor stone staircase.  Just started walking up it and was asleep before I got to the top.  That is how tired I was.

anyway, I'd usually manage to wake up a few hours later, but by then I would have missed dinner.  So not only was I seriously hella sleep-deprived, I was also not getting more than one meal a day.  I was also walking a fair distance every day, and carrying piles of laundry in my arms at work.  I lost a lot of weight, but I doubt I was particularly healthy.  (People would compliment me on it and it would make me uncomfortable.  Then they'd be like "just take the compliment, gosh" and I'd be trying to explain "no but I do not want to lose weight" and it was all very not good.  But not the point of this story.)

I was living with two roommates who were... hm.  Strongly opinionated individuals, with strong boundaries, and strong tempers, and our room was very very very small.  Eventually one of them had to move out, our living habits were that irreconcileable.  But one thing they would always invariably get into it over was anyone taking anyone else's food.  Because we did have a teeny itty-bitty grocery store, of sorts, though to me, a Midwestern American more accustomed to Meijer's, it was more like a commissary— significantly smaller than your average gas-station convenience store.  But it was there, and you could buy food.  I almost never did, because, again, I was never awake and free when it was open.  But my roommates would buy food, and keep it in our cupboards, and steal it from each other and then get into screaming matches over it.  I mean, they got into screaming matches over plenty of other things, too.  Very small space.  Very large personalities.  Looooooots of drama.

I didn't fight with them all that much.  I tried to keep out of it and let them be distracted by each other and not take sides.  I knew better than to think I could steal a single cookie without its loss being noticed.  And I did not want that drama.

But I was hungry.  And what I could steal, I realized, was the peanut butter.

Because a missing cookie, you can see where it's missing.  Mix the peanut butter up a bit, no one can tell you stuck a knife in and licked it clean.  So when I woke up and dinner was over and the grocery store was closed and I wasn't going to get to eat until lunchtime the next day, I would creep over to the cupboard and sneak a small enough amount of peanut butter that I was confident it would not be missed.

Anyway, this was... *counts* ...about seven years ago.  But every time I eat peanut butter now, it still tastes like sneaky-triumph-barely-staving-off-roaring-hunger.  Sneaky triumph, by the way, tastes delicious.

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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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I keep trying to look up the words & conjugations to make sure their Hebrew was correct

Have no resources with which to do so really

and gosh whatever facility I ever had in reading has long since been lost

not that it was ever any good really

would "hagen!" be the imperative for "defend" or "protect?"

Goodbye.
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Bread and water seems to be a recurring theme in Israeli music. As a positive thing, mostly-- "If I have a canteen/pitcher of water, and tasty bread, how could anything possibly be missing from my life?" "I always knew that you were as bread and I was as water, blah blah we belong together" etc.

Drove ten hours in the past twenty-four, preparing to spend the next twelve or so in the car, but at least I'll be the passenger and can just kick my feet up, so to speak.

This morning as I was preparing to go to Michigan, I went to check Schuler's website to make sure the Okemos store had Temeraire in stock, and the first thing that came up on the homepage was an announcement for a steampunky costume tea party at the Eastwood Plaza one. It was at one o'clock, so I snuck back into the room and grabbed my steampunky gear and totally made it on time. It turned out to actually be a book launch party for the sequel to a book I'd never heard of, but the authoress seemed cool and I enjoyed the live band's performance and the book sounded... interestingly macabre, so I bought a copy of the first one (on sale for $9, trade paperback) and got it signed. I think I babbled some incomprehensible nonsense at the authoress, but she was gracious and friendly anyway. To tell the truth my expectations for it are not the highest; it's a YA fantasy thing about a girl named Eden in love with a fallen angel named Az, which... well... yeah does not encourage me to have high expectations? But what the heck, for all that it's hard to find good ones, I actually really do like stories in which Some Sort of Evil Monster Falls in Love with a Human Chick and They Have to Try and Make it Work ("Him Having to Defend Her from Other Monsters" trope optional). I mean, the genre had a bad enough rap before Twilight came in and utterly decimated any of the (admittedly dubious) respect it might have gotten, but. You know. Whatever.

I dunno. I read an Aoshi/Misao story recently that has a lot of tropes that are usually my guilty-pleasure romance tropes, but I spent the entire thing being squicked and yelling at the characters that the manner in which they were behaving was not okay and no means no and give Misao back her fricking agency, dammit and stop making her feel bad for wanting some damn CHOICE in regards to her OWN LIFE and step OFF, Aoshi, GOD WHY IS EVERYONE ELSE IN THIS FIC ACTING LIKE THIS IS OKAY?

In conclusion I have no idea why sometimes skeevy things appeal to me and sometimes repulse me utterly.

I mean, I am going to read that book and then report back on how I found it.

Goodbye.
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You remember how Spanish is not a real language, and apparently neither is Quechua? Oh man neither is Yiddish. At all. It sounds like an English speaker with a Russian accent trying to speak German but substituting in occasional Hebrew words and hoping no one will notice.

Goodbye.
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You know, I am fairly convinced that Stan Rogers' favorite line of Barrett's Privateers is "she was broad and fat and loose in stays." Every recorded performance I have heard of him, he sounds as if he is just having such fun singing that line. It's like when I get to the part of the Magellan song that goes AY YAI YAI YAI, or my CD of Gesher Trio singing "HE HAS AN AUUUUUNT." I have gone over my translation with my mother: whatever narrative I have been making up, she is kind of right in that that song makes no sense whatsoever. It's kind of like they had ideas for a bunch of different songs and then threw them together because they couldn't think of second verses for any of them.

Still, I like it.

Goodbye.
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Im kaved lecha la neshama                                                          If your very soul is heavy
Im nigmera ha neshima                                                                If your breathing has stopped
Im nisita hakol ve ze lo azar                                                        If you've tried everything and it hasn't helped
Ve ata nishbar                                                                              And you're breaking

Kach et ze be kalut                                                                       Take it easy
Kmo she ze ba                                                                              As it comes
Kmo she ze ba                                                                              As it comes

Kach et ze be kalut                                                                       Take it easy
Kmo she ze ba                                                                              As it comes
Kmo she ze ba                                                                              As it comes

Kacha ze, lech im ze, kach et ze kal...                                          That's how it is, go with it, take it easy...
Kmo she ze ba.                                                                             As it comes.

Kacha ze, lech im ze, kacha ze kal...                                            That's how it is, go with it, it's easy that way...
Kmo she ze ba                                                                              As it comes
Kmo she ze ba.                                                                             As it comes.

Im hibadeta et ha tikva                                                                 If you've lost hope
Im nigmera ha ahava                                                                   If love has ended
Hi azva otcha ve ata chole                                                           She left you and you're sick
Ve ha chom ole                                                                             And the fever's rising

Kach et ze be kalut                                                                       Take it easy
Kmo she ze ba                                                                              As it comes
Kmo she ze ba                                                                              As it comes

Kach et ze be kalut                                                                       Take it easy
Kmo she ze ba                                                                              As it comes
Kmo she ze ba                                                                              As it comes

Kacha ze, lech im ze, kach et ze kal...                                          That's how it is, go with it, take it easy...
Kmo she ze ba.                                                                             As it comes.

Kacha ze, lech im ze, kacha ze kal...                                            That's how it is, go with it, it's easy that way...
Kmo she ze ba                                                                              As it comes
Kmo she ze ba.                                                                             As it comes.

Kacha ze, lech im ze, kach et ze kal...                                          That's how it is, go with it, take it easy...
Kmo she ze ba.                                                                             As it comes.

Kacha ze, lech im ze, kacha ze kal...                                            That's how it is, go with it, it's easy that way...
Kmo she ze ba                                                                              As it comes
Kmo she ze ba.                                                                             As it comes.
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My second year at Interlochen, someone stole my CD cases. 40 CDs total, many of irreplaceable sentimental value. The CD that Paul gave me, the night he asked me out. The CD Melody made for me, the special circular one, of the American and 1st Shostakovich quartet, two of the pieces the Ecthelion quartet had played that year. And two CDs that had been in my family forever, and as cassette tapes before that- compilations of Naomi Shemer, of songs written between 1956 and 1988. I'd listened to them on holidays, and when I was sick, and on long car trips, and I'd sung them with my family. I was heartbroken to have lost them, but I did have them on my computer.

And then we got rid of that computer, and I did not have a way to listen to these songs for years.

I caved recently, and ordered them from Israel. The package arrived while I was in Michigan, and Paul didn't get around to picking them up from the post office, but assured me that they would hold it until September 1st. On August 31st, Eyal and I drove to the post office and the clerk handed me a package postmarked from Jerusalem.

I love these songs. I love them so very, very much, both for their personal meaning and also because they are *awesome.* I do not think I can express at all what it means to hear them again. Ahhhh, it is amazing.

Their meaning is gaining another layer. I understand them differently, and am forming new associations.

And wow I love them because they're awesome- because it's full of girls with black hair and boys with black curls (and how I shall never see sunlight again until I see it in contrast to the darkness of your hair), and wearing white in the summer, and the melting snow in the hills, and soldiers marching, and marching, and marching, and mourning their dead, and remembering them, and inviting guests in from the gates and offering them everything that they have, and the white city and the city in gray and the river Jordan singing in her banks and barefoot soldieresses in Sinai.

I am drunk today, but not on wine.

Goodbye.
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Kol ze yavo machar im lo hayom
Ze nachon: ma od ba tso'orayim?
Kol ze yavo machar im lo hayom
Ve im lo machar, az misparayim...

Hamelin

Apr. 23rd, 2010 11:06 pm
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People tend not to believe me when I say this, but I've met the Pied Piper. On three separate occasions during my childhood I have heard his music and followed it, along with the other children present, to the source- a tall man dressed in full Scottish regalia, playing the bagpipes, not looking behind to see whether we still followed as he walked along. Follow we did, myself and the others, strangers all but all entranced and following without question. I remember this very clearly. Each time the spell would be broken only when he stopped playing, at which point we would stop following and disperse, confused, while he disappeared. How someone like that just disappears into a crowd I've no idea, and yes, I know how weird this sounds, but I will swear on anything you care to name that it was neither a lie nor a dream: it happened. As a child I was always annoyed by depictions of the Pied Piper of Hamelin playing some variation on a flute, and attempted in vain to convince people that this was inaccurate; he played the bagpipes.

Corigliano's Pied Piper suite is not as awful as I thought it at first, as usually happens when I play something modern, but I still don't love it and I don't think I will. Still, it's an entertaining performance and if you come to the Wharton tomorrow night at eight I think you'll enjoy it.

Today at dress rehearsal Jacob the cellist and two tiny flautist girls and I sat around and challenged each other to tongue twisters. I am very good at them, ha, because I've been practicing toy boat ever since elementary school music class. Also they brought us pizzas, which was fantastic, and I stole the leftovers of one with pepperoni and mushrooms, and it was tasty and so I am not hungry. I am hoping to stick around tonight and practice and then run, and then tomorrow I can work for Eema in the morning and then go home and sleep, because- yay!- there is no morning dress tomorrow, so I can just sleep in until call at 7:30ish. Well, I am supposed to work on the Ktuba tonight, so uh. We will see how that goes, because damn, it would just be so much simpler to just let it be the one about how many zuzim a year Paul has to pay me if we get divorced, but. Y'know. (do you want change in dollars? No, in lirot. Uh, we don't use those anymore... how old are you, anyway?)

Invitations have been mostly sent out, and the first wave should have arrived yesterday. Paul is still tracking down addresses for two of his friends, and I need to call Kelly Pond and get her address, and I think I might still not have Tavan's. Tavan is hard to track down- despite being the only one who can call him, I don't even have his number. So, if you haven't received yours yet, look for it soon.

Last night was my last concert ever with the Philharmonic, and the last time I'll have Raphael Jimenez for a conductor. I- I'm not really sure what to do. It hasn't quite hit me yet, I don't think, and somehow I need to do something, find a gift or something, because- damn. That was a level of awesome I do not think I will ever find again ever. I don't really want to talk about it, though, not yet.

Rode a taxi today. The driver and I discussed the theme songs for various geeky sci-fi shows, prompted by the fact that his cell phone went off and played a slightly more obscure few measures of the Star Wars theme. It happied me.

Israeli guy stopped into the office today. He and my mom spoke Hebrew for a while, and he told us Shabbat Shalom when he left. I will light candles tonight, if I remember/get home early enough.

Caitlin's Mom expressed a wish to send me to Caitlin's Mom Boot Camp for six months, and get me and my issues sorted out. It really upset me quite deeply, but I'm still not sure why.

I... am not sure how I can leave. I mean, I will, and it'll just not really register that it's not temporary for a while, and by the time it does I'll be accustomed to my new situation and have a hard time conceiving of being anywhere else. Which on the one hand, seems like a pretty good way to go about it- just ease into it, like- but on the other hand, doesn't seem right. I'm leaving the only home I've ever known for twenty-two years, permanently, for the first time. And it seems like that should have more gravity. But on the other hand, I know that whatever living-in-the-present my brain brings to the table, it's still going to hurt like hell and be scary as fuck and whatever else. I know you've all done this already, and as usual I'm just a few years behind, but still. This is a big deal.

Anyway. Off to... be productive.

Goodbye.
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Israeli music videos. They seem to have no budget and make no sense and also be about Israelis, who are all crazy. It is like Japan, only the opposite. It's like- you know, you watch things from Japan, and you just go "WHAT THE oh it's from Japan nevermind"? It's like that. Only for all the opposite reasons.

Goodbye.
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Kol HaKavod )

Kol HaKavod Translation )

*kanon is slang, and therefore I don't know what it means. Eema didn't know either, but guessed that it might be something like chatich, or... well... hot guy.

**Jembeliya is a real town somewhere, but in Hebrew slang it's like saying Timbuktu. Just a faraway place. As for the bit with the clock/watch, I have no idea. I guess it just means that Kaza throws the rowdy drunk out on his ear.

Yesh Makom )

Yesh Makom Translation )

Rosa )

Rosa Translation )

Rosa in Hebrew )
alternate third verse from the movie )

BOOM TRACH

Aug. 9th, 2009 08:02 pm
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(MAH KARA?)

How about these thunderstorms, huh? That's one a day for the past three days and it's *still* not getting any less humid. Oh, God, when I stepped outside my building today and was just whacked in the face with that wall of humid HEAT, it was only by a supreme effort of will that I didn't just turn right around, go back inside, crank up my air conditioning, and hide out in my flat until the sun went away.

Last night Aba showed up at work and practically threw me out the door to the Great Lakes Folk Festival, which I appreciated very much, and spend the evening dancing madly about to klezmer music. Eema danced too, much more expertly than I, and also Senor Chimo, who was my Spanish teacher in pre-kindergarden/kindergarden. It was full of cameraderie and fun, and also clumsy dancing with a very cute Indian guy. Approximated the walz with a girl from Grand Ledge. Did something that vaguely resembled the dance from the second-grade musical about Betsy Ross with a group of kids my age, two tiny girls, and their mother. There was a spot of follow-the-leader with Senor Chimo, who is a professional dance instructor. And, of course, everybody danced the hora. Hurrah for the hora, which was actually very very chaotic. And then I keeled over dead, because an out-of-shape violinist am I. I did, however, get the number of the band, because hey guys wouldn't a klezmer band be a fun thing at my wedding? I bet we can even get them to play a polka for the Moravitz folk.

Today I practiced, guys. I DESERVE PRAISE. Not really. But I feel like I do. Mostly, though, I just feel like my wrists hurt. And also like I practiced for three hours & didn't make any progress. Graaaarrrr, Prokofiev/Strauss/Borodin/Tchaikovsky/Borodin/R-K/Beethoven/Barber August 30th GUNNA DIEEEEEEE *wails*

There is a fiddler and an accordion player jamming in the Marriott lobby. I am struggling against running out and joining them, because not only is it presumptuous and rude, I don't know how to improvise and would only make a fool of myself.

Still, I have the door propped open so I can listen. It's lovely.

ETA: So I said "screw it" and went and joined them. It ended up being about a dozen musicians performing in various groups & stuff at the festival, from all over the country/world- fiddlers, guitarists, percussionists, one organ player, one accordion player, and, uh, me, sitting around playing folk music- polkas, jigs, walzes, tangos, reels, and I led one klezmer song- Shalom Aleichem, pretty much the only one I know. I also ruined Czardas, but hey what's new.

I am very glad I went. That was awesome.

*is all warm&fuzzy inside now*

Goodbye.

LADINO

Oct. 27th, 2008 04:24 am
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WTF

I CAN UNDERSTAND IT

WTF, WTF

AM BLINDSIDED

ALSO THAT IS SO TOTALLY AWESOME

goodbye.
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Saw Enchanted. Knew it was fairly bad, but I figured: James Marsden, right? There is a lot I will put up with for James Marsden. Also Idina Menzel. And it wasn't as bad as I was expecting, actually, well, no, it was, but mostly I was just distracted the whole time by CYCLOPS WITH EYES, ALSO, A SWORD.

Just came back from my second concert in three days. went well, good pieces, if they all had to grow on me, that's okay. Bernstein has gone up in my estimation of him, again, and Ralph Votapek is amazing. A surprising (for me, anyway) number of the Symphony orchestra are married- they mostly don't wear rings, for ease of playing instruments, but you hear people refer to "my husband" or "my wife" casually when they talk. It's the first time I've really been among a group of people I almost consider peers that that's happened to me. (they're still nearly all older, and they are all much much better than me. Except my stand partner, and for all that I really like him- he's so nice, and friendly, he really is- he's got something against mutes. Which, I won't lie, bugs the heck out of me.

I'm at my house right now. Eema's setting things on fire lighting all of our halloween decorations. My parents are going to Mexico for halloween. I'm kind of doubtful that I'll be doing anything. In fact I'll likely be working. But I'll look into getting out of work on the seventh, and maybe orchestra too if I can wrangle it.

Goodbye Ravel's Alborada del Grazioso, goodbye De Falla's Nights in the Gardens of Spain, goodbye Bernstein's Age of Anxiety. (I had lots of anxiety about that title. What a pretentious title. There was even a movement titled "the seven stages," argh.)

Goodbye Bartok's Romanian Dances, goodbye Beethoven's Emperor Concerto, goodbye Copland's Rodeo.

GOODBYE CARLOS BOTERO. I think I may cry. No more Prince. I am really quite awfully saddened by this.

I'm not in the opera orchestra, which I expected, and am not too disappointed by, because EROICA. (Napoleonic symphonies for the win.)

Have been writing epically!

-Five Captains Ianto never served under (e.g. Janeway, Mal, Lawrence, Sharpe, WWI!Jack, etc.)
-Five Constables Torchwood didn't retcon (like Fraser! And of course PC Andy)
-immortal!Ianto fic, or at least in which he doesn't age, though he doesn't know if he can be killed. (I don't know either.)
-Five people who never loved the Defiant and one who did (I love the Defiant. Love, love that little ship. But I don't count.)
-Nine/Rose adventures

etc. etc. etc.

I realized yesterday that I almost never read Harry Potter fic. Oh, once in a while, if I see something recommended, or if I can easily find something Viktor/Hermione, and I read the ones in the femgen ficathon (Madam Rosmerta! Remus' great-grandmother was a gypsy!). But not very often.

Mleh. Just killing time until the pie is warmed up. Going now. Then home, to sleep.

Goodbye.
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So first of all Jagger's real name is Lior, which means I look attentive any time anyone calls him by it. Another thing is that I cannot stop laughing any time the soldiers say "go fuck yourself." Let me explain the etymology of this phrase here. There is a Hebrew letter called zayin that is a vertical line with a small slanted line across the top, like a T with a crooked crossbar. It makes a "z" sound. Due to its shape, the word "zayin" is used as slang for "penis." Now, Hebrew verbs, being the beautiful things that they are, are often formed by taking the letters of a noun and pretending that it was a verb all along. For example, if you take the noun "tiger" and conjugate the letters of it as if it were a verb in the form of something that has had something done to it, you get "tiger-striped." If you conjugate "letter" as a verb, you get "to spell." Conjugate the word "zayin" as if it were a verb and you get "to fuck." But to say "go fuck yourself," you have to conjugate it in the imperative reflexive form, which is really quite complicated.

And I just find it kind of hilarious that someone sat down and thought out the grammar of telling someone to go fuck themselves.

But really, it's a sweet movie ("like a [english]fucking[/english] American movie!").

It is a terrible terrible movie to watch if you are sitting around feeling homesick for Israel. It will make you absolutely useless for the rest of the day.

I'm thinking of going for a bike ride while I've still got some light, maybe.

Hey hey- who remembers that movie we saw in fourth grade or so, about Gettysburg, the one where I had a massive prepubescent crush on Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain that never quite went away? I totally wrote my very first Mary Sue about him. Anyway, what exactly was it titled/who was in it?

Thinking of taking a bike ride while I've still got some light. Unlikely to actually do it.

Oh yes one more thing. There was a short story that my sister read to me, from the perspective of a Confederate soldier, and he and his regiment were on one side of the river and the Union regiment were on the other side, and they shouted across to each other and worked out an exchange of tobacco for food or something like that, and the Union soldiers made little origami boats out of newspapers and floated the tobacco or whatnot across, and the Confederate soldier swam to the other side with the food or whatever it was, and then each side went back to their respective camps to kill each other the next day or something. Sound familiar to anyone? Where might that be found?

Goodbye.
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Who would have thought? All you have to do is replace Horatio Hornblower's penis with a six-legged telepathic cat, and he becomes awesome. I certainly never saw that coming.

Also I apparently showed a boy God's work, or miracles, or something. That was what he was exclaiming in utter disbelief to his friend, anyway. So, bow before me, all, for I am She Who Talks to Squirrels.

Leora: Philip Glass, my mother. Eema, Philip Glass.
Eema: Are you sure your record doesn't just have a crack in it somewhere?

Bob Christiansen: This is 90.5 WKAR fm East Lansing, npr and classical music...
Eema: Hey Leora, your boyfriend's on the radio.

Beau: So, this is like an out of body experience. Imagine that you're in a fog. Or at a party, only nobody can see you or hear you. Like, you're not participating, but you're there. And disembodied. And misty, and mysterious.
Wind Player: So... do you want it louder or softer...?

A fuzzy-haired violinist walks into a bar the Music Practice Building, and hears someone practicing the Shostakovich. "Ah! It is Anton!" Thinks the fuzzy violinist. "We must be playing the Shostakovich today!" Then the fuzzy violinist remembered that some people actually practice, and not just on the very day that you have to play for an audience. But that is surely nonsense, and to prove it, we played the Shostakovich today.

Anton: *plays apassionatosisisisisimo*
Anton's Bow: WHEEEEEE!
Violin Sections: *totally lost, because they're all watching the bow fly across the room*
Anton's Bow: *BOOM TRACH CLATTER, somewhere behind the firsts*
Verdehr: You're supposed to catch it, guys.

Leora: *refresh*
*refresh*
*refresh*
*refresh*
*refresh*
All Twelve Members of the R&G Fandom: ...

Worf: GROAW RAWOO ROROOARW GRRRRR RRROA ROEOAW RRAA CHIRRR KRII ROWWWWW?

Clock: 11:00 PM
Phone: RING RING RING RING
Eema: Let's pretend we don't hear it.
Leora: Hear what?
Eema: The phone.
Leora: What phone?
Eema: The phone that's ringing.
Leora: I don't hear anything.
Eema: The phone is ringing. But I'm pretending I don't hear it.
Leora: Hear what?
Eema: The phone.
Leora: Eema. Eema. Hear what?
Eema: Ohhh! Hahahaha!
Leora: Yes. Let's go home.

Leora: *strides awesomely out the front door in a gray, light T-shirt, long jeans, black boots, and her Israeli Army Coat*
Eema: Oh, no, Leora, you look so nice in your clothes, why are you wearing that coat?
Leora: Because the coat is AWESOME. *strides to the car*
Eema: It doesn't match. Go put on your blue sweater.
Leora: No! You're just jealous you don't have one like it!
Eema: I'd have to find someone to wear it to war before it looked like that. Honestly, are there bullet holes in it?
Leora: I don't think so. But Eli has a coat from Chicago that does.
Eema: Eli has a coat like that?
Leora: Well, the one from Chicago is different. But yes. He has one like this too.
Eema: Ahhhhh! It all makes sense now. It's because you want to be coatfriends with Eeeeliiiii.
Leora: ...if you start singing that we are in a tree I will jump out of this moving car right now.

Girl on phone: HI I'D LIKE TO MAKE A RESERVATION.
Leora: Okay. Do you by any chance have access to the internet?
Girl: YEAH.
Leora: Well, you can make reservations online, actually.
Girl: WELL I'M NOT BY A COMPUTER RIGHT NOW. CAN'T I JUST MAKE ONE OVER THE PHONE?
Leora: *gives up on being able to save some time* Yes. *takes information, goes to billing* Do you need an e-mail confirmation?
Girl: SURE WHY NOT.
Leora: *grits teeth, because that takes ten times as long* Of course. etc etc etc And your billing address?
Girl: CHAPEL HILL, NORTH CAROLINA.
Leora: And your e-mail?
Girl: XXXXXXXXXXXX@UNC.EDU.
Leora: You're all set, thank you. *hangs up* *stares in dismay at the pile of reservations to process*
Eema: Did she make you take it over the phone?
Leora: Yes.
Eema: Did she want confirmation?
Leora: Yes.
Eema: Was she a little old lady without a computer?
Leora: She's a UNC student.
Eema: Eize idiotit.
Leora: Yes.
Eema: And a mefageret.
Leora: YES.
Eema: Steal her money.
Leora: Nah, I'll just send Sara to take out her Laurel!rage on her.

I like the Women's Lounge in the Union. Paul says it's sexist and is against it on principle, and I have to admit he's probably right, but I still like it. It feels like a place where you can let your guard down, and the atmosphere is friendly and relaxed but hushed and private. Girls take nooks and tables and sofas, and they read and study and work and nap. There's always a surpising number of couches occupied by napping girls, and I'm often among them. I sat on the windowmost of the horseshoe of sofas in the near corner, and across from me there was an Asian girl asleep. Her rainboots were sitting in a neat pair, and they looked like the rainboots we all had as kids, right down to the umbrellas printed on them. She had her plaid jacket draped over herself as a blanket, and she slept in her stocking feet. I drank my hot chocolate and read my book for about half an hour, and at some point I thought to myself that me sitting there thinking how adorable she looked was probably what the Women's Lounge was built to avoid. Oops.

Curious Book Shop's Shakespeare section seems to have vanished. They do have, however, a section of Nautical Fiction, which meant that I spent a long period of time standing on a stool. (I actually went there to see if they had a cheap copy of His Majesty's Dragon, but the only one they have is Empire of Ivory.) Also Roger Lancellyn Green wrote about Arthur, and for two dollars I'm likely to buy it, because I don't actually know the original Arthurian legends.

I've been trying to think of ways to introduce Mr. Midshipman Hornblower, and one of the ones I came up with went something like this: And you won't even meet Bush until the next book, which is too bad, because he's lovely, and if Hornblower weren't so damn introverted and repressed and depressed and if they weren't both such silly britons, there would simply be lots of buggery, and none of this nonsense about Maria, or Barbara for that matter.

I was also really bitter that Honor's Pavel is evil, but then she steals his former XO who is a Paul, so I suppose I'll forgive her.

The USS Defiant remains my favorite ship of all time though.

Eema's going to kill me if I don't go try on sixteen pairs of stupidpants RIGHT NOW, so rar.

Goodbye.
silentstep: the text "Team Hilarity" on a blue background, with sparkles (Default)
You have to use 3 words to answer each question. No more, no less. It’s harder than you think.
Where is your cell phone? To my right
Your hair? Loosely gathered back
Where is your mother? Asleep in bed
Your favourite thing to do? Obsess over fandoms
Your pet peeve? Wasting my potential
Your dream last night? Dinosaurs carrying semiautomatics
Your favorite drink? Sweet hot chocolate
Your dream car? Flying canopied bed
The room you’re in? Darkly, coldly comfortable
Your fears? Forever feeling unsatisfied
Who did you hang out with last night? Two snowy boys
What aren’t you good at? Any actual work
Muffins? No thank you
One of your wish list items? Nicol Williamson's Hamlet
The last thing you did? Mourned Maya's fics
What are you wearing? A revealing neckline
Your pet? Prowling around nearby
Your computer? Keeps me sane
Your life? In the moment
Your mood? Becoming increasingly maudlin
Missing? Kibbutz Ma'agan Michael
What are you thinking about right now? Resenting my weaknesses
Your car? Tragically, traumatically totalled
Your work? Could be worse
Your summer? Saving for Stratford
Your favorite color(s)? Purples to greens
When is the last time you laughed? YOU BUST SLUG!
Last time you cried? Misunderstood and pining
School? God only knows.

Have officially been diagnosed with both Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome and Ideopathic Hypersomnia, and apparently came pretty close to being diagnosed with narcolepsy too.

Has anyone else noticed how all my disorders conspire to make it look like I'm just plain lazy?

ETA: (I forbid anyone to say something like "Oh, I could have told you that," because nobody actually did.)

Goodbye.
silentstep: the text "Team Hilarity" on a blue background, with sparkles (Default)
So TODAY I went to Schuler's and asked them about Napoleon, Nelson, and the Battle of the Nile, which is one of the few nonfiction books that I am enamoured of, but they could not find its existance. Must bug librarians about this. Later on I ended up in B&N and looked for Horatio Hornblower, whom I miss, but couldn't remember the author and found myself looking at Patrick C O'Brian. And I stood and looked, and stood and looked some more, and asked a random girl with dangly earrings if she knew who wrote Horatio Hornblower but she didn't, so I picked up Master and Commander. I'm on chapter three; I'm not sure if I like it yet. Jack Aubrey so far looks like our student conductor in my head, except with B&N's Friendly Ninja Employee's hair. (kore wa dare no kasa desu ka? dare no kasa desu ka... uh...) And I cannot shake the idea, don't ask me where it came from, that Maturin has a tail. An alligator's tail. I DON'T KNOW WHY.

Good moments in the book:
He broke the ship! Jack Aubrey, you broke the ship!
He can't stop himself from conducting! So cute.
They sit down and discuss Boccherini. Who was the whitest white boy ever.
"What is Catalan?" ...how long have you been here?
"Not Liutenant! Capitan! Capitano! HA HA HA!"
The ship's crew slashes their captain with the ship's master. And don't think it's a bad thing. And they call him Goldilocks.

Also I bought R&GrDead teh Movie, from Schuler's, and I can't wait to watch it again. Lovelovelove. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are love, and I need that on a colorbar.

When I was going to orchestra I saw two boys walking down Grand River holding hands. and when I was coming to work I saw two girls kissing in the alley between the parking structure and B&N. I generally don't see demonstrative gay couples in East Lansing, and then I saw two within a few hours of each other. I don't have a point in mentioning; it was just something that happened today.

Today in orchestra (hooray! I love orchestra!) we played all three of the double concertos.

#1, Bach- oboe & violin concerto. Violinist's name is Tigrin, which makes me think of Fiery Figrin D'an. Cannot tell where he is from. Stick-skinny; such a good violinist. I love listening to him.

Student Conductor: You must play lightly! Think Tigrin's waistline, not mine!

#2, Vivaldi- two trumpets- they're not really trumpets, they're trumpety looking things, but small and cute, with four valves instead of three. It's cool.

#3, Vivaldi - CONCERTO FOR TWO CELLOS, YAYAYAYAYAY. I love this concerto, always always have, and also the soloists are not only very good cellists but very pretty. One is Asian with glasses that keep sliding down because he wrinkles his nose when he plays, and the other is Russian (with an accent!) who actually reminds me a lot of Jake the Linguist from the Ulpan, if Jake looked a bit older, and like a cellist. They sound awesome and we got to sit and listen to the second movement even though we're tacit.

Dan plays the harpsichord on all three, which is interesting, and Alex who sits next to me was being really annoying but whatever, I love orchestra. And my conductor. YAY.

Must go practice now. Have finished the filing and there's not much else to do here, so I get to go get paid for practicing, how nice. I kind of want my job to have a name. I mean, what am I, a secretary of some form? That implies that I am doing the secretarial work to free up the other people to do the actual work, but secretarial stuff, it seems, is all we actually do. *shrugs* *shrugger* I like that better.

I find myself wanting to write modernization!Hamletfic. Also The Road To El Dorado fic. Also I miss Hebrew; does anyone know where I can find Disney movies and the like dubbed in Hebrew? Or maybe Japanese, since that's really why I should be studying. Oh! On Naomi Novik's website there was a sample of the first chapter of His Majesty's Dragon in Japanese, and now I really want to learn enough to read that book in Japanese. That, I think, is an even worse reason than wanting to be able to watch anime without subtitles. Whatever.

Goodbye.
silentstep: the text "Team Hilarity" on a blue background, with sparkles (Default)
And let you all know I'm alive, even though I've not much to say. I've been working at Michigan Flyer, which is more fun than it seemed, at least for now. It's awesome in here late at night when it's just me and Eema and Aba and Eema starts to go crazy from being in here all day and then she starts dancing, and then she and I laugh so hard we can't stand up so we're just laughing and holding each other up and Aba's just like "you guys are WEIRD." Entertaining things happen, like our window-washer actually being a National Champion Window-Washer. Also people speaking Hebrew. And someone saying that they had talked on the phone with "a young lady with a French accent." It makes me laugh how many countries people think Eema is from. Particularly India. Gotta love those retroflex D's that don't happen in Hebrew.

Asians! There are Asians in Michigan! I hardly saw any in Israel. Also, Michigan birdcalls. w00t. On the other hand, East Lansing is a Big and Lonely City, where I don't know everyone walking down the street. Also there are cars.

Found out that that trolley actually *runs.* It goes to "Old Town," so I propose we ride it, and hit Old Town, and have a big old party. PARTY. Yay, seriously, we need to be getting together more. It is annoying to this point that my work schedule is entirely irregular, because I am working for my parents.

Worf has been spayed, and will get her stitches taken out on Wednesday morning. She also got microchipped, which is a funny concept. Basically, if she gets lost, an animal shelter or veterinarian can scan her and see that she is mine. And give her back to me. She and Tessie are still in separate parts of the house.

I saw Over The Hedge. I must say I expected it to be terrible, and it was hilarious and far far funnier than it had any right to be. Captain Kirk's voice coming from an opossum pretty much made the movie for me, but then there was the SQUIRREL and the skunk/cat thing everything else. And then there were boomerangs.

I kind of want mochi right now. Perhaps I will walk down there and get some, and by "walk" I mean "bus." I have to practice today. I have to practice forever. I am going to die, and it is so hard to get started because I know that it is pretty much impossible. Arglbrrmshnff.

Mleh. Nothing to say. Want to find a good stretch of time, and then I will re-read all of Harry Potter and then read DH, because until I do I'm pretty much banned from the internet for fear of spoilers. I'm putting it off, in a way, because I don't want it to be over...

Goodbye.

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