Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Missive Monkey At It Again

Facebook changed itself a bit. I think they tried making it look more professional in case they go public. Anyway, one of the things they fixed was The Wall. At the bottom right of everyone's profile there would be a "wall," an empty space where any friend could write anything. Now it's just...just...UGH! I hate it now! So, in my "missive monkey"* style, I wrote them a letter:


I would like to suggest that you either change the walls back to the way they were or give people the option of choosing which wall they want; the old one or the new one. The new wall, in one word, sucks. It is no longer a wall. It is a gallery. The old wall was like a wall, or bulletin board. People wrote messages to the wall's owner, messages about the wall's owner, and just general nonsensical responses to what other people wrote. Now the wall has turned in its fun and freshness for the same boredom as other sites such as Friendster.

I want the real thing back and I'm sure many people would agree.

Thank you,
Dina P.

All those in favor of the old wall and want it back, SEND LETTERS!

*This is Randy's nickname for me sometimes.

What It's Like to Be Back

"Whoa--did you see what's going on in New Orleans?" Steve asked me today.
Ian turned around from his computer. "The state of New Orleans?"

Ian's usually smart. :)

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

My Personal Trainer

Remember the personal trainer who was helping me out last week? I saw him at the gym last night, too. Again, he wasn't outright hitting on me. But this time he walked me to the door and told me to call him if I'd be at the gym before Wednesday (when I said I would) and that if not, we'll do a leg workout on Wednesday night.

Um, wait, what?

He's really, seriously, going to train me.


I'm thoroughly confused because I don't know what to do in this situation. Am I supposed to tell him up front that I'm not interested in anything but training with him? What if he had nothing else in mind? Should I play the boyfriend card and just drop a mention like, "oh, yeah, my boyfriend told me to try that machine, but I don't know how it works?" (I really can't, though, because I always mess fake stories up.) Should I just create an ambiguous friend/more than friend? Like, "I was going to come yesterday but I was out with a friend...or...well, yeah, friend." Or perhaps I should just play it cool and mention that I can't pay him to train me but I'd be more than happy to bake him cookies. Yeah, I think I'll do that one! Okay, problem solved until I see him again and chicken out.

Now For Pictures from the Vort!

I know, I know, I'm obsessed. But I had to upload the pictures! So...from the engagement party we have...
Doni and Miryam, the chattan and kallahme with Chaya and Steve
me and Chaya alone
me and the kallah :)
me and Tzippy
And, of course, some Hunter people...Moishe, Aaron, Tova, me, and Steve!


Monday, August 29, 2005

School :(

I start school tomorrow. Good luck to everyone else who does, and send me lots of wishes that my teachers are good ones!

My Friend's Shower

I had a bridal shower for a friend yesterday. I need to say what we did there so that people understand why I love this girl. After taking food, we all moved over to the tables where the centerpieces were baskets of markers. The two close friends who arranged the shower explained that they know Ariella's just a little too deep to enjoy a shower of just opening gifts. Instead, we were all going to do something for charity! The project was to color pillowcases for children in hospitals (the pillowcases were from an organization in the memory of this little girl who died when she was only 7 or 8) so that they wouldn't have just boring white ones.

I've been to a few showers this past year (or two) and we never did anything worthwhile. So kudos to the girls who planned the shower, and I hope the child who gets the pillowcase I made has such a quick refuah that she or he won't need it.

My Fortune

I went out tonight with a few friends and we ended up deciding on sushi. (Actually, my cousin got a serious miso soup craving, so we all went to sushi for her.) When we were done with our meal, they brought us fortune cookies. Of course, everyone found proverbs of some sort in their cookies. I, however, did not. Inside my cookie was an actual fortune reading, "one who admires you greatly is hidden before your eyes." I think we all know what this means... (If you don't, it's that Gregg Allman must be hiding somewhere nearby!)

Friday, August 26, 2005

Pictures from the l'Chaim!

Allow me to begin this picture gallery with an explanation. Miryam is my bestest friend in the whole world. Doni is a pretty good friend too (he makes me beer!). The two of them are engaged. Imagine that!

Since my family has the digital camera with them in Israel (yes, all of them are there but sad) and I might not have the patience to scan real pictures after their engagement party, I am going to give you a few pictures from their l'chaim. Enjoy!

The stunning Miryam.
Miryam and Doni ready to get drunk.
Sorry Doni, but Mir came out so gorgeous, I needed to put this one up.
Hi Mir and Dons...
Intense side shot.

Annnd a normal picture of Miryam and Doni.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

I'm Just...Nice to Strangers

I was at the gym today working out my arms when this random guy walked up to me and asked why I was only doing half curls and not full curls. He ended up training me for about ten/fifteen minutes until the guys he was supposed to train showed up.

He's not a trainer with my gym though, and when I asked him if he was, he said, "nah, they don't pay enough." So...he probably doesn't just train for, I was reminded of a quote Randy once said to me: "You are unnecessarily nice to potentially dangerous strangers." But still, he was helping me and not even hitting on me. Believe it or not.

I used to have a free trainer at my gym. He was frighteningly in love with me, so he trained me just so that he could help me. But when I say frighteningly, I mean if I came when he was leaving, he'd put his stuff back and train me for an hour anyway. It came to a point, some time when he was saying things like, "so when do I get to meet the king? Y'know, because you're a princess so you're father's a king!" and, "'re so beautiful, I could sit here watching you in the mirror all day..." and, "let me know when you are able to come, and I'll give my salsa class at that time," when I was like, uh...I'll just use the other gym. I've been avoiding him ever since.

The point of that is that I know when a guy is freaky and tonight the guy wasn't freaky, scary, frightening, or even just plain coming onto me. He was

The Allman Brothers Rock as Hard as Ever and as Well as Ever!

I went to see the Allman Brothers tonight with my cousin Zahava. If you get sro seats, you get to sit on the lawn at PNC Bank Arts Center. Here's a gorgeous picture of people sitting on the lawn while Moe was playing.

Moe was really enjoyable. But we didn't go to hear them. We went to hear the Allman Brothers. And since we were not on the lawn (I like seeing the stage when I go to concerts, thank you), we actually got to see the band. I needed to wear my glasses, but that's cool...I usually do.

Anyway, they opened with Jessica. They played a bunch off their newest album; Maydell, Firing Line, Who to Believe. They played an amazingly amazing Sweet Melissa. They also did Hoochie Coochie Man, The Same Thing (I have this on my ABB tape, but the tape just let out its last squeal today), Hot 'Lanta, Statesboro Blues, One Way Out, Blue Sky, and other songs that I'm just not remembering. Their encore: WHIPPING POST! was so amazing. The Allman Brothers are just one of the greatest bands ever, and they don't even seem to age (since they only seem to be getting better with time).

One of the funniest things about ABB concerts is that there is never a line for the women's bathroom and ALWAYS a line for the men's. But the men's doesn't have a little line--we're talking an all the way up the stairs line! It's too funny when you walk into the bathroom and all anyone can talk about is, "There's no line! There's no line! Haha--my poor husband!" "Maybe my boyfriend will understand when I have to wait for bathrooms now!" And so on and so forth.

I asked this beared guy (SO MANY guys with beards) to take our picture after the concert. He took it, and while he handed the camera back said, "HAHA! There's a funny looking man behind you!" So we said, "okay, thanks." And he made a funny face and started laughing. He was either very amused by this "funny looking man" or he was just in the ABB concert spirit...
On our walk back to the car, we passed a sign: Zahava thought that the spiderweb on the side of the sign was stunning and made me take a million pictures of it. Here's one:

After taking our spider pictures, these two random men were like, "hey, if you two girls wanna go back, you can have our passes." They rip something off their shirts. "Just go straight up and through the gate," they tell us. Apparently, they got them from one of their brother-in-laws. We took the passes, but the band had already left. :(
Then we took another picture, because we thought we looked really good (just kidding, because we were wearing our cool passes! Check them out on our shirts!):

After that, we saw this skateboarding dude go speeding down the hill you have to walk down to the parking lot and promptly fly onto his back at the bottom. He looked severly hurt and severly under-protected. Zahava ended up giving him a wad of tissues and we watched him peel his skin off. It was a party.

I do just have to state for the record that this concert was the best I've ever been to. And I don't just say that after every concert.

Now for just coolness's sake, here's a picture from my archives of me and Gregg this past January. I went to see Gregg Allman and Friends at BB King's on 42nd Street with a friend. We stayed outside for Gregg to come out so that I could attack him with my love. He did come out, and while we took a picture together that makes us both look like obese homeless people, I didn't attack him with my love. It was a little surreal for me. Go figure... :)

Monday, August 22, 2005


Guess who's engaged! No, really--guess who!


Okay...MIRYAM and DONI!

Pictures to follow...maybe...if they came out good. We'll see. :)


Friday, August 19, 2005

Well, I've Gotta Do It

Okay. I've been "tagged."

The Rules: List five songs that you are currently digging - it doesn't matter what genre they are from, whether they have words, or even if they're not any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying right now. Post these instructions and the five songs (with artist) in your blog. Then tag five people to see what they're listening to.

Okay, so here are my five songs:

Allman Brothers - Desdemona
Allman Brothers - Melissa
Allman Brothers - Midnight Rider
Allman Brothers - No One to Run With
Allman Brothers - Soulshine

That's right--I'm preparing for The Allman Brothers this Tuesday at PNC!

K, now for the five people to pass to...

1. Logan
2. Doni
3. Dindel
4. Tova
5. Randy

Ligers and Tigons

Last night, Randy and I got even more philosophical than usual...

Randy: there are ligers & tiglons
Dina: tiglons makes no sense
Randy: liger has a lion father & the tiglon has a tiger father
Dina: no, cause tig-tiger, lon-?
Randy: tiglon is a real animal
Randy: though i wouldv’e called it a tion
Randy: it can be called either a tiglon or tigon
Dina: tigon works
Dina: beginning of tiger end of lion

But of course, at the time, I thought he was making it up. While Randy knows all sorts of obscure facts about things (he was the one who was disappointed when I knew the origin of the word "sideburns" because he had made a pact with himself that he'd marry the first girl he met who actually knew that), I really thought that this was just one of his made up things. Apparently, there are(!) Ligers and Tiglons (also Tigons). Well, what do you know?

I would also like to give National Geographic (only the Tiglon picture's not from there) an award for the two least likely paragraphs to be found together put together well:

Weighing in at about a thousand pounds (450 kilograms) each, they typically devour 50 pounds (23 kilograms) of raw meat in a meal.

"For the most part they're really laid back," said Jason Hutcherson, vice president of Wild Animal Safari in Pine Mountain, Georgia. "They like to swim and play in the water."

My Bookshelf is Up

Lo and behold, when I came home from school, my father had hung the bookshelves I made months ago onto my wall. We actually attempted to hang it Wednesday night, but we had so much difficulty that we pushed it off. So, (a) how gorgeous is it and (b) how thoughtful was it for my father to have done that?

My only problem, however, is that I have to scatter my books about on shelves around my room according to size. I wish I could actually organize them, "American Lit.," "Romanticism," "Books on Grammar," "Books on Food," etc. One day I will have an amazing library of my own (read: please help me find a husband who'll make a lot of money at some point).

Thursday, August 18, 2005


When you LOL, are you really laughing out loud or commenting that what was said was funny?

Personally, I don't employ the LOL method of communicating appreciation for something humorous, but many I know do.

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

The Age of Innocence

I just want to say that Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence is this close to replacing Philip Roth's American Pastoral as my wow-this-is-the-most-true-quote-from-a-book-ever book.

I'd also like to say that if you had difficulty understanding what I was trying to say in the above statement due to my sentence structure, you are not alone.

Because is a Great Word

On the bus ride home, Miryam and I were fading in and out of conversation. The bus was freezing, we were in the front seat, and, of course, most of our conversations had to be whispered. At one point, I turned to her and let her know something I had just figured out.

"Y'know, you shouldn't start your sentences with, 'because.'"
"Oh, no; I didn't. Did I?"
"Yes," Miryam said. "You did."

This exchange led me to wonder, of course, why it's uncommon after a period of silence for someone to begin a thought with, "because." People don't just sit with their minds blank until they're spoken to again, they sit in thought. I know that my thought processes must be boring to anyone outside of my brain, so I spare them that. It happens though, when I have reached a conclusive idea, that I find myself interested in sharing it. And so I do.

For example, imagine yourself sitting beside me. We talk. We stop talking. Five minutes later, I say, "Because my parents will obviously be taking the camera with them to Israel. What am I going to do then--buy a disposable one?" Do you understand what I mean? Yes. Can you figure out where I'm coming from? Yes. Is it necessary to explain how I've arrived at that statement? Nah, it'd just be superfluous.

To quote rule 17 (under Elementary Principles of Composition) of The Elements of Style, "Omit needless words." This rule applies both to writing and conversation. As a matter of fact, sometimes I think that my natural ability to eliminate superfluous words, sentences, or sometimes even paragraphs from my speech is what makes me a genius.

When I was younger, my Hebrew teachers were under the impression that I was, perhaps, a super-intelligent being. One year, after noticing that my grades on Ivrit quizzes averaged somewhere in the 20's, my teacher suggested to my parents that they have me tested to assess my learning strengths and weaknesses. I did very well on all the tests but one: the associations test.

The associations test was one in which the tester said a word and I was to tell her what popped into my head. She said, "tree;" I said, "street." She said, "lamp;" I said, "homework." All this wasn't because I didn't know that the words I should have said were, "leaves" and "light (or desk)," but because I assumed she got that.
My brain upon hearing the word tree: Trees have leaves which die in the Fall and fall everywhere but are raked when they're on lawns, so really there are only leaves in the street. "Street."
My brain upon hearing the word lamp: I never use lamps unless I'm at my desk, in which case it'd have to be one of the rare times I'd be doing my homework. "Homework."

And so on and so forth.

Monday, August 15, 2005

Six Questions

Once upon a time, Michael passed a blog interview onto me. Now, the Zombie Lama has. This interview is a bit different, though. ZL had to make up six questions for me to answer, which I will in a minute. Then, if you comment on this, I will write up six questions for you to answer and post on your blog. it is:

1. Godfather I or II?
The second, of course! The opening act with Don Corleone as a young boy is masterful.

2. Your friend cannot have children and she asks you to be a surrogate. Would you?
If I could help someone I love who isn't able to have children have a child--I couldn't turn that down! But then, I'm not in that situation right now (thank God), so maybe I shouldn't be so quick to answer.

3. 1st kid is coming, do you want a boy or a girl? long as the baby is healthy, it doesn't make much of a difference. (Although I think it'd be cool to have boy-boy-girl-twin girls-twin boys in that order. :))

4. Why don't you answer sex-related questions? hehe

5. Who has influenced you most in life?
cringe...My Mother...but I can't explain or I'll get mushy.

6. Why do you blog?
I started a blog with a group of friends because we wanted a website and blogger is free. Then I realized that it might be beneficial to me, as a Creative Writing major, to write something every day no matter how short (or often times, hasty) it is. So I started this site on my own as a place to do writing exercises.

Best Away Message

The Most Absolutely Hilarious Away Message Ever:
______ __ _ __ _ __
Auto response from Randy Agadi: "We're all in this together. But since I'm in this together more than everybody else, I shall be the leader." -Randy Agadi

...Leave it to Randy to quote himself...

Sunday, August 14, 2005

The School of Etiquette Science

I will admit, I wasn't actively looking for a job when I stumbled across this article in the New York Times. But I couldn't resist the thought...Me, a teacher of etiquette.

I think I should name my school The School of Etiquette Science. I've already come up with the format for graduation certificates:

I, Dina, do hereby declare that
[insert name of pupil]
is a gentleman/lady.
Dina P.
Dean of The School of Etiquette Science
Because you see now I can be Dean Dina.

Friday, August 12, 2005

Ready to Be a Mom

You never know what online quizzes might do. Sometimes they end up inspiring new screennames. Sometimes they make you laugh. Sometimes, they make you laugh even before you're through with it. Take for example, this question:

13. While walking down the street, you see a baby and a puppy at the same time. Which one gets your attention?

a. The baby
b. The puppy
c. It depends on my mood

What? What? Baby--dog? What?

Anyway, it doesn't really matter because according to the quiz, I'm...

more than ready to be a mom!

Almost full text:
Blah blah blah. Go ahead and change your name to "Mommy," because you are ready to reproduce! Blah blah blah. You've got a good idea of how much effort and adjustment being a mom entails (though no one knows exactly what it's like until they've gone through it), and you're still ready, willing, and able to take the plunge. Congrats! It seems like all of your maternal instincts are in high gear, and you've got the motivation, knowledge, and support to back them up. Blah blah blah. So, go buy that cute little outfit and get busy in the bedroom!

But I Looooove Food!

One day on the bus this week, Miryam told over an interesting conversation she had with a few girls who were in this training program with her. One said something along the lines of, "uch, I got so fat in Israel, I have to lose weight." The girl who said that was half the size of our friend Chaya (according to Miryam's report). Our friend Chaya is about 5'2 or 5'1 with a smaller bone structure than myself. But, granted, this girl probably just didn't fit into her old clothes.
The other girl said, "uch, I know a girl who went to Israel. She mamish got fat--she wears a 10 now--and she didn't even try to lose it! And she was a 6 before, now she's a 10 and she didn't even try!"
Mir looked at her and said, "well, maybe she's comfortable with her body even now and doesn't feel that it's necessary to lose the weight."
"Yeah, but she was a 6. It's such a shame."
"But is it a shame if she feels comfortable and happy with herself when she looks in the mirror?"*

Then, along comes Yeshiva Bachur. How did I find his blog? There's a link to punks on it. What do I read? A post called "Love?". He says, "She happens to be a little too well rounded for what I hoped my future wife would be. A little too much extra goodness in the wrong places. B'H her personality outshines this small disturbance and I am going to try all my might to ignore it. No girl is perfect. (Or boy, of course)." Why do I care? Because I'm obsessed with the pressure people feel to look like sticks. Not that it's blatant, but if you're not thinner than the next girl, your pickings are lessened.

Miryam told those two girls that she was shocked herself, but that when she came to Hunter she discovered that guys actually preferred girls with a little extra meat in any place over cardboard thin girls. SURPRISE! Even though she always thought that the most attractive girl is the skinniest girl, in the actual real world--it's not true! So, that's that.

*Please note that this conversation is not factually correct. Miryam told it over to me (she probably got it word for word), but I'm just giving a reenactment from paraphrased version I put into my memory. If you want the real account speak to Mir.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

I Still Think He Just Didn't Get Fat

You know how despite having an adult body and (hopefully) matured brain, people can reduce you to feeling like a teeny tiny five year-old again just by shaking their heads back and forth and saying, "Dina, Dina, Dina," and possibly adding, "what are we going to do with you?" Well, in class yesterday, we were discussing Theodore Dreiser's Sister Carrie. There's a line where Mr. Hurstwood's wife is thinking that her husband is still physically worthy of her affections, but no longer socially worthy. My teacher paused to ask the class what they thought that meant, since he couldn't really figure it out. I raised my hand right away--here was a sentence I had my own difficulty with and subsequently figured out my own explanation to.
"I think she just means he didn't let himself go."
"Let himself go? Like, leave?"
"Um, no, I mean like get fat."
At this, my teacher gave me one of those, "Dina, Dina, Dina," looks and started laughing, repeating to himself, "get fat." And I turned all red and felt like a third grader in a college classroom.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

On Being an Italiana

Walking back from 57th with my Yogoccino in hand (not even a fifth as good as the Happy Shake I got last week), I stopped into a shoe store on Madison Avenue. After a look around, I decided it was time to leave. I went to the door and there was a family of Italian tourists there. The father noticed that I wanted to leave and held the door open for me after his family had already walked through that door. The son then saw that I was leaving as well and opened the outer door so that I could leave before his family. I turned to him and said, "thank you." He turned to his family and said, "Italiana!"

Me mistake for an Italian? Oh, wouldn't be the first time...but I have one even better. When Miryam and I were in London, we had to take our pictures in these little booths for our metro passes. I went into one, leaving Miryam to wait with the luggage, at about the same time that a group of five or so Italian men were walking in our direction. Ecstatic at having found another Italian in the English country, they attacked (yes, attacked) Miryam with a flurry of hugs and kisses and shouts of "Italiana! Italiana!"

Miryam tried pushing them off with explanations that she only speaks English, but they were relentless. They thought she was Italian and they were determined to have her admit to being Italian. It was a party. :)

Sunday, August 07, 2005

I'm a Nerd

I apologize, but sometimes I just have to...

Friday, August 05, 2005

No More Anorexic Models?

Whoa! Could this be true? According to an article in the Mail & Guardian, Israel might just ban anorexics from modelling!

Um... (a) how could it have taken me this long to find this article and (b) could it really be true?

For my Intro to Women's Studies class last Spring semester, I had to do a group project in which we were to work on a problem and present a solution to Congress. My group worked on eating disorders and proposed that Congress pass a bill to regulate that models have to have a required healthy BMI. There's nothing bad about someone being thin, it's just when someone's unhealthy that...well, I won't go on cause I'll never stop!

Kudos to Israel if this is true!

My Mood is Magenta

Your Mood Ring is Magenta

Thriving mood rings are always magenta!

Thursday, August 04, 2005

A...Job? Gasp!

I was looking through old papers on my family computer to see what I could delete to free up memory space and found this essay.
The following essay is the first paper I wrote for college. The grammar is debatable, my sentence structure is outright frightening, and I had to separate "even" and "though" from the one word I had the two of them as. (As you can see, my sentence structure is still a little...tipsy. :)) Anyway, I thought this essay was funny because my mother reminds me all the time that I need to get a job. Enjoy.

Dina P.
Professor G.
English 120
September 10, 2003
First Draft

When I was about seven years old, I knew for certain--in the bottom of my heart--that when I grew up I would be a trapeze artist and own bunches of Dalmations. By the time I turned eight, I matured and recognized that I would never be deft enough to walk a tightrope and accordingly shifted my hopes to becoming a diamond miner like the seven dwarfs. At about the same time that my interest in Snow White was replaced by Beauty and the Beast, I lost my passion for mining. Over the next ten years, I went through a series of career-idea changes that involved acting, owning a restaurant, becoming senator, acting, singing, owning a restaurant, being a writer, acting, being a photographer, becoming senator, and acting.
Some might call me indecisive or fickle, but when I get an idea I stick to it--at least until I think of something better. I have heard that most people change their majors a number of times throughout their college years. I doubt, because of my history of job interests, that I will not be one of those. To sit here in front of my computer and tell you, in all seriousness, that I plan on majoring in Media almost feels like a joke to me. Although, as of now, this is a plan I do intend on seeing through.
In eleventh grade, I met with a publicist to discuss her job because at the time I was considering PR. When I saw how much of the job was just writing I opted out, even though I had been the editor of our school literary journal that year. I knew that I needed a job that involved more creativity and met with a man who does advertising to find out what his field was all about. After being thoroughly impressed with what I was told, I decided that advertising was for me.
I may have made up my mind back then, but my classmates did not take that to mean their opinions on what I should do after college were not of interest to me. I could not really blame them when they would whine to me to go to culinary school as my baking obsession was well known throughout my school as lethal to any girl on a diet (in all-girl schools there tend to be many). I never considered culinary school though because just the idea of spending day after day in a hot bakery kitchen baking in bulk scared me.
Near the end of my last year in high school, I did a reevaluation of my skills and interests and realized that advertising was not the field I wanted to go into. What I wanted to do was work as a producer for the news. My AP Political Science class and the situation over in the Middle East piqued my interest in current events. At about the same time, I recognized that I am far better at pulling together projects than just writing papers or coming up with ideas. I have always loved doing research, English has never been a problem for me, and packaging things to make their presentation impressive is something I am quite proficient at.
Maybe one day you will see me on the ten o’clock news, reporting or being an anchor. Maybe I will be behind the scenes, writing the news and taking care of covering certain stories. Maybe I will move to London and work at BBC. Maybe I will get theinternshipp I just had an interview for at the political unit of CBS, and maybe I will not. What ever the case, I am just glad to have enough maybes to keep my indecisiveness interested, and not wander into other fields of study.

So...I'm only minoring in Media Studies now. My major is English. :)


I learned a couple of new words today.


It's German and it means wanting of kids. As a matter of fact, it means wanting of kids very badly. So from this point on, I'll be saying, "I'm so kindersuchtig right now!"* instead of, "I want to have a baby!!!" This way I can spare all those who hate me already for my incessant reminders.

The other word is...


Means the same Norwegian! "I am so ungesøktig right now that I think I should see a doctor."

Layla tov.

*Logan--proper usage?

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

Oh, It's Over

And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.
Sylvia Plath.

I'm in a terribly bad mood.

Another enemy of creativity is censorship. When I was editor-in-chief of my high school literary journal, I had to submit something. Since the theme was NYC, the poem I wrote went like this:

My foot hits the ground
And the impact reverberates
In my blank mind
As I put my other
Foot down I raise
The first to keep to the beat
Of the nature around me
Away from the traffic,
Exhaust, and rush -
Surrounded by grass,
Trees, and birds -
Where New Yorkers look around
And New York minutes seem like forever
I feel at home
in Central Park.

There was a "running" right after "home," but it was taken out after my principal told me that it's not tznius to get an image of a girl running in Central Park. I figured that if the imagery was strong enough to project that, the word was superfluous.

Anyway, my parents found jewfood and aren't pleased. Does this mean I'll now censor what I write so that they approve of my language and chosen content? Maybe. Does this mean I'll now stop posting on jewfood? Maybe. Does this mean I've shattered that terribly inaccurate persona I've created for myself as The Perfect Daughter? Hahahahha! I forgot...I never did accomplish that one.

I shall simply sip my coffee now and go back to the school work at hand.

Monday, August 01, 2005


It's only 10:40 and my heart's already fallen out twice today.

First, while driving, I noticed a teeny tiny little person up ahead on the sidewalk. Upon closer inspection, I saw that this was a boy not older than three. Where was his mother on this busy morning? Why, about three feet behind him...with her back to the road! Hello--I don't care that you look like you're wiping crumbs off your baby's stomach or back or doing what ever it is you think you need to do--you either wait until your son's bus picks him up, or have him stand on the lawn (where you are) and you stand on the sidewalk (where he is).

Then, on my way home, I was turning a bend and at the top was a woman waiting to cross the street with her baby. Why would this make my heart stop? Oh, just because she was standing on the sidewalk with her stroller in the street!!! Notice that I mentioned I was coming around a bend--how the spindleshanks are people expected to see just a stroller in the street when they're coming up a hill that curves? No, moronic mother, we don't know that you're standing there with your baby asking to have it killed.

How seriously stupid can people BE?

Once while driving Miryam home after Shabbos, I turned the corner and went up the block, and there was a group of little Chassidish boys on a shul lawn in their black suits/pants and they were impossible to see. I probably only saw them cause I have a crazy intense baby-radar. Anyway, they were playing almost right up to the curb. As we came to them, I rolled down Miryam's window and told them that they were hard to see and should probably move closer to the shul than to the street. They all got up, thanked me (a million and a half times--even as I was driving away) and moved. But they were between 5 and 11. They weren't 3, they weren't infants, and they weren't mothers.

As Napoleon would say, "IDIOT!"
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