Sunday, December 09, 2007

Privacy

    "The sanctuary of the human person is his emotional life, not his logical life. The Ark is with us in each person's emotional life, concealed behind the curtain. This aspect of the human being is protected from the eye of the cynic, the glance of the skeptic, the ridicule of the so-called practical and realistic man."

    "If I want to transmit my experiences, I have to transmit myself, my own heart."

    ~"Private Emotions" by Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik
I read a post today that spoke to me. It particularly speaks to those of us who do not seem to be particularly private people. There is an assumption that there is nothing we hold precious, nothing that is sacred to us, nothing that we do not mind sharing with the world at large. There is an idea that we are so totally and wholly open that one may take everything from us and more and we shall not mind. We have no concept of privacy; we have no concept of what is forbidden, of what is ours and should not be shared. This is not true. We have a very clear understanding of privacy and what is ours and no one else's. The question of what we share has to do with our comfort level and our different definitions of privacy.

As for me, I operate off of Rabbi Soloveitchik's credo. In the same way that he suggests that there was a time where people understood one another through silence, that observance was transmitted via a process of understanding and osmosis, but then explains that we must act differently now, that we cannot trust any longer to that process but must explain our relationship to God, so too do I feel. There was a time when it would have been enough to be silent. It was through silence that people would understand one another, would realize the depth of emotion others harbored for them; it was through silence that they understood love and they comprehended relationships that could not be adequately expressed in words.

But we have reached a time where remaining silent is not an option. We live in a society that operates based off of words; it is words that mean everything and it is difficult to understand without that medium. And so, in order to teach effectively, in order to model anything of importance, one must open oneself up, face the "eye of the cynic, the glance of the skeptic, the ridicule of the so-called practical and realistic man." For if "I want to transmit my experiences, I have to transmit myself, my own heart" and to do this by necessity means baring one's soul and allowing oneself to be seen.

As Rabbi Without a Cause explained:
    I share a lot of myself, talking to people about how I feel, personally. It’s an approach that works for me; I like being open, and I think people respond well to it. So I speak personally at funerals as well as at semachot; when discussing world events I frequently refer to my own personal feelings; when counseling or sitting by hospital beds I react from the heart. I cry during speeches from the bimah two or three times a year, when discussing sensitive issues. Before Yom Kippur I ask for mechilah openly, admitting the wrongs I can recall. I’ve discussed my own illnesses, frustrations and joys from the bimah. I “let it all hang out” as much as I feel I can. In a sense, much of my soul is communal property - and I’m all right with that.


I find that sentence particularly powerful: "In a sense, much of my soul is communal property - and I'm all right with that."

I do not do it in quite the same way; I am no Rabbi standing at the pulpit, but to some extent I act similarly. The ability to which one is able to be open depends on one's personality. There are some people for whom it is easier and others for whom it is harder. It is easier for me for the simple reason that regardless of what I write or say, I do not think anyone can really know me simply through this medium. You know parts of me, facets of me, but do you really know me? I do not think so. And so I do not feel as though I am truly risking anything, not in any way that can truly touch me.

And what is the worst that can happen to me? That one of you will read what I have written and destroy it, use it against me, somehow desire to hurt me? And perhaps you shall, and perhaps you will take pleasure in it! But in such a scenario, you are the weakling and the coward, for you take what was given over in honesty and use it to wound. So ought this to stop me? Ought I to be afraid of you, of a possibility of what may happen and what we hope shall never come to be! No! This is mine and it is of me, and you can take it as you will, but I refuse to be afraid of what you can do to me. The benefit outweighs the cost in this scenario, for I am certain that there are so many others who have the same questions as I do, or who have been through the same experiences, and it is necessary for people to know that they are not crazy but that the thoughts that flit through their minds are perfectly normal. And that it's possible to love God despite being angry with Him, despite doubting him, despite feeling sometimes like everything is worthless; through all this it is possible.

And why only of God? Think about people! People ought to know that they are respected and cared for, that there are so many of us who have days like theirs, times when we want to give up and fall apart, times when we are sad or blue for absolutely no reason, times when we want to snap other people's heads off, times when we've made a terrible mistake or done something cruel to someone whom we love and would never want to hurt. We are people, we are human and we do these things! And yet, being human, we consistently focus on negatives and on all that is wrong with us; we can only see what makes us imperfect and we are hard on ourselves and angry, and we do our utmost to bring ourselves down. Or as Meredith says in "Crash Into Me Part 2:"

    At the end of the day, the experience of practicing medicine bears little resemblance to the dream. We go into medicine because we want to save lives. We go into medicine because we want to do good. We go into medicine for the rush, for the high, for the ride. But what we remember, at the end of most days, are the losses. What we lie awake at night replaying is the pain we caused, the ills we couldn’t cure, the lives we ruined or failed to save. At the end of the day, the reality is nothing like we hope. The reality is, at the end of the day, more often than not, turned inside out and upside down.

But people won't know it if you don't tell them so. People need words; they need other people to explain their lives, to show how we are the same and connected. People need to share with other people, need to be comforted and need to realize that we're in this together in the most important way possible; we all share these hopes and dreams and we all lie awake at night, replaying the pain we've caused, the ills we couldn't cure and the lives we've ruined.

So that's what we do, some of us: we share. We share our worlds and our lives and try to give over the way we've felt and the way we feel so that others can see that they're not alone in this, that no matter where they are, there's someone there to see them and help them and tell them that it's okay, that whatever they are struggling with is reasonable and there's someone out here to understand and say okay, I see you. I see you and you matter and your struggle matters. And not only that, I see your good qualities and respect you for them, respect you for those that come innately to you and those you have struggled to perfect, but above all, I see you and know you as another human being and therefore as important.

Despite all this, despite the fact that some of us can share easily or don't seem to keep to the normal levels of privacy, that doesn't mean we never wish for privacy or don't understand what it means. We do. There are some things that are only for me to know, that are special for me and that's precisely why I won't write about them or share them. Or if I choose to share certain ideas, I will share them with particular people, assuming that it is clear that I chose these people and did not wish anyone else to know. But people operate based off of assumptions and believe that if you are a public figure in any capacity, others are entitled to know everything about you. Let's make it very clear: you are not entitled to know everything about me.

Everyone deserves some privacy.

Private Emotions

The following excerpt is from The Rav: The World of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Volume 2 by Rabbi Aaron Rakeffet-Rothkoff, found on pages 167-169.

~

Related by the Rav in his lecture on "The Abridged Havinenu Prayer," at the RCA Midwinter Conference, February 7, 1968

Jews do confess, but confession is a private matter between the individual and the Almighty. In my opinion, this is because of the Jew's typical modesty and shyness. The noblest and most exalted feelings that the Jew experiences must remain like the Ark of the Covenant, concealed behind the curtain. "And the curtain shall separate for you between the Holy and the Holy of Holies" [Exodus 26: 33]. The sanctuary of the human person is his emotional life, not his logical life. The Ark is with us in each person's emotional life, concealed behind the curtain. This aspect of the human being is protected from the eye of the cynic, the glance of the skeptic, the ridicule of the so-called practical and realistic man.

The Jew, as a father, never spoke of his love for his children. Never! I want to tell you something. My relationship with my father was very close. He was my rebbe. I had no other rebbe. Whatever I am intellectually is due to him. There was an existential unity between us. Nevertheless, he never told me that he liked me. He never kissed me, and I never kissed him. I remember that on one occasion I was departing, and it was doubtful whether I would ever see him again. We just shook hands and he said: "Go in peace, and let God be with you." As a matter of fact, someone watching this cold, chilly scene of father and son parting said: "That's the Brisker lomdus!" [Laughter.] The truth is that we did not spell out our love for our children in objective terms. Neither did Jews as husband or as wife spell out their love for each other. No matter how much devotion, dedication, mutual trust, and love bound them to each other, they could not speak about it. This love was nurtured in privacy. "It is there that I will set my Meetings with you and I shall speak with you atop the cover, from between the two cherubim that are on the Ark of the Testimonial-Tablets' [Exodus 25:22]. [Only in the privacy of the Holy of Holies is such a rendezvous possible.]

Apparently, the same method was applied in our relationship with the Almighty. We never told anybody and never wrote about our love and dedication for the Almighty. We have not told anybody about our great romance with the Almight and His with us. There is no literature about this. The only book we have on this topic is Shir ha-Shirim [Song of Songs], and it is couched in symbols. Only through such symbolism could our romance with the Almighty be presented.

However, I do not believe that we can afford to be as reluctant, modest and shy today as we were in the past about describing our relationship with the Almighty. Why? The reason is simple. In the past, this great experience of the tradition was not handed down from generation to generation through the medium of words. It was absorbed through osmosis; somehow, through silence.

[...]
This emotion was passed on from generation to generation simply through observance and viewing. Today in America, however, and in the Western world, this is completely lost. The father cannot pass it on to his son. The father does not possess these emotions, because he never observed and experienced them. He cannot expect his son to receive something he himself does not possess.
Therefore it is up to the Yeshiva and the teacher to open up the emotional world of Judaism to the students. I do not know how one can do so. Believe me, I have told you many times that before Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur I can teach my students the laws and the philosophy of these Holy Days. I am not a bad teacher. However, I cannot transmit my recollections to them. If I want to transmit my experiences, I have to transmit myself, my own heart. How can I merge my soul and personality with my students? It is very difficult. Yet it is exactly what is lacking on the American scene.
[...]

What Would You Save From a Fire?

My friend Brown sent me this link a while ago, but I never actually posted it. It's a fantastically interesting question (and article), however:

"Imagine getting a knock on the door in the middle of the night. You have 10 minutes to leave, says the sheriff's deputy, and you don't doubt him. The air is suddenly so turbid that your daughter, who has asthma, is throwing up in the hall bathroom. Ash is gathering like snow on the front steps. You close the door and consider the question that is becoming an existential ritual for hundreds of thousands of people around the world every year: What do I take?"

What would you save from a fire?

As for me, the answer is simple. My laptop. (We are working under the assumption that all siblings and relatives could be safely evacuated and the question really is what would you save from a fire, not who would you save.)

Friday, December 07, 2007

Party in the City

Places I was last night:

1. Cafe K
2. My Most Favorite Dessert Company
3. The Marriott Hotel
4. The Hershey's Store in Times Square

All this because it was my friend SJ's birthday! Happy 21st birthday, darling!

And I got to spend time with Erachet, which was lovely as well!

We are so evil because we indulge in date-watching. Which is a highly amusing occupation. The peculiar thing is that there were more dates taking place (actually a date lineup) at "My Most Favorite Food" than at "The Marriott!" What new and frightening developments are these? It was actually quite beautiful; they placed us in a corner, so there we are, three girls, at odds between the numerous tables filled with couples. One can then determine how early into the relationship these people are by how uncomfortable they seem. This is probably cruel but makes for very good stories.

I wonder why people choose to go to those highly populated places if they don't want to be seen. They ought to go somewhere out of the way and interesting. A forest, for instance, which they can wander through, especially if it is snowing, since that makes for a dreamy setting. Or a laser tag arcade. Or maybe an unusual store, because wandering through strange stores (especially costume shops, but professional costume shops) makes for excellent good fun.

Since we're on the subject, the strangest date I've yet heard about was the guy who took a girl to the graveyard. But a close second might be the people who went to the Charmin' bathrooms in Times Square. People are quirky and interesting and special. Hurrah for people! Out of curiosity, though....do you have any good stories?

In any case, our intrepid party got to ride the pods at the Marriott (they look like pods, with their exciting glowing lots in lavender and green) and wandered around taking lots of bizarre pictures, which made me particularly happy. I love the lights and waterfalls there.

And then we went to the Hershey's store and got free hats that said "Factory Worker" on them! And we observed these random people dancing happily to the song "All I Want For Christmas Is You." They were really having fun. I love people who act like they are children and dance in stores or randomly break out into song. I do both of these things and it's fun to know I'm not crazy. ;-)

We sang songs from lots of musicals all the walk back, and I was impressed by SJ's and Erachet's knowledge. All I had to do was request something, and presto-there it was! It was incredible!

Thanks so much, guys- twas a party!

Flirting in Russian (aka Sam is Awesome)

So I have this excellent friend Sam. He's not Jewish, he obviously doesn't go to school with me and he is great and highly entertaining. So today he informed me that I am unique because "i suppose the fact that you are always interested in what i have to say, always and that the interest you convey never seems to be false, that and plus all the flirtatious funny stuff adds to it." Which was supremely nice of him, especially since I wasn't in a particularly good mood.

Being an awesome friend, he therefore decided that he was going to make Russian fun for me and we embarked upon this highly ridiculous conversation. It is awesome. And I am in the best mood ever.

Samuel: MNE OCHEN NRAVITSYA ZHENSHEENA
me: you are very pretty (no wait, that's krasivaya) something____
hmm. don't know what that one means
Samuel: WOMEN ARE VERY PLEASING TO ME
me: LOL. that is fantastic.
Samuel: haha
me: Вы - мой друг (to address you formally) otherwise we can make it tbl
Samuel: tbl eta moya malenkaya koshka (if this isnt flirtatious i dont know what is)
me: you are my ____ ____. don't know what malenkaya koshka means
Samuel: lol. now im laughing. little cat
me: hahaha! that is wonderful! I shall be a little cat and you, why you...tbl moy balshoi sabaka balshaya, maybe b/c sabaka feminine? not sure. now you are a dog. perhaps even a female dog. haha. or I could make you "reba" in which case you are fish
Samuel: LOL big dog hahahaha
me: maybe "sacar" instead. you can be my sugar- ha, that's flirtatious. or caxap, and be ketchup instead
Samuel: O.o HAHAHAHHAHA
me: I think I like sugar best
Samuel: lol lets go down the list- sugar n spice n' everything nice
me: or I could just say ya lublu sam -is there a word for like or only a word for love in russian?
Samuel: or this is probably the soviety version "IN SOVIET RUSSIA MEN ARE MADE WITH IRON OF EARTH, AND WOMEN ARE MADE OF SULFURIC ACID MAKING THEM STRONG AND HARDY"
me: and this is why olivia is not a russian woman
Samuel: lol
me: because she doesn't belong in chemical testubes. she would be very sad to find herself there and might cry
Samuel: haha. well, i know that "ya lublio tebye" is i i love you
me: instead she hangs out with hilariously funny people who claim that she is made out of odorous chemicals. yup
Samuel: lol i didnt say that
me: so you did! let's see what else I know how to say. hmm. patamushata! means because
Samuel: SHTO STABOY
me: let's see, kto means who, so shto means what. what does staboy mean?
Samuel: whats with you
me: kak de la?
Samuel: no. a.) what are sick with b.) what the heck is wrong with you (like are u a goofball)
me: I like b because I"m not sick. and hell yeah, I'm a goofball -I am the queen of goofballs vecherom is evening -ya gavarit i sam b vecherom
Samuel: uhhh
me: hehehe. that is severly mangled
Samuel: i talk to sam with night
me: LOL
Samuel: vecherom is night
me: I meant in the night
Samuel: lol
me: during the night
Samuel: haha
me: doesn't b/ na mean in or during?
Samuel: lol a friend in my class made a ring tone "MOSHET Bblt YA BoodOO PEET VODKA ILI PEEVO"
me: sam sleushal charosho
Samuel: MABYE TONITE I WILL DRINK BEER OR VODKA
me: oh LOL. kem tbl choshesh bblt?
Samuel: i dont know what that means
me: what do you want to be? profession wise (I think, anyway) kem is apparently supposed to mean that. ya pisala [to] sam [at] vecherom
Samuel: i hochoo tvoya chelovek. that made no sense
me: what did you answer? I don't understand
Samuel: wait wiat
me: (I wrote to sam at night? past tense?)
Samuel: i hochoo boodoo tvoya chelovek
me: so that means: "I want to be your _____?"
Samuel: man
me: LOL. I am loving this
Samuel: da. ya toshe
me: "I also." hehe. okay, so let me think how to respond to that
Samuel: indeed
me: ya chatchoo boodoo (what does boodoo mean?) tvoya padrooga. can I say that? not sure
Samuel: boodoo is the future first person to be verb
me: ah, so I didn't learn that yet
Samuel: i want to be your girlfriend?
me: yup pretty much, since you said "i want to be your man" i had to respond in kind
Samuel: OCHEN HOWOSHO
me: I just luaghed out loud. HA.
Samuel: LOL
me: kagda tbl gavarish [with] olivioo? (I assume it changes to oo because it is after a verb)
Samuel: when do you talk with olivia ?
me: yup. I am just asking random quesitons now before finding out more flirtatious things to add to my fun list of things
Samuel: lol. hmm
me: shto tbl delal vechera dnem?
Samuel: lets see we've gone from cats and dogs to sugar n spice to sulfur
sit naked in my room writing poetry
me: haha, you're kididng me
Samuel: da
me: whom do you have to write poetry to, is the question
who is sam's secret love
Samuel: tbl
me: ;-)
Samuel: LOL
me: I am so enterrtained
Samuel: Sam eta гладкий c zhenshuuna
*eena
me: I don't know what that means. too advanced for me
Samuel: sam is smooth with the ladies
me: HA
Samuel: tbl znaesh? da tbl znaesh
me: do you understand? yes, you understand. ha
Samuel: who is sam's secret love eh? ya ne znaio
me: nope, I don't know
Samuel: tbl znaesh...:)
me: I do? kto eta?
Samuel: eta... eta.... ... TBL!!!!!!!!
me: LOL sam, you crack me up
Samuel: da. sam lyche goofball, chem tbl
me: you realize you have completely teased me out of my formerly bad mood? I so appreciate it
Samuel: i know, though that wasnt what i was going for
me: it wasn't?
Samuel: no. well kinda.
me: bolshaya y vac cembya? what were you going for, then? I've actually never asked you that- if you have a big or small family. now I am curious
Samuel: to have fun
me: excellent -you accomplished that. I shall have to hone my russian flirting skills. shto bbl delaete: rabotaete, yntaete [or] odvixaete? (actually a really fun way to practice- flirt in russian! huzzah! interspersed with vodka and alcohol references! party over IM)
Samuel: brb real quick
me: sam chintal, pisal, rabotal [and] sleushal. gde? b komnate. b universitetye.
Samuel: LOL. goof you are
me: tbl lublesh medsestra? ya delayet domashnee zadanye [with] sam [over IM[ otkooda tbl pre'echal? ya prechala iz chicago (not really, but...)
Samuel: ahhhhhh
me: ? you never answered whether you love the nurse. I was busy creating a soap opera with the medsestra and you were silent
Samuel: LOL. THATS WHAT U SAID????
me: pochemoo tbl choshesh znat ruski yazik? didn't I say "tbl lubesh medsestra" i.e. you love the nurse?
Samuel: fook rusky yazik
me: I am pretty certain "fook" is not a swear in russian ;-) you can say plocho, though
Samuel: hmm. eedoo na uxhot means go on a dick ie go fuck youself
me: on bolen (oh dear, you're sick)
Samuel: LOL
me: it would be on bolen for he is sick. I mean in this case tbl bolen, don't I?
Samuel: ya ne znaio
me: tbl idiesh [with me] doma? (i.e. you will go with me home?) shto tbl lyovesh? (by which I think I mean, what do you love to do?)
Samuel: DA. MNE OCHEN NRAVEETSYA.

This is how I should always do my homework. Make it fun and make it silly and I'm bound to be so much happier in the end. Mangling the Russian language with friends is so much fun. Sam, you rock my world.

Thursday, December 06, 2007

Blush

My friend listened to "Blush" by Aly & AJ and said "I'd say I thought of you when I heard it, but I think that would make you uncomfortable. So I'll just say, I think you'll like it."

The song is exquisite and I understand what he meant. In the song, the girl longs for a physical relationship with her boyfriend but sets limits because she is not yet ready to sleep with him. But what's truly beautiful in the song is the tension between what she herself wants and what she is willing to allow herself. Despite her longing, the fact that she desires what she cannot have, she forbids herself from going further.

There are certain people, and perhaps you know them, who must live this way. They must always go up to the edge, but it's a dangerous game to play, because they desire more. They stand upon the brink and look down, wanting so much to jump, just to feel that exhilarating rush of air as they fall. There is something exhilarating in that, in permitting oneself what one wants, in grasping at that which is forbidden. There is something nakedly joyous and beautiful in that one leap.

I feel like I am such a person. There's so much I want and that I must consciously forbid myself; it is a kind of self-defeat, the sort that Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik describes so poignantly. The beauty of this song lies in its expressing this concept so honestly, so profoundly. The words are so understated, the melody somehow connotes lightness and a kind of eternal understanding, something that I can't adequately express. There's so much meaning behind her one statement, "please." Or as Frank Kogan explains:
    Aly & AJ, "Blush": A couple of people had told me in advance what the lyrics were about: Aly saying to her guy that even though she likes his honesty it won't lead him to her bed. So she's setting rules and limits, he can go ahead and say it, make his play, and he can go further, even ("please take me under with you"), but she'll only let him go so far; yet she wants him to try, likes him brazen, wants to be wanted. So when I'm actually listening to this I'm fully prepared. Nonetheless, suddenly I'm up and pacing back and forth, with tears in my eyes. Aly's been ending each verse with, "If you must, make me blush." On the last one she pauses, goes soft, quietly inserts the word "please": "if you must—please—make me blush." And this quiet word seems to contain all her own desire, welling up within her (which is what this song is really about, finally).

    Most other Aly & AJ songs tumble around with sounds and wordplay and ease of expression. This one is laborious, almost maddening, the restrictions she's putting on her guy actually being the restrictions she puts on herself, the conditions under which she allows herself to feel. (The song doesn't specify why the narrator wants to hold her sex life at bay, doesn't say whether she's simply not ready, is just not ready for him, or feels there's a moral principle involved. Aly herself is an evangelical Christian, but that label covers a lot of territory, and I don't want to project stereotypes onto it or her; possibly she feels a prohibition.) But in a pop-music world that's inundated with sex, the most passionate moment of the year comes from a careful, analytic teenager tortuously asking a guy to make out with her.
It's the understated, the subtleties within this song that make it so achingly beautiful. Here she is, a girl who can allow herself what she wants if she will only permit it. And yet she refuses. But at the same time, she comes so close to the edge, close enough that she says "Please...make me blush." It makes her uncomfortable and yet it doesn't. She's playing with ideas, with expressions, trying to see how different stimuli make her feel, trying to gauge and learn from her own reactions. She's so human. She's so real. She's trying to assess her feelings; she acknowledges that his words make her uncomfortable but paradoxically likes them. There's something so tantalizing and appealing about the forbidden; there's confusion and a sense of immersion, the totality of oneself undone.

There's something frightening about the ability we have to lay ourselves bare, to be that honest with another person, to admit to liking something that one chooses not to take, to admit to mixed feelings and confusion. There's something strong in that honesty, something appealing and human, something that touches me.

It was very perceptive of my friend to see that this is my song. Thank you.

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

The Tragedy of Absalom, Prince of Israel

Absalom is maligned as a cruel and wicked character, a man who rebels against his father, the villain in this particular scenario. This is the way he is presented to us as children; we all know the midrash that Gehennom opens beneath his feet while his long tresses are tangled upon the outstretched branch. But if you actually read the chapters and scenarios in order, you will see that Absalom's actions are motivated with cause, that far from being a villain, he is a righteous person who met a tragic end. His intentions were pure.

To understand Absalom's story, you must begin with his actions on behalf of Tamar. Tamar is raped by his half-brother Amnon. Not only does Amnon rape her, but he then refuses to give her the protection of his name, forcing her from his room. Absalom finds her and comforts her, counseling her to accept her fate. One can imagine the effort it takes for him to utter such cold words, when in truth his only desire is to avenge her. But he waits. He waits to see what the King will say, what his judgement shall be. Considering that King David expressly commanded Tamar to "Go now to thy brother Amnon's house, and dress him food" (Samuel II 13: 7), he is indirectly responsible and more liable to blame himself. Or so we would think. We are informed of King David's reaction: "He was very wroth." And yet, he does nothing. King David is angry, extremely angry, but he takes no action. Amnon is allowed to go in peace. Justice has not been done, villainy has been tolerated, the rapist roams unharmed while his victim sits desolate in her brother's house.

Absalom does nothing. He bides his time, waiting for the opportune moment. He does not reveal his inner thoughts to Amnon, only waits until he is given the opportunity to take his revenge. He bids his servants kill Amnon at the sheep-shearing feast, obviously believing himself to be completely in the right because he has them commit the murder in full view of everyone, of all the other guests and the rest of the king's sons. He does not proceed by stealth or by subtle plans, in the manner that Amnon did. He kills in the open; justice is served.

But he does not trust his father. He knows that his father did not serve justice the first time and he is liable not to wish it to be served in this case; he therefore flees, running from his father's wrath but hoping to be brought back, hoping that his father will understand that he only did what his father was not strong enough to do; he rid the kingdom of a rapist and avenged his sister's shame. He believes that his father will see reason. But David is proud and he is stubborn and though his heart longs for his son (Samuel II 13: 39), he will not send for him.

It is Joab who manipulates the King into fulfilling his own desire, allowing the Wise Woman of Tekoah to lead him into sending for Absalom. But the king is still proud. He allows his son to return but cautions Joab, "'Let him turn to his own house, but let him not see my face." (Samuel II 14: 24) He is still angry with Absalom and spurns him, allowing him back into the kingdom but refusing to receive him as his son. Absalom obeys his father, returning to his own house and not looking upon his father's face. But he is sad and perhaps resentful- does his father not see the necessity of his actions? Does he not realize that it is cruel to punish the son who only did what the father could not?

Absalom loved his sister enough to avenge her and indeed to name his daughter after her (Samuel II 14: 27).

And then look. Absalom dwelt two full years in Jerusalem and did not see his father (Samuel II 14: 28). It has been at least five years since the murder (three since he fled, two since he returned) and David has not summoned him or looked upon him. He has instead been cold, exceedingly cold, choosing to avoid his child, choosing to pretend that he does not exist. Absalom loves his father and misses him. This is extremely hurtful. Why does David so punish Absalom for only doing what was just; why does he so prefer his other son, the rapist?

Absalom finally comes up with a way to force his father to acknowledge him. He burns Joab's fields, thereby earning an audience with Joab. He informs Joab "'Behold, I sent unto thee, saying: Come hither, that I may send thee to the king, to say: Wherefore am I come from Geshur? it were better for me to be there still; now therefore let me see the king's face; and if there be iniquity in me, let him kill me."

Absalom takes the issue and confronts it. "Why have I come here if my father refuses to acknowledge me?" he pleads. "Let me see my father's face, the king's face, and if there be iniquity in me, let him kill me." But enough of this endless waiting. Enough of this cold, aloof way of dealing with the situation, this pretense that I do not exist; let him allow me to see him or let him kill me, but let this be done with.

The king does see Absalom. And they appear to be reconciled, for "the king kisses Absalom" (Samuel II 14: 33). But wounds like these are not so easily healed. Notice that the king kisses Absalom. It is not vice versa. Absalom does not kiss the king. The King has forgiven. Absalom will not forgive. "Do you think I will forget," he seems to ask, "do you think I will forget how you preferred him to me, how you mourned for him but banished me, how you avoided your duty as King and did not harm him, how you simply allowed him to walk free, to breathe the very air I breathe? Do you think I will forget? I will not forget. You chose to ignore me, to act so cold, so very cold to me! I have not forgotten and will not forget."

And this leads to the next chapter and Absalom's subsequent thoughts. We see the following verses:
    And Absalom said unto him: 'See, thy matters are good and right; but there is no man deputed of the king to hear thee.'

    4 Absalom said moreover: 'Oh that I were made judge in the land, that every man who hath any suit or cause might come unto me, and I would do him justice!'

And is Absalom not right? He answers based on his own experience! His father the King did not judge fairly when it came to Tamar and Amnon, did not judge fairly with him. "There is no man deputed of the king to hear thee-" in the same way that the King did not hear Tamar's cries. "Oh, that I were made judge in the land-" this exclamation is honest and genuine. Would that I Absalom were judge, I who understands the meaning of justice, no matter the cost!

It is with these pure and good intentions that Absalom slowly becomes twisted. At first he rationalizes that he must take the kingdom from David in order to rule honorably and justly; he cements this by consorting with his father's concubines. He desires to take the kingdom by force. Note that David realizes that this is his fault! He counsels all his men "Beware that none touch the young man Absalom." David understands why Absalom has chosen to rebel against him; he realizes his cause.

And perhaps now we understand the dramatic, moving, tragic scene where David exclaims "O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! would I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son!" (Samuel II 19: 1) Notice how he calls Absalom son, how he owns him now, but it is too late! He was cold before; he was frozen and aloof- he refused to see his son, to allow him into his presence- he chose Amnon over him, chose his grief for Amnon, for the dead over the living- and look what it has cost him! "Would I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son," I regret it, I regret what I have done and wish I could take it back- you are mine, you are mine, you are my son.

And is this not the tragedy of it all? Absalom's actions are motivated by his father's passivity; his father is a man torn between his love for Amnon and his daughter Tamar, and though he is extremely angry with Amnon on Tamar's behalf he cannot bring himself to hurt him. His love gets in the way of his judgement; Absalom fulfills the judgement and the King extends his banishment, refusing to accept him as his son. It is only at the last, when Absalom has taken matters into his own hands, determined that he must rule if there is to be any justice that the King understands- and regrets, and tries to avoid the inevitable- but Absalom dies and it is now when it is too late that the King wishes that he had known that he was always his son, that he always loved him. My son, my son Absalom.

President Joel

    What you will conclude from the next anecdote, I cannot guess.

    I was in the streets of Frell with my father when a man pelted him with an overripe tomato. While wiping at his clothes, my father spoke kindly to the man and ended by resolving his grievance. Afterward, I asked why the man hadn't been punished. When Father told me I'd understand by the time I became king, I said I didn't want to be king if people threw tomatoes at me. I said it seemed a thankless task.

    Father roars with laughter when he tells this tale. Now I know why: It is a thankless task, but tomatoes are the least of it.

    ~Ella Enchanted, 211

~

This may be peculiar to me, but whenever I read this quote, I can't help but think of President Joel. It seems to me like the kind of thing President Joel might say, the clever anecdote he would relate which allows him to laugh at himself and in turn, allows the crowd to laugh alongside him. Far more importantly, however, I feel like this is actually the truth. People are upset because of whatever real or imagined grievance or grudge they bear and therefore they throw tomatoes at people. And the people stop and listen patiently in order to figure out why exactly they were so honored and are now licking sticky tomato juice off of their lips, solve the problem but are never adequately thanked. Indeed it is a thankless task to be a king, monarch, ruler, president or any person in a position of authority.

I can't say I know that much about President Joel. I know that he has an exciting office in Stern, since that's where they held the Bone Marrow drive and it was quite fun to sit in his swivel chairs and to be informed that this is where he holds tea parties. I know that he's excellent at giving speeches. I know that he usually stays at events overtime in order to answer everybody's questions (and invariably some of mine.) I know what people say about him, how they disparage his role in the same way that they disparage every President's role, claiming that he's simply there in order to be a figurehead and raise money. But I don't think so. Because there are different kinds of University Presidents. There are some who are approachable and some who are unapproachable; they each exude a different kind of aura, allow for a different kind of energy. And so, whether I know him well or not, I like President Joel. Because I do feel that he's approachable and that if I had an issue of enough import, I would be able to go speak with him and that he would hear me out. And I wonder sometimes whether people realize how amazing and valuable that is. That assuming I wanted to, I could just make an appointment and stop by and have a discussion with the President of this University. And he wouldn't be condescending or mock me or look down his nose at me while wondering how quickly he could thrust me from his presence. At least, I don't think he would be. Because that's not the vibe I get from him.

I appreciate President Joel. I appreciate his presence and his jokes, the fact that he works for us, that he's approachable and accessible and above all else, interested. I really do feel like he's interested in the students and in what we have to say. I appreciate the fact that we have unmoderated questions at our Town Hall Meetings. And I don't think that we can or should expect straight answers to all of those questions, because obviously the President cannot commit to anything in public; if he does, we'll never let him hear the end of it! So he has to be careful. He has to phrase things carefully. But that doesn't mean he's not listening. In fact, far from it! He is listening, only he has to come up with a set of priorities, because some things are more important than others.

Has it ever occurred to you to think of President Joel as a human being? Sometimes we think of people only in terms of the position they occupy. We forget that they are human beings, capable of having good days and bad days, of being happy or sad, that they have families and children and their own worries and troubles. For example, I was initially surprised to realize that President Joel had a family. I had gotten so used to thinking of President Joel as President Joel- as just that man, within that position. But he does have a family- he has a wife and children. And isn't that interesting? That in addition to all his other responsibilities, he has his private life, his family and friends and the people whose company he values, and he has to juggle making time for them with making time for all of us. And that can't always be easy.

I started to think about all the meetings and dinners that he attends. I know it's his job; I'm not arguing that it isn't. But every meeting or event or function that takes place in the evening is one more dinner he isn't having with his wife (well, unless she accompanies him) or with his family. And did you ever think about that? About the things that people have to give up for our sakes? Maybe this doesn't strike you as being particularly important. It strikes me as being important. It's those things, those little things, that time that is spent on us and on the school- well, that time is being channeled in one direction and not the other. That time is being given to us and not to whatever activites or interests he may have as a person, whatever it is that he wants to do that evening. What if he had a really bad day and just wishes he could go watch a movie? Or maybe read a book? Or maybe he would just like to go to sleep early. None of this is in his hands. His job comes first. His work comes first. No matter how he's feeling, no matter how much he'd like to go to sleep early, he has functions and dinners to attend, people to placate and soothe, students to see too, complaints to answer. I would hate this job. He performs splendidly.

Because that's what it is in part, isn't it? A performance? President Joel is a performer, a dramatist, an actor on the stage of YU. That doesn't mean what he says isn't heartfelt. Far from it! Certainly he means what he says or at the very least believes in the ideals behind what he is saying. But he also strives to entertain, to provoke laughter, to allow others to feel positively in his presence, to work in good feeling. Perhaps this is effortless on his part or perhaps he works at it. Either way, he does it skilfully. I am always amused when I hear him speak; every speech includes funny lines and invariable "slips" that amuse and are quoted for days (if not for weeks.)

I appreciate the open lines of communication. I appreciate the fact that if I ever wanted to, I'm free to invite myself over to President Joel's house for Shabbat (just give his wife three Shabbatot on which you are free and presto! you're invited.) I know people who've spent Shabbat there and have had a fantastic time. I know I plan to take advantage of this at least once (and ideally when I have something worth saying or suggesting.) I don't know as much about his policies, especially since I wasn't here in the days of the previous President, but I appreciate the personality behind President Joel. I think that the personality is what makes the man. And perhaps to some extent this personality is a mask he wears, crafted in order to fulfill his role as leader, but I don't think so because there's a lot about him that strikes me as being genuine. I think he really does want the best for the Jewish people, and he's working to achieve that goal.

Those of you (or perhaps us) who disagree with President Joel generally disagree with his methods. We may not think YU is the best place for every prospective Jewish student. I've heard students say they were not pleased by the seeming dismissal of every yeshiva to the right of YU (i.e. Ner Yisrael and the like) or to the left (other secular colleges.) They'd prefer that we not put down schools in order to raise ours up. And that's a valid point. Others have said that the President doesn't always remember them when he meets them. In that regard, I have to say that I understand people who don't recall names but remember faces and I don't think it's right to take it personally. Each person has their own issues with YU and it will probably stay that way; the student body is diverse enough to allow for all of us to pleasantly disagree with one another. But even if you do disagree with President Joel's methods, you can't argue with his passion, with the fact that he has a vision of what he wants to do and is trying to implement it. And that's a very difficult thing to do, to win everyone's trust, to placate one group and soothe the other and woo yet another committee by promising them this but that means taking it away from that one. It's a delicate game and a difficult one and it would cause me endless headaches. Which is why I'm glad it isn't my role.

So I guess what I'd like to say is thank you. Thank you to the President for being so open and willing to speak and interact with the students, thanks for giving of your time to attend functions, events, dinners or Chanukah parties (even if you meet extraordinary personalities there, I can't help but think that sometimes you would like evenings to yourself), thanks for opening your home to us on Shabbat and thanks for all the amusing and entertaining anecdotes. And for providing material to speak about (or quote.) And thank you also for the serious moments, the times where you say something and it comes across as really honest, like your statement about the dignity of man and how you feel that man really is ennabled and ennobled. That was one of those authentic, meaningful statements that it's really important to hear. I appreciate.

It's a party at YU with President Joel at the helm...I've never been so entertained. Here's hoping you are, too.

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

Internships

Hey Everybody,

I would really appreciate your help here.

I'm trying to figure out my summer plans. I would like to do some kind of internship or even have a job, assuming that it is interesting. However, I don't know where to begin or which opportunities would be available to me. Do you have any idea of jobs, internships or the like that would be available and/or websites I should look at?

I love English and Judaic Studies, so anything that somehow incorporates reading, writing, fun research or something like that would be perfect. Otherwise, feel free to branch out...I find lots of things interesting. I'd love to do something cool that's not in my area of interest- that's fine, too. Soup kitchens, homeless people, battered women, non-profit organizations...it's all good.

Thanks so much in advance!

The Green Badge of Honor

I'm wearing the green badge of honor on my arm.

I've been wearing it for the past six hours. You see, that green badge signifies that today I donated blood. That green badge is actually green gauze wrapped around my arm to ensure that my vein doesn't start bleeding out again.

But here's the best part- today was the first time I ever donated blood. I wasn't old enough before and I didn't have the opportunity. But today, especially since I am convinced that it is a chiyuv to donate, I saw the sheet that informed me the Blood Drive was being held in Schottenstein, headed over and began the process.

I didn't know what to expect. First they asked me whether I had eaten anything today. I had to think about that one, but luckily had eaten some scrambled eggs and a couple of orange slices. They recommended I eat a cookie anyway. Then a lady pricked my finger to check my iron count (they accept starting from 12.5 and up, but not when it's too high. Mine was 13.3.) Then she measured by pulse, temperature and blood pressure. After ensuring that I was fine, she waved me over to the people who would actually stick the needle in my arm.

They had me lie down on this fun navy blue beachlike chair. I was determined to brazen this out, not to be afraid, to make myself cheerful. So I started bantering with the two guys sticking people with needles, Cooper and Shaun. Cooper is this big black guy with a personality that sparkles. Shaun is a student in a gap year before attending MedSchool. I smiled and joked with them and Cooper told me that I was cool and that he liked me. He tied a yellow latex-like cord around my arm and had me squeeze a small weight in an effort to find a vein. He tapped at the crevice of my elbow in order to find it, untied the yellow cord and took out the needle. I'm a little bit crazy so I needed to watch him insert the needle. I told myself that I would be perfectly fine and that I would enjoy the process, aside from which, it's always better when I understand what's going on. So I watched him thrust this needle inside of my skin. He was amazing. He got the vein on the first try and the blood danced through the plastic cords, filling up happily. I had a party.

I asked them about their lives and how they got involved in their jobs. Cooper got involved because of a girl who asked him to work with her (the girl has since moved on.) Shaun figured this was a good way to spend his gap year. The two of them have some crazy stories. Shaun told one story where they wander around in the Bloodmobile and the dregs of the earth come onboard. In this situation, the fellow inquired "Can I sell my blood?" "No," Shaun patiently answered,"this is a volunteer donation." "Do you have condoms?" the man inquired next. "No," Shaun answered. "Is this a place where you get a free HIV test?" "No," said Shaun yet again, but explained where the man could find such a place. Finally the man paused and said, "Can I sell my sperm?"

Some people just don't get it.

The girl who had gone before me had seemed perfectly fine, but once she got to the table where she was supposed to rest for a bit and eat and drink up, she slumped. She was ashen, her skin white. Everyone rushed over to her to help her and ended up lying her down on the sofa. I determined that this wasn't going to happen to me. I was cheerful the whole time, watched the blood drain from my arm, asked lots of questions about when and how soon I can donate next (I can do platelets in three days!) and how long the blood lasts (42 days.) Anyway, I really had a party. Giving blood is fun!

The only thing I hadn't known was that I couldn't shower for six hours, seeing as I had to keep the green gauze dry. Now I'll know to shower before going to donate.

Despite having lost a pint of blood and being told not to exercise, I walked all over the place tonight. I took the local in Washington Heights (you happy, Daddy?) but had to walk for a bit and passed two crack dealers on the way. That was interesting.

In other fun news, remember how I ran all around Manhattan but refused to divulge the reason why? Well, that reason is a happy one and can now be explained; my friend liked his present, which is exciting.

In even better news, remember how I mentioned the random tourists who took pictures of Tzarich Iyun and I when we walked the Brooklyn Bridge? They actually sent us the pictures! How amazing can people be? These random people who didn't know us at all took our pictures, took down our email addresses and actually remembered to and did send us our pictures! We live in such a beautiful world.

Monday, December 03, 2007

Muffins

So there's this guy. His name is Muffins.

Muffins is fascinating in that he is complicated. He's difficult to understand, easy to misinterpret, a little bit mysterious and always kind. He is a canvas upon which people can project; different people can see him as being shtark or irreligious, kind or cruel, respectful or irreverent. But his own world remains untouched; no one can critique a world barred from access. It sometimes seems as though he is made of ice, completely distant and aloof, so far that no word could touch him, nothing harm him. To some he is intimidating; his verbal sophistication makes him so. To others, it is the power of his logic that is attractive; he easily demolishes weak arguments, often helping to clarify the thoughts of others. His manner changes dependant on the venue; he acts as is appropriate given his context. Whatever his role, he can wear it to perfection. This sometimes leads to others becoming frustrated by him, even wondering whether he has any opinions of his own, deeming him to be a person made of plastic, impossible to read and impossible to know.

It is because he chooses to be a private person that it is difficult to know him. It is his choice to share what he will; if he trusts you, it is an honor because he holds you in high enough regard to give you something of his that is precious. Such honor must be earned and cannot be forcibly taken; his trust must be given freely. He is kind to all, attentive and interested, a listener who is available to hear one's complaints and confusedly articulated cries, someone who walks the fine line between understanding and advising. At times it is enough for him to simply listen, to simply hear another person and understand and demonstrate to them that he cares enough for them to hear them. But at times, when he is asked, he works extremely hard to offer a solution to the person in question, to present them with different options and to help them see what the advantages and pitfalls of the scenarios at hand mean for them. He does not decide for them so much as lead them to a fork in the road and then explain the choices. The final decision must always be theirs.

He cares very much about people. He cares enough about people to respect them truly, to love them for being people and not for being notches in his belt, some kind of item that he can possess or manipulate in order to further himself. People to him are very real, so real that it upsets him when someone he loves does something that he knows they are better than; it upsets him when people don't actualize their potential. He desires to help people achieve their ideal selves and he does that through allowing them to explore themselves and their world, to understand their environment and the things that matter for them. He is involved in NCSY but for him, NCSY isn't about making kids frum. It's just as much social work and psychology nowadays as anything else; his goal is to build people up and help them explore themselves. An important issue for NCSYers is Jewish identity and therefore one they should learn about and grow into, but by no means does he wish to convert them to a particular way of life and certainly not his own way of life. Part of living is about not having the answers, not always knowing what comes next. He wants people to learn and to feel comfortable in joining him in learning; he cares about them and what they have to say. He doesn't need all the answers in order to do that.

He is patient. He is patient enough to deal with people he would prefer not to deal with because he is busy with other matters, but he is careful not to turn people away and to listen to them, to hear them out when they need him. There are plenty of times where he places other people ahead of himself, before his own life or whatever it is that he wants to do at the moment. He is even kind enough to try to fake it for others; there are times where he simply doesn't have the energy due to the fact that he leads an exhausting life, but he does his best to pretend that he can work it and he has the energy to listen and participate in whatever the people speaking to him wish. There are times that he pulls it off and the people never know; they come away with the impression that they are valued and respected by him, which is exactly what he wants to give over. If they are able to sense that he is faking, he answers them honestly and explains that sometimes he simply doesn't have the energy. But he tries.

When he does have the energy, he is intensely hilarious. There is an entire other side to Muffins, the side that the NCSYers see, this fantastic, zany, crazy advisor who runs around dancing in his socks, being slapped on the back or half-choked by his kids, force-fed by them before spontaneous ruach, the storyteller and above all else, Muffins himself. Muffins plays a character named Muffins in NCSY skits, a man who must develop a strong relationship with his muffins and who desires to winnow in order to do this. He is ridiculously funny, definitely one of the kids' favorites. Kids find his intelligence impressive, admire his logic and sense of presence and love watching him make a fool of himself. They realize that it goes against his entire demeanor, the sense of dignity which he possesses and can project and it's that contrast they love; here he is with a suit and tie and an entire attitude which suggests that he is a gentleman and yet he's dancing with them, his entire expression radiant, fed by the shared love and energy that exists between them. One can almost see the sizzling golden lines that link him to the others in the room, a web of energy with him near its center.

Muffins is a self-proclaimed hocker. He makes connections, forming them between himself and others, figuring out which people ought to be introduced to one another. This is something that carries through regardless of his position relative to others; whether he is working the crowd at shul or the attendees of a conference or open house, he shakes hands and smiles, giving the impression that he is interested and attentive and willing to hear whatever that person may say. His tone is carefully controlled and modulated; he always gives the impression of understanding, of having everything under control, that nothing can faze him and everything is proceeding as planned. Despite not enjoying extremely stressful situations, he can handle them well if there is need for that. He has phone charisma, is the sort of person who can capture people's attention over the phone because of his presence, his professionalism and charm. His business acumen is also lauded; he understands the steps necessary to take in his approach towards a particular goal and is able to come up with plans in terms of how to reach those goals. He has a very organized mind.

So who is this person who is by turns professional or crazy, controlled or energy unleashed, beloved by many and understood by few? What is he to me, what are his qualities and why do I respect him? What is it about him that I find so compelling? Is it simply the mystery or is there something more?

When I first met Muffins, I disliked him. I disliked his manner, which struck me as arrogant and standoffish; I disliked his sarcasm, which I saw as cruel and cutting. I watched him demolish people in the room and was displeased by the amount of power he wielded. I did not tell him any of those things, only thought them to myself and determined that I would not like him. It was only slowly that I came to know him a little, that I grew to know him and decided that whatever he presented or whatever I saw him as presenting was not the truth; he was not this cold, aloof creature who cut people down with his tongue as he saw fit but a very caring person, caring and loving and respectful of people, if not always of their ideas. He considers himself a skeptic but is a skeptic who has learned reverence; he does not assassinate people so much as he murders their ideas. Even then, it depends on the person and their strength; some people he leads gently until they see why their thought process is flawed or biased; there are others whom he tells outright, which may be initially upsetting but in the end leads to understanding. And he enjoys challenges; informed me at one point that I ought to challenge him rather than simply listening to his ideas and immediately giving in- or so I would appear to do.

I don't agree with all of his ideas. I think there are times where he doesn't see things as clearly as he should, where he's not looking as far forward as he can. I disagree with his methods and think that sometimes he is too harsh with people when he believes that he is only being fair. We are very different and hence see things differently. He once broke it down by suggesting that if people wanted something quantified and broken down into logically understandable parts, they would most probably come to him. If they wanted to understand the beauty or the essence of an object, they would most probably go to me. Another way to put it is that Muffins appeals to and thinks logically while I think experientially. At the same time, Muffins is aware of the necessity of understanding the experiential point of view. He goes so far as to take a class on Informal Education which is all about educating people through many different methods, engaging them in whatever manner they will find easiest to grasp. Informal education is a kind of experiential learning; students are handed the material in many different formats and forms, whether it be through a visual Powerpoint presentation or movie, through listening to a song, a group dialogue or discussion or some other form. I find it intensely amazing that despite the fact that Muffins very infrequently thinks experientially- for this to happen he must have experienced something profoundly moving- he understands the capacity of others to do so and would therefore devote the time and energy in order to allow others to learn in the manner that is comfortable and appealing to them.

What I admire most about Muffins are not his debate skills or his intelligence, his high-powered verbiage or logic. I admire Muffins' kindness and his caring, the amount of time and energy he invests in other people. He doesn't always do this by conventional methods; it is not that he necessarily physically spends time in other people's presence so much as that he is available for conversation, guidance or help whenever people truly need it. He is online frequently and there are many who benefit from this, having had enlightening and important conversations with him via AIM or the like. For me, it is very important that Muffins tell the truth. There are some people who would prefer lies, who like to believe in heroes and need heroes or to whom one must speak in language they understand, in which case it is easy to refer to them as leaders even if that is not the case. I do not deny that at first I was such a person and wanted to believe in people as ideals and idealizations, only as their hero selves. But slowly that fell away as I learned that I find more beauty in the flawed person, in the person who has their own passions that they must master, their own flaws and areas in need of improvement, than the idealized version who could lord over me due to their perfection. I feel like Muffins always tells me the truth, no matter how ugly a truth that is, and that he does not protect me from it because he knows that I need to know how to deal with it. But he does not make me deal with it alone; he is there to help me if I need it, to listen patiently when I am whining or complaining. And he is there to smack me upside the head and inform me that I have to make a decision; if I feel like doing everything, then I ought not to complain (he also uses very clear language with me; he was the first person to ever call me a jerk and lately shmata and sucker have been added to that list), and if I don't then I ought to take measures to ensure that people are aware of that.

There are times when Muffins has helped me, not only on a logical/ intellectual level, in which case he would help me put together the pieces of a puzzle that had formerly appeared not to fit, but on a more emotional level, when I was angry with myself and couldn't think of anything but that. It is surprising to realize the level of sensitivity that he has to other people's pain; he hates seeing people in pain. It would be a mistake to see him only with regard to his smarts and intelligence; he has feelings, too and understands them in others. In this particular scenario, I was having a particularly awful day and was very down because of people I knew whom I felt I hadn't really seen when I ought to have. It was one of those days where you wonder whether anything you do matters because it doesn't feel like it does; it feels like you've accomplished nothing and you never will accomplish anything that matters, so why bother trying. And Muffins understood this and told over the Starfish Story to me. There are many starfish that have been washed up by the tide and a little boy makes his rounds throwing starfish back into the sea. He does this one at a time and a bystander on the beach tries to make him stop, telling him that he will never be able to save them all, so what does it matter? And the little boy pauses to say "It mattered to that one."

"It mattered to that one," Muffins said, and he showed it to me so that I would comprehend. "I made a difference to that one." There is always a sense of failure but there is also a sense of accomplishment, of overcoming and triumph; the failures do not negate the wins. I may not make a difference to everyone but I can to those specific people that I touch, and sometimes that is enough to spread and cause a kind of ripple effect. If the world were created for the sake of one person, imagine what it is like to enhance or repair the world for one person. I made a difference to that one. And sometimes that's enough to empower you to move forward and take the next stop and sometimes it's not but at least it's there for me to think about and latch onto, to take hold of and understand.

I would be a very different person if I had not met Muffins. Muffins took the trouble and energy to invest in me and decided to try to show me a kinder point of view, attempting to persuade me that it is not people that I should hate so much as their actions, endeavoring to make me understand the power of people's environments and backgrounds upon their choices. It is not productive to hate people or even institutions; one can only effect change out of one's love for someone else, out of truly desiring their good and wanting to understand them and their point of view. There need to be conversations, a sense of dialogue; I have to want to listen but at the same time, so do they. Muffins led me, kicking and screaming, through a maze of mental situations until I understood his point and I am the better for having understood it and for realizing that the binary world in which I lived and sometimes slip back into is a cage and a prison behind which one locks oneself. It is he who said that people are people, that I needn't take it to extremes, that they needn't always be wonderful or ugly but simply people, with all their wonderful possiblities ahead of them. And he showed me a little of what he meant and allowed me to see through his eyes for a little and I learned, and as I learned I grew.

Things change subtly over time; relationships are fluid and shift. At one point I needed Muffins as a teacher and a guide but I've come to a point where it is not that I need Muffins so much as I want him, I want and respect his opinion and advice, enjoy his conversation, find him by turns entertaining or amusing, am astonished by the level of commitment he employs, can only imagine how tired he is due to the many functions he fulfills and many hats he wears. And so we are friends, or at least I hope we are, because I've learned so much from him and have only grown from knowing him. He's the Debate King and Casanova and has a thousand other facets, but his core personality features this strong commitment and overall passion for others, the desire to enhance their lives and allow them a greater range of knowledge and understanding. When he speaks to people he is motivated by what is good for them; there was one conversation he had with someone where he specifically asked her "And who do you want to be?" The goal is to create oneself, to create oneself as one wants to be and not a creature driven by impulses and passions they cannot master. Muffins wants to aid in the process by helping people find the tools they need in order to accomplish their own creation; like the assistant who hands the master the chisel or knife alternatively, who refills the palette or cleans the brushes, that assistant whose role seems minor or secondary, who even appears to be backstage...so too is Muffins. Many do not see him, do not notice his helping hand; he is subtle and quiet and people do not see that their paints have been replaced, their cups of water refilled. And yet his role is integral, what he does is the most necessary and beautiful thing on this very earth....

Muffins does not see himself as perfect. My initial perception of Muffins as arrogant was caused by believing in his projection of himself; over time I realized that this mask was simply what he had wished me to see at the time. Muffins can be very hard on himself, harder than he realizes; there are times when he blames himself for other people's choices or failures, things he wishes he could do differently, flaws that only he sees. He does not put himself on display because of his firm belief in the difference between public and private life; these attributes and aspects of himself are private and meant specifically for him. There are times where I fall because I buy into this projection; I assume certain things that are false or incorrect. Sometimes I am frustrated by him, or as a friend put it after I had done something particularly cruel, "You care about Muffins. You want him to do well and be successful and happy. You saw a flaw in him that you perceived as diminishing his drive and this upset and angered you. So because you care about him, you got mad at him for not reaching his potential, for not being his best." However, the manner in which I had done this was cruel because I had not believed that anything I could say would matter and it was only later that I learned it could. Despite my cruelty, he forgave me...

How is one to understand Muffins, how to rate and value the many things he does? Whether he is teaching Dominican public school students, organizing an event, dancing with NCSYers, learning over the phone, snuggling under his TJ Max blanket, discussing "Heroes" and "House," no matter whether it is exalted Muffins or mundane Muffins who is visible at the moment, he is still Muffins. Muffins is by turns funny and intense, amusing or commanding. I have been informed that he is also chivalrous and has escorted many a damsel in distress back to her apartment in Washington Heights, even making scrambled eggs with cheese for Jovo one night. He is this man who is gifted and talented, a beautiful person who cares so much, a loving and committed friend, someone whom I respect and admire and cannot possibly thank enough for being a friend to me. I treasure his words and ideas, want everything in the world to be well with him and only wish him the utmost good.

In terms of the Starfish story, what Muffins has done for me falls under the category of "It made a difference to that one." It made a difference to me and it still does and I laugh aloud sometimes thinking how different my life and friendships here would be if he had not reached out to me or written that first email, been the Man in the Yellow Hat for me. I am glad he did. I am so glad!

Today is his birthday and I wish him the most wonderful, magical day possible, a day filled with fantastic things and all that is good and may he be blessed and thrice-blessed for all the days of his life!

Because you see, he is one of the best people I know.

Happy Birthday, Muffins.

Sunday, December 02, 2007

Jovo's Famous Chocolate Chip Cookies!

Jovo is a fantastic person who lives in Washington Heights. He learns, he cooks Thanksgiving roasts, he arranges parties, he is friendly with everyone, has entertaining date stories and is overall an excellent individual. Last Thursday night, upon seeing that I had changed my Gmail Chat status to read "Going uptown again..." the following conversation ensued.

jovo: yo
me: yo! how are you?!
jovo: uptown again?
me: I literally live there
jovo: isn't it kinda late to shlep uptonw?
me: hahaha. I'm sleeping over by my friend so that tomorrow I can get up nice and early
jovo: sweet
me: and walk over and then get into the NCSY car and have a party
jovo: do i know them? i'd love to drop off some choc chip cookies
me: are you kidding me?! I want chocolate chip cookies!!!!

Jovo is a very giving person. He happily lets people crash his apartment, invites them over to parties or meals, is thrilled when they drink his orange juice and now, in the latest development, goes to all the trouble of not only making chocolate chip cookies but actually delivering them around the Heights! Beyond excited, I told him I would love to have chocolate chip cookies and he made up to come over to the apartment I'd be staying at and bring cookies for me and my friend.

Unfortunately, however, we had made up to meet at 11 and at that point in time I had just gotten off the shuttle and was buying some edible items at the YU Cafstore (hence was nowhere near the apartment where I'd be staying.) Jovo was nice enough to tell me that I should just stop by his apartment and he'd be happy to give me cookies. In a very good mood, I walked over to his apartment, carefully managing my packages and bags, rang his doorbell and came upstairs. I'm on the phone with Hitman, who is quite upset with my decision to eat chocolate chip cookies this late at night and adamantly forbids it. Jovo comes to the door with a plastic Ziplock bag filled with chocolate chip cookies, then says the following:

"These are still warm, but if you wait (he looks at his watch) four minutes you'll get fresh ones straight out of the oven."

Who can resist the idea of chocolate chip cookies straight from the oven, steam rising from them as they glow in their brown freshness? Certainly not me. I quietly entered the apartment (worried that I would wake his roommates) and handed Hitman to him (Hitman was quite indignant that he had been unceremoniously passed to Jovo.) Jovo later clarified that nobody was there so I could talk normally, which was lovely.

"Do you always do this?" I asked, surprised. "Do you just bake chocolate chip cookies for all your roommates? Because that makes you an amazing roommate!" He explained that he hasn't done it all that frequently lately but he's planning to make it more of a regular thing. His cookies are known all around the Heights and even requested at parties; he's nice enough to run around everywhere delivering them and all enjoy them.

We were joined by Zippy, a lovely person with a beautiful British accent, and then Jovo took the cookies out of the oven. He put them on a nice platter and then we ate them off the platter. There's nothing that compares to fresh cookies straight out of the oven. Their gooey chocolate melts in your mouth and you eat them, the heat stinging your fingers and leaving a faint trace of oil, which you wipe off on your other hand while enjoying the delectable taste. What makes everything better is the fact that Jovo's cookies are parve. They are parve, soft, delicious and crumble easily when you take them, dissolving in your mouth; therefore they should be served at all parties.

Zippy and I hung out for a while, but then I put several of the fresh cookies in my plastic baggie to give to my friend and decided to head over for her apartment. Suddenly, I noticed that Jovo was getting up and putting a coat on. What was that about? "Where are you going?" I asked, sincerely surprised. He explained that he planned on walking us back to our respective apartments. I was floored. "You really don't need to," I hastened to explain, "I'm really close by and I'm fine walking by myself." Didn't matter to him and Zippy explained that Jovo feels the need to escort those of the opposite sex around Washington Heights once the night threatens. I thought that was rather gallant and quite chivalrous. It was also quite in contrast to his roommates. "Muffins would let me die before walking me anywhere," was my contention (and no, I'm not bitter at all) and Jovo shrugged and said "Muffins likes his couch" because that explains everything. Of course I don't mean it, though; Muffins would certainly help out if there were actually enough danger to warrant it, Jovo just goes beyond the call of duty. Which makes Jovo nice in addition to domesticated, as Zippy had called him.

And so Jovo walked me to the entrance of the apartment building, then took Zippy back to her apartment and probably returned to his own to find more people with whom he could freely share his cookies. Because he's great like that.

A Washington Heights sensation, not to be missed: Jovo's Cookies! Hope you get to taste one soon!

Thursday, November 29, 2007

The Magic Flute, The Brooklyn Bridge & Instant Persuasion

So what's new by me, you ask?

Ah, I shall be glad to tell you!

The first and most exciting development is that I got to see "The Magic Flute" recently. Lightman and I went together to The Met (I had been to The New York City Opera before, but The Met is just amazing.) "The Magic Flute" was spectacular. It's utterly gorgeous! The lighting, scenery, set and costumes were all dazzling. Imagine this fantastic crystal palace upon the stage, a crystal palace I would die to live in and only wish could be mine. Imagine the fact that it revolves accompanied by heavenly music and utterly beautiful lighting! Picture an evil queen with a personality that makes me quite happy (especially since I persist in my interpretation of the opera, in which case she isn't really evil at all.) I am so the Queen of the Night. Ha!

Secondly, I had the pleasure of being uptown over the weekend (as you all know, seeing as I spent a wonderful Shabbat there!) I was also rather productive, which was exciting. Got to meet Tzarich Iyun and walked the Brooklyn Bridge with him (which was lots of fun! The best part was when we asked two tourists to take a picture of us. So they stopped and took the picture, but then they whipped out their own digital camera and started snapping pictures of us. They took down our email addresses and said they'd email them to us. Isn't that so incredibly nice?!) Then I discovered where the nearest Blockbuster to the Wilf Campus is (good for me to know, since I plan upon renting movies from there.)

There was the fantastic Medical Ethics event, "The Halakhic Hero"- I cannot bring myself to misspell halakhic- (which meant I was uptown again; I live there, I tell you,) at which I saw Yonah, Aaron and Chani, a wonderful Bone Marrow drive (so now I am part of the registry) and the expected Chinese food for all. There are these frighteningly addictive dry crispy noodles that they serve. Shudder.

Hitman scared me in the library (his new plan is to scare me in every single building; he's managed the SkyCaf, so Belfer, and the Library...we'll see what happens next. He's still got to find me in Morg. While I was in Morg, by the way, I was amused to see that the guys have a "Thanksgiving Dinner" at 3:00 whereas we on the Beren Campus have a "Thanksgiving Luncheon" at 4:00. Odd, anyone?) Then Hitman showed me these superbly interesting advertisements- and I ripped one and ruined history- but it's okay, Starlight probably didn't rip any.

Last night I attended an Honors Program event entitled "Instant Persuasion" and learned how to persuade people. Here are the six steps involved in such an activity:

1. Scarcity: People are persuaded by knowing that something is in "limited supply" or "one time only." If something is scarce, then people want it before there's none left.

2. Social Proof: She gave an example of a restaurant that isn't good at attracting customers and therefore employs a seating policy. Even though the restaurant is empty, they make people line up outside so it seems like it's a really cool place to be. So people see the line and come along and wait. People want to do what everyone else is doing- if you can effectively show someone like me is doing it, I'll want to do it, too.

3. Consistency/ Commitment: Apparently research shows that when somebody changes their mind, we consider them to be less intelligent (the reason that labeling Kerry a flip-flopper was so deleterious to his campaign.) We have an inborn need to be consistent. She gave an example where people hypothetically committed themselves to volunteer 3 hours of their time to the American Cancer Society and then a week later were actually called by the society- they volunteered. Because they had already committed in some shape or form, even in hypotheticals, wanted to follow through.

4. Reciprocity: Gave example of Hare Krishnites in airports. They give these little flowers to people. People can't say no, so they take the flower but then feel obligated to stand there for at least a few seconds- to reciprocate. Same idea if someone invites you to meal; you have to invite them back.

5. Authority: Two kinds. Expert authority (like an expert witness) and Referant authority (people refer to you, value your opinion even if you are not a leader.)

6. Liking: You're far more likely to do a favor for someone you like or are friends with than someone who just comes to you when they need you.

After this was over, I actually got to hang out with SJ and M.R. for a while! Can you imagine?! We came up with some hilarious Honors Program slogans, all of them quite evil, and I emailed them to our director. It shall be a party. My favorite at the moment is "Lonely Women of Faith: The Honors Program." That one doesn't even make sense but cracks me up. There are far better ones, though. We've got "They Made Us An Offer We Couldn't Refuse," "You Can't Hurt My Ego: I'm In The Honor's Program!" and "We're Only In It For the Food" and many more.

Today I engaged in this highly productive activity while attending the class that is a complete waste of time:



I happened to rock my Russian class today and had the whole class applaud me twice! Twice, I tell you. Then I was informed that for speech class I ought to give a speech on Russian adverbs and how passionately I feel about them (I was very passionate in class today. You see, Russian adverbs rock my socks. Their goddamned endings never change. They always stay the same. They're loyal to you, loyal!) Obviously the persuasive speech rubbed off on me. Although the lady wouldn't give me the microphone. Humph. It was great; I asked her for the microphone and she eyed me warily as though I were a savage beast and said "No!" Lady and I are probably not the best of friends.

My Other Russian Teacher, if you could please call me and leave voicemails in relatively easy/ understandable Russian, that would be a great way for me to practice (at the very least comprehending. Aside from which, your Russian is freaking perfect and literary...so maybe that will help me.) Thanks!

Let's see, I was also called a Shmata & a Sucker this week. I present to you...The Shmata! (Triumphant applause.) Actually, at the moment it is Shmata No More.

Most of today was spent running all around Manhattan for reasons I cannot divulge at the moment. (Don't I sound so mysterious? Huzzah!)

I liked the last episode of "House" and know that I would definitely have pulled a Wilson if it were me (Wilson is obviously a Shmata, too. Hurrah for us members of the Shmata club.)

Oh, and it's quite randomly funny that Dustfinger is in Monsey this Shabbat while I am nowhere near her and so we shall miss seeing each other. Oh, Dustfinger...

But the best and most exciting part of this week is the fact that I get to sleep in a shul this Shabbos! Isn't that cool? When was the last time you slept in a shul? Hurrah for me; I am the shul-sleeper! Huzzah!

And now I shall head uptown again. I live there, don't you know?