So imagine a group of people who know nothing about Israel. Or Israeli-Palestinian conflict for that matter.
Who have lived in a closet all their lives, without so much as taking a look at the front pages of the newspapers or even the six o'clock news.
These people are like a blank slate.
They ask innocent questions.
Like:
"What is Zion? Is that a person? Like in that old song "By the rivers of Babylon..."
OR
"What is Hamas?"
Excuse me for sounding condescending. I realize that not everyone is as obsessed with politics and the Middle East as I am. People have other things to do. But come on, it's majors in International Studies that I'm talking about here.
Still, there's a good side to their knowledgelessness.
And that is, they really know nothing. You could make anything out of them. You can fill their minds with whatever you want. You're Pygmalion. And they are the clay in your hands.
Imagine a roomful of clueless college students.
The first question that comes to your mind is: why are they here?
These people know so little, that there can only be one real answer to that question: They are there to learn. They are there to find out about a tiny country called Israel, the name of which they hear so often, about which they know next to nothing. They do not come with an agenda. Their minds are clear of the nonsense and the brainwash of radical anti-Zionists.
You could make real *people* out of that bunch. Yes, teaching IS a gratifying job, isn't it.
I guess my professor may be thinking something to this effect, although I admit it, he is not nearly as condescending and elitist about it as I am. I'm a snob, but we all know that already.
So my professor really lucked out. What he's doing can actually be of some use to someone down the road. The usefulness of the information, however, primarily depends on how you teach and what you choose to teach.
My professor has to decide HOW he wants to come across and what kind of narrative he wants to present.
Firstly, a good professor should be accessible. Therefore, my professor dilutes a course heavy on history and documents with a good doze of somewhat self-deprecating humor, the kind any college student can understand and appreciate. He makes fun of everybody, and he makes fun of everybody equally.
Secondly, a good professor should be honest. My professor doesn't even try to hide the fact that he's a left-wing Zionist.
Thirdly, a good professor has many layers. My professor jokes around a lot, but you have to learn to read between the lines. And you learn to adjust to his seemingly light-hearted style, and to see when he's being ironic and where he really stands.
Fourthly, a good professor doesn't shirk controversy. On the contrary, he courts it. He brings up points that seem to challenge his own point of view just to make the class more interesting.
Fifthly, he understands that he cannot change the points of views of people who already have made up their minds. So my professor doesn't preach. He jokes.
Finally, a good professor wants to teach, rather than to brainwash. Therefore, my professors tries to present as many different accounts of the same issues as possible, even at the risk of being criticized for being too pro-Palestinian by Zionists or too pro-Israeli by the Palestinians.
But all this time, a good professor knows where he stands. And so, despite his sometimes overreaching balance in class, my professor calmly, quietly, but firmly demonstrates his own point of view to anyone who'll listen - outside the class. Most people don't. Most people prefer their own opinions to any new information they might learn. But a professor's job consists of what he does in class - and no more.
I don't think I can make a good professor. I can't imagine overcoming the temptation to preach my own point of view and becoming a huge bore. I can't see how I can hold the attention of a whole bunch of people with diverse views on politics. I can't teach, but I can certainly learn, and so I think I'll stick to that.
This second class of "History of Modern Israel" began with an interesting little incident. My professor told us that one of the students contacted him to find out what he thinks about the election of Hamas. The answer was that the professor isn't really concerned with political science as much as with history... But he did manage to connect this question to what the class was about (Zionism as a result of anti-semitism). He did the unthinkable (but what should be an obvious step for any professor dealing with the Middle East and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict): gave out the infamous portions of the Hamas charter. And pointed the allusion to the "Protocols of the Elders of Zion" and certain very clear anti-semitic accusations.
I think it's useful to anyone even vaguely interested in current events to read it:
Hamas Charter
If you have no patience to read the whole thing (I wouldn't blame you), just read the second quote from the top, and the point of this "covenant" will become very clear to you.
Nevertheless, obsessed with details as I am, a different quote caught my eye:
"With their money they formed secret organizations - such as the Freemasons, Rotary Clubs, and the Lions - which are spreading around the world, in order to destroy societies and carry out Zionist interests..."
The conspiracy theories regarding the connection between th Jews and the Freemasons are long-standing.
However, that was not what interested me.
Do you notice anything interesting? No?
Well... what on earth are "the Lions?"
OK, before you all jump on me with disgust, I assure you that I have NOT seen this Hamas charter quote before starting on my story, "The Nameless", where, as those of you who are following it may know, the events revolve around a semi-secret organization called the L.I.O.N.S. (with the members being referred to as "the Lions"), which has international links. As someone in the class pointed out when I asked about this organization, the Lions were somewhat similar to Freemasons, except they were mostly losers (one name arguably appropriate for the less-than-heroic behavior of many of my own protagonists).
As you can imagine, I was more than a little intrigued. Why on earth would Hamas refer to such a little-known organization?!
The information I found this subject is extremely sketchy. Lions, as well as Rotary, are service clubs supposedly created to advance peace. The Wikipedia article presents the Lions as an innocuous, community-based, nonpolitical organization. However... It was created in 1917... Whereas, much more sketchier information I found elsewhere on the web, shows that John Q. Adams was a member of Freemasons and... Lions.
Am I missing something? Obviously, I AM.
So how does that relate to teaching Zionism on campus?
It doesn't, as it's a very tangential issue no one seems to know about.
But it's interesting anyway. As is the class. As you can imagine, given my professor's ability to keept the atmosphere light, no conflicts ensued - and hopefully, none will in the future.
That's how a class on the history of Israel should be taught!
Curious,
Irina
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Monday, January 30, 2006
Sweet dreams? Dream on!!!
I am She, Who Dreams.
I cannot underestimate the significance of this statement with regards to my life.
How many months I've spent practicing lucid dreaming! (Only to write a rather bad story based on one such night masterpiece).
Yes, my dreams have always been colorful, exciting, and with a pretty coherent plot - and I took full advantage of that. During the five summers I spent Upstate, vacationing with my grandmother, I used to relate my nightly adventures to her and to my cousin's older girl.
The time I spent back in the city I tortured my parents with the happenings, or narrated the products of my sick mind to my best friend.
Most of my dreams had an ominous feel to them, and yet, always had a touch of humor. Although in real life, whenever I was playing "Pretend", I always imagined myself a heroine, saving the day, by night, my mind took a delicious revenge on me, by turning me into an Ignoble Antagonist. Remember, those were the days before blogging - but already my fate was sealed! I always had hilarious misadventures, through no one's fault but my own. Most of the time, I found myself desperately trying to extract myself from a scrape after betraying some unfortunate adventurer, who happened to wonder in my dream world.
One very different dream, or should I say "nightmare"? - which haunted me since I was seven was where I fell under the train. (Take a closer look at the image on top of my blog). Other times, I'd be in an airplane, and it would crash. Whatever the case may be, I repeatedly found myself falling and inevitably waking up before I ever got myself killed. But I woke up, feeling terrified, and once even fell off my bed! Other than that, however, I had no really strong physical experiences in my dreams. I was able to learn how to read, to hear voices, to control the flow of the dream - but I hardly ever *felt* anything.
A couple of relatively calm years passed, and I found myself starting to miss my nightly adventures. Although my days are as busy as they've ever been, I find myself yearning for something more. Back in the uneventful summer days, the dreams substituted for adequate human company and real adventures. Now, however, I'm looking for something different in my dreasm, I'm not quite sure what.
Two nights ago, my wish finally came true. My dreams returned, better and brighter and scarier than ever. However, my role in the dream changed, as did many other aspects.
I am in a dark, lonely place. It's an abandoned apartment building of some kind. I've been separated from my family, and am using the building as a shelter. No one's forced me there, and yet I'm an uneasy, and long to leave. I manage to cope and wait to see what happenes. I'm not completely alone. There are other people living in the building. A few of them become my friends. I don't know much about the rest. I stay away from them. My friends, however, depend on the will of one or two other people, whom I haven't really encountered. Why? I do not quite understand or remember. One day, I find that most of my friends are gone somewhere. It is not a good feeling, seeing how the building is suddenly empty and still, not that it was a cheerful place to begin with. I don't want to be alone. I suddenly feel timid and converse with the only other person I know, who's stayed behind and whom I know personally. I can't see his face, just like I can't see the faces of most characters in my dreams, but he's male, and wearing a bright green T-shirt. We've grown to be very close friends, for some reason. Maybe it's because our situations are so much alike. Maybe because we know we can't really count on anyone else. Whatever it is, I tell him about the feeling of uncertainty and uneasiness... Suddenly, I feel very sleepy, and he leaves the room.
... I wake up from the noise. Someone's shouting. I open my eyes and find that I'm stretched out on my bed, which takes up half the room. I am fully dressed. Who is shouting. I turn around and see my friend and another guy. The other guy... I don't know him very well, yet I've seen him before. He's the one all my acquaintances, including this here friend, depend on. Why? I can't understand. He's a very intimidating person. Again, I cannot see his face. I'm not terrified of him, but he makes me feel very uncomfortable and timid. He's not someone I would approach of my own free will. I struggle to understand why he's yelling at my friend. The Mean Guy is very angry. My friend responds quietly and calmly. I can't understand what he's saying, but the situation has something to do with me. What is it about me? I'm desperate to find out, but don't want to come any closer. I don't like the Mean Guy and don't want to deal with him.
Suddenly, the Mean Guy strikes my friend, who falls down on his left side, in such a way that the Mean Guy is standing over him, and I still cannot distinguish either of their faces. The Mean Guy is hissing something; I think, he's threatening my friend. My friend refuses. Refuses to answer? Refuses to do something? I don't know, but again, I have a strong hunch that it has to do with me, and that my friend is trying to protect me from something. From what? What can that Mean Guy possibly do to me, and why doesn't he approach me directly? I continue watching, feeling anger and fear for my friend rising up to my throat. I grow aware that the Mean Guy has a stick, and he starts hitting my friend with it. He hits my friend's face. My friend exclaims, closes his face with his hand, tries to avoid blows, but doesn't resist. For some reason, he knows that he should not hurt the Mean Guy, otherwise it'll be only worse. He's still trying to protect me. I watch. I watch as the Mean Guy continues hitting him, hitting his arms, back chest. Suddenly, he hits my friend on the ribs, very hard.
... And I find myself standing next to them. I don't know how I suddenly got there. It was so fast. I don't have time to think, to be scared. I'm nervous, but at the same time confidence, the likes of which I haven't known, overwhelms me. I grab the Mean Guy by the hand and exclaim (in Russian, which is a relatively rare occurrence in my dreams): What do you think you're doing? Leave him alone! I said, leave him alone!
And I push him away. At first, the Mean Guy, doesn't budge, but I push, and finally he drops the stick, grumbling, and leaves the room. I'm incredibly relieved, and only now do I realize what I've done. It was so strange. I've never felt such a strong awareness of physical contact in my dreams, as when I was pushing the Mean Guy's hand away. That moment is very important, for some reason, and I'm trying to understand why. It's a turning point for me. I'm surprised that the Mean Guy left so easily. He could have easily beat me up.
He was definitely stronger than I was. But for some reason, he decided not to bother with me. There was something in my confidence and in my voice that stopped him. I come over to my friend and ask him whether he's all right. My friend is slightly shocked from the blows, but relatively calm. He thanks me for my concern, tells me that the Mean Guy didn't have the time to do any serious damage. I came running very fast. That surprised me. I didn't feel myself running. I want to see whether the Mean Guy caused any serious injury when he hit my friend on the ribs with that stick. I also want to find out what's going on, what was it that my friend seemed to be defending me from.
Why was I suddenly so scared for him? Why did I, the timid girl, who usually stands by, allowing events of this sort to unfold as they will, interfere all of a sudden? Why did I overcome my nervousness and did what I thought was the important and right thing to do for once? What made me do it?
Those are all the questions I'm desperately trying to answer, when I'm awakened.
It's clear that in the dream, I think of "my friend" as probably something more than a friend and probably that's why I saw so much concern for him. Nevertheless, what does the situation translate to in real terms? Who are these two guys? What do they mean? Do they symbolize a battle between My Inner Programmer and my animus? Does my decisive push, so strong that I even felt it through the veil of my dream, mean a real turning point in my attitude towards something? Some major decision? Readiness to resolve some important conflict I'm facing in real life?
The truth is, I'm not aware of any conflicts I'm facing right now.
But this sure was a strange dream!
And it felt good, strong... and it felt awfully real, every single thing in that dream felt so real...
For once, I've been transformed from a somewhat ridiculous, unlucky, and cowardly character into a person ready to stand up for what she found meaningful and important.
I sure hope that part, at least, is real.
Hopeful,
Irina
I cannot underestimate the significance of this statement with regards to my life.
How many months I've spent practicing lucid dreaming! (Only to write a rather bad story based on one such night masterpiece).
Yes, my dreams have always been colorful, exciting, and with a pretty coherent plot - and I took full advantage of that. During the five summers I spent Upstate, vacationing with my grandmother, I used to relate my nightly adventures to her and to my cousin's older girl.
The time I spent back in the city I tortured my parents with the happenings, or narrated the products of my sick mind to my best friend.
Most of my dreams had an ominous feel to them, and yet, always had a touch of humor. Although in real life, whenever I was playing "Pretend", I always imagined myself a heroine, saving the day, by night, my mind took a delicious revenge on me, by turning me into an Ignoble Antagonist. Remember, those were the days before blogging - but already my fate was sealed! I always had hilarious misadventures, through no one's fault but my own. Most of the time, I found myself desperately trying to extract myself from a scrape after betraying some unfortunate adventurer, who happened to wonder in my dream world.
One very different dream, or should I say "nightmare"? - which haunted me since I was seven was where I fell under the train. (Take a closer look at the image on top of my blog). Other times, I'd be in an airplane, and it would crash. Whatever the case may be, I repeatedly found myself falling and inevitably waking up before I ever got myself killed. But I woke up, feeling terrified, and once even fell off my bed! Other than that, however, I had no really strong physical experiences in my dreams. I was able to learn how to read, to hear voices, to control the flow of the dream - but I hardly ever *felt* anything.
A couple of relatively calm years passed, and I found myself starting to miss my nightly adventures. Although my days are as busy as they've ever been, I find myself yearning for something more. Back in the uneventful summer days, the dreams substituted for adequate human company and real adventures. Now, however, I'm looking for something different in my dreasm, I'm not quite sure what.
Two nights ago, my wish finally came true. My dreams returned, better and brighter and scarier than ever. However, my role in the dream changed, as did many other aspects.
I am in a dark, lonely place. It's an abandoned apartment building of some kind. I've been separated from my family, and am using the building as a shelter. No one's forced me there, and yet I'm an uneasy, and long to leave. I manage to cope and wait to see what happenes. I'm not completely alone. There are other people living in the building. A few of them become my friends. I don't know much about the rest. I stay away from them. My friends, however, depend on the will of one or two other people, whom I haven't really encountered. Why? I do not quite understand or remember. One day, I find that most of my friends are gone somewhere. It is not a good feeling, seeing how the building is suddenly empty and still, not that it was a cheerful place to begin with. I don't want to be alone. I suddenly feel timid and converse with the only other person I know, who's stayed behind and whom I know personally. I can't see his face, just like I can't see the faces of most characters in my dreams, but he's male, and wearing a bright green T-shirt. We've grown to be very close friends, for some reason. Maybe it's because our situations are so much alike. Maybe because we know we can't really count on anyone else. Whatever it is, I tell him about the feeling of uncertainty and uneasiness... Suddenly, I feel very sleepy, and he leaves the room.
... I wake up from the noise. Someone's shouting. I open my eyes and find that I'm stretched out on my bed, which takes up half the room. I am fully dressed. Who is shouting. I turn around and see my friend and another guy. The other guy... I don't know him very well, yet I've seen him before. He's the one all my acquaintances, including this here friend, depend on. Why? I can't understand. He's a very intimidating person. Again, I cannot see his face. I'm not terrified of him, but he makes me feel very uncomfortable and timid. He's not someone I would approach of my own free will. I struggle to understand why he's yelling at my friend. The Mean Guy is very angry. My friend responds quietly and calmly. I can't understand what he's saying, but the situation has something to do with me. What is it about me? I'm desperate to find out, but don't want to come any closer. I don't like the Mean Guy and don't want to deal with him.
Suddenly, the Mean Guy strikes my friend, who falls down on his left side, in such a way that the Mean Guy is standing over him, and I still cannot distinguish either of their faces. The Mean Guy is hissing something; I think, he's threatening my friend. My friend refuses. Refuses to answer? Refuses to do something? I don't know, but again, I have a strong hunch that it has to do with me, and that my friend is trying to protect me from something. From what? What can that Mean Guy possibly do to me, and why doesn't he approach me directly? I continue watching, feeling anger and fear for my friend rising up to my throat. I grow aware that the Mean Guy has a stick, and he starts hitting my friend with it. He hits my friend's face. My friend exclaims, closes his face with his hand, tries to avoid blows, but doesn't resist. For some reason, he knows that he should not hurt the Mean Guy, otherwise it'll be only worse. He's still trying to protect me. I watch. I watch as the Mean Guy continues hitting him, hitting his arms, back chest. Suddenly, he hits my friend on the ribs, very hard.
... And I find myself standing next to them. I don't know how I suddenly got there. It was so fast. I don't have time to think, to be scared. I'm nervous, but at the same time confidence, the likes of which I haven't known, overwhelms me. I grab the Mean Guy by the hand and exclaim (in Russian, which is a relatively rare occurrence in my dreams): What do you think you're doing? Leave him alone! I said, leave him alone!
And I push him away. At first, the Mean Guy, doesn't budge, but I push, and finally he drops the stick, grumbling, and leaves the room. I'm incredibly relieved, and only now do I realize what I've done. It was so strange. I've never felt such a strong awareness of physical contact in my dreams, as when I was pushing the Mean Guy's hand away. That moment is very important, for some reason, and I'm trying to understand why. It's a turning point for me. I'm surprised that the Mean Guy left so easily. He could have easily beat me up.
He was definitely stronger than I was. But for some reason, he decided not to bother with me. There was something in my confidence and in my voice that stopped him. I come over to my friend and ask him whether he's all right. My friend is slightly shocked from the blows, but relatively calm. He thanks me for my concern, tells me that the Mean Guy didn't have the time to do any serious damage. I came running very fast. That surprised me. I didn't feel myself running. I want to see whether the Mean Guy caused any serious injury when he hit my friend on the ribs with that stick. I also want to find out what's going on, what was it that my friend seemed to be defending me from.
Why was I suddenly so scared for him? Why did I, the timid girl, who usually stands by, allowing events of this sort to unfold as they will, interfere all of a sudden? Why did I overcome my nervousness and did what I thought was the important and right thing to do for once? What made me do it?
Those are all the questions I'm desperately trying to answer, when I'm awakened.
It's clear that in the dream, I think of "my friend" as probably something more than a friend and probably that's why I saw so much concern for him. Nevertheless, what does the situation translate to in real terms? Who are these two guys? What do they mean? Do they symbolize a battle between My Inner Programmer and my animus? Does my decisive push, so strong that I even felt it through the veil of my dream, mean a real turning point in my attitude towards something? Some major decision? Readiness to resolve some important conflict I'm facing in real life?
The truth is, I'm not aware of any conflicts I'm facing right now.
But this sure was a strange dream!
And it felt good, strong... and it felt awfully real, every single thing in that dream felt so real...
For once, I've been transformed from a somewhat ridiculous, unlucky, and cowardly character into a person ready to stand up for what she found meaningful and important.
I sure hope that part, at least, is real.
Hopeful,
Irina
Blog Series Galore
Seraphic Secret continues the thrilling, exciting, and certainly thought-provoking series on the "home" behind prison walls.
Jameel, The Muqata inhabitant (almost wrote "inhabitor", I don't know why) started a hilarious series of posts on his disastrous but memorable visit to Manila. Check it out!
And thus, I can safely lean back, and live vicariously through someone else's adventures I might not want to repeat in my "real" life! : )
Cunning,
Irina
Jameel, The Muqata inhabitant (almost wrote "inhabitor", I don't know why) started a hilarious series of posts on his disastrous but memorable visit to Manila. Check it out!
And thus, I can safely lean back, and live vicariously through someone else's adventures I might not want to repeat in my "real" life! : )
Cunning,
Irina
Sunday, January 29, 2006
The Keys to My Blog
People sure search for darndest things!
4 people came to my blog searching for
SICAT222 IRINA MYRTUS
Sicat222 is the address of my blog
Irina is my name
Myrtus is a blogger, to whom I link and who sometimes comments on my blog.
So... can you tell me, WHAT exactly have they been trying to find???
One persons searched for:
TIED NAKED HIM AT HER MERCY
(Does that have anything to do with my story, by any chance? Please say that it does and that people don't really think I'm an S&M practitioner!)
What does this keyword search say about the person who was searching? And, more importantly, what does it say about me and my blog?!
The next adventurer came to my humble abode while seeking
PROFESSIONAL CHILDRENS SCHOOLS
Now, I certainly do know some people who act like professional children - they are professionally immature, professionally whiney, and professionally tantrum-throwing spoiled brats, but I don't know where they teach you how to be a professional of that sort. Not on my blog, I don't think. On the contrary, as we ALL know, I am all for individual responsibility, etc. RIGHT?
The next poor soul, wandered in looking for
FULANI'S TYPES OF ART
That sounds mysterious and fascinating. Have I ever mentioned a Fulani? I don't think so. I don't even know who (or what) a Fulani is. But I'll find out!
On to the next victim, who was hoping to find
EXPLAIN CAMUS CREATE DANGEROUSLY
Even I, the lover of existentialism, have no idea what that means. I guess I'm not much of a philosopher if I can't make the meaningful out of the absurd... or find the absurd in what, to someone else, is meaningful. Camus wouldn't have been very proud of me, for sure.
My next friend, turned up in the search for
UNDERSTANDING CAMUS CREATE DANGEROUSLY
My, my, Camus must be hiccuping in his grave! Ain't this a rich day for him!
The final, mysterious search, which for some unfathomable reason, brought the seeker to my blog was
KEN-DO SCHOOLS IN BROOKLYN NY
Can anyone tell me what's ken-do? It sounds like a cool martial art thing of some sort! I want to try it! Unfortunately, it's not being taught on my blog; so I'm really sorry to disappoint everyone who came here searching for that.
Mystified,
Irina
4 people came to my blog searching for
SICAT222 IRINA MYRTUS
Sicat222 is the address of my blog
Irina is my name
Myrtus is a blogger, to whom I link and who sometimes comments on my blog.
So... can you tell me, WHAT exactly have they been trying to find???
One persons searched for:
TIED NAKED HIM AT HER MERCY
(Does that have anything to do with my story, by any chance? Please say that it does and that people don't really think I'm an S&M practitioner!)
What does this keyword search say about the person who was searching? And, more importantly, what does it say about me and my blog?!
The next adventurer came to my humble abode while seeking
PROFESSIONAL CHILDRENS SCHOOLS
Now, I certainly do know some people who act like professional children - they are professionally immature, professionally whiney, and professionally tantrum-throwing spoiled brats, but I don't know where they teach you how to be a professional of that sort. Not on my blog, I don't think. On the contrary, as we ALL know, I am all for individual responsibility, etc. RIGHT?
The next poor soul, wandered in looking for
FULANI'S TYPES OF ART
That sounds mysterious and fascinating. Have I ever mentioned a Fulani? I don't think so. I don't even know who (or what) a Fulani is. But I'll find out!
On to the next victim, who was hoping to find
EXPLAIN CAMUS CREATE DANGEROUSLY
Even I, the lover of existentialism, have no idea what that means. I guess I'm not much of a philosopher if I can't make the meaningful out of the absurd... or find the absurd in what, to someone else, is meaningful. Camus wouldn't have been very proud of me, for sure.
My next friend, turned up in the search for
UNDERSTANDING CAMUS CREATE DANGEROUSLY
My, my, Camus must be hiccuping in his grave! Ain't this a rich day for him!
The final, mysterious search, which for some unfathomable reason, brought the seeker to my blog was
KEN-DO SCHOOLS IN BROOKLYN NY
Can anyone tell me what's ken-do? It sounds like a cool martial art thing of some sort! I want to try it! Unfortunately, it's not being taught on my blog; so I'm really sorry to disappoint everyone who came here searching for that.
Mystified,
Irina
The Dance of Damnation
I went to see a concert at Alice Tully Hall, a chamber music part of Lincoln Center, last night. I've never been in that particular hall until last night.
The main performer was Natalia Gutman, a famous cellist who studied under Rostropovich. She was accompanied by the violinist Slava Moroz and the pianist Dmitri Shteinberg.
The concert began with J.S. Bach's Suite for Cello Solo No. 3 inC major, BWV 1009.
It was a mesmerizing performance. For the first time in a really long while, I was really forced to *listen*. Don't get me wrong; I love classical music and enjoy going to good concerts. But usually, I allow the music to flow over me, and dissolve in the pleasure of the performance. I don't listen actively, because classical music always has a relaxing, mellowing effect on me. There were two things very, very different about this particular piece. First of all, I've never heard a cello solo. Somehow, I failed to realize that this instrument has an individual personality. It's that voice of support we, amateurs, often forget about out - until it turns out that it can stand on its own and make us hear what it has to say.
It's the soft-spoken that capture our attention once they finally decide to speak up. So I have a newly gained respect for this instrument's voice. There's something pure in it, something, which makes one think about every note. The amazing effect was magnified by the many shades of silence surrounding it. A piano has so many voices of its own that it's practically an orchestra in its own kind. And of course, real orchestras drown out everything around them with the multitude of sounds and short pauses. But with a cello solo, you suddenly grow aware of the intense, rich silence, a silence that is not merely lack of sounds, but which is an instrument of its own kind, a perfect complement to the cello.
I listen to the silence. It is complete, and inside it, in the center, sings the silver voice of the cello. Its simplicity is enchanting. I am trying to understand what the silence is telling me. I've long since realized that music isn't simply music, it's "about" something, it has a wordless story to tell. But what about the silence? It is so palpable, that it must be "about" something as well! And so I listen. I listen to both, to the sound, and to the lack of sound. And they comprise a perfect harmony.
This deceptively simple piece is followed by Trio No. 3, in C Minor, a composition by Brahms. The trio provides a striking contrast to the preceding piece. It is like listening to three old friends gather and talk about three different things. The cello seems to be kvetching about the fate of a housewife, who works so hard to make her house a comfortable home, but is forgotten about, simply because she's so unglamourous. The sweet high-pitched voice of the violin is like the voice of a young girl, venturing out into the big scary world for the first time.
The sighs and pessimistic grumblings of the cello do not discourage her. She's filled with so much hope and excitement for the future that she cannot force herself to stop and consider more pragmatic aspects of life. And the piano sings in the low bass of a man, whose life is intertwined with everything around him, interweaved into a million separate tales of passion and what comes after. The piano has its own story to tell... and the moments when the three voices finally meet, are filled with the exquisite joy of three old friends who've finally learned to understand each other. All throughout, no matter what troubles befall our trio, the threesome manages to break through their separate problems and unite into a humorous, optimistic thrill - life may be difficult and scary, but there's always something of note to laugh about.
Schubert's Arpeggione Sonata in A minor, D. 821, was a lovely continuation to the theme, epitomizing everything that I love about this composer's music. The Sonata is a gentle mixture of tenderness and subdued ardor, like the bright sparkling drops of a brook, playing under the early rays of a spring sun. Here, there's no dissonance at all. The three instruments unite into one multifaceted voice, a voice which gurgles and bubbles, a voice which express an awakening. It is a voice of comfort; it is the way we imagine love itself. It may not turn out the way we think of it, but that is what we see and hear in its early, hopeful days. The Sonata is a great way to lift one's mood. Just thinking of it brings a smile to my face. It is a little naive and childlike perhaps - but it certainly makes the world a more exciting and joyful place to be.
Imagine how this lovelorn voice is swiped away when Shostakovich's Piano Trio No. 2 in E minor rears its ominous head! As the story goes, this trio is inspired by Jewish musical themes and a Holocaust motif of the Nazis forcing the Jews to dance before their own graves, massacring them afterwards. It is a dark, threatening piece, intense and exciting. It keeps one awake, blending one's thoughts with the melody. The violin especially is superb. There's a moment when the violin is being violently plucked, and another time, when one can hear it *stomping*. Of the four pieces performed at the concert, this trio is the most visual and the most frightenting.
It is the last movement of the trio, which gives it its almost supernatural character. The Jewish themes are familiar and painful; there is something of a hellish distortion to the lamenting, violent tunes. It is a scary, scary movement, and for the first time in years, I've been genuinely *awed* by this music, if one can call this composition by such a name. I've been known to sit on the edge of my seat at concerts, gasping and out of breath with excitement. I've been known to run across the room when alone, unable to contain the overwhelming feelings. I've been known to replay music time after time, because of its beauty, its richness. This piece is different, however. It is menacing, it brings with it the seeds of vengeance, which one day, will bloom and bring forth a terrible fruit. The terrible dance I imagine, as I listen to the last movement, is a damning dance.
It brings to mind the biblical story of Cain and Abel.
What always terrified me about the story was when God called out to Cain and informed him that the voice of Abel's blood is calling to him from the ground. I think that is the single most frightening line in all of the Torah. It made me tremble, though I was innocent, it made me realize that no evil deed passes unnoticed. You can call it God's omniscience, or karma, or whatever you want, but it is a scary, humbling concept to contemplate. A reflection of this theme is evident in the last movement of this trio. The dance is filled with the terrible quality of knowledge and awareness of what is coming to pass. The dance is a damning dance, and it will surely echo to the murderers somewhere down the road. The curse, with which the dance is filled, is more frightening than any revenge which has been known to materialized. It is the ultimate measure... somewhere, I've heard, that placing a curse, even on one's enemies, is a really, really bad thing to do, and one shouldn't do it. I couldn't quite understand why... but the music, filling me with a heavy weight of apprehension, finally opened my eyes.
I cannot explain the feeling of awe, which came over me... but I'll think twice before damning someone!
I hope never to see what happens to those, who called this dance upon them.
If I knew how to pray, at this point, a prayer for the souls of the evil once would have been most appropriate.
Instead, all I can do is to beg for peace for the souls of the ones, who danced that terrible dance.
Terrified,
Irina
The main performer was Natalia Gutman, a famous cellist who studied under Rostropovich. She was accompanied by the violinist Slava Moroz and the pianist Dmitri Shteinberg.
The concert began with J.S. Bach's Suite for Cello Solo No. 3 inC major, BWV 1009.
It was a mesmerizing performance. For the first time in a really long while, I was really forced to *listen*. Don't get me wrong; I love classical music and enjoy going to good concerts. But usually, I allow the music to flow over me, and dissolve in the pleasure of the performance. I don't listen actively, because classical music always has a relaxing, mellowing effect on me. There were two things very, very different about this particular piece. First of all, I've never heard a cello solo. Somehow, I failed to realize that this instrument has an individual personality. It's that voice of support we, amateurs, often forget about out - until it turns out that it can stand on its own and make us hear what it has to say.
It's the soft-spoken that capture our attention once they finally decide to speak up. So I have a newly gained respect for this instrument's voice. There's something pure in it, something, which makes one think about every note. The amazing effect was magnified by the many shades of silence surrounding it. A piano has so many voices of its own that it's practically an orchestra in its own kind. And of course, real orchestras drown out everything around them with the multitude of sounds and short pauses. But with a cello solo, you suddenly grow aware of the intense, rich silence, a silence that is not merely lack of sounds, but which is an instrument of its own kind, a perfect complement to the cello.
I listen to the silence. It is complete, and inside it, in the center, sings the silver voice of the cello. Its simplicity is enchanting. I am trying to understand what the silence is telling me. I've long since realized that music isn't simply music, it's "about" something, it has a wordless story to tell. But what about the silence? It is so palpable, that it must be "about" something as well! And so I listen. I listen to both, to the sound, and to the lack of sound. And they comprise a perfect harmony.
This deceptively simple piece is followed by Trio No. 3, in C Minor, a composition by Brahms. The trio provides a striking contrast to the preceding piece. It is like listening to three old friends gather and talk about three different things. The cello seems to be kvetching about the fate of a housewife, who works so hard to make her house a comfortable home, but is forgotten about, simply because she's so unglamourous. The sweet high-pitched voice of the violin is like the voice of a young girl, venturing out into the big scary world for the first time.
The sighs and pessimistic grumblings of the cello do not discourage her. She's filled with so much hope and excitement for the future that she cannot force herself to stop and consider more pragmatic aspects of life. And the piano sings in the low bass of a man, whose life is intertwined with everything around him, interweaved into a million separate tales of passion and what comes after. The piano has its own story to tell... and the moments when the three voices finally meet, are filled with the exquisite joy of three old friends who've finally learned to understand each other. All throughout, no matter what troubles befall our trio, the threesome manages to break through their separate problems and unite into a humorous, optimistic thrill - life may be difficult and scary, but there's always something of note to laugh about.
Schubert's Arpeggione Sonata in A minor, D. 821, was a lovely continuation to the theme, epitomizing everything that I love about this composer's music. The Sonata is a gentle mixture of tenderness and subdued ardor, like the bright sparkling drops of a brook, playing under the early rays of a spring sun. Here, there's no dissonance at all. The three instruments unite into one multifaceted voice, a voice which gurgles and bubbles, a voice which express an awakening. It is a voice of comfort; it is the way we imagine love itself. It may not turn out the way we think of it, but that is what we see and hear in its early, hopeful days. The Sonata is a great way to lift one's mood. Just thinking of it brings a smile to my face. It is a little naive and childlike perhaps - but it certainly makes the world a more exciting and joyful place to be.
Imagine how this lovelorn voice is swiped away when Shostakovich's Piano Trio No. 2 in E minor rears its ominous head! As the story goes, this trio is inspired by Jewish musical themes and a Holocaust motif of the Nazis forcing the Jews to dance before their own graves, massacring them afterwards. It is a dark, threatening piece, intense and exciting. It keeps one awake, blending one's thoughts with the melody. The violin especially is superb. There's a moment when the violin is being violently plucked, and another time, when one can hear it *stomping*. Of the four pieces performed at the concert, this trio is the most visual and the most frightenting.
It is the last movement of the trio, which gives it its almost supernatural character. The Jewish themes are familiar and painful; there is something of a hellish distortion to the lamenting, violent tunes. It is a scary, scary movement, and for the first time in years, I've been genuinely *awed* by this music, if one can call this composition by such a name. I've been known to sit on the edge of my seat at concerts, gasping and out of breath with excitement. I've been known to run across the room when alone, unable to contain the overwhelming feelings. I've been known to replay music time after time, because of its beauty, its richness. This piece is different, however. It is menacing, it brings with it the seeds of vengeance, which one day, will bloom and bring forth a terrible fruit. The terrible dance I imagine, as I listen to the last movement, is a damning dance.
It brings to mind the biblical story of Cain and Abel.
What always terrified me about the story was when God called out to Cain and informed him that the voice of Abel's blood is calling to him from the ground. I think that is the single most frightening line in all of the Torah. It made me tremble, though I was innocent, it made me realize that no evil deed passes unnoticed. You can call it God's omniscience, or karma, or whatever you want, but it is a scary, humbling concept to contemplate. A reflection of this theme is evident in the last movement of this trio. The dance is filled with the terrible quality of knowledge and awareness of what is coming to pass. The dance is a damning dance, and it will surely echo to the murderers somewhere down the road. The curse, with which the dance is filled, is more frightening than any revenge which has been known to materialized. It is the ultimate measure... somewhere, I've heard, that placing a curse, even on one's enemies, is a really, really bad thing to do, and one shouldn't do it. I couldn't quite understand why... but the music, filling me with a heavy weight of apprehension, finally opened my eyes.
I cannot explain the feeling of awe, which came over me... but I'll think twice before damning someone!
I hope never to see what happens to those, who called this dance upon them.
If I knew how to pray, at this point, a prayer for the souls of the evil once would have been most appropriate.
Instead, all I can do is to beg for peace for the souls of the ones, who danced that terrible dance.
Terrified,
Irina
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Introducing My Nemesis
DECEMBER, 2001
I'm sixteen years old.
I'm taking a bus trip with my parents. We're going down South, to Florida. We spend 9 days traveling under one roof with 47 other people, staying with them in the same hotels, eating with them, talking with them, being stalked by them.
Time out.
What did I just say?
Yes, I felt like I was being stalked by some of them.
No wonder.
Let's take away a few children and teenagers in that bus. That leaves around 40 people.
They signed up for the trip at random. They are strangers. They are in their twenties, thirties, forties, fifties, and sixties. They were all born in the various parts of the Soviet Union, overwhelmingly Jewish.
They are all computer programmers.
!!!!
That was the time when no family in my community was short of at least one programmer. My immediate family was an exception, but when questioned further, I had no choice but to confess that my cousin was also a programmer at the time. Those were creepy times when there was no escape from those people. People watched me closely, reasonably sure that I would follow the same treacherous path. (I evaded that fate.) But a busload of programmers was just too much. And we were stuck with them for 9 whole days!
No wonder paranoia set in. No wonder I felt as if our bus neighbors followed us around, waited for us in the shadows, ever-ready to pounce.
I was watchful. I protected myself from their devious attempts to befriend me. My mouth was ever full of sarcasm.
But it didn't help.
One day, It Happened. The representative of that profession, sitting right in front of me revealed the dreaded weapon - a laptop. The laptop flew down from the top of the bus, where it lay hidden among the other baggage. It fell unexpectedly, almost striking me in the head.
That's when I knew I couldn't trust Those People.
I somehow managed to return to New York alive from that trip. But the evil programmers would continue haunting me, at night, as well as by day.
Soon after coming back, I had a dream, or to be more accurate, a horrible nightmare.
According to that nightmare, my enemies were all but eliminated. They were outlawed, outgunned, and almost all were executed. (Only a feeling of dire threat can account for such blood thirstiness, but don't judge me too harshly. I did feel that threat, hanging over my head like the sword of Damocles). But about forty or fifty of them, male and female, remained alive. They were caught and imprisoned, awaiting the inevitable end. Their prison was located close to the school I attended at the time... and one day, they escaped. The gaggle of desperados came to my school, wild, hungry, and armed with laptops. (That was the scariest part).
The authorities were after them.
And the programmers, the Last of the Programmers, were after me.
They saw me, and they were so hungry, that they decided to eat me. They didn't care that I was small and skinny. They went after me, with their laptops and all. I ran. I hated the programmers, and hoped to give them all in, at the first opportunity. I was also scared. I did not imagine meeting my end in the stomachs of these outlaws. I ran, and I ran, but finally I was cornered. Stalling for time, I led them to the secret supplies of food in my school. I had no choice. They ate it all. There was nothing left for the poor, unfortunate students. What was I to do? While the programmers were busy stuffing themselves, I was looking for a way out. How to get to the authorities, how to get rid of these horrible criminals.
Unfortunately, I took too long.
The authorities noticed some commotion, and came to believe that I was helping the outlaws of my own free will.
They came after us. I tried to explain that I was innocent, but who'd believe me? Finally, however, I got my opportunity to tell the Authorities what really happened. I was relieved. Everything would be straightned out. The programmers would be rounded up and returned to the prison, to await whatever fate awaited them, and peace and justice would be restored.
I was SO ready to be finally rid of these awful people.
Instead...
Instead, however, I suddenly changed my mind, and decided to help them out. I don't know what moved me, but I felt sorry for them (after all, they were only programmers), and went over to the dark side. To make a very long nightmare short, instead of telling the authorities, I lied, and hid the programmers all over the school, and ran along with them.
And that was that.
The nightmare felt so real. In the morning, I woke up shaking and terrified.
That day I gave a solemn vow to avoid programmers in general, and, more importantly, NEVER, EVER to share my life with one of their kind.
I would consider them a plague.
I would interact with them if absolutely necessary, but there would forever be a wall separating us.
And I kept my vow.
I kept it well and easily for four years, giving no more thought to my [hungry] enemies, until...
***
Until I discovered that I'm inseparable from one particular nasty creature of that sort, which lives WITHIN me.
I can almost see him. He's a very stereotypical programmer, male, bearded, half-blind , armed with a laptop, and utterly geeky.
Before you diagnose me as schizophrenic, let me assure you I know where the reality ends, and my sick imagination begins. I know it quite well.
But you see, it's much easier to fight your enemy, when you know what that enemy stands for. When you know his face, his dreaded, dreaded face. When you know him as well as you know yourself. When your enemy is concrete and particular. In other words, when you need to destroy something within yourself, you need to separate that something out from the rest of you, label it, mark it as your target, create a symbol you hate the most (such as UBL, as the symbol of international terrorism), and make war, not love, on that newly formed creature.
There's no question that My Inner Programmer is my worst enemy.
He's the opposite of my ideal animus. He's everything I hate. He's a cunning little bastard, as he destroys me with my own weapons.
Unlike the idea of the Satan, he doesn't tempt me with pleasures.
On the contrary.
Whenever I am faced with possibility of happiness, he ruins my plans. His quiet, suave, almost tender voice is practically inseparable from my own. He pretends to be my Common Sense. He tempts me with the possibility of failure. He's Fear Incarnate. Whenever I meet that possibility of happiness and success in whatever aspect of my life, out comes My Inner Programmer and whispers, whispers, till I heed him, whispers "kind" words of caution, warns me of the dangers of the risk I'm about to undertake warns me that the disappointment of failure outweighs any satisfaction from the possible success. Warns me that there's no reason my task should work out. He protects me from life and from myself, but in reality, he keeps me bound. I'm his prisoner.
I struggle to keep My Inner Programmer suppressed. Most of the time, I'm a happy, willful person. But often, when it comes to making major, life-changing decisions, out he comes! He comes and he mollifies with his sweet venom, and he keeps me insecure and scared. How many times he's ruined things for me! He's the self-destructive, borderline part of me. He's the part that is afraid of happiness, almost masochistic in its preference for the stable, bland, even painful status quo. He's The Geek. The Killjoy. He likes me subdued and quiet in my old, miserable ways. He wants to cut my wings and to keep from soaring. So every time I attempt to fly, he warns me of the numerous dangers, and whispers to me that I'm not ready yet. He's the worst pessimist you can possibly imagine.
He's the part of me, which betrays me. Which pushes away people I would like to befriend. Which turns me away from things I'd like to try.
I must fight him, but it's so difficult! It's so much easier to give in. He brings me nothing but pain, regret, difficulties, and what-ifs. His safety net is nothing but a well-disguised cage. And even as I write, I'm fighting off. He reemerges unexpectedly, once in a while, and fills me with depression and darkness, with hopelessness and various fears. He makes me distasteful even to those, who support me. I find myself lonely and isolated, unable to share my problem even with the closest people to me. They wouldn't listen, they would laugh off this problem, which has been plaguing me for years now.
I regress into myself, I grow silent. No one knows what's happening to me. And I long to scream for help, to let them know I'm being chased by My Inner Programmer... but I can't. I remain silent... it passes, but not without leaving a crack on the surface of my relations with others. I hate being like that. I hate being a whiney, weak scaredy-cat. I'm not like that. I'm only like that when My Inner Programmer comes out. Otherwise, I'm a happy, well-adjust person. I'm not cold, or selfish, or evil-tempered. I have a lot of warmth to give, and smiles to share. But when My Inner Programmer comes, I feel myself shrinking, and slinking away. He longs to bring me to my knees, to enslave me forever.
But I won't let him
I finally saw through his tactics. He's no friend of mine. He lied to me all these years. And so I introduce him to you. Beware of a bearded dude with a laptop! He's out to get me... and to take over my blog.
You wouldn't want that, now, WOULD you?
We'll destroy My Inner Programmer yet.
And so... I present to you my new motto:
"Live Dangerously! Kill the Programmer in you!"
Programmer-free,
Irina
I'm sixteen years old.
I'm taking a bus trip with my parents. We're going down South, to Florida. We spend 9 days traveling under one roof with 47 other people, staying with them in the same hotels, eating with them, talking with them, being stalked by them.
Time out.
What did I just say?
Yes, I felt like I was being stalked by some of them.
No wonder.
Let's take away a few children and teenagers in that bus. That leaves around 40 people.
They signed up for the trip at random. They are strangers. They are in their twenties, thirties, forties, fifties, and sixties. They were all born in the various parts of the Soviet Union, overwhelmingly Jewish.
They are all computer programmers.
!!!!
That was the time when no family in my community was short of at least one programmer. My immediate family was an exception, but when questioned further, I had no choice but to confess that my cousin was also a programmer at the time. Those were creepy times when there was no escape from those people. People watched me closely, reasonably sure that I would follow the same treacherous path. (I evaded that fate.) But a busload of programmers was just too much. And we were stuck with them for 9 whole days!
No wonder paranoia set in. No wonder I felt as if our bus neighbors followed us around, waited for us in the shadows, ever-ready to pounce.
I was watchful. I protected myself from their devious attempts to befriend me. My mouth was ever full of sarcasm.
But it didn't help.
One day, It Happened. The representative of that profession, sitting right in front of me revealed the dreaded weapon - a laptop. The laptop flew down from the top of the bus, where it lay hidden among the other baggage. It fell unexpectedly, almost striking me in the head.
That's when I knew I couldn't trust Those People.
I somehow managed to return to New York alive from that trip. But the evil programmers would continue haunting me, at night, as well as by day.
Soon after coming back, I had a dream, or to be more accurate, a horrible nightmare.
According to that nightmare, my enemies were all but eliminated. They were outlawed, outgunned, and almost all were executed. (Only a feeling of dire threat can account for such blood thirstiness, but don't judge me too harshly. I did feel that threat, hanging over my head like the sword of Damocles). But about forty or fifty of them, male and female, remained alive. They were caught and imprisoned, awaiting the inevitable end. Their prison was located close to the school I attended at the time... and one day, they escaped. The gaggle of desperados came to my school, wild, hungry, and armed with laptops. (That was the scariest part).
The authorities were after them.
And the programmers, the Last of the Programmers, were after me.
They saw me, and they were so hungry, that they decided to eat me. They didn't care that I was small and skinny. They went after me, with their laptops and all. I ran. I hated the programmers, and hoped to give them all in, at the first opportunity. I was also scared. I did not imagine meeting my end in the stomachs of these outlaws. I ran, and I ran, but finally I was cornered. Stalling for time, I led them to the secret supplies of food in my school. I had no choice. They ate it all. There was nothing left for the poor, unfortunate students. What was I to do? While the programmers were busy stuffing themselves, I was looking for a way out. How to get to the authorities, how to get rid of these horrible criminals.
Unfortunately, I took too long.
The authorities noticed some commotion, and came to believe that I was helping the outlaws of my own free will.
They came after us. I tried to explain that I was innocent, but who'd believe me? Finally, however, I got my opportunity to tell the Authorities what really happened. I was relieved. Everything would be straightned out. The programmers would be rounded up and returned to the prison, to await whatever fate awaited them, and peace and justice would be restored.
I was SO ready to be finally rid of these awful people.
Instead...
Instead, however, I suddenly changed my mind, and decided to help them out. I don't know what moved me, but I felt sorry for them (after all, they were only programmers), and went over to the dark side. To make a very long nightmare short, instead of telling the authorities, I lied, and hid the programmers all over the school, and ran along with them.
And that was that.
The nightmare felt so real. In the morning, I woke up shaking and terrified.
That day I gave a solemn vow to avoid programmers in general, and, more importantly, NEVER, EVER to share my life with one of their kind.
I would consider them a plague.
I would interact with them if absolutely necessary, but there would forever be a wall separating us.
And I kept my vow.
I kept it well and easily for four years, giving no more thought to my [hungry] enemies, until...
***
Until I discovered that I'm inseparable from one particular nasty creature of that sort, which lives WITHIN me.
I can almost see him. He's a very stereotypical programmer, male, bearded, half-blind , armed with a laptop, and utterly geeky.
Before you diagnose me as schizophrenic, let me assure you I know where the reality ends, and my sick imagination begins. I know it quite well.
But you see, it's much easier to fight your enemy, when you know what that enemy stands for. When you know his face, his dreaded, dreaded face. When you know him as well as you know yourself. When your enemy is concrete and particular. In other words, when you need to destroy something within yourself, you need to separate that something out from the rest of you, label it, mark it as your target, create a symbol you hate the most (such as UBL, as the symbol of international terrorism), and make war, not love, on that newly formed creature.
There's no question that My Inner Programmer is my worst enemy.
He's the opposite of my ideal animus. He's everything I hate. He's a cunning little bastard, as he destroys me with my own weapons.
Unlike the idea of the Satan, he doesn't tempt me with pleasures.
On the contrary.
Whenever I am faced with possibility of happiness, he ruins my plans. His quiet, suave, almost tender voice is practically inseparable from my own. He pretends to be my Common Sense. He tempts me with the possibility of failure. He's Fear Incarnate. Whenever I meet that possibility of happiness and success in whatever aspect of my life, out comes My Inner Programmer and whispers, whispers, till I heed him, whispers "kind" words of caution, warns me of the dangers of the risk I'm about to undertake warns me that the disappointment of failure outweighs any satisfaction from the possible success. Warns me that there's no reason my task should work out. He protects me from life and from myself, but in reality, he keeps me bound. I'm his prisoner.
I struggle to keep My Inner Programmer suppressed. Most of the time, I'm a happy, willful person. But often, when it comes to making major, life-changing decisions, out he comes! He comes and he mollifies with his sweet venom, and he keeps me insecure and scared. How many times he's ruined things for me! He's the self-destructive, borderline part of me. He's the part that is afraid of happiness, almost masochistic in its preference for the stable, bland, even painful status quo. He's The Geek. The Killjoy. He likes me subdued and quiet in my old, miserable ways. He wants to cut my wings and to keep from soaring. So every time I attempt to fly, he warns me of the numerous dangers, and whispers to me that I'm not ready yet. He's the worst pessimist you can possibly imagine.
He's the part of me, which betrays me. Which pushes away people I would like to befriend. Which turns me away from things I'd like to try.
I must fight him, but it's so difficult! It's so much easier to give in. He brings me nothing but pain, regret, difficulties, and what-ifs. His safety net is nothing but a well-disguised cage. And even as I write, I'm fighting off. He reemerges unexpectedly, once in a while, and fills me with depression and darkness, with hopelessness and various fears. He makes me distasteful even to those, who support me. I find myself lonely and isolated, unable to share my problem even with the closest people to me. They wouldn't listen, they would laugh off this problem, which has been plaguing me for years now.
I regress into myself, I grow silent. No one knows what's happening to me. And I long to scream for help, to let them know I'm being chased by My Inner Programmer... but I can't. I remain silent... it passes, but not without leaving a crack on the surface of my relations with others. I hate being like that. I hate being a whiney, weak scaredy-cat. I'm not like that. I'm only like that when My Inner Programmer comes out. Otherwise, I'm a happy, well-adjust person. I'm not cold, or selfish, or evil-tempered. I have a lot of warmth to give, and smiles to share. But when My Inner Programmer comes, I feel myself shrinking, and slinking away. He longs to bring me to my knees, to enslave me forever.
But I won't let him
I finally saw through his tactics. He's no friend of mine. He lied to me all these years. And so I introduce him to you. Beware of a bearded dude with a laptop! He's out to get me... and to take over my blog.
You wouldn't want that, now, WOULD you?
We'll destroy My Inner Programmer yet.
And so... I present to you my new motto:
"Live Dangerously! Kill the Programmer in you!"
Programmer-free,
Irina
Friday, January 27, 2006
The Waterworks Bountiful
Today is "International Day of Commemoration in memory of the victims of the Holocaust."
It's supposed to mark the liberation of Auschwitz, which took place January 27, 1945.
I wonder what it means in terms of Holocaust denials.
I spent the day thinking over a comment my professor made in my Literature and Society class yesterday. We were discussing slavery and various social hypocrisies, when she said that under an appropriate set of circumstances, we ALL would committ heinous actions. It's just that the context might be different for all of us. Something struck me as very wrong about that comment, but I couldn't really disprove it. As Machiavellians say, we all have a price.
But saying that we'd all do something horrible, something subhuman implies that there's no point even trying to overcome evil temptations and various forms of pressure, since we're inherently evil anyway, and no matter what we do, the truth is, we'll always be rotten somewhere deep inside. And it only takes a challenge to bring up all that rot. The fact that she said that seemed insulting to me. It somehow devalues human life. I mean, look at all the people who died during the Holocaust, for example. They were "led like sheep to the slaughter", obviously not a good thing - but because they would rather suffer consequences than break laws of their countries. Because these people didn't believe someone could be evil enough to try to eradicate an entire people, simply on ethnic/nationalist grounds.
See, if what the professor had stated were true, I bet we'd have six million more Holocaust survivors. As in, if everybody were capable of doing something heinous, wouldn't survival be the primary motivation for doing that heinous thing? But those people didn't do heinous things. And they didn't survive. Sure, heinous things happened in the concentration camps. People were dehumanized, stripped bare of all the layers of civilization. And yet...
And yet...
I was thinking about that, while I was standing in queue to get into the United Nations building. As part of the delegation from the ADL, I was on my way to a series of events planned to mark this day. Two women in front of me were discussing their jobs. One of them had worked in a firm for a long period of time, and a year ago, she left. She spoke sarcastically of her "best friends" from her former workplace, stating that one minute they are your best friends, and the next they stab you in the back. After meeting two of such "best friends" at a party recently, she noticed that they pretended not to recognize her, for a reason I didn't understand and which didn't really matter. She was now considered an outcast in that particular environment, and people she once knew and respected didn't want to have anything to do with her.
Was that what my professor meant? That sometimes it doesn't even TAKE AS MUCH AS the Holocaust or some other drastic situation to turn people against one another, to give up "common human decency"? That people are ready to backstab each other, just for the sake of the acceptable social protocol? Everywhere I seemed to look, people seemed to confirm my professor's assertion. Already in a gloomy mood, I felt particularly depressed thinking that perhaps there is no such thing as friendship, love, mutual respect, decency. Perhaps we're all just pretending to be helpful, until the moment comes when it is no longer in our interests to do so. Perhaps, all our relationships are based on the pretending to be altruistic, selfless human beings who wanted to make each other happy and the world a better place.
And I sat down in the General Assembley hall, still pondering this idea.
Kofi Annan didn't bother to come. He was too busy. Instead, he left a video message of the usual banalities.
Dan Gillerman, Israel's Ambassador to the UN made a good speech, which earned him a standing ovation. He made a particular mention of a "member-state'" refusal to recognize Holocaust or Israel, and its plans for a second Holocaust. It was clear that he meant Iran. He vowed that Israel will survive forever and that as long as Israel stands, no second Holocaust will occur. All this while, I wondered whether he meant what he said. How could he make such predictions. Hasn't Israel been ruined once already? He ended with a Shabbat prayer (since in Jerusalem, Shabbat was already starting), and by wishing our nation peace.
He was followed by a very powerful presentation of photographs from Yad Vashem. These were Holocaust victims of both genders, of all ages, and from all places imaginable. Their brief stories were read allowed in a clear, clinical voice. Being the sentimental fool that I am, I was in tears as soon as this part of the ceremony started. From then on, it only got worse. And I had no tissues, so I had to choke down my sobs and rub my eyes. I was the only one in the vicinity with such a strong reaction, and two old women sitting next to me, kept glancing at me with some curiosity. The presentation was followed by a Holocaust survivor, writer, and Academy Award winner for Best Documentary, Gerda Klein.
She was a small, old, fragile-looking lady, with a voice, which kept breaking off. She burst into tears herself by the middle of her presentation, and who was I not to join her? She told us about her horrible experiences in a concentration camp, the cold, hunger, cruel guards. She told us about the Death March. One extremely touching part of her story was about her best friend, Ilsa, who once found a single raspberry, and instead of eating it, carried around in her pocket the whole day and brought it to Gerda. Ilsa didn't live to eat another strawberry, Mrs. Klein said, as she was killed during the Death March by a guard who kicked her. At this point, Gerda was about to give up, but her friend, even as she was dying in Gerda's arms, asked her to try to make it another week, a week being a very long time in the concentration camps.
A week later, Gerda was liberated.
The way that happened was even more amazing. As the Allied forces moved towards the camp, the guards locked up the prisoners, and put a time bomb in order to eliminate the concentration camp. But the rain ruined the plans of the fleeing Nazis. When Gerda saw the American forces approach, she was in a terrible condition. It was a day before her 21st birthday, but she weighed 68 pounds, her hair was all white, and she hadn't had a bath in three years, she told us. And then she saw a young American soldier who came to liberate the camp. She told the soldier that she was Jewish... it was clear, by the way she told us that, that at this point the prisoners really had no idea who was their friend and was really happened. So there was an element of uncertainty in this whole situation. But the American soldier told her that he was Jewish as well...
And the twist to the liberation story was that Gerda married him and lived with him for fifty six years, until his death, had children and grandchildren... She was sobbing by the end of the story, so was I. It was difficult not to make noise, not to make a fool out of myself. I mean, what an amazing story! You just can't make something like that up! It's almost annoying how, every time, I make up my mind to be practical, cynical, and not to believe into all the nonsense romantic-minded Hollywood-obsessed people tell me, something like this comes along and ruins everything. I cried and I cried...
And it was very difficult to stop, as the next part of the presentation was even more heart-wrenching than the previous.
It was a performance by the Zamir Chorale of Boston, featuring songs from the album "Hear Our Voices: Songs of the Ghettos and Camps". Some of the songs were very sad, such as "Where's the World's Conscience?", others were prayers for the death camps, still others were hopeful about the coming of the Moshiach. The saddest part about many of those songs were that they were performed under the direction of Martin Rosenberg, a famous Jewish musician, who was caught and tortured by the Nazis, but who organized an underground Jewish Choir; one day, the entire choir was executed... but the songs lived on.
The final part of the presentation gave me a chance to clam down. It was a lecture by Professor Yehuda Bauer, an Academic Advisor to Yad Vashem. The lecture was called "Remembrance and Beyond", with the title being pretty much self-explanatory.
As we left, I couldn't help but try to sort out everything I thought about for the past couple of hours.
Is there God or isn't there?
Is there a possibility of love and hope, or isn't there?
Are all people inherently evil creatures, predestined to committ heinous actions under a certain set of circumstances?
See, there's no question that there was NO hope for so many people. And while the Holocaust was obviously a product of human actions and inaction, many people have wondered how God could allow such a massacre to take place. And there's no question that there were people who were ready to betray each other just for a piece of food, or for a more prominent position in the fictional life order the Nazis created. But... but then there were stories, such as Greta's, stories of selfless sacrifice, hope, and a happy ending.
Where's the answer then? Where?
It seems that I cannot go about figuring out the answers to these questions from all the stories I hear.
I must find them in my own circumstances, in the only life I can ever live.
And hope that there's more to life than just despair and waterworks and evil.
Pensive,
Irina
It's supposed to mark the liberation of Auschwitz, which took place January 27, 1945.
I wonder what it means in terms of Holocaust denials.
I spent the day thinking over a comment my professor made in my Literature and Society class yesterday. We were discussing slavery and various social hypocrisies, when she said that under an appropriate set of circumstances, we ALL would committ heinous actions. It's just that the context might be different for all of us. Something struck me as very wrong about that comment, but I couldn't really disprove it. As Machiavellians say, we all have a price.
But saying that we'd all do something horrible, something subhuman implies that there's no point even trying to overcome evil temptations and various forms of pressure, since we're inherently evil anyway, and no matter what we do, the truth is, we'll always be rotten somewhere deep inside. And it only takes a challenge to bring up all that rot. The fact that she said that seemed insulting to me. It somehow devalues human life. I mean, look at all the people who died during the Holocaust, for example. They were "led like sheep to the slaughter", obviously not a good thing - but because they would rather suffer consequences than break laws of their countries. Because these people didn't believe someone could be evil enough to try to eradicate an entire people, simply on ethnic/nationalist grounds.
See, if what the professor had stated were true, I bet we'd have six million more Holocaust survivors. As in, if everybody were capable of doing something heinous, wouldn't survival be the primary motivation for doing that heinous thing? But those people didn't do heinous things. And they didn't survive. Sure, heinous things happened in the concentration camps. People were dehumanized, stripped bare of all the layers of civilization. And yet...
And yet...
I was thinking about that, while I was standing in queue to get into the United Nations building. As part of the delegation from the ADL, I was on my way to a series of events planned to mark this day. Two women in front of me were discussing their jobs. One of them had worked in a firm for a long period of time, and a year ago, she left. She spoke sarcastically of her "best friends" from her former workplace, stating that one minute they are your best friends, and the next they stab you in the back. After meeting two of such "best friends" at a party recently, she noticed that they pretended not to recognize her, for a reason I didn't understand and which didn't really matter. She was now considered an outcast in that particular environment, and people she once knew and respected didn't want to have anything to do with her.
Was that what my professor meant? That sometimes it doesn't even TAKE AS MUCH AS the Holocaust or some other drastic situation to turn people against one another, to give up "common human decency"? That people are ready to backstab each other, just for the sake of the acceptable social protocol? Everywhere I seemed to look, people seemed to confirm my professor's assertion. Already in a gloomy mood, I felt particularly depressed thinking that perhaps there is no such thing as friendship, love, mutual respect, decency. Perhaps we're all just pretending to be helpful, until the moment comes when it is no longer in our interests to do so. Perhaps, all our relationships are based on the pretending to be altruistic, selfless human beings who wanted to make each other happy and the world a better place.
And I sat down in the General Assembley hall, still pondering this idea.
Kofi Annan didn't bother to come. He was too busy. Instead, he left a video message of the usual banalities.
Dan Gillerman, Israel's Ambassador to the UN made a good speech, which earned him a standing ovation. He made a particular mention of a "member-state'" refusal to recognize Holocaust or Israel, and its plans for a second Holocaust. It was clear that he meant Iran. He vowed that Israel will survive forever and that as long as Israel stands, no second Holocaust will occur. All this while, I wondered whether he meant what he said. How could he make such predictions. Hasn't Israel been ruined once already? He ended with a Shabbat prayer (since in Jerusalem, Shabbat was already starting), and by wishing our nation peace.
He was followed by a very powerful presentation of photographs from Yad Vashem. These were Holocaust victims of both genders, of all ages, and from all places imaginable. Their brief stories were read allowed in a clear, clinical voice. Being the sentimental fool that I am, I was in tears as soon as this part of the ceremony started. From then on, it only got worse. And I had no tissues, so I had to choke down my sobs and rub my eyes. I was the only one in the vicinity with such a strong reaction, and two old women sitting next to me, kept glancing at me with some curiosity. The presentation was followed by a Holocaust survivor, writer, and Academy Award winner for Best Documentary, Gerda Klein.
She was a small, old, fragile-looking lady, with a voice, which kept breaking off. She burst into tears herself by the middle of her presentation, and who was I not to join her? She told us about her horrible experiences in a concentration camp, the cold, hunger, cruel guards. She told us about the Death March. One extremely touching part of her story was about her best friend, Ilsa, who once found a single raspberry, and instead of eating it, carried around in her pocket the whole day and brought it to Gerda. Ilsa didn't live to eat another strawberry, Mrs. Klein said, as she was killed during the Death March by a guard who kicked her. At this point, Gerda was about to give up, but her friend, even as she was dying in Gerda's arms, asked her to try to make it another week, a week being a very long time in the concentration camps.
A week later, Gerda was liberated.
The way that happened was even more amazing. As the Allied forces moved towards the camp, the guards locked up the prisoners, and put a time bomb in order to eliminate the concentration camp. But the rain ruined the plans of the fleeing Nazis. When Gerda saw the American forces approach, she was in a terrible condition. It was a day before her 21st birthday, but she weighed 68 pounds, her hair was all white, and she hadn't had a bath in three years, she told us. And then she saw a young American soldier who came to liberate the camp. She told the soldier that she was Jewish... it was clear, by the way she told us that, that at this point the prisoners really had no idea who was their friend and was really happened. So there was an element of uncertainty in this whole situation. But the American soldier told her that he was Jewish as well...
And the twist to the liberation story was that Gerda married him and lived with him for fifty six years, until his death, had children and grandchildren... She was sobbing by the end of the story, so was I. It was difficult not to make noise, not to make a fool out of myself. I mean, what an amazing story! You just can't make something like that up! It's almost annoying how, every time, I make up my mind to be practical, cynical, and not to believe into all the nonsense romantic-minded Hollywood-obsessed people tell me, something like this comes along and ruins everything. I cried and I cried...
And it was very difficult to stop, as the next part of the presentation was even more heart-wrenching than the previous.
It was a performance by the Zamir Chorale of Boston, featuring songs from the album "Hear Our Voices: Songs of the Ghettos and Camps". Some of the songs were very sad, such as "Where's the World's Conscience?", others were prayers for the death camps, still others were hopeful about the coming of the Moshiach. The saddest part about many of those songs were that they were performed under the direction of Martin Rosenberg, a famous Jewish musician, who was caught and tortured by the Nazis, but who organized an underground Jewish Choir; one day, the entire choir was executed... but the songs lived on.
The final part of the presentation gave me a chance to clam down. It was a lecture by Professor Yehuda Bauer, an Academic Advisor to Yad Vashem. The lecture was called "Remembrance and Beyond", with the title being pretty much self-explanatory.
As we left, I couldn't help but try to sort out everything I thought about for the past couple of hours.
Is there God or isn't there?
Is there a possibility of love and hope, or isn't there?
Are all people inherently evil creatures, predestined to committ heinous actions under a certain set of circumstances?
See, there's no question that there was NO hope for so many people. And while the Holocaust was obviously a product of human actions and inaction, many people have wondered how God could allow such a massacre to take place. And there's no question that there were people who were ready to betray each other just for a piece of food, or for a more prominent position in the fictional life order the Nazis created. But... but then there were stories, such as Greta's, stories of selfless sacrifice, hope, and a happy ending.
Where's the answer then? Where?
It seems that I cannot go about figuring out the answers to these questions from all the stories I hear.
I must find them in my own circumstances, in the only life I can ever live.
And hope that there's more to life than just despair and waterworks and evil.
Pensive,
Irina
Thursday, January 26, 2006
That Old Hate Speech Thing Again...
Part II
HATE SPEECH
Freedom of Association
*Is association with others expressive conduct?
*The First Amendment guarantees a right of expressive association for First Amendment objectives, NOT a general right of social association.
*Balancing Test usually employed.
- Does the Government's interest outweigh the individual's right to associate?
* Increasingly, the Court has employed more stringent forms of interest balancing, including strict scrutiny.
One example we discussed at this point, was whether public schools had a right to require teachers to list all groups with which they were associated. It turned out that they had, and we came up with a number of reasons - the fact that teachers will be teaching children, and the schools have to make ethical decisions about education in behalf of the parents, the fact that in the classroom teachers often have more leeway than the actual curriculum they teach, etc.
Restraints on Membership in a Group or Organization
* In general, membership in an organization cannot be penalized.
* This right includes engaging in group objectives.
* However, the government can regulate active membership in a group if the individual:
- Knows of the group's illegal objectives (i.e. engages in illegal activity or incites others to imminent lawless action); and
- has a specific intent to further those illegal objectives.
At this point, e-kvetcher's concern, expressed in the comment ot Part I, comes in. He is concerned about a scenario, which has taught us a bitter historical lesson - One Party/Man, One Vote, One Time. In other words, what happens if people decide to end democratic rule and vote in (democratically) a party, which will be opposed to democracy? E-kvetcher cited a number of possibilities, which could lead to such an outcome - serious economic concerns, national security, etc. If you recall, a similar scenario played out in the Weimar Republic. But guess what? In a good, stable, functioning democracy, which works the way it's supposed, the answer to ALL these problems is political - the variety of democratic alternatives that our system provides, the competitive system, which pushes out the most qualified AND popular candidate, and which allows us to replace "bad" government officials, by voting them out of the office at a regular rate.
The fact that the United States has survived and improved as a democratic system for as long as it has, only proves that having regular elections every four/two/six year and placing limits on the terms for each candidate was a really good idea. It safeguards from abuse of power and prevents a "bad" candidate from creating so many problems that the next candidate cannot possibly deal with them in a reasonable way. In other words, theoretically, it's possible for Nazis or Communists to come to power here, but practically it's much less like than what happened in Europe, because of the way the system was designed to work. (In contrast, the Weimar republic was weak from the start, with no long-standing safeguards, and with multitude of extreme economic problems in addition to political ones.)
Group Association and Disclosure Requirements
*Government may on rare occasion require disclosure of an individual's association in an organization or forbid association in particular groups.
*These requirements are generally held valid if the restraint on free association is merely indirect.
*Balancing Test:
-Does the extent of the interference with the right to associate justify the interests of government in the regulation?
-Deference to legislative judgment has often been given for subversive or extremist groups.
Compelled Expression
*The First Amendment protects the freedom to speak. It also includes the right to silence.
*Thus, a person has a right to be free of compelled association and beliefs.
*A governmental rule that requires an individual to support or force association with groups or organizations may invoke strict scrutiny.
- For example, compelled dues, fees, etc.
- Loyalty oaths must be narrowly drawn.
* In general, the government cannot condition benefits or employment on an individual's freedom of speech rights.
Commercial Speech
* Regulation of commercial speech is constitutional if:
- the speech is actually or inherently misleading or related to unlawful activity; or,
- where the speech is truthful:
*The government interest in regulating must be substantial;
*The government regulation must be directly and materially advance this substantial governmental interest asserted; and
*The regulation must be narrowly tailored to serve that interest.
- A "reasonable fit" is permitted for this purpose, but the Court may require the use of available alternatives.
Controlling Speech Content
* Generally, when government regulates speech because it is concerned about the speaker's message, the law is presumptively invalid and strict scrutiny will apply.
* However, if the government is concerned that speech will create a "clear and present danger" of imminnet lawless action, the speech may be narrowly circumscribed.
Clear and Present Danger Test
*Clear and Present Danger Standard
*Holmes and Brandeis Cases and dissents (i.e. Abrams v. U.S. (1919); Gitlow (1925); Whitney v. California (1927);
*Learned Hand's approach (Masses Publishing, 1917) - innuendo is not permitted.
*Red Scare in the 1950s.
* The MODERN focus is on
- the nature of the speech - only incitement of unlawful conduct, not advocacy of abstract doctrine, cand be punished; and
- the danger it presents - only incitement to "imminent lawless action" which is "likely to incite or produce such actions," may be reached. (Brandenburg v. Ohio, ) (1969)
-FALSELY shouting "fire" in a crowded theater.
Fighting Words
*Government can impose content-based regulation on fighting words 0
- "Which by their very utterance inflict injury or tend to incite an immediate breach of the peace."
*Policy: verbal assaults are of very limited social value. They do not really advance reasoned debate.
* Is something a clear and present danger, or is it fighting words?
- Mere anger is not enough
- Must be likely to result in imminent violence.
*BUT, even if a law regulates fighting words, strict scrutiny applies if the regulation discriminates on the basis of
- subject matter or
- Viewpoint.
* Hostile listeners: If violence could occur by reason of listeners to a speaker's message, the police must protect the speaker.
Hate Speech:
*Many places (including campuses) have enacted laws or codes probibiting expression that incites hatred of certain groups. Some proscribe words that are merely insulting or derogatory.
*Laws which punsih racially motivated harmful conduct or which simply enhance the penalty for crimes when inspired by racial bias raise constitutional scrutiny.
(I.e. Nazi-Skokie dispute)
Hate Crime Legislation
*Does hate crime legislation, which authorizes increased penalties for bias-motivated crimes, violate the First Amendment.
CONCLUSION
The Supreme Court ruled that:
- Focus is really on victim selection plus crime; not offensive speech.
- Inquiry goes to intent; a test that has always been useful in other criminal actions (i.e., manslaughter versus murder)
-R.A.V. and Skokie distingusihed in that those focused on regulation of expression; cases such as Wisconsin v. Mitchell (1933), focused on conduct.
So how useful was this event? I think, most lawyers knew all this information already. However, for an average citizen like me, I think this information will come in very handy during debates, and if ever the question of my rights ever comes up! Yup, it's always good to know the law... So walk softly, and carry a big Constitution!
Enlightened,
Irina
HATE SPEECH
Freedom of Association
*Is association with others expressive conduct?
*The First Amendment guarantees a right of expressive association for First Amendment objectives, NOT a general right of social association.
*Balancing Test usually employed.
- Does the Government's interest outweigh the individual's right to associate?
* Increasingly, the Court has employed more stringent forms of interest balancing, including strict scrutiny.
One example we discussed at this point, was whether public schools had a right to require teachers to list all groups with which they were associated. It turned out that they had, and we came up with a number of reasons - the fact that teachers will be teaching children, and the schools have to make ethical decisions about education in behalf of the parents, the fact that in the classroom teachers often have more leeway than the actual curriculum they teach, etc.
Restraints on Membership in a Group or Organization
* In general, membership in an organization cannot be penalized.
* This right includes engaging in group objectives.
* However, the government can regulate active membership in a group if the individual:
- Knows of the group's illegal objectives (i.e. engages in illegal activity or incites others to imminent lawless action); and
- has a specific intent to further those illegal objectives.
At this point, e-kvetcher's concern, expressed in the comment ot Part I, comes in. He is concerned about a scenario, which has taught us a bitter historical lesson - One Party/Man, One Vote, One Time. In other words, what happens if people decide to end democratic rule and vote in (democratically) a party, which will be opposed to democracy? E-kvetcher cited a number of possibilities, which could lead to such an outcome - serious economic concerns, national security, etc. If you recall, a similar scenario played out in the Weimar Republic. But guess what? In a good, stable, functioning democracy, which works the way it's supposed, the answer to ALL these problems is political - the variety of democratic alternatives that our system provides, the competitive system, which pushes out the most qualified AND popular candidate, and which allows us to replace "bad" government officials, by voting them out of the office at a regular rate.
The fact that the United States has survived and improved as a democratic system for as long as it has, only proves that having regular elections every four/two/six year and placing limits on the terms for each candidate was a really good idea. It safeguards from abuse of power and prevents a "bad" candidate from creating so many problems that the next candidate cannot possibly deal with them in a reasonable way. In other words, theoretically, it's possible for Nazis or Communists to come to power here, but practically it's much less like than what happened in Europe, because of the way the system was designed to work. (In contrast, the Weimar republic was weak from the start, with no long-standing safeguards, and with multitude of extreme economic problems in addition to political ones.)
Group Association and Disclosure Requirements
*Government may on rare occasion require disclosure of an individual's association in an organization or forbid association in particular groups.
*These requirements are generally held valid if the restraint on free association is merely indirect.
*Balancing Test:
-Does the extent of the interference with the right to associate justify the interests of government in the regulation?
-Deference to legislative judgment has often been given for subversive or extremist groups.
Compelled Expression
*The First Amendment protects the freedom to speak. It also includes the right to silence.
*Thus, a person has a right to be free of compelled association and beliefs.
*A governmental rule that requires an individual to support or force association with groups or organizations may invoke strict scrutiny.
- For example, compelled dues, fees, etc.
- Loyalty oaths must be narrowly drawn.
* In general, the government cannot condition benefits or employment on an individual's freedom of speech rights.
Commercial Speech
* Regulation of commercial speech is constitutional if:
- the speech is actually or inherently misleading or related to unlawful activity; or,
- where the speech is truthful:
*The government interest in regulating must be substantial;
*The government regulation must be directly and materially advance this substantial governmental interest asserted; and
*The regulation must be narrowly tailored to serve that interest.
- A "reasonable fit" is permitted for this purpose, but the Court may require the use of available alternatives.
Controlling Speech Content
* Generally, when government regulates speech because it is concerned about the speaker's message, the law is presumptively invalid and strict scrutiny will apply.
* However, if the government is concerned that speech will create a "clear and present danger" of imminnet lawless action, the speech may be narrowly circumscribed.
Clear and Present Danger Test
*Clear and Present Danger Standard
*Holmes and Brandeis Cases and dissents (i.e. Abrams v. U.S. (1919); Gitlow (1925); Whitney v. California (1927);
*Learned Hand's approach (Masses Publishing, 1917) - innuendo is not permitted.
*Red Scare in the 1950s.
* The MODERN focus is on
- the nature of the speech - only incitement of unlawful conduct, not advocacy of abstract doctrine, cand be punished; and
- the danger it presents - only incitement to "imminent lawless action" which is "likely to incite or produce such actions," may be reached. (Brandenburg v. Ohio, ) (1969)
-FALSELY shouting "fire" in a crowded theater.
Fighting Words
*Government can impose content-based regulation on fighting words 0
- "Which by their very utterance inflict injury or tend to incite an immediate breach of the peace."
*Policy: verbal assaults are of very limited social value. They do not really advance reasoned debate.
* Is something a clear and present danger, or is it fighting words?
- Mere anger is not enough
- Must be likely to result in imminent violence.
*BUT, even if a law regulates fighting words, strict scrutiny applies if the regulation discriminates on the basis of
- subject matter or
- Viewpoint.
* Hostile listeners: If violence could occur by reason of listeners to a speaker's message, the police must protect the speaker.
Hate Speech:
*Many places (including campuses) have enacted laws or codes probibiting expression that incites hatred of certain groups. Some proscribe words that are merely insulting or derogatory.
*Laws which punsih racially motivated harmful conduct or which simply enhance the penalty for crimes when inspired by racial bias raise constitutional scrutiny.
(I.e. Nazi-Skokie dispute)
Hate Crime Legislation
*Does hate crime legislation, which authorizes increased penalties for bias-motivated crimes, violate the First Amendment.
CONCLUSION
The Supreme Court ruled that:
- Focus is really on victim selection plus crime; not offensive speech.
- Inquiry goes to intent; a test that has always been useful in other criminal actions (i.e., manslaughter versus murder)
-R.A.V. and Skokie distingusihed in that those focused on regulation of expression; cases such as Wisconsin v. Mitchell (1933), focused on conduct.
So how useful was this event? I think, most lawyers knew all this information already. However, for an average citizen like me, I think this information will come in very handy during debates, and if ever the question of my rights ever comes up! Yup, it's always good to know the law... So walk softly, and carry a big Constitution!
Enlightened,
Irina
Palestinian Democracy
Unlike many other bloggers, I'm not at all shocked that Hamas has won the Palestinian elections last night.
I don't have too much to add.
As I wrote in a comment to a thoughtful post, the outcome was pretty predictable. However, many people, especially the democratic leaders of many countries, preferred to close their eyes on the inevitable, hoping that when the day actually comes, Palestinians will prefer a less embarrassing, more covert Fatah. Alas, the democratic elections turned out to be REALLY democratic. The election of the Hamas will force all those who haven't done so already to confront the reality. The election of Hamas is a statement. The fact that the Palestinians have dared to make such a statement is no more flabbergasting than the fact that the democratically elected Ahmadinejad has chosen to state aloud some odious sentiments everyone knew have existed for a long time now, but no one who calls himself a democrat would admit as much.
Will Hamas finally force a confrontation with the terrorist groups in the area? That remains to be seen. So far, I see no indication that will be the case. But the election of this party will definitely leave some of us with food for thought.
Pessimistic,
Irina
UPDATE: And why is Hamas such a bad thing? Check out Bradley's post on its background!
I don't have too much to add.
As I wrote in a comment to a thoughtful post, the outcome was pretty predictable. However, many people, especially the democratic leaders of many countries, preferred to close their eyes on the inevitable, hoping that when the day actually comes, Palestinians will prefer a less embarrassing, more covert Fatah. Alas, the democratic elections turned out to be REALLY democratic. The election of the Hamas will force all those who haven't done so already to confront the reality. The election of Hamas is a statement. The fact that the Palestinians have dared to make such a statement is no more flabbergasting than the fact that the democratically elected Ahmadinejad has chosen to state aloud some odious sentiments everyone knew have existed for a long time now, but no one who calls himself a democrat would admit as much.
Will Hamas finally force a confrontation with the terrorist groups in the area? That remains to be seen. So far, I see no indication that will be the case. But the election of this party will definitely leave some of us with food for thought.
Pessimistic,
Irina
UPDATE: And why is Hamas such a bad thing? Check out Bradley's post on its background!
Real Life
Take a look at Robert Avrech's eye-opening series, "Home". It's a harsh and shocking read, but definitely fascinating.
Morbidly curious,
Irina
Morbidly curious,
Irina
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Dude, Where's Your Car?
I'm a Honda S2000!
You live on the edge, and you live for the adrenaline rush. You don't need luxuries, snob appeal, or superfluous gadgets. You put your top down, get your motor revving, and take all the curves that life throws at you at full speed. So what if you spin out occasionally?
Take the Which Sports Car Are You? quiz.
Isn't that cool? That actually describes me pretty accurately!
Out of control,
Irina
That Old Free Speech Thing Again....
Part I: Free Speech
This summer, I've written about hate speech.
Umm... as you can see from the entry, it was a very amateur take on it.
Last night, offered me a chance to take a deeper look in. I went to an ADL insider briefing, and watched a fascinating presentation, which analyzed the tension between free speech and hate speech from a legal standpoint.
And so:
The First Amendment for Transactional Lawyers: Freedom of Speech and Hate Speech
Steven W. Rabitz
(All Rights Reserved, etc, et. al.)
*we got this packet with the summary of his presentation. Most of it, as it turned is essentially common knowledge... common to lawyers, that is.
Overview
* The First Amendment addresses fundamental rights including freedom of speech and expression.
* Although it is technically addressed only to COngress, its guarantees, express and implied, have been applied to the states.
* When freedom of speech and expression are burdened, the courts employ heightened judicial scrutiny.
Overarching Themes and Considerations
* Marketplace of Ideas: Government should not prevent the marketplace of ideas. Democracy at its core assumes the free competition of ideas. Healthy and robust reasoned debate helps guide the citizenry to the most efficient outcome.
(At this point, he stopped to discuss the implications of the theory of Law and Economics to this particular issue. According to the theory, the "marketplace of ideas" is viewed as such literally, with government limitation placing restrictions on competition and thus limiting the choice of supply for the consumers).
*Individual Liberty: Freedom of expression is consistent with the promotion of individualism.
First Amendment Methodology: Categories of Speech
*Not all types of speech and expression are protected.
*These categories of speech can be regulated and courts usually require that the regulation be at a minimum "rational" to the government objective.
Content Neutral or Content-Based Regulation
* The most important question in analyzing whether a restriction on speech or expression is permitted is to determine whether the nature of the regulation is :
- CONTENT BASED; or
- CONTENT NEUTRAL
Content Based Strict Scrutiny
* Since freedom of speech and expression is a "fundamental" right, the Court imposes a heavy burden on the government when it seeks to regulate expressive content.
* The Court generally presumes such regulation invalid. This presumption, or strict scrutiny, requires government to prove that the law is necessary to serve a compelling interest and that the law is narrowly tailored to serve that compelling interest.
Content Based Regulation
* A law limiting expression is difficult to uphold if the law is based on the message's content.
* In fact, laws that discriminate based on content are presumptively invalid.
* Laws are content-based if they discriminate on the basis of
- viewpoint; or
- subject matter.
* In other words, is the law directed at communicative impact?
* The government must show that the law falls into a category of
- proscribably speech or
- it is narrowly drawn to serve a compelling state interest.
At this point, we stopped and engaged in some discussion. The presenter had an interesting way of encouraging audience participation by throwing out realistic hypothetical scenarios, as well as actual court decisions, at us. For instance, he asked us to imagine an abortion clinic and protesters who wanted to hold an anti-abortion rally close to the clinic. Would the court decision limiting the protesters to demonstrating from no closer than 100 ft/yards/whatever away from the clinic be a "rational" decision? Some of the lawyers present argued that such a decision would have to be a "balancing" act, in that it had to balance competing interests of different groups against each other. In this case, the safety of the women visiting the clinic would outweigh the right of the protesters to communicate their point. However, the presenter argued that the protesters would say they could not effectively get their message from so far away. In one such actual case, the court ruled that the protesters could gather close to the clinic, as long as they didn't block the doorway and didn't interfere with the passage in and out.
The second question dealing with the abortion clinic scenario was even more interesting. Would the court rule to block the protesters from flashing clearly visible images into the windows of the aforementioned abortion clinic. Most people thought that it would, because the images could interfere with the medical procedure, proving distracting to the doctor. I disagreed, stating that the images could be easily ignored by closing the window shades, as opposed to, say, loud music which can't be controlled from the inside. I turned out to be right in that particular sitution, but there were many more interesting examples to come.
Content Neutral Regulation: Balancing
* If the law indirectly or incidentally burdens freedom of speech, the Court is more likely to engage a balancing test to determine if the law is reasonable.
* Typically, the Court will balance
- the interests of the government in regulating the activity VERSUS
- the burden on free speech interests
*Government regulations that are UNRELATED to content of speech are subject to a lesser degree of judicial scrutiny.
- Time, place, and manner restriction:
* The Courts generally aplly a less demanding form of balancing analysis to content-neutral time, place, and manner regulations.
* Generally, the law must be:
- content neutral;
- narrowly tailored to serve a significant government interest; and
- leave open ample alternative channels of communication.
- The O'BRIEN standard:
* The law must further an important government interest unrelated to the suppression of speech. The law must be crafted in such a way that any incidental restriction of speech must be no greater than essential to advance that interest.
Prior Restraint
* Prior restraints involve government regulations of freedom of expression before the expression.
* This form of regulation is highly suspect,
- Substantive and procedural concerns,
- Presumption against the law's constitutionality.
* HOWEVER: an injunction that only incidentally affects expression and is content-neutral will not be subject to heightened scrutiny.
e. g. The Pentagon Papers case.
* Test: "Does the challenged provision of the injunction burden no more speech than necessary to serve a significant government interest?"
What is Expressive Conduct (Symbolic Speech)?
* Is the Conduct Communicative? Look to the facts and circumstances of the context and environment to determine:
- Does the actor have an intent to communicate?
- Would the audience understand that it is a communication, and would they understand that communication?
*Is the Speech Protected?
- Government regulation of expressive conduct may be legal if:
* It furthers an important or substantial government interest;
* the governmental interest is unrelated to the suppression of the idea; and
* the incdidental restriction on alleged First Amendment freedom is no greatert than is essential to furtherance of that interest. It is sufficient if the means are direct and effective.
At this point, we again, discussed a few illustrative cases. For instance, whether the Court had the right to arrest protestors, who burned their draft cards during Vientam. Someone argued that the since the draft cards were clearly symbolic, the court had no right to censor this action. I disagreed, stating that in this case, the government interest in preventing the loss of draft cards and mass confusion was greater than the right of free speech, unlike in flag-burning cases, where flags do not constitute documents. (The court seemed to agree with such reasoning).
- When conduct is alleged itself to be expression, the Court employs a two-part inquiry:
* Is the conduct communicative?
* Is the speech protected under the First Amendment?
Time, Place, and Manner Restrictions on Public Fora
* There is a right of equal access to public forum
* However:
- Not all government controlled property is part of the public forum; and
- speech in the public forum is subject to reasonable regulation.
For instance, streets and parks are considered public fora, but the subway is not, because it serves a very narrow purpose. That's why panhandling in the trains can be BANNED. (With which I completely agree, by the way. Who wants to be subjected to distraction actions, when you're just trying to get to work or school, and possibly studying something?)
* If government regulates speech in the public forum:
- Content-neutral regulation of speech in the public forum is constituonally provided by the law:
*Is narrowly-tailored to serve an important or significant governmental interest; and
*leaves open alternative channels for communication of information.
- Content-based proscriptions must, however, either satisfy strict scrutiny or otherwise fit into a category of speech that can be prohibited (i.e., obscenity, fighting words, etc.)
*If government regulates speech in a nonpublic forum, the regulation must be viewpoint-neutral and reasonable in order to achieve a legitimate government objective. It must also generally leave open other channels for communication.
* What is a Traditional Public Forum?
-Focus is on the distinction between the government's proprietary and regulatory functions.
-Another approach is to determine the characteristics of the property and its traditional uses. Would speech be expected or compatible with such history?
-Examples:
*Streets
*sidewalks
*Parks
*Semi-public: schools and libraries.
*Limited or Designated Public Forum - A place which the government has opened up, or designated for expression or the free exchange of ideas. The place would not otherwise have been designated a Traditional Public Forum by itself. When the government so designates such a place, the same standard is used for Traditional Public.
* Nonpublic Forum - public property which is not, by tradition or designation, a forum for public communication. Examples:
- Airport Terminals
- Jails
- Courthouses
At this point, the presentation slowly flowed into its more controversial part - which dealt with hate speech and association with various groups. More about that tomorrow! (Don't want to overwhelm you with information the way I was!) :D
(To be continued),
Thoughtful,
Irina
This summer, I've written about hate speech.
Umm... as you can see from the entry, it was a very amateur take on it.
Last night, offered me a chance to take a deeper look in. I went to an ADL insider briefing, and watched a fascinating presentation, which analyzed the tension between free speech and hate speech from a legal standpoint.
And so:
The First Amendment for Transactional Lawyers: Freedom of Speech and Hate Speech
Steven W. Rabitz
(All Rights Reserved, etc, et. al.)
*we got this packet with the summary of his presentation. Most of it, as it turned is essentially common knowledge... common to lawyers, that is.
Overview
* The First Amendment addresses fundamental rights including freedom of speech and expression.
* Although it is technically addressed only to COngress, its guarantees, express and implied, have been applied to the states.
* When freedom of speech and expression are burdened, the courts employ heightened judicial scrutiny.
Overarching Themes and Considerations
* Marketplace of Ideas: Government should not prevent the marketplace of ideas. Democracy at its core assumes the free competition of ideas. Healthy and robust reasoned debate helps guide the citizenry to the most efficient outcome.
(At this point, he stopped to discuss the implications of the theory of Law and Economics to this particular issue. According to the theory, the "marketplace of ideas" is viewed as such literally, with government limitation placing restrictions on competition and thus limiting the choice of supply for the consumers).
*Individual Liberty: Freedom of expression is consistent with the promotion of individualism.
First Amendment Methodology: Categories of Speech
*Not all types of speech and expression are protected.
*These categories of speech can be regulated and courts usually require that the regulation be at a minimum "rational" to the government objective.
Content Neutral or Content-Based Regulation
* The most important question in analyzing whether a restriction on speech or expression is permitted is to determine whether the nature of the regulation is :
- CONTENT BASED; or
- CONTENT NEUTRAL
Content Based Strict Scrutiny
* Since freedom of speech and expression is a "fundamental" right, the Court imposes a heavy burden on the government when it seeks to regulate expressive content.
* The Court generally presumes such regulation invalid. This presumption, or strict scrutiny, requires government to prove that the law is necessary to serve a compelling interest and that the law is narrowly tailored to serve that compelling interest.
Content Based Regulation
* A law limiting expression is difficult to uphold if the law is based on the message's content.
* In fact, laws that discriminate based on content are presumptively invalid.
* Laws are content-based if they discriminate on the basis of
- viewpoint; or
- subject matter.
* In other words, is the law directed at communicative impact?
* The government must show that the law falls into a category of
- proscribably speech or
- it is narrowly drawn to serve a compelling state interest.
At this point, we stopped and engaged in some discussion. The presenter had an interesting way of encouraging audience participation by throwing out realistic hypothetical scenarios, as well as actual court decisions, at us. For instance, he asked us to imagine an abortion clinic and protesters who wanted to hold an anti-abortion rally close to the clinic. Would the court decision limiting the protesters to demonstrating from no closer than 100 ft/yards/whatever away from the clinic be a "rational" decision? Some of the lawyers present argued that such a decision would have to be a "balancing" act, in that it had to balance competing interests of different groups against each other. In this case, the safety of the women visiting the clinic would outweigh the right of the protesters to communicate their point. However, the presenter argued that the protesters would say they could not effectively get their message from so far away. In one such actual case, the court ruled that the protesters could gather close to the clinic, as long as they didn't block the doorway and didn't interfere with the passage in and out.
The second question dealing with the abortion clinic scenario was even more interesting. Would the court rule to block the protesters from flashing clearly visible images into the windows of the aforementioned abortion clinic. Most people thought that it would, because the images could interfere with the medical procedure, proving distracting to the doctor. I disagreed, stating that the images could be easily ignored by closing the window shades, as opposed to, say, loud music which can't be controlled from the inside. I turned out to be right in that particular sitution, but there were many more interesting examples to come.
Content Neutral Regulation: Balancing
* If the law indirectly or incidentally burdens freedom of speech, the Court is more likely to engage a balancing test to determine if the law is reasonable.
* Typically, the Court will balance
- the interests of the government in regulating the activity VERSUS
- the burden on free speech interests
*Government regulations that are UNRELATED to content of speech are subject to a lesser degree of judicial scrutiny.
- Time, place, and manner restriction:
* The Courts generally aplly a less demanding form of balancing analysis to content-neutral time, place, and manner regulations.
* Generally, the law must be:
- content neutral;
- narrowly tailored to serve a significant government interest; and
- leave open ample alternative channels of communication.
- The O'BRIEN standard:
* The law must further an important government interest unrelated to the suppression of speech. The law must be crafted in such a way that any incidental restriction of speech must be no greater than essential to advance that interest.
Prior Restraint
* Prior restraints involve government regulations of freedom of expression before the expression.
* This form of regulation is highly suspect,
- Substantive and procedural concerns,
- Presumption against the law's constitutionality.
* HOWEVER: an injunction that only incidentally affects expression and is content-neutral will not be subject to heightened scrutiny.
e. g. The Pentagon Papers case.
* Test: "Does the challenged provision of the injunction burden no more speech than necessary to serve a significant government interest?"
What is Expressive Conduct (Symbolic Speech)?
* Is the Conduct Communicative? Look to the facts and circumstances of the context and environment to determine:
- Does the actor have an intent to communicate?
- Would the audience understand that it is a communication, and would they understand that communication?
*Is the Speech Protected?
- Government regulation of expressive conduct may be legal if:
* It furthers an important or substantial government interest;
* the governmental interest is unrelated to the suppression of the idea; and
* the incdidental restriction on alleged First Amendment freedom is no greatert than is essential to furtherance of that interest. It is sufficient if the means are direct and effective.
At this point, we again, discussed a few illustrative cases. For instance, whether the Court had the right to arrest protestors, who burned their draft cards during Vientam. Someone argued that the since the draft cards were clearly symbolic, the court had no right to censor this action. I disagreed, stating that in this case, the government interest in preventing the loss of draft cards and mass confusion was greater than the right of free speech, unlike in flag-burning cases, where flags do not constitute documents. (The court seemed to agree with such reasoning).
- When conduct is alleged itself to be expression, the Court employs a two-part inquiry:
* Is the conduct communicative?
* Is the speech protected under the First Amendment?
Time, Place, and Manner Restrictions on Public Fora
* There is a right of equal access to public forum
* However:
- Not all government controlled property is part of the public forum; and
- speech in the public forum is subject to reasonable regulation.
For instance, streets and parks are considered public fora, but the subway is not, because it serves a very narrow purpose. That's why panhandling in the trains can be BANNED. (With which I completely agree, by the way. Who wants to be subjected to distraction actions, when you're just trying to get to work or school, and possibly studying something?)
* If government regulates speech in the public forum:
- Content-neutral regulation of speech in the public forum is constituonally provided by the law:
*Is narrowly-tailored to serve an important or significant governmental interest; and
*leaves open alternative channels for communication of information.
- Content-based proscriptions must, however, either satisfy strict scrutiny or otherwise fit into a category of speech that can be prohibited (i.e., obscenity, fighting words, etc.)
*If government regulates speech in a nonpublic forum, the regulation must be viewpoint-neutral and reasonable in order to achieve a legitimate government objective. It must also generally leave open other channels for communication.
* What is a Traditional Public Forum?
-Focus is on the distinction between the government's proprietary and regulatory functions.
-Another approach is to determine the characteristics of the property and its traditional uses. Would speech be expected or compatible with such history?
-Examples:
*Streets
*sidewalks
*Parks
*Semi-public: schools and libraries.
*Limited or Designated Public Forum - A place which the government has opened up, or designated for expression or the free exchange of ideas. The place would not otherwise have been designated a Traditional Public Forum by itself. When the government so designates such a place, the same standard is used for Traditional Public.
* Nonpublic Forum - public property which is not, by tradition or designation, a forum for public communication. Examples:
- Airport Terminals
- Jails
- Courthouses
At this point, the presentation slowly flowed into its more controversial part - which dealt with hate speech and association with various groups. More about that tomorrow! (Don't want to overwhelm you with information the way I was!) :D
(To be continued),
Thoughtful,
Irina
A Painful Duty
I have a bad habit of following some blogs for weeks or even months at a time, leaving comments regularly, etc. - and never bothering to blogroll them.
As you can see from the length of my blogroll, I'm not actually a reluctant blogroller, quite the contrary. I enjoy discovering new reads, and I enjoy sharing them with people. One of the great thing about blogrolls is that it introduces my readers to each other. Since I originally envisioned my blog as a kind of salon, where we'd discuss all sorts of different issues, I was delighted when I observed some of my visitors checking each other out outside this forum.
But alas, lately, I've been neglectful of my duties. I've been hogging some interesting blogs in my favorites list, refusing to divulge their secretes to a broader audience. Today, however, the day has come. Treppenwitz's post came just in time to put me to shame.
To make up for my shameful behavior, I'll list the blogs I'm blogrolling in the post, in the hopes that everyone will take the time to check them out. There's a reason why I've read them! : )
Bava Dilbert - I've been reading this blogger for a while - since last spring, in fact. Then, sometime this summer, the blog apparently went on a temporary hiatus. I thought that blogger was done writing, and unblogrolled the site. Then, during reorganization of my links, I somehow lost the address, and only rediscovered the functioning blog relatively recently. I'm now returning it to my blogroll.
Woland's - another oldie, but goodie. This one I've been reading since summer. WHY haven't I linked to it yet? Umm... I really have NO excuse. None. Plain selfish of me, especially considering that I've been linked to by this site a long time ago. OK, so now I'm reciprocating, and justice WILL be served!
The Ministry of Offence - I've started following this blog, shortly after checking out Woland's - and if you look at the blog, and the links, you'll see why! Again, I have absolutely no excuse for not linking to the blog "officially", especially considering that I'm indebted to the blogger for all the help with redesigning my own palace...er... humble abode.
*sneaking away in embarrassment*
OK, the rest of the reads are somewhat more recent, though I should have linked to them a lot earlier.
Wishing on Raindrops - I've "known" the blogger for a few months. *Sigh*. I'm delinquent, what can I say.
The Curious Jew - a great, thoughtful site I've been reading for weeks, and should have linked to immediately.
Jewlicious - a fun, snarky site that deals with culture. Some things are controversial, and lend themselves to arguments - but that's the best part!
Blogs of Zion - they are linked to "Middle East and Morality", but I should have made a separate link. I guess, they tend to get lost otherwise. Something everyone should check out, since they provide a wide range of POVs on Zionism. Take your pick!
Soylent's Blog has also become a regular read. I have fun disagreeing with him! ; )
Zion Report - I started reading this blog relatively recently. I have yet to comment on it regularly, but I check it out every day!
My Most Recent Discoveries:
SimplyJews (via my visitor SnoopytheGoon)
Beyond Teshuva - I've seen that blog during Havel Havalim and in other people's blogrolls on a number of occasions, but have started paying closer attention since yd of beyondbt's visit.
Search for Emes - a very recent discovery; it looks like I'll follow it recently as well!
Cute Overload - guaranteed to lift your mood, make you smile, and go "awww"!!! I love this site!!!!
OK, now my conscience has been cleared, and I'm free until the next blogload, expected around 2010 or so! : D
Guilty,
Irina
As you can see from the length of my blogroll, I'm not actually a reluctant blogroller, quite the contrary. I enjoy discovering new reads, and I enjoy sharing them with people. One of the great thing about blogrolls is that it introduces my readers to each other. Since I originally envisioned my blog as a kind of salon, where we'd discuss all sorts of different issues, I was delighted when I observed some of my visitors checking each other out outside this forum.
But alas, lately, I've been neglectful of my duties. I've been hogging some interesting blogs in my favorites list, refusing to divulge their secretes to a broader audience. Today, however, the day has come. Treppenwitz's post came just in time to put me to shame.
To make up for my shameful behavior, I'll list the blogs I'm blogrolling in the post, in the hopes that everyone will take the time to check them out. There's a reason why I've read them! : )
Bava Dilbert - I've been reading this blogger for a while - since last spring, in fact. Then, sometime this summer, the blog apparently went on a temporary hiatus. I thought that blogger was done writing, and unblogrolled the site. Then, during reorganization of my links, I somehow lost the address, and only rediscovered the functioning blog relatively recently. I'm now returning it to my blogroll.
Woland's - another oldie, but goodie. This one I've been reading since summer. WHY haven't I linked to it yet? Umm... I really have NO excuse. None. Plain selfish of me, especially considering that I've been linked to by this site a long time ago. OK, so now I'm reciprocating, and justice WILL be served!
The Ministry of Offence - I've started following this blog, shortly after checking out Woland's - and if you look at the blog, and the links, you'll see why! Again, I have absolutely no excuse for not linking to the blog "officially", especially considering that I'm indebted to the blogger for all the help with redesigning my own palace...er... humble abode.
*sneaking away in embarrassment*
OK, the rest of the reads are somewhat more recent, though I should have linked to them a lot earlier.
Wishing on Raindrops - I've "known" the blogger for a few months. *Sigh*. I'm delinquent, what can I say.
The Curious Jew - a great, thoughtful site I've been reading for weeks, and should have linked to immediately.
Jewlicious - a fun, snarky site that deals with culture. Some things are controversial, and lend themselves to arguments - but that's the best part!
Blogs of Zion - they are linked to "Middle East and Morality", but I should have made a separate link. I guess, they tend to get lost otherwise. Something everyone should check out, since they provide a wide range of POVs on Zionism. Take your pick!
Soylent's Blog has also become a regular read. I have fun disagreeing with him! ; )
Zion Report - I started reading this blog relatively recently. I have yet to comment on it regularly, but I check it out every day!
My Most Recent Discoveries:
SimplyJews (via my visitor SnoopytheGoon)
Beyond Teshuva - I've seen that blog during Havel Havalim and in other people's blogrolls on a number of occasions, but have started paying closer attention since yd of beyondbt's visit.
Search for Emes - a very recent discovery; it looks like I'll follow it recently as well!
Cute Overload - guaranteed to lift your mood, make you smile, and go "awww"!!! I love this site!!!!
OK, now my conscience has been cleared, and I'm free until the next blogload, expected around 2010 or so! : D
Guilty,
Irina
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
All The Usual Suspects Return
My History of Modern Israel class turned out to be a bit of a surprise. For one thing, I expected mostly new faces. Secondly, I didn't think I'd see a single Arab there, considering the name and the focus of the class. Instead I met two Palestinians, a girl, who's been in a whole bunch of my classes, and who's an active participant in many events I opposed, and a guy from my Arabic class, who frequently wears "Free Palestine/Al Aqsa Brigade" T-shirt. I don't have too much personal contact with either of them. But besides them, I've met a whole bunch of people I've written about on this blog.
And so, my favorite cast of characters includes:
- The Aspiring Muslim (M)
- Madame Huppert (Erika)
- A former classmate of mine from high school. We took art history together, and last term, wound up in the "Art and Islam" class.
- The two people from my Modern Middle East class. If you recall, I wrote about their moving presentations last year. Oh wait. I don't think I did. Well, anyway, one of them presented something about the creation of Israel after Holocaust, and had tears in her eyes as she was wrapping up, and the other was an American, whose family made aliya, but who returned to US to audit a few classes and to make a little money. His presentation was about the contemporary Israeli achievements and culture, which he contrasted with the Palestinian "achievements". The consequences were painful to watch, as most of the class attacked him, with only a few people rising to his defense. Fortunately, the professor was able to take control of the situation very quickly, and a mutiny was prevented.
It's going to be a great class, I can see it already.
The professor started the class with a survey of the relationship between the Jews and the land of Israel and about the history of anti-Semitism.
At the end of the class, we read excerpts from The Protocols of the Elders of Zion and an excerpt from "The City of Slaughter" by Hayyim Nahman Bialik, the latter pertaining to the Kishinev pogrom.
I encourage you to read the poem in its entirety. Unfortunately, that is not the best translation available. I found Jabotinsky's Russian translation much more powerful, but since most of my audience is English-speaking, this will have to suffice.
The poem absolutely blew me away. I've heard of Bialik before, but was only familiar with his writing through hearsay. For instance, one book I've read dealt with a Jewish woman, who attempted to write her doctoral thesis on Bialik's works, but was prevented from doing so by the anti-semites in the Soviet Union. I figured that was simply because he was a Jewish poet, and left it at that. Now, however, seeing that the words of his were full of deathly imagery and brought tears to my eyes, I can see what they mean when they say that the pen is more powerful than the sword. We read the poem aloud, and when my turn came, I found that my voice sounded haunted and was on the verge of breaking.
I struggled to carry through what I felt. It's difficult - translating your innermost private emotions into the type of depth that would strike your listeners just as deeply. And it was maddening to hear how meladramatic, pathetic, and insufficient my voice sounded. What was much worse, however, was the realization that despite my professor's best efforts to relate this poem to the broad audience present, most people couldn't identify with the events and the tone, and to them, this treasure was lost. It wasn't that he was casting pearls before swine, by having us read the poem. On the contrary, I'm sure many people appreciated this piece as a wonderful piece of literature. But they couldn't possibly feel what I felt for the context of the poem and its ultimate message.
And when they read, their voices fell flat, monotonous and unemphatic. I felt I could have read it so much better, not because I'm such a great reader of poetry (I'm not), but because I felt strongly every single word. Even the few, who appreciated it to the same degree, weren't able to convey what they felt, and as a result, the poem fell bland and abused. Reading poetry the right way is almost as important as writing it. An unemotive reading can kill the best poem. That's one problem I find with the education here in the United States - children in schools are not encouraged to read dramatically. Rather, they read any text as if they are simply reciting something written on a billboard. Very few people I know, mostly theater students, can vary their tone when reading whatever it is, whether a document, an essay, a great novel, or a poem.
Whatever it is, the poem awakened a desire in me - a desire to read more Bialik, a passionate desire to memorize this poem, so I could recite it at will, something I haven't done since I left the Ukraine, a desire to read poetry in general, a lot, a lot of poetry. I have volumes upon volumes of wonderful pieces standing on my shelves, abandoned and lonely, just because I felt no motivation whatsoever to read them. There was no one around who seemed interested. The poetry is all in Russian, so I can't even quote on my blog. And as for myself, I forgot how much emotion and thought even a short little poem can bring. And now I remember.
And I want to read.
Yes, it's going to be a wonderful semester.
Wistful,
Irina
And so, my favorite cast of characters includes:
- The Aspiring Muslim (M)
- Madame Huppert (Erika)
- A former classmate of mine from high school. We took art history together, and last term, wound up in the "Art and Islam" class.
- The two people from my Modern Middle East class. If you recall, I wrote about their moving presentations last year. Oh wait. I don't think I did. Well, anyway, one of them presented something about the creation of Israel after Holocaust, and had tears in her eyes as she was wrapping up, and the other was an American, whose family made aliya, but who returned to US to audit a few classes and to make a little money. His presentation was about the contemporary Israeli achievements and culture, which he contrasted with the Palestinian "achievements". The consequences were painful to watch, as most of the class attacked him, with only a few people rising to his defense. Fortunately, the professor was able to take control of the situation very quickly, and a mutiny was prevented.
It's going to be a great class, I can see it already.
The professor started the class with a survey of the relationship between the Jews and the land of Israel and about the history of anti-Semitism.
At the end of the class, we read excerpts from The Protocols of the Elders of Zion and an excerpt from "The City of Slaughter" by Hayyim Nahman Bialik, the latter pertaining to the Kishinev pogrom.
I encourage you to read the poem in its entirety. Unfortunately, that is not the best translation available. I found Jabotinsky's Russian translation much more powerful, but since most of my audience is English-speaking, this will have to suffice.
The poem absolutely blew me away. I've heard of Bialik before, but was only familiar with his writing through hearsay. For instance, one book I've read dealt with a Jewish woman, who attempted to write her doctoral thesis on Bialik's works, but was prevented from doing so by the anti-semites in the Soviet Union. I figured that was simply because he was a Jewish poet, and left it at that. Now, however, seeing that the words of his were full of deathly imagery and brought tears to my eyes, I can see what they mean when they say that the pen is more powerful than the sword. We read the poem aloud, and when my turn came, I found that my voice sounded haunted and was on the verge of breaking.
I struggled to carry through what I felt. It's difficult - translating your innermost private emotions into the type of depth that would strike your listeners just as deeply. And it was maddening to hear how meladramatic, pathetic, and insufficient my voice sounded. What was much worse, however, was the realization that despite my professor's best efforts to relate this poem to the broad audience present, most people couldn't identify with the events and the tone, and to them, this treasure was lost. It wasn't that he was casting pearls before swine, by having us read the poem. On the contrary, I'm sure many people appreciated this piece as a wonderful piece of literature. But they couldn't possibly feel what I felt for the context of the poem and its ultimate message.
And when they read, their voices fell flat, monotonous and unemphatic. I felt I could have read it so much better, not because I'm such a great reader of poetry (I'm not), but because I felt strongly every single word. Even the few, who appreciated it to the same degree, weren't able to convey what they felt, and as a result, the poem fell bland and abused. Reading poetry the right way is almost as important as writing it. An unemotive reading can kill the best poem. That's one problem I find with the education here in the United States - children in schools are not encouraged to read dramatically. Rather, they read any text as if they are simply reciting something written on a billboard. Very few people I know, mostly theater students, can vary their tone when reading whatever it is, whether a document, an essay, a great novel, or a poem.
Whatever it is, the poem awakened a desire in me - a desire to read more Bialik, a passionate desire to memorize this poem, so I could recite it at will, something I haven't done since I left the Ukraine, a desire to read poetry in general, a lot, a lot of poetry. I have volumes upon volumes of wonderful pieces standing on my shelves, abandoned and lonely, just because I felt no motivation whatsoever to read them. There was no one around who seemed interested. The poetry is all in Russian, so I can't even quote on my blog. And as for myself, I forgot how much emotion and thought even a short little poem can bring. And now I remember.
And I want to read.
Yes, it's going to be a wonderful semester.
Wistful,
Irina
Monday, January 23, 2006
Unidentifiable Idenity
The cool thing about my Topics in Spanish Culture class is that it's not a grammar class. We get to talk about all sorts of different things - history, linguistics, literature/poetry, cinematography, etc. Today we spent discussing the crisis in Spanish identity, the crisis between being an empire or a nation-state. One of the issues, which came up was the conflict between the idea of essentialism and an identity, forged by history and environmental factors. The argument was made that the idea of an identity with essential, unchanging characteristics was necessary to justify an empire, and was eventually pushed aside by the second view on identity, which emerged along with the nation-state.
In both cases, however, we can see the issue of collective identity emerging. The Spaniards chose to put an idea of national identity of some sort above any other possible type of identity - gender, class, ideology, etc. And it is this preference that is reflected in great works of literature we will be studying. It's interesting, how the idea of "national identity" as such is slowly going out of fashion. It is no longer politically correct to speak of national character, for national character implies a characteristic common to all, or at least a great majority of, members of a nation - which is a stereotype, of course. Or is it?
I don't see that the idea of national identity should necessarily conflict with individual self-determination. A nation, when it identifies itself as such, may be forged by a set of diverse historical and sociological factors, but it really has a similar sets of goals and some sort of a common past. Americans, for all their difference and the nonsense about the red and blue states, still consider themselve a single, indivisible nation with common political values, a common past of immigration, a common interpretation, and a common system.
Within this overarching set of circumstances, varios groups pursue their more narrow interests, and yet, they remain loyal to a certain set of common values and interests. One may argue that it's easy to call Americans a nation, considering that most Americans live in the United States, some for several generations in fact, that Americans assimilate into a common culture, and with time learn a single common language (English), and follow the similar sets of laws. Too easy. Nevertheless, as a pluralistic society, we sometimes clash when it comes to defining various aspects of our common identity.
How much harder, than, is to come with a unified view on Jewish identity, considering that Jews have been dispersed for thousands of years. Who are the "real" Jews? The Chassidim? The Sephardi? The Ashkenazi? The Israeli Jews? The various American Jews? Who is right, and who is to define what it means to be a "real" Jew for us? We transcend stereotypes, simply because we're from everywhere. We don't look anything like each other. We're from Eastern Europe and from Western Europe, from Middle East, Africa, Asia. We're religious and we're atheist. We're right-wing, left-wing, and everything in between. The books written on this issue are innumberable, and yet, who can really call himself an authority and the absolute determining force on what constitues the Jewish identity?
More difficult still, is to determine the question within Diaspora. Israeli Jews are simply Israelis. They have established their own state, have created a certain set of common requirements. They bicker and argue from dawn to dusk, but when push comes to shove, they are Israelis, and that's it. Here, living in the United States, we find ourselves having to balance whatever it is that constitutes our Jewish identity with a somewhat-more-clear cut American identity. We have to make our narrow ethnic/religious interests fit into the larger American schema. We don't choose; rather we complement and blend.
And even as we proceed, we find ourselves constantly criticizing various groups and factions for not acting the way we believe is appropriate to our American Jewish identity. I, for one, have to remind myself constantly that secular American-born Jews are part of the same nation that my more Orthodox acquaintances and my own Russian-speaking community. Sometimes, our interests and ways of reaching our goals seem to contrast so sharply as to make me question whether we can indeed consider ourselves having the same goals. In general, we're supposed to fight anti-Semitism, support (however critically) Israel, pursue our Jewish traditions, and through it all remain productive American citizens.
Every day, I get up asking myself why I cannot understand my own nation sometimes. We live in the same country. We speak the same language. We have the same history. So what went wrong? Why do I feel as if I'm living among foreigners? Why am I retreating into the narrow confines of my own community more and more? Wherefore this sectarianism? What is MY real identity? Why is it that I'm willing to consider having some collective American Jewish identity, and putting it above my various individual identities, and many other people don't think it's a good idea?
When other people ask me what I am, and I say that I'm an American Jew, what do they see? What do they think? How does my identity come across?
Pondering,
Irina
In both cases, however, we can see the issue of collective identity emerging. The Spaniards chose to put an idea of national identity of some sort above any other possible type of identity - gender, class, ideology, etc. And it is this preference that is reflected in great works of literature we will be studying. It's interesting, how the idea of "national identity" as such is slowly going out of fashion. It is no longer politically correct to speak of national character, for national character implies a characteristic common to all, or at least a great majority of, members of a nation - which is a stereotype, of course. Or is it?
I don't see that the idea of national identity should necessarily conflict with individual self-determination. A nation, when it identifies itself as such, may be forged by a set of diverse historical and sociological factors, but it really has a similar sets of goals and some sort of a common past. Americans, for all their difference and the nonsense about the red and blue states, still consider themselve a single, indivisible nation with common political values, a common past of immigration, a common interpretation, and a common system.
Within this overarching set of circumstances, varios groups pursue their more narrow interests, and yet, they remain loyal to a certain set of common values and interests. One may argue that it's easy to call Americans a nation, considering that most Americans live in the United States, some for several generations in fact, that Americans assimilate into a common culture, and with time learn a single common language (English), and follow the similar sets of laws. Too easy. Nevertheless, as a pluralistic society, we sometimes clash when it comes to defining various aspects of our common identity.
How much harder, than, is to come with a unified view on Jewish identity, considering that Jews have been dispersed for thousands of years. Who are the "real" Jews? The Chassidim? The Sephardi? The Ashkenazi? The Israeli Jews? The various American Jews? Who is right, and who is to define what it means to be a "real" Jew for us? We transcend stereotypes, simply because we're from everywhere. We don't look anything like each other. We're from Eastern Europe and from Western Europe, from Middle East, Africa, Asia. We're religious and we're atheist. We're right-wing, left-wing, and everything in between. The books written on this issue are innumberable, and yet, who can really call himself an authority and the absolute determining force on what constitues the Jewish identity?
More difficult still, is to determine the question within Diaspora. Israeli Jews are simply Israelis. They have established their own state, have created a certain set of common requirements. They bicker and argue from dawn to dusk, but when push comes to shove, they are Israelis, and that's it. Here, living in the United States, we find ourselves having to balance whatever it is that constitutes our Jewish identity with a somewhat-more-clear cut American identity. We have to make our narrow ethnic/religious interests fit into the larger American schema. We don't choose; rather we complement and blend.
And even as we proceed, we find ourselves constantly criticizing various groups and factions for not acting the way we believe is appropriate to our American Jewish identity. I, for one, have to remind myself constantly that secular American-born Jews are part of the same nation that my more Orthodox acquaintances and my own Russian-speaking community. Sometimes, our interests and ways of reaching our goals seem to contrast so sharply as to make me question whether we can indeed consider ourselves having the same goals. In general, we're supposed to fight anti-Semitism, support (however critically) Israel, pursue our Jewish traditions, and through it all remain productive American citizens.
Every day, I get up asking myself why I cannot understand my own nation sometimes. We live in the same country. We speak the same language. We have the same history. So what went wrong? Why do I feel as if I'm living among foreigners? Why am I retreating into the narrow confines of my own community more and more? Wherefore this sectarianism? What is MY real identity? Why is it that I'm willing to consider having some collective American Jewish identity, and putting it above my various individual identities, and many other people don't think it's a good idea?
When other people ask me what I am, and I say that I'm an American Jew, what do they see? What do they think? How does my identity come across?
Pondering,
Irina
I'm All Natural, Except When I'm Not
| Your Seduction Style: Au Natural |
 You rank up there with your seduction skills, though you might not know it. That's because you're a natural at seduction. You don't realize your power! The root of your natural seduction power: your innocence and optimism. You're the type of person who happily plays around and creates a unique little world. Little do you know that your personal paradise is so appealing that it sucks people in. You find joy in everything - so is it any surprise that people find joy in you? You bring back the inner child in everyone you meet with your sincere and spontaneous ways. Your childlike (but not childish) behavior also inspires others to care for you. As a result, those who you befriend and date tend to be incredibly loyal to you. |
There's nothing quite like a seductive little quiz. Haven't done one of those for a while.
Seductively,
Irina
Sunday, January 22, 2006
The Gay Movie Wasn't Gay
Saturday, I was finally dragged to watch "Brokeback Mountain". Regardless of what the Times say, that movie does NOT deserve a thumbs-up. And believe me, I'm usually very enthusiastic about movies, and try to find something good in even the worst ones. (I'm not even going to comment on the pseudopsychological nonsense which fills the review).
Let me begin with a disclaimer: I'm not a big fan of Ang Lee. I find his style pretentious and tedious.
However, once I came in to see this particular movie, I did my best to give it the benefit of the doubt. It wasn't easy to do, considering that the people in the backrow, kept asking when the gay sex scene was going to come on. To begin with the positive, I have to say that the movie looks good on the big screen. It's very well shot, and features beautiful nature. But it's also SLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW and soporific. For the first time for a long time, I couldn't wait for the movie to end. Usually, I love long movies, just like I like long books, but this was simply excruciating. It just seemed to drag on and on indefinitely.
The famous sex scene was more like a rape scene. Guys are so rough with each other. Perhaps, they are equally insensitive with women. They acted more like two beasts than civilized human beings. Homosexuality aside, that was supposed to be romantic?! In general, I found any matters of closeness between the protagonists very repulsive. There's clearly a reason why *most* men prefer women... it just wasn't something I would ever want to watch again. I also didn't like the way the movie seemed to condone adultery. Call it what you want, but when you have sex with someone else while you're married, I'm going to feel sorry for your spouse and not for you.
I mean, how irresponsible is that - to start a family, and than to abandon it for the sake of whatever else you want to do? I don't think "untraditional orientation" should be an excuse for reneging on your duties. Both of them knew what they were getting into when they got married, so they ought to have been acting accordingly. I don't condone the examples of violent homophobia the movie portrayed, but I had a hard time sympathizing with the two characters. Honestly, it was a pretty trite love story, homosexuality aside. I mean, come on. If the movie had been about a heterosexual couple, everybody would comment how banal it was. But the aspect of homosexuality added a twist of the Emperor's New Clothes to this mediocre affair. And all the movie critics are afraid of stating that the emperor is naked - because, well now, how can they, when it's so... so *daring*? Except it's really not, because homosexual characters have long since been an accepted part of our entertainment fair. And more than acceptable in the "intellectual" and "elite" circles.
I left with the movie theater incredulous. There's nothing special about this movie that would qualify it for all these awards. Half the time, the characters mumbled and I couldn't understand what they were saying. And, um, the story line was more than a little predictable. As was the director's take on it. The acting? It was OK. I'm not a fan of Heath Ledger. To be honest, there wasn't much for him to say. All he had to was grunt and look like the strong silent type. Or the mean, angry type. The guy with the chip on his shoulder. Which shouldn't be that hard, considering that he seems like the silent, angry type anyway.
It wasn't the worst movie I've ever seen. I've seen much worse, to be fair. But it was a bland, tasteless, mediocre movie. And only the latest Hollywood fads would explain it's sudden claim to fame. Go see it you, if you're a fan of Ang Lee and long, slow movies. But you won't see anything new there, nor anything especially controversial. Those things have long since to be scandalous.
Bored,
Irina
Let me begin with a disclaimer: I'm not a big fan of Ang Lee. I find his style pretentious and tedious.
However, once I came in to see this particular movie, I did my best to give it the benefit of the doubt. It wasn't easy to do, considering that the people in the backrow, kept asking when the gay sex scene was going to come on. To begin with the positive, I have to say that the movie looks good on the big screen. It's very well shot, and features beautiful nature. But it's also SLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW and soporific. For the first time for a long time, I couldn't wait for the movie to end. Usually, I love long movies, just like I like long books, but this was simply excruciating. It just seemed to drag on and on indefinitely.
The famous sex scene was more like a rape scene. Guys are so rough with each other. Perhaps, they are equally insensitive with women. They acted more like two beasts than civilized human beings. Homosexuality aside, that was supposed to be romantic?! In general, I found any matters of closeness between the protagonists very repulsive. There's clearly a reason why *most* men prefer women... it just wasn't something I would ever want to watch again. I also didn't like the way the movie seemed to condone adultery. Call it what you want, but when you have sex with someone else while you're married, I'm going to feel sorry for your spouse and not for you.
I mean, how irresponsible is that - to start a family, and than to abandon it for the sake of whatever else you want to do? I don't think "untraditional orientation" should be an excuse for reneging on your duties. Both of them knew what they were getting into when they got married, so they ought to have been acting accordingly. I don't condone the examples of violent homophobia the movie portrayed, but I had a hard time sympathizing with the two characters. Honestly, it was a pretty trite love story, homosexuality aside. I mean, come on. If the movie had been about a heterosexual couple, everybody would comment how banal it was. But the aspect of homosexuality added a twist of the Emperor's New Clothes to this mediocre affair. And all the movie critics are afraid of stating that the emperor is naked - because, well now, how can they, when it's so... so *daring*? Except it's really not, because homosexual characters have long since been an accepted part of our entertainment fair. And more than acceptable in the "intellectual" and "elite" circles.
I left with the movie theater incredulous. There's nothing special about this movie that would qualify it for all these awards. Half the time, the characters mumbled and I couldn't understand what they were saying. And, um, the story line was more than a little predictable. As was the director's take on it. The acting? It was OK. I'm not a fan of Heath Ledger. To be honest, there wasn't much for him to say. All he had to was grunt and look like the strong silent type. Or the mean, angry type. The guy with the chip on his shoulder. Which shouldn't be that hard, considering that he seems like the silent, angry type anyway.
It wasn't the worst movie I've ever seen. I've seen much worse, to be fair. But it was a bland, tasteless, mediocre movie. And only the latest Hollywood fads would explain it's sudden claim to fame. Go see it you, if you're a fan of Ang Lee and long, slow movies. But you won't see anything new there, nor anything especially controversial. Those things have long since to be scandalous.
Bored,
Irina
My Take on Irinisms
My favorites are:
irina is a pretty woman for her age with grey eyes and blonde hair
- Completely the opposite of what is the case; but it's OK, google has its heart in the right place.
irina is currently working on frasnian ostracodes from the main devonian field
-Yes, and other secret projects. But they've sworn me to silence. You know - "they". "Them"? *Sigh* The government! Do I really have to explain everything?
irina is specifically responsible for the management of iir?s key corporate relationships within the gcc region
Yes, and for many other really bad things. It's all my fault.
irina is the youngest of the women prisoners in the mordovian camp zhkh 385 which numbers among its inmates fellow orthodox natalya lazarevo and tatiana
Free me! Somebody help me escape! Holdin' out for a hero, etc.
irina is horrified as he sweeps her off to celebrate at the aquarium cabaret
Why would I be horrified of a celebration? Especially if "he" swept me off? Probably because "he" doesn't do it often enough, and now I'm wondering what's up with that.
irina is betrayed by her employers and left for dead in space near ganymed
OOKay. You can never trust lawyers. Now that phrase gains a whole new meaning. Better be careful, or it might happen to you, too.
irina is een belangrijke pion in het team
Do you REALLY want to know what this means?
irina is incapable of love and surrounded by men who adore her
No comment. Read: guilty as charged.
irina is his wife and first love
Depends on what you mean by "first", by "wife", and by "love". Depends on what dimension you're living in. Doesn't sound like we're from the same world.
As for the Rest:
irina is the queen of the russian stage
No, more like Jewish American Princess. (JAP)
irina is happy
Oh yes, the Great Google knows everything.
irina is sitting on warm wooden platform
Otherwise known as... never mind. Do you really want me to tell you what happened to my chair?
irina is lost in her dream
And don't try to find me.
irina is the name of the creator of this site
No, REALLY? What a brilliant deduction!
irina is now
That's the most profound statement I've heard for a long time.
irina is as beautiful as shy
Just how shy and how beautiful? Read my blog and you'll find out!
irina is wondering where her brother paul has gone
Irina is also wondering where her mind has gone.
irina is seen on her first night
Don't you dare suggest such things, you impudent Google, you!
irina is obviously an intelligent woman
And Google is an obviously intelligent search engine.
irina is in very high demand
You can say THAT again! Whew! All those law schools just tripping over themselves to get me... even sending me T-shirts fit for my father.
irina is working at her phd
Not yet. I'm only working on my BAs. Ahem.
irina is one of canada's best
I didn't know that. Does it mean I have an honorary Canadian citizenship?
irina is being hunted
I've always known that, somewhere deep inside. That should explain my paranoia.
irina is the beautiful name of my dear sweet friend irina
Irina, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways...
irina is now living in new york and is registered with elite+
Didn't you know what a snob I am?
irina is an author of over 80 publications
Otherwise known as blog posts.
irina is customer oriented and will provide you with cost effective creations for your home or business
Now, the *quality* of those creations is a different question.
>
irina is over
No! I will not give up my life without a struggle!
irina is blind
At least, that's what liberals say.
irina is ophelia
Before Hamlet.
Googled up,
Irina
irina is a pretty woman for her age with grey eyes and blonde hair
- Completely the opposite of what is the case; but it's OK, google has its heart in the right place.
irina is currently working on frasnian ostracodes from the main devonian field
-Yes, and other secret projects. But they've sworn me to silence. You know - "they". "Them"? *Sigh* The government! Do I really have to explain everything?
irina is specifically responsible for the management of iir?s key corporate relationships within the gcc region
Yes, and for many other really bad things. It's all my fault.
irina is the youngest of the women prisoners in the mordovian camp zhkh 385 which numbers among its inmates fellow orthodox natalya lazarevo and tatiana
Free me! Somebody help me escape! Holdin' out for a hero, etc.
irina is horrified as he sweeps her off to celebrate at the aquarium cabaret
Why would I be horrified of a celebration? Especially if "he" swept me off? Probably because "he" doesn't do it often enough, and now I'm wondering what's up with that.
irina is betrayed by her employers and left for dead in space near ganymed
OOKay. You can never trust lawyers. Now that phrase gains a whole new meaning. Better be careful, or it might happen to you, too.
irina is een belangrijke pion in het team
Do you REALLY want to know what this means?
irina is incapable of love and surrounded by men who adore her
No comment. Read: guilty as charged.
irina is his wife and first love
Depends on what you mean by "first", by "wife", and by "love". Depends on what dimension you're living in. Doesn't sound like we're from the same world.
As for the Rest:
irina is the queen of the russian stage
No, more like Jewish American Princess. (JAP)
irina is happy
Oh yes, the Great Google knows everything.
irina is sitting on warm wooden platform
Otherwise known as... never mind. Do you really want me to tell you what happened to my chair?
irina is lost in her dream
And don't try to find me.
irina is the name of the creator of this site
No, REALLY? What a brilliant deduction!
irina is now
That's the most profound statement I've heard for a long time.
irina is as beautiful as shy
Just how shy and how beautiful? Read my blog and you'll find out!
irina is wondering where her brother paul has gone
Irina is also wondering where her mind has gone.
irina is seen on her first night
Don't you dare suggest such things, you impudent Google, you!
irina is obviously an intelligent woman
And Google is an obviously intelligent search engine.
irina is in very high demand
You can say THAT again! Whew! All those law schools just tripping over themselves to get me... even sending me T-shirts fit for my father.
irina is working at her phd
Not yet. I'm only working on my BAs. Ahem.
irina is one of canada's best
I didn't know that. Does it mean I have an honorary Canadian citizenship?
irina is being hunted
I've always known that, somewhere deep inside. That should explain my paranoia.
irina is the beautiful name of my dear sweet friend irina
Irina, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways...
irina is now living in new york and is registered with elite+
Didn't you know what a snob I am?
irina is an author of over 80 publications
Otherwise known as blog posts.
irina is customer oriented and will provide you with cost effective creations for your home or business
Now, the *quality* of those creations is a different question.
>
irina is over
No! I will not give up my life without a struggle!
irina is blind
At least, that's what liberals say.
irina is ophelia
Before Hamlet.
Googled up,
Irina
Haveil Havalim # 54
This year, the carnival is hosted by Jack's Shack.
"Haveil Havalim is the carnival of Jewish blogs -- a weekly collection of Jewish & Israeli blog highlights, tidbits and points of interest collected from blogs all around the world. It’s hosted by different bloggers each week and coordinated by Soccer Dad. The term “Haveil Havalim”, which means "Vanity of Vanities", is from Kohelet, Ecclesiastes, which was written by King Solomon. Solomon built the Holy Temple in Jerusalem and later on got all bogged down in materialism and other “excesses” and realized that it was nothing but “hevel”, or in English, “vanities.” \
Next week's HH will be hosted by Kesher Talk.
Submit your entries to admin@keshertalk.com
Check out this week's edition! It's long and great! : )
Participating,
Irina
"Haveil Havalim is the carnival of Jewish blogs -- a weekly collection of Jewish & Israeli blog highlights, tidbits and points of interest collected from blogs all around the world. It’s hosted by different bloggers each week and coordinated by Soccer Dad. The term “Haveil Havalim”, which means "Vanity of Vanities", is from Kohelet, Ecclesiastes, which was written by King Solomon. Solomon built the Holy Temple in Jerusalem and later on got all bogged down in materialism and other “excesses” and realized that it was nothing but “hevel”, or in English, “vanities.” \
Next week's HH will be hosted by Kesher Talk.
Submit your entries to admin@keshertalk.com
Check out this week's edition! It's long and great! : )
Participating,
Irina
Do Not Take My Name in Vain!
Via Jack's Shack:
Here's what Googlism says about me:
Googlism for: irina
irina is sportive person
irina is a single ukrainian woman
irina is now the no
irina is 32 years old
irina is a pretty woman for her age with grey eyes and blonde hair
irina is assigned back to skate canada
irina is a skilled teacher
irina is a ph
irina is currently working on frasnian ostracodes from the main devonian field
irina is going to return to moscow next monday
irina is the queen of the russian stage
irina is rated 2
irina is an accomplished musician
irina is happy
irina is an international artist emerging from the former soviet union
irina is sitting on warm wooden platform
irina is playing the proud mother
irina is lost in her dream
irina is a very kind woman
irina is the name of the creator of this site
irina is specifically responsible for the management of iir?s key corporate relationships within the gcc region
irina is testing a program she created to upload data from the bursar?s new
irina is a top
irina is humble and kind towards other players
irina is ranked 18th for doubles
irina is now
irina is my favorite tennis player
irina is the youngest of the women prisoners in the mordovian camp zhkh 385 which numbers among its inmates fellow orthodox natalya lazarevo and tatiana
irina is the title for a soon
irina is an unassuming yet incredibly talented athlete who has been winning gold medals since the age of 14
irina is single lady
irina is single and has no children
irina is as beautiful as shy
irina is wondering where her brother paul has gone
irina is his wife and first love
irina is horrified as he sweeps her off to celebrate at the aquarium cabaret
irina is seen on her first night
irina is the most kindhearted person
irina is doctor song's personal assistant
irina is as
irina is only 12 years old
irina is connected to because
irina is connected to the following things
irina is horrified as he sweeps her off to celebrate at the aquariam cabaret
irina is obviously an intelligent woman and has had some experience trying to find a foreign husband a few years ago
irina is obviously an intelligent woman
irina is betrayed by her employers and left for dead in space near ganymede
irina is a theorist
irina is in charge of neva
irina is conducting research into the "variability of uv radiation in the antarctic environment
irina is
irina is the head coach of alina and of the moscow olympic center and she's also a member of the fig rhythmic technical committee
irina is now establishing herself as one of our most successful artists
irina is in very high demand
irina is now fully qualified for the title of international master and as such became the first american woman in history to qualify for this title
irina is a "child" of travel russia
irina is working at her phd
irina is a journalist and presenter with bulgarian national television
irina is one of canada's best
irina is 32
irina is 29
irina is a senior researcher and senior lecturer in mathematics
irina is being hunted
irina is unaware of the true nature of the meeting being held where her cousin has decided to take her as a chaperone so she can be with her fiancee
irina is a member of jdc's new supermarket program
irina is a student in the eleventh class in the class of prof
irina is the beautiful name of my dear sweet friend irina
irina is now living in new york and is registered with elite+
irina is an author of over 80 publications
irina is convinced
irina is customer oriented and will provide you with cost effective creations for your home or business
irina is from russia
irina is a recipient of several teaching awards
irina is over
irina is also enriching her educational level
irina is a
irina is an estonian national living in denmark who speaks danish
irina is blind
irina is the most capable peer support group leader in the moscow team
irina is asked by her french girl friend sylvie in 1989 after the peaceful revolution in czechia
irina is een belangrijke pion in het team
irina is fiancee to carlo
irina is present at their wedding
irina is a very beautiful person in both her looks and her character
irina is of the heart
irina is ophelia
irina is incapable of love and surrounded by men who adore her
irina is one of the models who are featured regularly in this site
irina is a member of international pen
irina is a great housewife and likes to keep things in order
irina is a doctor;
irina is sportive person
irina is a single ukrainian woman irina is sportive person irina is frankfurta irina is 32 years old irina is a pretty woman for her age with grey eyes and
irina is now the no
irina is 32 years old
irina is a beautiful woman for her age in my opinion
irina is assigned back to skate canada
irina is looking for marriage
irina is a skilled teacher
irina is currently working on frasnian ostracodes from the main devonian field
irina is rated 2
irina is of medium height
irina is an international artist emerging from the former soviet union
irina is an accomplished musician
irina is happy
irina is playing the proud mother
irina is lost in her dream
irina is virgin? solyony is virgin
irina is sitting on warm wooden platform
irina is a ph
irina is disarmingly charming
irina is an avid reader and recently completed the lord of the rings series and the harry potter series
irina is the name of the creator of this site
irina is a recipient of several teaching awards
irina is my favorite tennis player
irina is now
irina is the title for a soon
irina is humble and kind towards other players
irina is cooperating
irina is the youngest of the women prisoners in the mordovian camp zhkh 385 which numbers among its inmates fellow orthodox natalya lazarevo and tatiana
irina is the most kindhearted person
irina is specifically responsible for the management of iir�s key corporate relationships within the gcc region
irina is testing a program she created to upload data from the bursar�s new
irina is seen on her first night
irina is an unassuming yet incredibly talented athlete who has been winning gold medals since the age of 14
irina is his wife and first love
Go here to see what it says about YOU!
Too popular,
Irina
Here's what Googlism says about me:
Googlism for: irina
irina is sportive person
irina is a single ukrainian woman
irina is now the no
irina is 32 years old
irina is a pretty woman for her age with grey eyes and blonde hair
irina is assigned back to skate canada
irina is a skilled teacher
irina is a ph
irina is currently working on frasnian ostracodes from the main devonian field
irina is going to return to moscow next monday
irina is the queen of the russian stage
irina is rated 2
irina is an accomplished musician
irina is happy
irina is an international artist emerging from the former soviet union
irina is sitting on warm wooden platform
irina is playing the proud mother
irina is lost in her dream
irina is a very kind woman
irina is the name of the creator of this site
irina is specifically responsible for the management of iir?s key corporate relationships within the gcc region
irina is testing a program she created to upload data from the bursar?s new
irina is a top
irina is humble and kind towards other players
irina is ranked 18th for doubles
irina is now
irina is my favorite tennis player
irina is the youngest of the women prisoners in the mordovian camp zhkh 385 which numbers among its inmates fellow orthodox natalya lazarevo and tatiana
irina is the title for a soon
irina is an unassuming yet incredibly talented athlete who has been winning gold medals since the age of 14
irina is single lady
irina is single and has no children
irina is as beautiful as shy
irina is wondering where her brother paul has gone
irina is his wife and first love
irina is horrified as he sweeps her off to celebrate at the aquarium cabaret
irina is seen on her first night
irina is the most kindhearted person
irina is doctor song's personal assistant
irina is as
irina is only 12 years old
irina is connected to because
irina is connected to the following things
irina is horrified as he sweeps her off to celebrate at the aquariam cabaret
irina is obviously an intelligent woman and has had some experience trying to find a foreign husband a few years ago
irina is obviously an intelligent woman
irina is betrayed by her employers and left for dead in space near ganymede
irina is a theorist
irina is in charge of neva
irina is conducting research into the "variability of uv radiation in the antarctic environment
irina is
irina is the head coach of alina and of the moscow olympic center and she's also a member of the fig rhythmic technical committee
irina is now establishing herself as one of our most successful artists
irina is in very high demand
irina is now fully qualified for the title of international master and as such became the first american woman in history to qualify for this title
irina is a "child" of travel russia
irina is working at her phd
irina is a journalist and presenter with bulgarian national television
irina is one of canada's best
irina is 32
irina is 29
irina is a senior researcher and senior lecturer in mathematics
irina is being hunted
irina is unaware of the true nature of the meeting being held where her cousin has decided to take her as a chaperone so she can be with her fiancee
irina is a member of jdc's new supermarket program
irina is a student in the eleventh class in the class of prof
irina is the beautiful name of my dear sweet friend irina
irina is now living in new york and is registered with elite+
irina is an author of over 80 publications
irina is convinced
irina is customer oriented and will provide you with cost effective creations for your home or business
irina is from russia
irina is a recipient of several teaching awards
irina is over
irina is also enriching her educational level
irina is a
irina is an estonian national living in denmark who speaks danish
irina is blind
irina is the most capable peer support group leader in the moscow team
irina is asked by her french girl friend sylvie in 1989 after the peaceful revolution in czechia
irina is een belangrijke pion in het team
irina is fiancee to carlo
irina is present at their wedding
irina is a very beautiful person in both her looks and her character
irina is of the heart
irina is ophelia
irina is incapable of love and surrounded by men who adore her
irina is one of the models who are featured regularly in this site
irina is a member of international pen
irina is a great housewife and likes to keep things in order
irina is a doctor;
irina is sportive person
irina is a single ukrainian woman irina is sportive person irina is frankfurta irina is 32 years old irina is a pretty woman for her age with grey eyes and
irina is now the no
irina is 32 years old
irina is a beautiful woman for her age in my opinion
irina is assigned back to skate canada
irina is looking for marriage
irina is a skilled teacher
irina is currently working on frasnian ostracodes from the main devonian field
irina is rated 2
irina is of medium height
irina is an international artist emerging from the former soviet union
irina is an accomplished musician
irina is happy
irina is playing the proud mother
irina is lost in her dream
irina is virgin? solyony is virgin
irina is sitting on warm wooden platform
irina is a ph
irina is disarmingly charming
irina is an avid reader and recently completed the lord of the rings series and the harry potter series
irina is the name of the creator of this site
irina is a recipient of several teaching awards
irina is my favorite tennis player
irina is now
irina is the title for a soon
irina is humble and kind towards other players
irina is cooperating
irina is the youngest of the women prisoners in the mordovian camp zhkh 385 which numbers among its inmates fellow orthodox natalya lazarevo and tatiana
irina is the most kindhearted person
irina is specifically responsible for the management of iir�s key corporate relationships within the gcc region
irina is testing a program she created to upload data from the bursar�s new
irina is seen on her first night
irina is an unassuming yet incredibly talented athlete who has been winning gold medals since the age of 14
irina is his wife and first love
Go here to see what it says about YOU!
Too popular,
Irina
Saturday, January 21, 2006
The Nameless XXXIX
The Nameless I * The Nameless II * The Nameless III * The Nameless IV * The Nameless V * The Nameless VI * The Nameless VII * The Nameless VIII * The Nameless IX * The Nameless X * The Nameless XI * The Nameless XII * The Nameless XIII * The Nameless XIV * The Nameless XV * The Nameless XVI * The Nameless XVII * The Nameless XVIII * The Nameless XIX * The Nameless XX * The Nameless XXI * The Nameless XXII * The Nameless XXIII * The Nameless XXIV * The Nameless XXV * The Nameless XXVI * The Nameless XXVII * The Nameless XXVIII * The Nameless XXIX * The Nameless XXX * The Nameless XXXI * The Nameless XXXII * The Nameless XXXIII The Nameless XXXIV * The Nameless XXXV * The Nameless XXXVI * The Nameless XXXVII * The Nameless XXXVIII
It was the thought of meeting Lilith after the assignment that made the thought of having to endure Shira's company slightly more bearable. It was a shame that he had to drag this nutcase of a girl along, but Amikam knew that starting an argument with Gideon over this issue would have been at least unprofessional, and would have made him look completely ridiculous. At least she was on time. Amikam stared at his "partner" skeptically. Why would anyone wear a dress so ridiculously long? And those shoes... those shoes were bound to cause trouble later on! Women! She'd better not complain about those heels hurting her, because Amikam was in no mood for her whining.
Fortunately, Shira seemed as intent on ignoring him as he was on ignoring her. For the sake of propriety, Amikam had to allow this "girlfriend" of his to take his arm. He felt her shudder slightly, as he did his best to distance himself from her. Still, he knew that during the meeting, Shira's proximity would be the last thing on his mind. When Amikam was working, he could think only of the task at hand. Today, at least, his assignment didn't pose any physical danger or complete humiliation, as did the last two. He couldn't wait to see the person they had to meet. Just because he was supposed to be professional, didn't mean he couldn't be curious or excited about his work!
As they were entering the restaurant, Amikam turned away from Shira... and noticed a strange character sitting on the bench in front of the restaurant. It was a woman, who was vainly trying to look like a teenager, and who was straining to read a book, despite the fact that it was pitch dark. He wondered what was up with that. But hey, that's what happens when you live in large cities. You meet too many weirdos. He didn't have time to analyze the woman. Already, the "couple" was being ushered in. Amikam studied the restaurant carefully. For some reason, he's never been in this one before. Then again, he didn't get to meet people one-on-one too often. He mostly dealt with demonstrations and crazed activists. Maybe this assignment was Gideon's way of apologizing for embarrassing Amikam in front of the entire group recently...
When the two finally sat down, the mysterious "friend" was nowhere to be seen. Amikam tried to sit as far away from Shira as possible, considering the limitations of the environment. A few moments of silence were turning out to be rather embarrassing. The stony expression on Shira's face was drawing attention from some other couples, sitting nearby. "Try to act like you're alive, or you'll ruin everything!" - hissed Amikam quietly, while attempting to muster a smile. He wasn't sure he wanted to know how he really looked at the moment. Shira turned towards him with a vacant look on her face, and forced her lips into a gruesome grin.
"We're making such a convincing couple!" - said Amikam sarcastically... and suddenly, both of them smiled for real. (Nothing like a healthy doze of sarcasm to break the ice!)
"So... do you have any idea who this guy is?" - asked Shira. For some reason, after Amikam broke the silence, she suddenly felt much more at ease.
"Well, I haven't actually met him before, but from what I understand he's one of The Jackal's recent contacts. He's supposed to be pretty famous in his own field of work."
"So what does he actually do?"
"Well, he's..."
"AHH! Good evening! And you must be..."
"Amikam!" - Amikam got up, pasting his standard fake smile, as he reached out to shake the visitor's hand.
The visitor was an old man, who looked like he could be just about anybody's grandfather... or godfather.
"And that's Shira..." - hastened Amikam, pointing to his partner. Shira smiled nervously, and grabbed the old man's hand even before he offered to her. She shook it with excessive force, trying to remember what it was that people are supposed to learn in the School of Good Manners about introductions, since she never actually went there. Usually, she was great with handshake, but today she was trying so hard to come across as assertive and confident, that she almost broke off the old man's hand. He, however, didn't seem to mind... too much.
After the introduction was over, the old man took a menu, and started browsing through it, without really looking.
"So... what kind of work do you do?" - asked Shira brightly, ignoring the warning glance Amikam was giving her.
"Oh, a little bit of everything - lately, mostly PR" - mumbled the old man, with an absent-minded look on his face. Shira was wondering what he was waiting for. Amikam studies Shira, in vain trying to predict what this fickle girl was going to ask next. Shira's presence made him slightly apprehensive. He wasn't sure why, but he had a premonition that Shira might very well have been Murphy's favorite muse and the inspiration for Murphy's Law.
"Is that so? Wow! That sounds VERY interesting! - continued Shira, feeling as if it were her personal obligation to fill in the pause.
"Indeed, it is." - smiled the old man.
Amikam relaxed a bit. Perhaps it was all right. Perhaps Shira would keep the initial conversation mild and harmless. Soon, the old man would relax enough to get down to business.
"From what Amikam told me, you're an old friend of The Jackal, the leader of our organization!" - chirped Shira.
Amikam gave her a quick Look. Shira seemed blissfully unaware.
"More like a partner." - smiled the old man.
"Really now. Well, then, you must surely know about what happened to the poor thing!" - sighed Shira.
Amikam kicked her under the table. He didn't like where Shira was going. Shira kicked him back so hard that he surely would have a bruise by the next day. He studies her. Her expression was concerned, intense, and slightly gossipy. WHAT WAS SHE DOING?!!!
"What happened?" - asked the old man, raising an eyebrow.
"What, you don't know?!" - exclaimed the girl.
Amikam leaned to whisper a warning in her ear, but she moved away.
"No, I was away on business for the last few months." - replied the old man, looking incredulous.
"Oh, but Amikam told me that you're one of The Jackal's more *recent* contacts!" - exclaimed the girl.
Amikam wanted to strangle Shira. How could anyone be so stupid?!
Shira, however, had the best of intentions. If they were meeting with this guy, he surely was a trustworthy person. And The Jackal seemed to trust him. Maybe he could help.
"No, no, I haven't talked to The Jackal since I left for my business trip." - reassured the old man.
"Oh... Hmm... well, something horrible happened to him while you were gone. He disappeared. He was kidnapped. We got this AWFUL photograph in the mail yesterday..."
"Really? Oh, no!..." - and the old man, lapsed into a series of the appropriate polite platitudes.
"Excuse us for a second!" - Amikam flashed the most charming of smiles he could muster, grabbed Shira's shoulder roughly, and dragged her from the table.
"What... what do you want?" - Shira stared at him, wide-eyed.
"Are you CRAZY? What do you think you're doing? - hissed Amikam in her ear, once they were outside, in the hallway.
"I thought he might be helpful... He knew The Jackal..."
"Not a word more from you! You'll ruin everything! - whispered Amikam, looking around to make sure that no one could hear him.
"Why? What did I do?"
"What did you do? What did you DO?? Don't you understand we can't trust anyone right now! Shira..."
"Ow! Let go of my shoulder, you're hurting me!"
Amikam dropped his arm.
"Shira, you can't just go around telling people this..."
"Why? Doesn't everyone know by now?"
"Come on! Use your brains!..."
"But The Jackal..."
"FORGET The Jackal! Just don't say anything! Listen to what we talk about, and keep your mouth shut!"
"You're not Gideon! Don't order me around!"
"Shira, what the hell is wrong with you? You're supposed to listen to me! That was the condition of you being here!"
They stared at each other. Shira had no intentions of backing off. She wasn't stupid. She'd show him.
"Let's go back. - she responded coldly. - He must be wondering what happened by now."
And she walked away very quickly, before Amikam could say a word more.
When they returned to the table, Amikam took the initiative and started talking about business matters and the imagemaking campaign the L.I.O.N.S. was hoping to launch through its partnership with the old man. He talked quickly, to make sure that Shira had no chance to speak again.
Shira was bored. She was also angry at Amikam for the patronizing tone he adopted, as if she were a child, not his colleague. Before the old man had arrived, she had almost forgotten about her initial anger and her desire for revenge, but now her fury was rekindled and she was glad that Amikam would soon receive his due. Now, however, there was not much she could. It looked like she was condemned to watching miserably, for the rest of the night. As she picked at her food, she noticed something strange about the old man.
What was it about him...
She couldn't quite place it. A strange kind of smell. As if... Mothballs! He smelled like mothballs! Well, she reasoned, there's nothing particularly strange about that... except... It wasn't just mothballs. There was also a very particular kind of smell. And she's sensed it somewhere before...
Her eyes wondered. She couldn't care less about the financial side of the campaign, which the two men were now discussing.
She glanced at the old man's hands. His suit... An unusual style. Where has she seen it before?
Shira knew she was going to wonder about it until she remembered.
She would have to do some research on this fellow. He said he did a little bit of everything... Perhaps, it was his other, non-PR business, which had something to do with that smell of antique... and the mothballs. And the suit... where, where, has she seen it before?? Where?
Shira looked at Amikam quickly. He didn't seem to notice anything strange. Did he deal with guys who smelled like mothballs on a daily basis? Only that could explain why he showed no reaction to the strangeness of this old guy. Mothballs....
(to be continued),
Puzzled,
Irina
It was the thought of meeting Lilith after the assignment that made the thought of having to endure Shira's company slightly more bearable. It was a shame that he had to drag this nutcase of a girl along, but Amikam knew that starting an argument with Gideon over this issue would have been at least unprofessional, and would have made him look completely ridiculous. At least she was on time. Amikam stared at his "partner" skeptically. Why would anyone wear a dress so ridiculously long? And those shoes... those shoes were bound to cause trouble later on! Women! She'd better not complain about those heels hurting her, because Amikam was in no mood for her whining.
Fortunately, Shira seemed as intent on ignoring him as he was on ignoring her. For the sake of propriety, Amikam had to allow this "girlfriend" of his to take his arm. He felt her shudder slightly, as he did his best to distance himself from her. Still, he knew that during the meeting, Shira's proximity would be the last thing on his mind. When Amikam was working, he could think only of the task at hand. Today, at least, his assignment didn't pose any physical danger or complete humiliation, as did the last two. He couldn't wait to see the person they had to meet. Just because he was supposed to be professional, didn't mean he couldn't be curious or excited about his work!
As they were entering the restaurant, Amikam turned away from Shira... and noticed a strange character sitting on the bench in front of the restaurant. It was a woman, who was vainly trying to look like a teenager, and who was straining to read a book, despite the fact that it was pitch dark. He wondered what was up with that. But hey, that's what happens when you live in large cities. You meet too many weirdos. He didn't have time to analyze the woman. Already, the "couple" was being ushered in. Amikam studied the restaurant carefully. For some reason, he's never been in this one before. Then again, he didn't get to meet people one-on-one too often. He mostly dealt with demonstrations and crazed activists. Maybe this assignment was Gideon's way of apologizing for embarrassing Amikam in front of the entire group recently...
When the two finally sat down, the mysterious "friend" was nowhere to be seen. Amikam tried to sit as far away from Shira as possible, considering the limitations of the environment. A few moments of silence were turning out to be rather embarrassing. The stony expression on Shira's face was drawing attention from some other couples, sitting nearby. "Try to act like you're alive, or you'll ruin everything!" - hissed Amikam quietly, while attempting to muster a smile. He wasn't sure he wanted to know how he really looked at the moment. Shira turned towards him with a vacant look on her face, and forced her lips into a gruesome grin.
"We're making such a convincing couple!" - said Amikam sarcastically... and suddenly, both of them smiled for real. (Nothing like a healthy doze of sarcasm to break the ice!)
"So... do you have any idea who this guy is?" - asked Shira. For some reason, after Amikam broke the silence, she suddenly felt much more at ease.
"Well, I haven't actually met him before, but from what I understand he's one of The Jackal's recent contacts. He's supposed to be pretty famous in his own field of work."
"So what does he actually do?"
"Well, he's..."
"AHH! Good evening! And you must be..."
"Amikam!" - Amikam got up, pasting his standard fake smile, as he reached out to shake the visitor's hand.
The visitor was an old man, who looked like he could be just about anybody's grandfather... or godfather.
"And that's Shira..." - hastened Amikam, pointing to his partner. Shira smiled nervously, and grabbed the old man's hand even before he offered to her. She shook it with excessive force, trying to remember what it was that people are supposed to learn in the School of Good Manners about introductions, since she never actually went there. Usually, she was great with handshake, but today she was trying so hard to come across as assertive and confident, that she almost broke off the old man's hand. He, however, didn't seem to mind... too much.
After the introduction was over, the old man took a menu, and started browsing through it, without really looking.
"So... what kind of work do you do?" - asked Shira brightly, ignoring the warning glance Amikam was giving her.
"Oh, a little bit of everything - lately, mostly PR" - mumbled the old man, with an absent-minded look on his face. Shira was wondering what he was waiting for. Amikam studies Shira, in vain trying to predict what this fickle girl was going to ask next. Shira's presence made him slightly apprehensive. He wasn't sure why, but he had a premonition that Shira might very well have been Murphy's favorite muse and the inspiration for Murphy's Law.
"Is that so? Wow! That sounds VERY interesting! - continued Shira, feeling as if it were her personal obligation to fill in the pause.
"Indeed, it is." - smiled the old man.
Amikam relaxed a bit. Perhaps it was all right. Perhaps Shira would keep the initial conversation mild and harmless. Soon, the old man would relax enough to get down to business.
"From what Amikam told me, you're an old friend of The Jackal, the leader of our organization!" - chirped Shira.
Amikam gave her a quick Look. Shira seemed blissfully unaware.
"More like a partner." - smiled the old man.
"Really now. Well, then, you must surely know about what happened to the poor thing!" - sighed Shira.
Amikam kicked her under the table. He didn't like where Shira was going. Shira kicked him back so hard that he surely would have a bruise by the next day. He studies her. Her expression was concerned, intense, and slightly gossipy. WHAT WAS SHE DOING?!!!
"What happened?" - asked the old man, raising an eyebrow.
"What, you don't know?!" - exclaimed the girl.
Amikam leaned to whisper a warning in her ear, but she moved away.
"No, I was away on business for the last few months." - replied the old man, looking incredulous.
"Oh, but Amikam told me that you're one of The Jackal's more *recent* contacts!" - exclaimed the girl.
Amikam wanted to strangle Shira. How could anyone be so stupid?!
Shira, however, had the best of intentions. If they were meeting with this guy, he surely was a trustworthy person. And The Jackal seemed to trust him. Maybe he could help.
"No, no, I haven't talked to The Jackal since I left for my business trip." - reassured the old man.
"Oh... Hmm... well, something horrible happened to him while you were gone. He disappeared. He was kidnapped. We got this AWFUL photograph in the mail yesterday..."
"Really? Oh, no!..." - and the old man, lapsed into a series of the appropriate polite platitudes.
"Excuse us for a second!" - Amikam flashed the most charming of smiles he could muster, grabbed Shira's shoulder roughly, and dragged her from the table.
"What... what do you want?" - Shira stared at him, wide-eyed.
"Are you CRAZY? What do you think you're doing? - hissed Amikam in her ear, once they were outside, in the hallway.
"I thought he might be helpful... He knew The Jackal..."
"Not a word more from you! You'll ruin everything! - whispered Amikam, looking around to make sure that no one could hear him.
"Why? What did I do?"
"What did you do? What did you DO?? Don't you understand we can't trust anyone right now! Shira..."
"Ow! Let go of my shoulder, you're hurting me!"
Amikam dropped his arm.
"Shira, you can't just go around telling people this..."
"Why? Doesn't everyone know by now?"
"Come on! Use your brains!..."
"But The Jackal..."
"FORGET The Jackal! Just don't say anything! Listen to what we talk about, and keep your mouth shut!"
"You're not Gideon! Don't order me around!"
"Shira, what the hell is wrong with you? You're supposed to listen to me! That was the condition of you being here!"
They stared at each other. Shira had no intentions of backing off. She wasn't stupid. She'd show him.
"Let's go back. - she responded coldly. - He must be wondering what happened by now."
And she walked away very quickly, before Amikam could say a word more.
When they returned to the table, Amikam took the initiative and started talking about business matters and the imagemaking campaign the L.I.O.N.S. was hoping to launch through its partnership with the old man. He talked quickly, to make sure that Shira had no chance to speak again.
Shira was bored. She was also angry at Amikam for the patronizing tone he adopted, as if she were a child, not his colleague. Before the old man had arrived, she had almost forgotten about her initial anger and her desire for revenge, but now her fury was rekindled and she was glad that Amikam would soon receive his due. Now, however, there was not much she could. It looked like she was condemned to watching miserably, for the rest of the night. As she picked at her food, she noticed something strange about the old man.
What was it about him...
She couldn't quite place it. A strange kind of smell. As if... Mothballs! He smelled like mothballs! Well, she reasoned, there's nothing particularly strange about that... except... It wasn't just mothballs. There was also a very particular kind of smell. And she's sensed it somewhere before...
Her eyes wondered. She couldn't care less about the financial side of the campaign, which the two men were now discussing.
She glanced at the old man's hands. His suit... An unusual style. Where has she seen it before?
Shira knew she was going to wonder about it until she remembered.
She would have to do some research on this fellow. He said he did a little bit of everything... Perhaps, it was his other, non-PR business, which had something to do with that smell of antique... and the mothballs. And the suit... where, where, has she seen it before?? Where?
Shira looked at Amikam quickly. He didn't seem to notice anything strange. Did he deal with guys who smelled like mothballs on a daily basis? Only that could explain why he showed no reaction to the strangeness of this old guy. Mothballs....
(to be continued),
Puzzled,
Irina
Patriotism in a Nutshell
"Questioning is Patriotic!"
"Criticizing our country is patriotic!"
"The most patriotic thing you can do is think for yourself!"
Sounds familiar? Yeah, I'm not surprised. Normally I don't pay attention to any of that. Go ahead and question. And I'll question YOU. Heh.
In my Literature and Society class, however, these slogans take on a whole new meaning.
One of the questions we discussed briefly, while we stopped on "Lolita", which we will be reading at the end of the term, was whether it was possible to love U.S. from a distance.
A whole bunch of people responded with an emphatic "yes". In unison, they shouted out that if they had more money they would have moved to an island somewhere far away and loved the United States from there.
I got so angry that decided to keep my mouth shut, lest I said something I would regret. What kind of patriotism is it if you're not willing to live in the country you claim to love and work to make it better? That's the cowardly, pathetic mentality of all the people who fled to Canada after Bush was reelected. Don't get me wrong, Canada is a beautiful country, and good riddance to people who don't want to live here... but come on. What happened to the principle one famous and beloved Democrat formulated decades ago:
And so, my fellow americans: ask not what your country can do for you - ask what you can do for your country. My fellow citizens of the world: ask not what America will do for you, but what together we can do for the freedom of man.
John F. Kennedy, Inaugural address, January 20, 1961
US Democratic politician (1917 - 1963)
???
What happened to our collective responsibility for the future of our country? What's the point of having a Constitution, a Bill of Rights, and all the wonderful civil liberties we have if we don't use to improve and mend our country? I mean, you disagree with the administration? That's fine. There's always someone disagreeing with the government. That's why we are a democracy, not a totalitarian regime. But that's exactly the reason to stay and see to it that something is done about things you disagree with. Otherwise, what kind of an American are you?
I hate to be crude, but people with this kind of mentality, who flee at the first sign of difficulty, when things don't go their way, are spoiled selfish pigs. If only they had lived where I've been for a month! If only they had known what it is to eat bread the entire day, and have to walk to the seventh floor every day because the elevator is perpetually broken. If only they were to learn what it is to live in the kind of freezing weather they are not likely to encounter in this city! If only they were to learn what it is to live without water and electricity... But they don't, and hence they forget how much they have, and how much they should cherish what they are given, how hard they should fight for it.
None of these people (all of them) know what struggling really is. None of them know that they are only free to complain about lack of freedoms and gay rights and abortions BECAUSE the country is so free. They are free to call Bush all sorts of names and protest and scream their heads off BECAUSE our government is a liberal democracy. They are free to fight for their rights... and instead of using this opportunity they shout how badly off they are. They are trying to show themselves off the victims of the Republicans, when in reality they are simply the opposition - as far as I know, something that is a normal occurrence in a democratic country.
Don't call yourselves underdogs, my dear children. When have you been last arrested for expressing your thoughts? When have your families been threatened? When have you been beaten, tortured? When have you been fired from your job because of your ideological beliefs? You can say whatever you want... but shouldn't you THINK before you talk? Shouldn't you? Doesn't having liberties and rights entail taking the most responsibility for your actions and for your country? Weaklings! You claim to be underdogs. You don't know what being a victim means. And it's easy for you to show out about how you've been wronged when you know no one's going to go after you for that. It's easy to call yourself "the minority" among your own, in the safety of the blue-state liberal majority! But have you ever starved yourselves for the opportunity to leave a totalitarian regime? No, I bet you haven't and I bet you won't have to, not as long as you're living here.
Why don't you go to some of the wonderful "democracies" out there and leave the United States in the hands of those, who care enough to work for it, instead of just complaining?
You should be ashamed of yourselves!
Ok, I'm getting off the soapbox now.
Exasperated,
Irina
"Criticizing our country is patriotic!"
"The most patriotic thing you can do is think for yourself!"
Sounds familiar? Yeah, I'm not surprised. Normally I don't pay attention to any of that. Go ahead and question. And I'll question YOU. Heh.
In my Literature and Society class, however, these slogans take on a whole new meaning.
One of the questions we discussed briefly, while we stopped on "Lolita", which we will be reading at the end of the term, was whether it was possible to love U.S. from a distance.
A whole bunch of people responded with an emphatic "yes". In unison, they shouted out that if they had more money they would have moved to an island somewhere far away and loved the United States from there.
I got so angry that decided to keep my mouth shut, lest I said something I would regret. What kind of patriotism is it if you're not willing to live in the country you claim to love and work to make it better? That's the cowardly, pathetic mentality of all the people who fled to Canada after Bush was reelected. Don't get me wrong, Canada is a beautiful country, and good riddance to people who don't want to live here... but come on. What happened to the principle one famous and beloved Democrat formulated decades ago:
And so, my fellow americans: ask not what your country can do for you - ask what you can do for your country. My fellow citizens of the world: ask not what America will do for you, but what together we can do for the freedom of man.
John F. Kennedy, Inaugural address, January 20, 1961
US Democratic politician (1917 - 1963)
???
What happened to our collective responsibility for the future of our country? What's the point of having a Constitution, a Bill of Rights, and all the wonderful civil liberties we have if we don't use to improve and mend our country? I mean, you disagree with the administration? That's fine. There's always someone disagreeing with the government. That's why we are a democracy, not a totalitarian regime. But that's exactly the reason to stay and see to it that something is done about things you disagree with. Otherwise, what kind of an American are you?
I hate to be crude, but people with this kind of mentality, who flee at the first sign of difficulty, when things don't go their way, are spoiled selfish pigs. If only they had lived where I've been for a month! If only they had known what it is to eat bread the entire day, and have to walk to the seventh floor every day because the elevator is perpetually broken. If only they were to learn what it is to live in the kind of freezing weather they are not likely to encounter in this city! If only they were to learn what it is to live without water and electricity... But they don't, and hence they forget how much they have, and how much they should cherish what they are given, how hard they should fight for it.
None of these people (all of them) know what struggling really is. None of them know that they are only free to complain about lack of freedoms and gay rights and abortions BECAUSE the country is so free. They are free to call Bush all sorts of names and protest and scream their heads off BECAUSE our government is a liberal democracy. They are free to fight for their rights... and instead of using this opportunity they shout how badly off they are. They are trying to show themselves off the victims of the Republicans, when in reality they are simply the opposition - as far as I know, something that is a normal occurrence in a democratic country.
Don't call yourselves underdogs, my dear children. When have you been last arrested for expressing your thoughts? When have your families been threatened? When have you been beaten, tortured? When have you been fired from your job because of your ideological beliefs? You can say whatever you want... but shouldn't you THINK before you talk? Shouldn't you? Doesn't having liberties and rights entail taking the most responsibility for your actions and for your country? Weaklings! You claim to be underdogs. You don't know what being a victim means. And it's easy for you to show out about how you've been wronged when you know no one's going to go after you for that. It's easy to call yourself "the minority" among your own, in the safety of the blue-state liberal majority! But have you ever starved yourselves for the opportunity to leave a totalitarian regime? No, I bet you haven't and I bet you won't have to, not as long as you're living here.
Why don't you go to some of the wonderful "democracies" out there and leave the United States in the hands of those, who care enough to work for it, instead of just complaining?
You should be ashamed of yourselves!
Ok, I'm getting off the soapbox now.
Exasperated,
Irina
Put Me On a Pedestal!
WOOD OX Horoscope
Jan 25, 1925 to Feb 12, 1926
Feb 20, 1985 to Feb 8, 1986
Oxen in China are put on a pedestal. So it goes with Oxen people. Oxen are bright, peace-loving, often easy-going and trusting. But, on the other hand, they can also be stubborn, methodical, and fiercely competitive, with, shudder, fierce tempers to boot. Oxen are natural born mentors and life is filled with examples of people who have gone on to great success because of them. Mentally and physically alert to the point of genius, many Oxen belong to Mensa. They can create the most imposing structures, magnificent sculpture, and homes. They respond like poets to the beauties of nature and of solitude. Oxen are unique, they are The Flower that bursts through the crack of cement.
Bird's Nest Soup and Bean Curd are among the keys to good health!!
Great fun these Wood Oxen, with their marvelous sense of humor that patches up just about everything in their path, winning chuckling friends along the way. Like typical oxen, they are open-minded, with a "laissez-faire" philosophy towards others. They conduct their own lives with a strong moral code and receive and deserve admiration and trust for their integrity. Practical all the way, Wood Oxen never make rash decisions and are always considerate of the needs of others. Another story is money! Finances are not too stable because of that old devil Credit! Why, they would buy a dinosaur if they were just offered one with a dollar down and a dollar a week. Not only that, they lend money to friends, not a good idea! Despite a volatile financial life, their careers are pretty successful. Since they are generally such quick learners, all they have to do is control their impulsive spending and try saving for a change. When it comes to moonlight and roses, Wood Oxen have it made. Because they are such good communicators, they know that nothing chills a romance like a cold shoulder. They talk over differences right away, never letting trifles build up into resentments. Wood Oxen are very devoted to their family and family life is rich with treasure.
Famous Ox People: Tung Chee-Hwa, Sukarno, Richard Burton, Napoleon, Charlie Chaplin, Peter Sellers, Margaret Mead, Jawaharlal Nehru, Eisaku Sato, Princess Diana
http://www.tuvy.com/entertainment/chinese_horoscope.htm
See how great I am? What are you???
Wooden,
Irina
Jan 25, 1925 to Feb 12, 1926
Feb 20, 1985 to Feb 8, 1986
Oxen in China are put on a pedestal. So it goes with Oxen people. Oxen are bright, peace-loving, often easy-going and trusting. But, on the other hand, they can also be stubborn, methodical, and fiercely competitive, with, shudder, fierce tempers to boot. Oxen are natural born mentors and life is filled with examples of people who have gone on to great success because of them. Mentally and physically alert to the point of genius, many Oxen belong to Mensa. They can create the most imposing structures, magnificent sculpture, and homes. They respond like poets to the beauties of nature and of solitude. Oxen are unique, they are The Flower that bursts through the crack of cement.
Bird's Nest Soup and Bean Curd are among the keys to good health!!
Great fun these Wood Oxen, with their marvelous sense of humor that patches up just about everything in their path, winning chuckling friends along the way. Like typical oxen, they are open-minded, with a "laissez-faire" philosophy towards others. They conduct their own lives with a strong moral code and receive and deserve admiration and trust for their integrity. Practical all the way, Wood Oxen never make rash decisions and are always considerate of the needs of others. Another story is money! Finances are not too stable because of that old devil Credit! Why, they would buy a dinosaur if they were just offered one with a dollar down and a dollar a week. Not only that, they lend money to friends, not a good idea! Despite a volatile financial life, their careers are pretty successful. Since they are generally such quick learners, all they have to do is control their impulsive spending and try saving for a change. When it comes to moonlight and roses, Wood Oxen have it made. Because they are such good communicators, they know that nothing chills a romance like a cold shoulder. They talk over differences right away, never letting trifles build up into resentments. Wood Oxen are very devoted to their family and family life is rich with treasure.
Famous Ox People: Tung Chee-Hwa, Sukarno, Richard Burton, Napoleon, Charlie Chaplin, Peter Sellers, Margaret Mead, Jawaharlal Nehru, Eisaku Sato, Princess Diana
http://www.tuvy.com/entertainment/chinese_horoscope.htm
See how great I am? What are you???
Wooden,
Irina
Friday, January 20, 2006
The Davening Dilemma
OK, so a few days ago, while browsing through my blogroll, I saw a blogger asking his readership to daven for an ill person.
At that time, I had no idea who the person was, or what was wrong with him. All I saw was the name and the request. My first instinct was to wish that person a speedy recovery. However, as you can see from the other comments, some of the visitors were wondering why they should daven for someone, if they don't have any information as to who that person is? When I first saw these later comments, I was initially outraged. How can they even ask something like that; someone is sick; if you don't want to pray for him, don't - but why do you leave such obnoxious comments?
I, however, decided not to respond to these individuals, and went away to steam to my own blog. Later, analyzing this relatively trivial incident, I decided to look at it from the POV of the visitors. To them, praying carries a significance beyond mere polite talk of wishing a recovery. It means a direct interaction with God. It means asking for God's mercy on that person, whoever that is. Should they bother knocking on God's doors if the person who's ill turns out to be someone evil, someone who's not worthy of these prayers? Nevertheless, someone's virtue is difficult to determine over the Internet. Why, then, would these people be asking for more detailed information? I think, it's probably because when they know more than just a name, it helps people to relate a little to the person, who is sick. He becomes more than just an abstraction, but a member of the community, someone's relative, friend, colleague. Your prayer gains meaning, and becomes more than just an empty name floating in the air.
Still, that doesn't explain why these visitors had to put their question in such a blunt form.
So now I'm thinking: is it unethical to refuse to pray for someone who's sick unless you find out some basic information about that person? Are we morally obligated to pray for a complete stranger just because someone asked us to? Is wishing someone a speedy recovery more than just polite form of interaction? I think in the Internet, it means making an extra effort, because such a request is aimed at the community in general, and not at a specific person. It's not like you're face to face with someone who's sick or with the person making such a request. And yet... yet, when someone's life is at stake, does the ethical obligation to help preserve that life take precedence before any other considerations, such as possible morality of that person?
I think it really depends on how much weight you give to prayer. I, for one, am not big on prayer at all, and generally don't actually pray for anyone's health, unless that person is someone from my immediate family. Only in such cases, I feel enough passion and sincerety to actually talk directly to God. I feel that a formulaic prayer isn't worth much, so why bother unless you really believe in what you're saying. But for those, for whom prayer is a normal and regular part of their daily lives, I think it's generally good form to wish someone a speedy recovery and/or pray, unless they are convinced the person is some kind of a serial killer or terrorist or someone towards whom they cannot feel any form of human sympathy.
But then again, what do I know?
Speculative,
Irina
At that time, I had no idea who the person was, or what was wrong with him. All I saw was the name and the request. My first instinct was to wish that person a speedy recovery. However, as you can see from the other comments, some of the visitors were wondering why they should daven for someone, if they don't have any information as to who that person is? When I first saw these later comments, I was initially outraged. How can they even ask something like that; someone is sick; if you don't want to pray for him, don't - but why do you leave such obnoxious comments?
I, however, decided not to respond to these individuals, and went away to steam to my own blog. Later, analyzing this relatively trivial incident, I decided to look at it from the POV of the visitors. To them, praying carries a significance beyond mere polite talk of wishing a recovery. It means a direct interaction with God. It means asking for God's mercy on that person, whoever that is. Should they bother knocking on God's doors if the person who's ill turns out to be someone evil, someone who's not worthy of these prayers? Nevertheless, someone's virtue is difficult to determine over the Internet. Why, then, would these people be asking for more detailed information? I think, it's probably because when they know more than just a name, it helps people to relate a little to the person, who is sick. He becomes more than just an abstraction, but a member of the community, someone's relative, friend, colleague. Your prayer gains meaning, and becomes more than just an empty name floating in the air.
Still, that doesn't explain why these visitors had to put their question in such a blunt form.
So now I'm thinking: is it unethical to refuse to pray for someone who's sick unless you find out some basic information about that person? Are we morally obligated to pray for a complete stranger just because someone asked us to? Is wishing someone a speedy recovery more than just polite form of interaction? I think in the Internet, it means making an extra effort, because such a request is aimed at the community in general, and not at a specific person. It's not like you're face to face with someone who's sick or with the person making such a request. And yet... yet, when someone's life is at stake, does the ethical obligation to help preserve that life take precedence before any other considerations, such as possible morality of that person?
I think it really depends on how much weight you give to prayer. I, for one, am not big on prayer at all, and generally don't actually pray for anyone's health, unless that person is someone from my immediate family. Only in such cases, I feel enough passion and sincerety to actually talk directly to God. I feel that a formulaic prayer isn't worth much, so why bother unless you really believe in what you're saying. But for those, for whom prayer is a normal and regular part of their daily lives, I think it's generally good form to wish someone a speedy recovery and/or pray, unless they are convinced the person is some kind of a serial killer or terrorist or someone towards whom they cannot feel any form of human sympathy.
But then again, what do I know?
Speculative,
Irina
Thursday, January 19, 2006
The Regularly Scheduled Programming
SOOOOOOO.... I'm back at Fordham, for the ultimate term of my college career! Unfortunately, as always, I don't have time for a good case of senioritis, as I have too many other things on my mind. My senior thesis. The four languages I'll be juggling on a daily basis. (That's English, Russian, Spanish, and Arabic). Lots of reading. Blogging. Lalalala.
And the crazy person that I am, I've managed to fit 5(!) classes into 3(!!!) days. So yeah, I have 3 night classes. And Friday, I only have one class at night... It's going to be fun. The fun started today, as I nearly killed myself dragging three big bad bags of books all over Fordham. And that's considering not all my books have arrived yet. Some of the books are heavy enough to kill. I look forward to reading all that stuff. My arms are trembling. My knees are shaking. I narrowly escaped an accident on the escalator. A total of one person offered me help. (I refused politely). Yeah, yeah, I know what y'all are thinking.
So... what are the killer classes THIS time?
1) Topics in Spanish Culture
Taught by a real guy from real Spain talking with a real Castillian lisp. I was SO nervous when I first walked into the class. First of all, Spaniards are notorious for talking too fast. Secondly, I haven't taken any Spanish classes since my freshman year, so I was sure I would make a total fool of myself. I was wrong. I made a total fool of myself a bit later, but in this classes, everything went fine. I actually understood every single word he was saying, and even managed to force myself to participate by the end of the class.
2) Intermediate Arabic II
- (Because I'm a masochist and This Is What Masochists Do.)
- (What?)
- (Take two totally different languages and study them on the same day)
- (You've got to be kidding)
- (Hey, it's not like I had a choice!)
Anyway, besides being schizophrenic, this is also that class where I messed up. Yeah, that one. I walked into the class and saw a roomful of strangers. I see: "Whoa! They opened a new section? Or wait, they had another section, and I never knew about it?" I was a little surprised that not a single other person from my old section showed up to transfer to a new one, but hey, that's their business. So I sat down and started listening to people's stories. One girl was Afghani and was telling us how her mother had to dress up as a boy when she was a child so she could escape the country.
Another girl, a 19-year-old Pakistani American told us that her parents arranged her marriage to her first cousin (both of them were born in the U.S.), and she was, like, EWWW! (I can totally understand why!) And when a couple of us remarked that it's illegal to marry your first cousins in the United States, someone else told us, that it's OK if it's for religious reasons. Somehow doesn't sound quite right. As far as I know, religion is not above the law in this country.
For example, even if you want to be polygamous for religious reasons, it's STILL illegal. And if you want to smoke pot for religious reasons, it's also illegal. And needless to say, if you religion includes human sacrifices... Does anyone know for sure what's the status on this question? Anyway, after a while, the professor came in, and we got down to business. She taught us some new vocabulary, and then started to give out the syllabus. That's when I noticed that she was giving out the wrong syllabus. I remarked that the class is INTERMEDIATE II, not INTRODUCTION II. And that's when I totally embarrassed myself. Because a whole bunch of people told me that it IS Introduction II! I looked at my schedule, and sure thing, that's exactly what it said! The Intermediate section I was supposed to attend came right afterwards! How I could have messed up so badly while registering is beyond me. So I had to run out, and re-register. Needless to say, I kept my mouth shut when I came to my real section and didn't tell anyone a word about the incident.
3) Literature and Society
It's a core class and a night class, and as such, somewhat larger than the other classes I've had so far. The professor is a lot of fun (though her name is completely unpronounceable). She's actually a published writer, which is pretty cool. She's also a flaming liberal, but has no qualms but encouraging debate and doesn't let politics stand between us. Which is a very, very good thing, because, you know, I'm a flaming conservative. Or would be, had there been any such thing. Anyway, the class sounds very exciting. We're going to have to attend an exhibition called "Slavery in New York", not something I was originally planning to attend, but whatever, I may as well. We may also have an audio presentation by Mohawks, (having to do with tradition and folklore, etc.)
That's definitely exciting. And we'll have papers, group presentation, the usual. I'm SO excited about the list of books we'll be reading. It inclues Toni Morrison's "Beloved" (an awesome book), Elie Wiesel's "Night", Nabokov's "Lolita" (I've read the Russian version, not the English one), Dostoyevski's "Poor Folk" (haven't read it yet, but love Dostoyevski!), Bulgakov's "The Master and Margarita" (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That should tell you the level of my excitement! I almost fainted when I saw the book), and a couple of others, which sound no less interesting. We had a very lively discussion about Henry David Thoreau's "On Civil Disobedience" and the First Amendment. Unfortunately, my classmates turned out to be somewhat of a disappointment.
One person (born in the United States), thought that the First Amendment was the right to vote. Oy. Other people brought up George W. at every opportunity, even when it had nothing to do with the matter at hand. To say that they were obsessed with our current president is not to say anything at all. They kept going off on rants, while staring into the air with vacuous, zombified eyes, and uttered all kinds of banalities and nonsense not worth of a good political debate. When people start shouting empty slogans: "Like, our country, it used to be free, and now, LIKE, it's not, and it's all Bush's fault, because Bush wants to make the country Christian (you mean to tell me it's NOT? As far as I know, US has the most Protestants in the world or did the last time I checked), and uh, Bush wants to ban abortions". That's what it all came down to, and it was so ridiculous, I can't even begin to tell you. Look, I know I'm in a blue state, and I know that college students, especially in humanities classes tend to be very liberal, but come on, at least be SMART about it.
Bring up intelligent points! Make good arguments - and I'll love a good debate. But that was pathetic. Moreover, when I asked what would be a good way to make protests more effective (because, guess what, they don't really mean anything. Just because they are a valid exercise of our rights, doesn't mean they are an efficient way of accomplishing anything), all hell broke loose. It was obvious that people wasn't listening to what I was saying at all, and didn't even let me respond. They kept ranting, a whole bunch of them, about George Bush and how he's making the country unfree, and how dare I deny the right to protest (when, of course, I said no such thing), and that our freedoms are very simple and absolute. Not true, all freedoms have limitations; Think about trying to shout fire in a crowded theater. Think about our nine Supreme court justice.
By the way, only a couple people knew that there are NINE. Others, thought we had TWELVE or didn't know how many at all. Anyway, only one guy listened to what I was actually saying and shouted over the crazed mob, making the point that if you really want to make a difference, you have to dedicate your life to very specific type of activism. Disorganized protesting on the streets is not enough. Which finally shut almost everybody up, except for people who kept insisting that they didn't want to dedicate their lives to it, and wanted to have their right to protest as regular citizens. Just go out to the streets after work and demonstrate. OK, whatever, then don't complain when the government totally ignores you.
Nevertheless, there were a few really interesting people I met, and I hope to make a better acquaintance with them next time.
4) Law and Psychology.
A senior values seminar, which takes place FRIDAY NIGHTS. I should be rewarded just for signing up for that class and giving up my freedom... Ahem, so my Friday Night adventures are officially over. Law and Psychology are taught by two people, a really cool social psychology professor, whose daughter was in my first Spanish class at Fordham, and a professor from Fordham Law School. GUESS WHAT: I know that professor. This is not the first time I've met him. He came to Fort Hamilton, my high school once, to mentor us on the Mock Trial competition, which Fordham sponsored, and totally scared the hell out of most people, except for me. I loved his style. The second time I interacted him was during the freshman orientation, when we had a mock trial of Galileo (having to do with the book we were supposed to read over the summer, "Galileo's Daughter"), and he was the lawyer, and we were supposed to question him. We were a panel of judges. He managed to make everyone look like an idiot. 'Nough said. It's supposed to be one of the most challenging classes in the school (aside from calculus), and I'm looking forward to that. More details to come!
5)History of Modern Israel.
To come Monday Night. I love the title. The word "modern" implies the tacit acknowledgment of the history behind it, of continuity. That's great. The professor is totally awesome, one of my favorites ever. He's the same professor I had last year for "United States and the Middle East from 1945 to 9/11". He's everything a good professor should be, funny, a great moderator, very knowledgeable about the various tidbits of his subject, and encouraging discussion. Moreover, he introduces us to such a wide variety of viewpoints on every single possible aspect of the class, both last year and this term, that NOBODY can complain. This year's writers range from the most rabid anti-Zionists to very right-wing Zionists to everyone in between. Most of the arm-breaking books I bought were for this class. I CAN'T WAIT!!!
6) Senior Thesis.
Let's not mention this till it's over, shall we?
Excited,
Irina
And the crazy person that I am, I've managed to fit 5(!) classes into 3(!!!) days. So yeah, I have 3 night classes. And Friday, I only have one class at night... It's going to be fun. The fun started today, as I nearly killed myself dragging three big bad bags of books all over Fordham. And that's considering not all my books have arrived yet. Some of the books are heavy enough to kill. I look forward to reading all that stuff. My arms are trembling. My knees are shaking. I narrowly escaped an accident on the escalator. A total of one person offered me help. (I refused politely). Yeah, yeah, I know what y'all are thinking.
So... what are the killer classes THIS time?
1) Topics in Spanish Culture
Taught by a real guy from real Spain talking with a real Castillian lisp. I was SO nervous when I first walked into the class. First of all, Spaniards are notorious for talking too fast. Secondly, I haven't taken any Spanish classes since my freshman year, so I was sure I would make a total fool of myself. I was wrong. I made a total fool of myself a bit later, but in this classes, everything went fine. I actually understood every single word he was saying, and even managed to force myself to participate by the end of the class.
2) Intermediate Arabic II
- (Because I'm a masochist and This Is What Masochists Do.)
- (What?)
- (Take two totally different languages and study them on the same day)
- (You've got to be kidding)
- (Hey, it's not like I had a choice!)
Anyway, besides being schizophrenic, this is also that class where I messed up. Yeah, that one. I walked into the class and saw a roomful of strangers. I see: "Whoa! They opened a new section? Or wait, they had another section, and I never knew about it?" I was a little surprised that not a single other person from my old section showed up to transfer to a new one, but hey, that's their business. So I sat down and started listening to people's stories. One girl was Afghani and was telling us how her mother had to dress up as a boy when she was a child so she could escape the country.
Another girl, a 19-year-old Pakistani American told us that her parents arranged her marriage to her first cousin (both of them were born in the U.S.), and she was, like, EWWW! (I can totally understand why!) And when a couple of us remarked that it's illegal to marry your first cousins in the United States, someone else told us, that it's OK if it's for religious reasons. Somehow doesn't sound quite right. As far as I know, religion is not above the law in this country.
For example, even if you want to be polygamous for religious reasons, it's STILL illegal. And if you want to smoke pot for religious reasons, it's also illegal. And needless to say, if you religion includes human sacrifices... Does anyone know for sure what's the status on this question? Anyway, after a while, the professor came in, and we got down to business. She taught us some new vocabulary, and then started to give out the syllabus. That's when I noticed that she was giving out the wrong syllabus. I remarked that the class is INTERMEDIATE II, not INTRODUCTION II. And that's when I totally embarrassed myself. Because a whole bunch of people told me that it IS Introduction II! I looked at my schedule, and sure thing, that's exactly what it said! The Intermediate section I was supposed to attend came right afterwards! How I could have messed up so badly while registering is beyond me. So I had to run out, and re-register. Needless to say, I kept my mouth shut when I came to my real section and didn't tell anyone a word about the incident.
3) Literature and Society
It's a core class and a night class, and as such, somewhat larger than the other classes I've had so far. The professor is a lot of fun (though her name is completely unpronounceable). She's actually a published writer, which is pretty cool. She's also a flaming liberal, but has no qualms but encouraging debate and doesn't let politics stand between us. Which is a very, very good thing, because, you know, I'm a flaming conservative. Or would be, had there been any such thing. Anyway, the class sounds very exciting. We're going to have to attend an exhibition called "Slavery in New York", not something I was originally planning to attend, but whatever, I may as well. We may also have an audio presentation by Mohawks, (having to do with tradition and folklore, etc.)
That's definitely exciting. And we'll have papers, group presentation, the usual. I'm SO excited about the list of books we'll be reading. It inclues Toni Morrison's "Beloved" (an awesome book), Elie Wiesel's "Night", Nabokov's "Lolita" (I've read the Russian version, not the English one), Dostoyevski's "Poor Folk" (haven't read it yet, but love Dostoyevski!), Bulgakov's "The Master and Margarita" (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That should tell you the level of my excitement! I almost fainted when I saw the book), and a couple of others, which sound no less interesting. We had a very lively discussion about Henry David Thoreau's "On Civil Disobedience" and the First Amendment. Unfortunately, my classmates turned out to be somewhat of a disappointment.
One person (born in the United States), thought that the First Amendment was the right to vote. Oy. Other people brought up George W. at every opportunity, even when it had nothing to do with the matter at hand. To say that they were obsessed with our current president is not to say anything at all. They kept going off on rants, while staring into the air with vacuous, zombified eyes, and uttered all kinds of banalities and nonsense not worth of a good political debate. When people start shouting empty slogans: "Like, our country, it used to be free, and now, LIKE, it's not, and it's all Bush's fault, because Bush wants to make the country Christian (you mean to tell me it's NOT? As far as I know, US has the most Protestants in the world or did the last time I checked), and uh, Bush wants to ban abortions". That's what it all came down to, and it was so ridiculous, I can't even begin to tell you. Look, I know I'm in a blue state, and I know that college students, especially in humanities classes tend to be very liberal, but come on, at least be SMART about it.
Bring up intelligent points! Make good arguments - and I'll love a good debate. But that was pathetic. Moreover, when I asked what would be a good way to make protests more effective (because, guess what, they don't really mean anything. Just because they are a valid exercise of our rights, doesn't mean they are an efficient way of accomplishing anything), all hell broke loose. It was obvious that people wasn't listening to what I was saying at all, and didn't even let me respond. They kept ranting, a whole bunch of them, about George Bush and how he's making the country unfree, and how dare I deny the right to protest (when, of course, I said no such thing), and that our freedoms are very simple and absolute. Not true, all freedoms have limitations; Think about trying to shout fire in a crowded theater. Think about our nine Supreme court justice.
By the way, only a couple people knew that there are NINE. Others, thought we had TWELVE or didn't know how many at all. Anyway, only one guy listened to what I was actually saying and shouted over the crazed mob, making the point that if you really want to make a difference, you have to dedicate your life to very specific type of activism. Disorganized protesting on the streets is not enough. Which finally shut almost everybody up, except for people who kept insisting that they didn't want to dedicate their lives to it, and wanted to have their right to protest as regular citizens. Just go out to the streets after work and demonstrate. OK, whatever, then don't complain when the government totally ignores you.
Nevertheless, there were a few really interesting people I met, and I hope to make a better acquaintance with them next time.
4) Law and Psychology.
A senior values seminar, which takes place FRIDAY NIGHTS. I should be rewarded just for signing up for that class and giving up my freedom... Ahem, so my Friday Night adventures are officially over. Law and Psychology are taught by two people, a really cool social psychology professor, whose daughter was in my first Spanish class at Fordham, and a professor from Fordham Law School. GUESS WHAT: I know that professor. This is not the first time I've met him. He came to Fort Hamilton, my high school once, to mentor us on the Mock Trial competition, which Fordham sponsored, and totally scared the hell out of most people, except for me. I loved his style. The second time I interacted him was during the freshman orientation, when we had a mock trial of Galileo (having to do with the book we were supposed to read over the summer, "Galileo's Daughter"), and he was the lawyer, and we were supposed to question him. We were a panel of judges. He managed to make everyone look like an idiot. 'Nough said. It's supposed to be one of the most challenging classes in the school (aside from calculus), and I'm looking forward to that. More details to come!
5)History of Modern Israel.
To come Monday Night. I love the title. The word "modern" implies the tacit acknowledgment of the history behind it, of continuity. That's great. The professor is totally awesome, one of my favorites ever. He's the same professor I had last year for "United States and the Middle East from 1945 to 9/11". He's everything a good professor should be, funny, a great moderator, very knowledgeable about the various tidbits of his subject, and encouraging discussion. Moreover, he introduces us to such a wide variety of viewpoints on every single possible aspect of the class, both last year and this term, that NOBODY can complain. This year's writers range from the most rabid anti-Zionists to very right-wing Zionists to everyone in between. Most of the arm-breaking books I bought were for this class. I CAN'T WAIT!!!
6) Senior Thesis.
Let's not mention this till it's over, shall we?
Excited,
Irina
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Says Who?!
I'm sure everyone has met one of these critters.
The ones, walking around with an unwipeable smug grin on their faces.
The ones, with an ever-patronizing tone in their voice.
The ones, for whom "holier-than-thou" is an understatement.
The ones who can do no wrong.
The most intellectual of intellectuals, the most open-minded of the open-minded, the most tolerant of the tolerant, the treacle sweet, invincible goody-two-shoes you just want to throttle the minute you see them.
Your relative, your friend, your co-worker, a blogger.
There are people you disagree with, but love reading their writing or listening to them, because they are so interesting, and always show you a new way of looking at things.
Then there's that "Army of Saints" you hate to AGREE WITH. They may make good points, deep inside you may even share their convictions - but every time they say something, you feel like saying the exact opposite just because. Just because you can't stand their smug know-it-all tone, that is. Just because you can't stand the way they make you feel inferior, even though you may be their boss. Just because... aw, heck, do you really need reasons to be annoyed?
Numerous times I've sat down and tried to analyze, calmly, logically, why is it that I lose my cool every time I try to have a conversation with one of these folks, or even if I simply read their page. After all, none of them is usually completely stupid. They often have interesting things to say. Why lose out by avoiding them?
Well, that may make me a really shallow person, but I've learned that sometimes the form of a statement is AS important as the substance, if not more. You've got to be able to make your point in such a way that will appeal to your listeners. You've got to make people WANT to hear what it is you've got to say. And the "Army of Saints" has a great way of turning off the average, imperfect by-stander.
For one thing, they make crude generalizations, such as:
"All Americans are materialistic. They can make good money, but don't ask them to read a good book or appreciate great art. They only know how to collect. All they care about is their career, so no American has children before forty, and then they are all infertile. We (insert ethnic group) are much more emotional and sensitive than the Americans. There's no point trying to date an American guy/girl because they are all weird and greedy and you won't find a normal person among them."
OR
"All men are sexist pigs. All they want to do is watch TV. They don't want a wife they want a slave. Forget about enjoying yourself, once you get married. Etc. ) (well, that part may be true, LOL, j/k)
OR
"Women shouldn't stick to having children and working some place quiet. No woman makes a good boss. They are all weak and hysterical. They are driven by their hormones and cannot be trusted with making serious decisions. They should stay out of politics."
OR
"All teenagers are dumb and do drugs. Don't let your child use the computer without your supervision. Don't you know? All they want to do is talk to strangers-cum-pedophiles and watch porn. And for goodness's sake, don't forget to read their diaries. Children don't trust their parents, they are certainly hiding something from you. It's for their own benefit. I know what I'm talking about; I've raised two kids of my own". (And now one of them is in jail, and the other hasn't talked to you in ten years. Ever wonder why?)
Anyway, I'm just saying that I don't have any use for these well-intentioned smarty-pants. Every time, I try to tell them: "Well, maybe SOME representatives of this group are like that, but not everybody", they always shut you up and tell you that it's not exaggeration, and that I'm only angry because I know that they are right and I'm wrong. And when I ask a few of these "saints" to prove their point, they give me anecdotal stories and are then surprised why stupid little me still doesn't agree with them.
Worse still is the fact that they don't just stereotype one group. Having a prejudice against someone is normal. Everyone has it, and we fight it the best way we can, or at least try not to show it. But they stereotype the whole world, assigning roles to every group imaginable, and coming up with the most bewildering qualities for people, they've never even come across.
(By the way, when I'm talking about "them", these "saints", I have a few particular individuals in mind. But I'm sure there are numerous other people fitting this description).
But the worst part about having to deal with them and acknowledging their opinion, is that when they start to moralize.
They tell you (or rather, me) what is the single best (or right) way of doing things.
They tell me why every single thing I believe is wrong, without giving me a single hard fact to prove it.
They, these dear "friends" of mine, base every single argument of theirs on emotional premises, without bothering to check their statistics or history or logical cohesion of their arguments.
They believe they know everything there is to know about life in general, my life specifically, and every single issue out there, from public policy to international affairs to biomedical ethics to various scientific developments.
They think they are the only ones who got it right and everyone else should learn from them. Nay, they have the burden of the intelligentzia to educate their inferiors about the Right Way to Live. They stuff their unneeded advice down your throat, and expect you to kow-tow before them in gratitude.
They are my enemies.
I get especially annoyed when they tell me what is the best way to be Jewish (and oftentimes, they either aren't Jewish at all or Jewish only nominally, with no connection to their identity whatsoever). For goodness's sake, I get less flack from very observant people from these "nice people with good intentions". Why should I respect their opinion and listen to them, if they grand me no such courtesy?
I love it when they attempt to inform me about my holidays with the most knowledgeable of airs - and get everything wrong. When I try to break it to them that well, they should get their fact straight, they resist quite stubbornly.
I love it when they insist on bringing up Jewish ethics every time we discuss some controversial issue. They insist that if I'm as Jewish as I say I am (and how could it be otherwise, pray tell me? Both my parents are Jewish!), I should abide by "Jewish ethics". Of course, they have a very particular interpretation of "Jewish ethics" (their own, that is!), and they expect me to swallow it!
Basically, all they know (or think they know) about Jewish ethics is Tikkun Olam and being tolerant to strangers (without knowing the background of either idea). They generalize the second to some strange, unearthly principle of accepting every idea out there and loving all of humanity, even people who are clearly trying to murder us. They transcend common sense, and to say, that I'm exasperated with their ridiculous comments is not to say anything at all.
Just the other day, I get one of their favorite pearls of wisdom: "How can you be so *harsh*? You're Jewish!..." I didn't listen to the rest.
This expectation of me to behave and judge and think a certain way just because I'm Jewish is a stereotype not any less harmful than the most virulent of anti-Semitism. For one thing, I get a feeling they are getting their information on "all things Jewish" from their VERY assimilated friends. Not to mention that they choose what sounds the most convenient with respect to their own vision of the world.
And secondly - a "positive stereotype" is still a form of prejudice. And frankly, if you ask me, there is no such thing as a positive prejudice.
Maybe it's good for some satire and comedy, but not for dealing with living people in real life.
So please don't project what you WANT to see in Jews - all Jews - on *me*, mm'kay?!
I mean, it's like, Jews don't even have a right to behave like all other groups of people - like individual human beings, with their quirks, flaws, and personal opinions. Jews have to be cookie-cutter characters out of fairy tales about "good Jews" in their eyes.
Well, guess what, my saintly friends - I'm not like any Jew you've created in your own imaginations. I'm a mean, green, right-wing, nasty, intolerant, opinionated, loud, aggressive, nationalistic, scary Jew! I'm your worst nightmare!
So live with it - or go away!
Ahem, just needed to vent. Sorry about that. Back to our regularly scheduled programming.
Subdued,
Irina
The ones, walking around with an unwipeable smug grin on their faces.
The ones, with an ever-patronizing tone in their voice.
The ones, for whom "holier-than-thou" is an understatement.
The ones who can do no wrong.
The most intellectual of intellectuals, the most open-minded of the open-minded, the most tolerant of the tolerant, the treacle sweet, invincible goody-two-shoes you just want to throttle the minute you see them.
Your relative, your friend, your co-worker, a blogger.
There are people you disagree with, but love reading their writing or listening to them, because they are so interesting, and always show you a new way of looking at things.
Then there's that "Army of Saints" you hate to AGREE WITH. They may make good points, deep inside you may even share their convictions - but every time they say something, you feel like saying the exact opposite just because. Just because you can't stand their smug know-it-all tone, that is. Just because you can't stand the way they make you feel inferior, even though you may be their boss. Just because... aw, heck, do you really need reasons to be annoyed?
Numerous times I've sat down and tried to analyze, calmly, logically, why is it that I lose my cool every time I try to have a conversation with one of these folks, or even if I simply read their page. After all, none of them is usually completely stupid. They often have interesting things to say. Why lose out by avoiding them?
Well, that may make me a really shallow person, but I've learned that sometimes the form of a statement is AS important as the substance, if not more. You've got to be able to make your point in such a way that will appeal to your listeners. You've got to make people WANT to hear what it is you've got to say. And the "Army of Saints" has a great way of turning off the average, imperfect by-stander.
For one thing, they make crude generalizations, such as:
"All Americans are materialistic. They can make good money, but don't ask them to read a good book or appreciate great art. They only know how to collect. All they care about is their career, so no American has children before forty, and then they are all infertile. We (insert ethnic group) are much more emotional and sensitive than the Americans. There's no point trying to date an American guy/girl because they are all weird and greedy and you won't find a normal person among them."
OR
"All men are sexist pigs. All they want to do is watch TV. They don't want a wife they want a slave. Forget about enjoying yourself, once you get married. Etc. ) (well, that part may be true, LOL, j/k)
OR
"Women shouldn't stick to having children and working some place quiet. No woman makes a good boss. They are all weak and hysterical. They are driven by their hormones and cannot be trusted with making serious decisions. They should stay out of politics."
OR
"All teenagers are dumb and do drugs. Don't let your child use the computer without your supervision. Don't you know? All they want to do is talk to strangers-cum-pedophiles and watch porn. And for goodness's sake, don't forget to read their diaries. Children don't trust their parents, they are certainly hiding something from you. It's for their own benefit. I know what I'm talking about; I've raised two kids of my own". (And now one of them is in jail, and the other hasn't talked to you in ten years. Ever wonder why?)
Anyway, I'm just saying that I don't have any use for these well-intentioned smarty-pants. Every time, I try to tell them: "Well, maybe SOME representatives of this group are like that, but not everybody", they always shut you up and tell you that it's not exaggeration, and that I'm only angry because I know that they are right and I'm wrong. And when I ask a few of these "saints" to prove their point, they give me anecdotal stories and are then surprised why stupid little me still doesn't agree with them.
Worse still is the fact that they don't just stereotype one group. Having a prejudice against someone is normal. Everyone has it, and we fight it the best way we can, or at least try not to show it. But they stereotype the whole world, assigning roles to every group imaginable, and coming up with the most bewildering qualities for people, they've never even come across.
(By the way, when I'm talking about "them", these "saints", I have a few particular individuals in mind. But I'm sure there are numerous other people fitting this description).
But the worst part about having to deal with them and acknowledging their opinion, is that when they start to moralize.
They tell you (or rather, me) what is the single best (or right) way of doing things.
They tell me why every single thing I believe is wrong, without giving me a single hard fact to prove it.
They, these dear "friends" of mine, base every single argument of theirs on emotional premises, without bothering to check their statistics or history or logical cohesion of their arguments.
They believe they know everything there is to know about life in general, my life specifically, and every single issue out there, from public policy to international affairs to biomedical ethics to various scientific developments.
They think they are the only ones who got it right and everyone else should learn from them. Nay, they have the burden of the intelligentzia to educate their inferiors about the Right Way to Live. They stuff their unneeded advice down your throat, and expect you to kow-tow before them in gratitude.
They are my enemies.
I get especially annoyed when they tell me what is the best way to be Jewish (and oftentimes, they either aren't Jewish at all or Jewish only nominally, with no connection to their identity whatsoever). For goodness's sake, I get less flack from very observant people from these "nice people with good intentions". Why should I respect their opinion and listen to them, if they grand me no such courtesy?
I love it when they attempt to inform me about my holidays with the most knowledgeable of airs - and get everything wrong. When I try to break it to them that well, they should get their fact straight, they resist quite stubbornly.
I love it when they insist on bringing up Jewish ethics every time we discuss some controversial issue. They insist that if I'm as Jewish as I say I am (and how could it be otherwise, pray tell me? Both my parents are Jewish!), I should abide by "Jewish ethics". Of course, they have a very particular interpretation of "Jewish ethics" (their own, that is!), and they expect me to swallow it!
Basically, all they know (or think they know) about Jewish ethics is Tikkun Olam and being tolerant to strangers (without knowing the background of either idea). They generalize the second to some strange, unearthly principle of accepting every idea out there and loving all of humanity, even people who are clearly trying to murder us. They transcend common sense, and to say, that I'm exasperated with their ridiculous comments is not to say anything at all.
Just the other day, I get one of their favorite pearls of wisdom: "How can you be so *harsh*? You're Jewish!..." I didn't listen to the rest.
This expectation of me to behave and judge and think a certain way just because I'm Jewish is a stereotype not any less harmful than the most virulent of anti-Semitism. For one thing, I get a feeling they are getting their information on "all things Jewish" from their VERY assimilated friends. Not to mention that they choose what sounds the most convenient with respect to their own vision of the world.
And secondly - a "positive stereotype" is still a form of prejudice. And frankly, if you ask me, there is no such thing as a positive prejudice.
Maybe it's good for some satire and comedy, but not for dealing with living people in real life.
So please don't project what you WANT to see in Jews - all Jews - on *me*, mm'kay?!
I mean, it's like, Jews don't even have a right to behave like all other groups of people - like individual human beings, with their quirks, flaws, and personal opinions. Jews have to be cookie-cutter characters out of fairy tales about "good Jews" in their eyes.
Well, guess what, my saintly friends - I'm not like any Jew you've created in your own imaginations. I'm a mean, green, right-wing, nasty, intolerant, opinionated, loud, aggressive, nationalistic, scary Jew! I'm your worst nightmare!
So live with it - or go away!
Ahem, just needed to vent. Sorry about that. Back to our regularly scheduled programming.
Subdued,
Irina
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
I AM READY
There's nothing like some good physical work to empty your mind of all the nonsense you stuff it with.
Yesterday I went to the gym for the first time since November. I raised the par A LOT, and knew I would regret it later. But actually, it wasn't as bad as I thought. I know my strength; I know better than to give up when things get tough.
I run, I run, on the treadmill, onwards and onwards, I run, and it feels horrible and wondeful at the same time. I enjoy the challenge. I enjoy my body becoming part of the treadmill. I enjoy not being able to stop. I enjoy feeling like a machine. It's work. I am covered with perspiration. I want to stop, but I'm not allowing myself to do it. I haven't felt that great in months. I feel the pleasure of working, of struggling. Yes, the struggle itself is now becoming rewarding. It's so much better now.
I run and suddenly I realize that I'm really starting to pick myself up.
2005 wasn't a good year for me. Worse than the external factors which weighed down on me was the dark corner into which I've crawled. It wasn't the kind of romantic melancholy you can keep on playing out forever; it was a place so horrible, one day I just realized I couldn't go on like this anymore and had to find a way out of the abyss of misery. I started actively seeking out ways of distraction. I didn't think distraction would really solve my problems, but at least, I felt, it would offer a temporary respite, while I gathered strength and courage to face the obstacles before me.
As they say, it has to get worse before it gets better. Sometimes, we wonder why life punishes us so... why do we have to pay such a heavy toll for the most innocent of mistakes. I found that the answer, for me, is a form of "tough love" from life - so I could appreciate joy and happiness when I see. So I wouldn't be too lazy to reach out and take what life offers me. Not everyone gets that much, and not everyone gets to see the other side. And they lose what they've been offered... and now, I know how it is... and I don't want to return to this place again. Ever.
I've always bragged about wanting to live dangerously, but for a long period of time, found myself doing exactly the opposite. When you're in a dark corner, you're not brave. You don't feel brave. I certainly didn't. I was scared, miserable but scared. The certainty of what I had, however bad it was, appeared to be better than the uncertainty of leaving that safe horrible little haven and exploring other possibilities. I don't know what made it realize that it can't get much worse than what I was living. The most dramatic moments in my life usually pass by unnoticed, until much later on. Maybe someday I'll understand. Whatever the case may be, I finally saw that there was nothing brave about struggling with the unresolvable.
Moreover, I was making MYSELF and others miserable. Unhappiness is egotistic in its nature. When you're unhappy, all you can do is wallow in self-pity and complain, without caring how your condition affects other people. I willingly contributed to the self-perpetuating cycle of suffering, unwilling to take control and End. It. Right. There. Nor did I really care that my problems weren't going to solve themselves. I was too miserable to see past my own misery, and naturally, had a tendency to blow everything out of all proportions.
And now, I see, I really don't want to be there anymore. I've made a decision and I'm living it. Already I'm feeling better about myself and the world in general, more confident, more optimistic, more enthusiastic. I'm finding the old me, the kind of person I once enjoyed being. Already, I enjoy life enough to care about other people and wanting to share that happy feeling with them. If misery is egotistic, then the feeling of regained hope for life makes us selfless.
I wonder at what point do we fall so far into that darkness that we need outside help - support of friends, therapy, even medication - and how do know when we're strong enough to fight it out on our own. What is it that becomes the turning point, the moment when we see there's more than just that darkness to the world. That it doesn't have to be the way it is when we're at the bottom. Whatever the case may be, right now for me it's an uphill struggle. It can only get better.
And, so, I'm turning towards life. I dare to run into its embrace, no matter what it will bring. If I fall... well, I've learned how to get up and start again! It's not going to be easy, nothing worth fighting for ever is. But I... threw off the yoke of misery; it has lost its hold on me. I'm ready for life. I'm ready to be happy. And I'm running... with a smile.
Hopeful,
Irina
Yesterday I went to the gym for the first time since November. I raised the par A LOT, and knew I would regret it later. But actually, it wasn't as bad as I thought. I know my strength; I know better than to give up when things get tough.
I run, I run, on the treadmill, onwards and onwards, I run, and it feels horrible and wondeful at the same time. I enjoy the challenge. I enjoy my body becoming part of the treadmill. I enjoy not being able to stop. I enjoy feeling like a machine. It's work. I am covered with perspiration. I want to stop, but I'm not allowing myself to do it. I haven't felt that great in months. I feel the pleasure of working, of struggling. Yes, the struggle itself is now becoming rewarding. It's so much better now.
I run and suddenly I realize that I'm really starting to pick myself up.
2005 wasn't a good year for me. Worse than the external factors which weighed down on me was the dark corner into which I've crawled. It wasn't the kind of romantic melancholy you can keep on playing out forever; it was a place so horrible, one day I just realized I couldn't go on like this anymore and had to find a way out of the abyss of misery. I started actively seeking out ways of distraction. I didn't think distraction would really solve my problems, but at least, I felt, it would offer a temporary respite, while I gathered strength and courage to face the obstacles before me.
As they say, it has to get worse before it gets better. Sometimes, we wonder why life punishes us so... why do we have to pay such a heavy toll for the most innocent of mistakes. I found that the answer, for me, is a form of "tough love" from life - so I could appreciate joy and happiness when I see. So I wouldn't be too lazy to reach out and take what life offers me. Not everyone gets that much, and not everyone gets to see the other side. And they lose what they've been offered... and now, I know how it is... and I don't want to return to this place again. Ever.
I've always bragged about wanting to live dangerously, but for a long period of time, found myself doing exactly the opposite. When you're in a dark corner, you're not brave. You don't feel brave. I certainly didn't. I was scared, miserable but scared. The certainty of what I had, however bad it was, appeared to be better than the uncertainty of leaving that safe horrible little haven and exploring other possibilities. I don't know what made it realize that it can't get much worse than what I was living. The most dramatic moments in my life usually pass by unnoticed, until much later on. Maybe someday I'll understand. Whatever the case may be, I finally saw that there was nothing brave about struggling with the unresolvable.
Moreover, I was making MYSELF and others miserable. Unhappiness is egotistic in its nature. When you're unhappy, all you can do is wallow in self-pity and complain, without caring how your condition affects other people. I willingly contributed to the self-perpetuating cycle of suffering, unwilling to take control and End. It. Right. There. Nor did I really care that my problems weren't going to solve themselves. I was too miserable to see past my own misery, and naturally, had a tendency to blow everything out of all proportions.
And now, I see, I really don't want to be there anymore. I've made a decision and I'm living it. Already I'm feeling better about myself and the world in general, more confident, more optimistic, more enthusiastic. I'm finding the old me, the kind of person I once enjoyed being. Already, I enjoy life enough to care about other people and wanting to share that happy feeling with them. If misery is egotistic, then the feeling of regained hope for life makes us selfless.
I wonder at what point do we fall so far into that darkness that we need outside help - support of friends, therapy, even medication - and how do know when we're strong enough to fight it out on our own. What is it that becomes the turning point, the moment when we see there's more than just that darkness to the world. That it doesn't have to be the way it is when we're at the bottom. Whatever the case may be, right now for me it's an uphill struggle. It can only get better.
And, so, I'm turning towards life. I dare to run into its embrace, no matter what it will bring. If I fall... well, I've learned how to get up and start again! It's not going to be easy, nothing worth fighting for ever is. But I... threw off the yoke of misery; it has lost its hold on me. I'm ready for life. I'm ready to be happy. And I'm running... with a smile.
Hopeful,
Irina
Monday, January 16, 2006
An Ignoble Idea
It looks like I've been writing more and more frequently on Jewish themes.
Probably because I'm consciously trying to embed myself within the J-blogosphere.
There's nothing wrong with that, except...
Except that's exactly what I've wanted to avoid for a year and a half. I didn't want to attach myself to any particular community, since I felt that as a free spirit, I would have a greater freedom of writing. I wouldn't be constrained to writing on particular themes or orienting my blog in a particular direction.
However, once I decided that J-blogosphere is where I would fit in quite nicely if only I made an effort, I also started writing on various "Jewishy" themes and promoting myself to the Jewish community. Which, in turn, made me feel like somewhat of a sell out because of the limitations I felt I was putting on myself. As a good J-blogger, I felt, I should write at least two Jewishy post each week so I could have something to send to Haveil Havalim. What kind of a Jew am I if I don't write about Jewish issues regularly?!
Except this never felt quite natural. Jewish issues just don't seem to flow out of me the way they flow out of more observant or Israeli or politically oriented bloggers. Sometimes I have more to say, sometimes I have less, but constantly I'm faced with having so much to say about issues which have nothing to do with J-blogosphere. Moreover, the latest kerfuffle over JIB made me realize that, uh, I don't quite fit in the Jewish community after all. For instance, there's nothing about my blog that advocates Israel, except for a couple of logos on the sidebar. And yet, that's what a good J-blogger should be doing. How so? I decided to take a look at what more successful J-bloggers are doing. And yet... yet, Michael raised a valid question in a comment to the previous post:
Is this a flame war?
I think the issue is this: All of these hard right blogs - are they helping Hasbara or are they preaching to the converted? If the answer is the latter, then they shouldn't be nominated because they are not helping anyone.
After thinking about this comment for a moment, I realized that there's some truth to it. Large blogs such as LGF seem to attract hordes of the like-minded, and even smaller, more specific and individualized blogs seem to limit themselves to the largely Jewish blogosphere or its ardent sympathizers/critics. In other words, these blogs attract people who are already, in some way, interested in the issues raised by these blogs. Which means, we really aren't doing a good job of raising awareness and helping persuade people who are straddling the fence in terms of their sympathies.
What's to be done?
I think the obvious answer is that we have to reach a wider audience. But how? HOW? Quite simply... I think we'd be more successful if we wrote about more diverse issues and consciously balanced between the Jewish and Israeli issues and advocacy and things that have more universal appeal. I realize that the balance is hard to reach sometimes. Right now, I'm struggling to find the golden median between writing sufficient number of posts relevant to J-blogosphere and writing enough other posts to keep the interest of my other readers. I also try to reach out to other communities, as well as very individualized readers, with the hope that they will come back to read my blog and take a look at my J-blogosphere related entries. It will take a little bit of time, I'd say, before I find what works best for me.
But I think, other Jewish blogs might want to considere this approach in order to increase the effectiveness of their advocacy.
I think we could use "universal posts" as a bait, to attract other readers and hopefully *get* them interested in our own issues.
Meanwhile, I continue to observe various blog and see what works best for them and whether they are successful in their mission, in terms of actual change affected.
I stand by watchful, alert, and a bit perplexed:
Between two worlds,
Irina
Probably because I'm consciously trying to embed myself within the J-blogosphere.
There's nothing wrong with that, except...
Except that's exactly what I've wanted to avoid for a year and a half. I didn't want to attach myself to any particular community, since I felt that as a free spirit, I would have a greater freedom of writing. I wouldn't be constrained to writing on particular themes or orienting my blog in a particular direction.
However, once I decided that J-blogosphere is where I would fit in quite nicely if only I made an effort, I also started writing on various "Jewishy" themes and promoting myself to the Jewish community. Which, in turn, made me feel like somewhat of a sell out because of the limitations I felt I was putting on myself. As a good J-blogger, I felt, I should write at least two Jewishy post each week so I could have something to send to Haveil Havalim. What kind of a Jew am I if I don't write about Jewish issues regularly?!
Except this never felt quite natural. Jewish issues just don't seem to flow out of me the way they flow out of more observant or Israeli or politically oriented bloggers. Sometimes I have more to say, sometimes I have less, but constantly I'm faced with having so much to say about issues which have nothing to do with J-blogosphere. Moreover, the latest kerfuffle over JIB made me realize that, uh, I don't quite fit in the Jewish community after all. For instance, there's nothing about my blog that advocates Israel, except for a couple of logos on the sidebar. And yet, that's what a good J-blogger should be doing. How so? I decided to take a look at what more successful J-bloggers are doing. And yet... yet, Michael raised a valid question in a comment to the previous post:
Is this a flame war?
I think the issue is this: All of these hard right blogs - are they helping Hasbara or are they preaching to the converted? If the answer is the latter, then they shouldn't be nominated because they are not helping anyone.
After thinking about this comment for a moment, I realized that there's some truth to it. Large blogs such as LGF seem to attract hordes of the like-minded, and even smaller, more specific and individualized blogs seem to limit themselves to the largely Jewish blogosphere or its ardent sympathizers/critics. In other words, these blogs attract people who are already, in some way, interested in the issues raised by these blogs. Which means, we really aren't doing a good job of raising awareness and helping persuade people who are straddling the fence in terms of their sympathies.
What's to be done?
I think the obvious answer is that we have to reach a wider audience. But how? HOW? Quite simply... I think we'd be more successful if we wrote about more diverse issues and consciously balanced between the Jewish and Israeli issues and advocacy and things that have more universal appeal. I realize that the balance is hard to reach sometimes. Right now, I'm struggling to find the golden median between writing sufficient number of posts relevant to J-blogosphere and writing enough other posts to keep the interest of my other readers. I also try to reach out to other communities, as well as very individualized readers, with the hope that they will come back to read my blog and take a look at my J-blogosphere related entries. It will take a little bit of time, I'd say, before I find what works best for me.
But I think, other Jewish blogs might want to considere this approach in order to increase the effectiveness of their advocacy.
I think we could use "universal posts" as a bait, to attract other readers and hopefully *get* them interested in our own issues.
Meanwhile, I continue to observe various blog and see what works best for them and whether they are successful in their mission, in terms of actual change affected.
I stand by watchful, alert, and a bit perplexed:
Between two worlds,
Irina
Sunday, January 15, 2006
To the Jewish Community
I am very saddened by the latest flame war.
To tell you the truth, at this point, I don't care who started it and who said what.
I'm sitting here with my hands over my ears... er.. eyes..., just wishing for this immature mudslinging to stop.
Instead of showing our Gentile readers all the beauty our community has to offer, we (and as I'm part of this community, I bear indirect responsibility for it), are engaging in petty battles over who gets the most votes, missing the point completely.
Instead of ignoring malicious posts, we give in to the childish instict and join the fray. Instead of voicing arguments in all the eloquence our well-practiced writing skills allow us, we undermine our credibility by insulting each other.
Instead of uniting in support of each other, we turn away from our intellectual opponents and behave in exactly the type of shameful way, which would make our enemies happy. Shame on you! I hate to preach. It's not my place. Voting is voting, and feelings get hurt, and egos get bruised... but come on, stop treating people on the opposite wing as your enemies. This is ridiculous.
I don't know what to say. I've restrained myself from answering the most insulting comments directly on the blogs. I don't want to make the mess even bigger than it already is. But you have no idea how painful it is to watch YOUR OWN do this to each other. I wish I had the power to stop this. I wish this didn't start in the first place. It's not the JIBs that are dirty or askew... it's the human nature that is flawed, and which we must overcome. Before Tikkun Olam,we must mend our bonds and strengthen our community. I'm not saying we can ever (or even that we should) resolve all our differences and end all our disagreements. But for goodness's sake's, if we turn every such disagreement into a vitriolic pie-throwing contest, not only won't we get very far, but we'll dig ourselves a grave before any outside forces will.
End of the jeremiad.
Frustrated,
Irina
To tell you the truth, at this point, I don't care who started it and who said what.
I'm sitting here with my hands over my ears... er.. eyes..., just wishing for this immature mudslinging to stop.
Instead of showing our Gentile readers all the beauty our community has to offer, we (and as I'm part of this community, I bear indirect responsibility for it), are engaging in petty battles over who gets the most votes, missing the point completely.
Instead of ignoring malicious posts, we give in to the childish instict and join the fray. Instead of voicing arguments in all the eloquence our well-practiced writing skills allow us, we undermine our credibility by insulting each other.
Instead of uniting in support of each other, we turn away from our intellectual opponents and behave in exactly the type of shameful way, which would make our enemies happy. Shame on you! I hate to preach. It's not my place. Voting is voting, and feelings get hurt, and egos get bruised... but come on, stop treating people on the opposite wing as your enemies. This is ridiculous.
I don't know what to say. I've restrained myself from answering the most insulting comments directly on the blogs. I don't want to make the mess even bigger than it already is. But you have no idea how painful it is to watch YOUR OWN do this to each other. I wish I had the power to stop this. I wish this didn't start in the first place. It's not the JIBs that are dirty or askew... it's the human nature that is flawed, and which we must overcome. Before Tikkun Olam,we must mend our bonds and strengthen our community. I'm not saying we can ever (or even that we should) resolve all our differences and end all our disagreements. But for goodness's sake's, if we turn every such disagreement into a vitriolic pie-throwing contest, not only won't we get very far, but we'll dig ourselves a grave before any outside forces will.
End of the jeremiad.
Frustrated,
Irina
Remembering the Division of Labor
Hollywood should keep to what it does best - entertaining.
It can't go wrong with movies like the new version of "The Producers".
The Times, as always, play the ever-snobbish party pooper, but who cares.
It was a lovely treat, funny, with good acting, and catchy songs. Plus, it didn't cost $100!
The audience didn't care about the reviewers opinion, because it was too busy laughing. Need I say more?
Not that people shouldn't try to produce serious, thought-provoking films. Food for the thought is always welcome. But they should do it when they know what they are talking about - not when they merely THINK they know what they are talking about.
Hollywood knows how to entertain - let it entertain us. And for goodness's sake, leave the preaching to college professors.
Satisfied,
Irina
It can't go wrong with movies like the new version of "The Producers".
The Times, as always, play the ever-snobbish party pooper, but who cares.
It was a lovely treat, funny, with good acting, and catchy songs. Plus, it didn't cost $100!
The audience didn't care about the reviewers opinion, because it was too busy laughing. Need I say more?
Not that people shouldn't try to produce serious, thought-provoking films. Food for the thought is always welcome. But they should do it when they know what they are talking about - not when they merely THINK they know what they are talking about.
Hollywood knows how to entertain - let it entertain us. And for goodness's sake, leave the preaching to college professors.
Satisfied,
Irina
For A Good Cause
Charlie has gone to New Orleans. Please visit his blog and take a look at the harrowing photos he's posted. He's also going to be updating his blog on his work there; he's doing a wonderful thing.
Admiring,
Irina
Admiring,
Irina
Haveil Havalim # 53
Haveil Havalim #53 is up at Elie's Expositions.
Haveil Havalim is the carnival of Jewish blogs -- a weekly collection of Jewish & Israeli blog highlights, tidbits and points of interest collected from blogs all around the world. It’s hosted by different bloggers each week and coordinated by Soccer Dad. The term “Haveil Havalim”, which means "Vanity of Vanities", is from Kohelet, Ecclesiastes, which was written by King Solomon. Solomon built the Holy Temple in Jerusalem and later on got all bogged down in materialism and other “excesses” and realized that it was nothing but “hevel”, or in English, “vanities.”
Next week's Haveil Havalim will be hosted by Jack's Shack.
Email submissions to talktojacknow@sbcglobal.net
Enjoy!
Participating,
Irina
Haveil Havalim is the carnival of Jewish blogs -- a weekly collection of Jewish & Israeli blog highlights, tidbits and points of interest collected from blogs all around the world. It’s hosted by different bloggers each week and coordinated by Soccer Dad. The term “Haveil Havalim”, which means "Vanity of Vanities", is from Kohelet, Ecclesiastes, which was written by King Solomon. Solomon built the Holy Temple in Jerusalem and later on got all bogged down in materialism and other “excesses” and realized that it was nothing but “hevel”, or in English, “vanities.”
Next week's Haveil Havalim will be hosted by Jack's Shack.
Email submissions to talktojacknow@sbcglobal.net
Enjoy!
Participating,
Irina
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Table Politics Can Cause Indigestion
For as long as I can remember, my family had fun yelling at the news at dinnertime.
Whenever, my relatives gather for a celebration, we're all sure to disscuss two issues: deadly diseases, and the latest political developments.
We shout over each other, we interrupt each other constantly, we rant, rave, and spit... but it's all in good humor.
A few weeks ago, we had a very intense dispute, as one of us was driving a car. (I do NOT recommend driving and arguing politics, by the way!) Nevertheless, we knew that the dispute wouldn't go anywhere, and that in reality we all agreed on major points, and this little argument was simply a way of shaking things up a little bit and provoking thoughts. It's not good to always agree on everything - leads to intellectual laziness.
But, you see, we enjoy these little intellectual challenges ONLY because we're overall of one mind.
What happens if you started talking politics with people outside your immediate circle?
Treppenwitz writes about avoiding hot-button issues when making initial acquantances with people you want to befriend (unless you're trying to find a spouse). His method seems to make sense if you want to avoid turning off someone who has opposing viewpoints. Some things are just not worth the hassle.
However, let's say you've known your friend for a number of years. And your friendship is of the kind that Aristotle would approve of - based on common values, rather than simply mutual interests or usefulness to each other. If your friendship is so strong, is it "safe" or even necessary to bring up political issues?
Of course, not every personality type is suited for engaging in a heated debate. Nevertheless, I was always of an opinion that really good friends are close enough to discuss just about anything - and to respect each other's opinion. Moreover, political issues often touch on deep-set values... and discussing them helps uncover the real strength of your friendship.
Sometimes, your friend may disagree with you because of ignorance of an issue... bringing up a political controversy would help you educate your friend and help him or her make more balanced decisions. On the other hand, if you already know where your friend stands, and the issue is not crucial to either of you, there's obviously no point arguing over something, if you know for sure neither of you is going to change your mind.
However, I've always felt that really good friends would never let something stupid, like politics, stand between them.
Quite recently, I observed how a joking sparring match between two old friends with opposing viewpoints on a variety of issues deteriorated into a full-blown quarrel at dinnertime (but fortunately, the two managed to mend their relations in the end, probably because they knew each other well enough to judge each other a decent person in the end). Such a development was a surprise to me, despite having been often warned against engaging in political discussion during dinner. Potential opponents sometimes get carried away over food, and things can get ugly over simple misunderstanding... so there should obviously be an appropriate context even for such discussions.
I've also known friends who've agreed to disagree and purposely avoided political discussions of any kind. I've oftend wondered how much of closeness they really shared. Not that really close people cannot disagree over certain things, including political issues - I have my differences even with my parents, although their viewpoints generally match mine very closely. What I'm saying is, if you can't even disagree *politely* without offending each other, if your opinions are far enough for you not to be able to respect each other's viewpoint, how much is such friendship really worth?
I find this issue extremely troublesome. As my own political awareness grows, I find myself retreating deeper and deeper into a circle of like-minded. I'm avoiding major political disagreement, because usually people are pretty entrenched over the most controversial points, and eventually wind up rehashing the same old arguments ad nauseaum. I found that in real life, political differences have alienated me from the vast majority of my peers... and that I've come to seek out bloggers, who at least know enough about issues at stake to have an intelligent discussion. Amazingly, I'm now better able to control myself online than in real life, perhaps due to lack of practice in the latter.
It's comforting to find the circle of people with whom you can disagree on subtle points, just enough to keep from getting bored with each other, but who understands your point of view and with whom you don't have to worry about being politically correct and accidentally offending him or her. But retreating as far as I have is also extremely limiting and destructive to one's social life and ability to lead balanced and productive debates.
As time passes, and more seems to be at stake in terms of the issues, which matter to me, it's getting harder and harder to find the balance between the two extremes.
In any case, I've learned my lesson: from now on, I'll limit table politics to my immediate family. No one else can be trusted to keep peace!
Annoyed,
Irina
Whenever, my relatives gather for a celebration, we're all sure to disscuss two issues: deadly diseases, and the latest political developments.
We shout over each other, we interrupt each other constantly, we rant, rave, and spit... but it's all in good humor.
A few weeks ago, we had a very intense dispute, as one of us was driving a car. (I do NOT recommend driving and arguing politics, by the way!) Nevertheless, we knew that the dispute wouldn't go anywhere, and that in reality we all agreed on major points, and this little argument was simply a way of shaking things up a little bit and provoking thoughts. It's not good to always agree on everything - leads to intellectual laziness.
But, you see, we enjoy these little intellectual challenges ONLY because we're overall of one mind.
What happens if you started talking politics with people outside your immediate circle?
Treppenwitz writes about avoiding hot-button issues when making initial acquantances with people you want to befriend (unless you're trying to find a spouse). His method seems to make sense if you want to avoid turning off someone who has opposing viewpoints. Some things are just not worth the hassle.
However, let's say you've known your friend for a number of years. And your friendship is of the kind that Aristotle would approve of - based on common values, rather than simply mutual interests or usefulness to each other. If your friendship is so strong, is it "safe" or even necessary to bring up political issues?
Of course, not every personality type is suited for engaging in a heated debate. Nevertheless, I was always of an opinion that really good friends are close enough to discuss just about anything - and to respect each other's opinion. Moreover, political issues often touch on deep-set values... and discussing them helps uncover the real strength of your friendship.
Sometimes, your friend may disagree with you because of ignorance of an issue... bringing up a political controversy would help you educate your friend and help him or her make more balanced decisions. On the other hand, if you already know where your friend stands, and the issue is not crucial to either of you, there's obviously no point arguing over something, if you know for sure neither of you is going to change your mind.
However, I've always felt that really good friends would never let something stupid, like politics, stand between them.
Quite recently, I observed how a joking sparring match between two old friends with opposing viewpoints on a variety of issues deteriorated into a full-blown quarrel at dinnertime (but fortunately, the two managed to mend their relations in the end, probably because they knew each other well enough to judge each other a decent person in the end). Such a development was a surprise to me, despite having been often warned against engaging in political discussion during dinner. Potential opponents sometimes get carried away over food, and things can get ugly over simple misunderstanding... so there should obviously be an appropriate context even for such discussions.
I've also known friends who've agreed to disagree and purposely avoided political discussions of any kind. I've oftend wondered how much of closeness they really shared. Not that really close people cannot disagree over certain things, including political issues - I have my differences even with my parents, although their viewpoints generally match mine very closely. What I'm saying is, if you can't even disagree *politely* without offending each other, if your opinions are far enough for you not to be able to respect each other's viewpoint, how much is such friendship really worth?
I find this issue extremely troublesome. As my own political awareness grows, I find myself retreating deeper and deeper into a circle of like-minded. I'm avoiding major political disagreement, because usually people are pretty entrenched over the most controversial points, and eventually wind up rehashing the same old arguments ad nauseaum. I found that in real life, political differences have alienated me from the vast majority of my peers... and that I've come to seek out bloggers, who at least know enough about issues at stake to have an intelligent discussion. Amazingly, I'm now better able to control myself online than in real life, perhaps due to lack of practice in the latter.
It's comforting to find the circle of people with whom you can disagree on subtle points, just enough to keep from getting bored with each other, but who understands your point of view and with whom you don't have to worry about being politically correct and accidentally offending him or her. But retreating as far as I have is also extremely limiting and destructive to one's social life and ability to lead balanced and productive debates.
As time passes, and more seems to be at stake in terms of the issues, which matter to me, it's getting harder and harder to find the balance between the two extremes.
In any case, I've learned my lesson: from now on, I'll limit table politics to my immediate family. No one else can be trusted to keep peace!
Annoyed,
Irina
Friday, January 13, 2006
The Nameless XXXVIII
The Nameless I * The Nameless II * The Nameless III * The Nameless IV * The Nameless V * The Nameless VI * The Nameless VII * The Nameless VIII * The Nameless IX * The Nameless X * The Nameless XI * The Nameless XII * The Nameless XIII * The Nameless XIV * The Nameless XV * The Nameless XVI * The Nameless XVII * The Nameless XVIII * The Nameless XIX * The Nameless XX * The Nameless XXI * The Nameless XXII * The Nameless XXIII * The Nameless XXIV * The Nameless XXV * The Nameless XXVI * The Nameless XXVII * The Nameless XXVIII * The Nameless XXIX * The Nameless XXX * The Nameless XXXI * The Nameless XXXII * The Nameless XXXIII The Nameless XXXIV * The Nameless XXXV * The Nameless XXXVI * The Nameless XXXVII
He turned around to see the intermediary.
And some distance away, stood both guards, smirking. It was a set-up. He was betrayed.
It took a fraction of a second for The Jackal to assess the situation, and the next moment he found himself running. Not because he thought he had a chance... but because he simply couldn't think of anything else to do. He couldn't just stand there, waiting to be dragged away. However, he didn't make more than a couple of steps before he was tackled to the ground by the guards.
"So you wanted to run away, huh? - he heard the intermediary screech from somewhere behind him. - You think you're so smart? Well, we'll teach you! Have fun with him boys... Have fun with him, boys... have fun..."
The intermediary's voice echoed in his mind, though the intermediary himself had left. It was amazing that through it all he still managed to hang on to some concrete sensations, to the sound of a human voice. If he just concentrated on that, he could avoid the utter humiliation of his defeat... and the pain from the blows, raining down on him. Just yesterday, he would have been happy to let go, to allow darkness to overtake him... but now, something pushed him to hang on to the remains of his consciousness.
He suddenly remembered how he started to run, years ago. He was feeble and weak, and wheezed even after a fast walk. And the first time he really pushed himself, he thought he was going to die. First, his ankles started to burn. Then, that sharp ache in his side... Nausea rolling up to his throat, and darkness before his eyes. He couldn't do it anymore! There was no one to stand guard over him, no one to force him. He was alone, and he was free to stop whenever he wanted to. He was free to go; he didn't have to torture himself. He couldn't breathe. The pain, the goddamn pain in his ankles... if he went on for a minute longer, he'd surely faint. "That's it - he thought. I can't go on anymore. I'm giving myself a minute and then I'm giving up. Today's clearly not a good day."
And when the minute was up, he was about to stop... but a voice in his head whispered: "Just another minute. And that's it. Then you'll be free to go." And at the end of every minute, the feeling intensified. He really thought he couldn't make it. He had no idea what made him continue pushing. But all of a sudden, just a few minutes later, he noticed that the burning in his ankles was fading... fading... gone... and the nausea let go... He was almost back to normal. He found the strength to continue... and as suddenly as the darkness had passed, he felt a strange new feeling... that of release and complete liberation... his body felt so light, so strong... He felt he could go on for hours. He won.
And now, he was remembering the experience, reliving it. Reliving the sharp pain, the darkness coming over him. He didn't even notice himself whispering: "Just a minute more... and then I can let my mind go... I don't have to be here... I don't have to feel all this..."... It didn't seem to be getting any better; on the contrary, he felt he couldn't bear it any longer. The pain was more intense; he couldn't breathe. But he knew his body. He knew he could tolerate much more than he thought he could. His mind went back to those early days of training. The first day was just the beginning of an immense struggle. He learned that winning over himself once was not enough; it didn't solve anything. He had to struggle the same way every day that he trained... and every day he had to learn to win. But it got easier, not because the training became any lighter, but because he knew that the desire to stop was just a trick, a trick made to make him give up. He knew it was an illusion, and he knew he was better than that. That's why he never fell for it... and every day, he won again. Every day was a victory.
How was today any different? True, he wasn't running. But again he was being asked to win over himself... Not to give in... To keep aware, even at the price of pain.
And suddenly, he felt a strange kind of detachment... He seemed to separate from his own body, watching the guards hit it, again and again. And the body felt every blow, but *he* didn't. He was just waiting for it to stop.
Finally, it did stop. The guards carried his half-conscious body back into the basement and threw him on the floor. His body hit the cold tiles with a thump, and he suddenly felt himself returning to this pathetic, beaten shell. He was himself again, and he had to cope with what they had done to him. He looked at the guards, but he couldn't see them. They were shining light right into his eyes.
"He's ready." - one of them whispered to the other. He couldn't tell which one; in the end, they were all the same. All of them.
And then... and then there was cold water being poured all over a him... and he was gasping, trying not to choke on the liquid. He saw them there, standing before him. They were smirking, laughing.
"The Jackal... whispered one of them - and they burst out laughing again.
God, how he hated them.
"Well, you've broken the rules - goaded one of them - and now we'll have to punish you."
What now. Haven't they had enough. WHAT MORE COULD THEY DO TO HIM??
"Remember your friends? Hmm? Remember them?"
He stared at them, trying to understand what they were saying.
"What... what..."
"Your friend Gideon? Best friend? And that cute girl agent of yours, Lilith? And Amikam, your favorite hero? Remember them?"
He blinked and blinked, trying to focus on what they were saying. Why... what were they...
"Your friends are going to pay for what you did. Sorry. We don't like doing this... but you brought it upon them yourself. You ran. You broke the rules."
He couldn't understand anything. Why were they accusing him of something? They set it up! They set it up!
"Bring in his friends" - he heard a growling voice.
And then... he heard the sound of a slap, and a young girl's voice... She was screaming.
"Recognize her?"
"Lilith!" - he exclaimed. Where did he find the strength for yelling?
He heard more blows and exclamations, screams. This time two male voices joined the girl's. Those voices, without a question, were very familiar.
How... How did this happen?
"No! Stop! Please stop!" - he heard. Was it Gideon? My God, what were these bastards doing to them? - he thought.
"If any of them get hurt..." - he whispered.
"What? What will you do? - jeered the guards. Your friends *are* being hurt. Right now. So what can you do? Huh? What can you do?!"
More screams. Thank goodness he didn't have to watch the torture.
"Let them go! They have nothing to do with this! Please, let them go!"
In reply, he only heard more laughter and blows. And screams. A woman was weeping and begging to be let go. Lilith. Those bastards.
"Let them go! LET THEM GO, I SAID! STOP! LEAVE THEM ALOOOONE!"
He didn't notice that he was wailing. He didn't hear how pathetic he sounded. He wouldn't have cared.
And they laughed.
"Let them go..."
At last they got to him. He had no more strength left. They won. He felt broken, completely broken. There was nothing left for him but to implore, to beg, to beg... And he humbled himself and implored them and looked at them... but saw no signs of mercy. They didn't care. He tried to shut his ears, to keep out the screams of the unfortunate Lions, but they... they wouldn't let him have peace.
At last there was silence.
"What have you done..." - he whispered. He couldn't recognize his own voice; it was so hoarse.
They laughed.
"Where are they? Where are they YOU BASTARDS YOU... WHERE ARE THEY? SHOW THEM TO ME..."
And then he saw their faces and understood.
"NOOO! NOO! You can't do that! You... let them go! Let them... No..."
...
"Good job!" - said Tough Luck, with surprise and admiration in his voice. His young colleague accomplished in a matter of minutes what both of them had tried, in vain, to achieve for weeks.
They left the prisoner a broken, weeping, pathetic mess.
Almost a shame, thought Tough Luck, it was fun trying to break him down.
But now he knew his place. Now he was ready for what the boss wanted.
They would give him a day or do to recuperate... but The Jackal would be eating out of their hands from now on. He had nothing to fight for.
(to be continued),
Infuriated,
Irina
He turned around to see the intermediary.
And some distance away, stood both guards, smirking. It was a set-up. He was betrayed.
It took a fraction of a second for The Jackal to assess the situation, and the next moment he found himself running. Not because he thought he had a chance... but because he simply couldn't think of anything else to do. He couldn't just stand there, waiting to be dragged away. However, he didn't make more than a couple of steps before he was tackled to the ground by the guards.
"So you wanted to run away, huh? - he heard the intermediary screech from somewhere behind him. - You think you're so smart? Well, we'll teach you! Have fun with him boys... Have fun with him, boys... have fun..."
The intermediary's voice echoed in his mind, though the intermediary himself had left. It was amazing that through it all he still managed to hang on to some concrete sensations, to the sound of a human voice. If he just concentrated on that, he could avoid the utter humiliation of his defeat... and the pain from the blows, raining down on him. Just yesterday, he would have been happy to let go, to allow darkness to overtake him... but now, something pushed him to hang on to the remains of his consciousness.
He suddenly remembered how he started to run, years ago. He was feeble and weak, and wheezed even after a fast walk. And the first time he really pushed himself, he thought he was going to die. First, his ankles started to burn. Then, that sharp ache in his side... Nausea rolling up to his throat, and darkness before his eyes. He couldn't do it anymore! There was no one to stand guard over him, no one to force him. He was alone, and he was free to stop whenever he wanted to. He was free to go; he didn't have to torture himself. He couldn't breathe. The pain, the goddamn pain in his ankles... if he went on for a minute longer, he'd surely faint. "That's it - he thought. I can't go on anymore. I'm giving myself a minute and then I'm giving up. Today's clearly not a good day."
And when the minute was up, he was about to stop... but a voice in his head whispered: "Just another minute. And that's it. Then you'll be free to go." And at the end of every minute, the feeling intensified. He really thought he couldn't make it. He had no idea what made him continue pushing. But all of a sudden, just a few minutes later, he noticed that the burning in his ankles was fading... fading... gone... and the nausea let go... He was almost back to normal. He found the strength to continue... and as suddenly as the darkness had passed, he felt a strange new feeling... that of release and complete liberation... his body felt so light, so strong... He felt he could go on for hours. He won.
And now, he was remembering the experience, reliving it. Reliving the sharp pain, the darkness coming over him. He didn't even notice himself whispering: "Just a minute more... and then I can let my mind go... I don't have to be here... I don't have to feel all this..."... It didn't seem to be getting any better; on the contrary, he felt he couldn't bear it any longer. The pain was more intense; he couldn't breathe. But he knew his body. He knew he could tolerate much more than he thought he could. His mind went back to those early days of training. The first day was just the beginning of an immense struggle. He learned that winning over himself once was not enough; it didn't solve anything. He had to struggle the same way every day that he trained... and every day he had to learn to win. But it got easier, not because the training became any lighter, but because he knew that the desire to stop was just a trick, a trick made to make him give up. He knew it was an illusion, and he knew he was better than that. That's why he never fell for it... and every day, he won again. Every day was a victory.
How was today any different? True, he wasn't running. But again he was being asked to win over himself... Not to give in... To keep aware, even at the price of pain.
And suddenly, he felt a strange kind of detachment... He seemed to separate from his own body, watching the guards hit it, again and again. And the body felt every blow, but *he* didn't. He was just waiting for it to stop.
Finally, it did stop. The guards carried his half-conscious body back into the basement and threw him on the floor. His body hit the cold tiles with a thump, and he suddenly felt himself returning to this pathetic, beaten shell. He was himself again, and he had to cope with what they had done to him. He looked at the guards, but he couldn't see them. They were shining light right into his eyes.
"He's ready." - one of them whispered to the other. He couldn't tell which one; in the end, they were all the same. All of them.
And then... and then there was cold water being poured all over a him... and he was gasping, trying not to choke on the liquid. He saw them there, standing before him. They were smirking, laughing.
"The Jackal... whispered one of them - and they burst out laughing again.
God, how he hated them.
"Well, you've broken the rules - goaded one of them - and now we'll have to punish you."
What now. Haven't they had enough. WHAT MORE COULD THEY DO TO HIM??
"Remember your friends? Hmm? Remember them?"
He stared at them, trying to understand what they were saying.
"What... what..."
"Your friend Gideon? Best friend? And that cute girl agent of yours, Lilith? And Amikam, your favorite hero? Remember them?"
He blinked and blinked, trying to focus on what they were saying. Why... what were they...
"Your friends are going to pay for what you did. Sorry. We don't like doing this... but you brought it upon them yourself. You ran. You broke the rules."
He couldn't understand anything. Why were they accusing him of something? They set it up! They set it up!
"Bring in his friends" - he heard a growling voice.
And then... he heard the sound of a slap, and a young girl's voice... She was screaming.
"Recognize her?"
"Lilith!" - he exclaimed. Where did he find the strength for yelling?
He heard more blows and exclamations, screams. This time two male voices joined the girl's. Those voices, without a question, were very familiar.
How... How did this happen?
"No! Stop! Please stop!" - he heard. Was it Gideon? My God, what were these bastards doing to them? - he thought.
"If any of them get hurt..." - he whispered.
"What? What will you do? - jeered the guards. Your friends *are* being hurt. Right now. So what can you do? Huh? What can you do?!"
More screams. Thank goodness he didn't have to watch the torture.
"Let them go! They have nothing to do with this! Please, let them go!"
In reply, he only heard more laughter and blows. And screams. A woman was weeping and begging to be let go. Lilith. Those bastards.
"Let them go! LET THEM GO, I SAID! STOP! LEAVE THEM ALOOOONE!"
He didn't notice that he was wailing. He didn't hear how pathetic he sounded. He wouldn't have cared.
And they laughed.
"Let them go..."
At last they got to him. He had no more strength left. They won. He felt broken, completely broken. There was nothing left for him but to implore, to beg, to beg... And he humbled himself and implored them and looked at them... but saw no signs of mercy. They didn't care. He tried to shut his ears, to keep out the screams of the unfortunate Lions, but they... they wouldn't let him have peace.
At last there was silence.
"What have you done..." - he whispered. He couldn't recognize his own voice; it was so hoarse.
They laughed.
"Where are they? Where are they YOU BASTARDS YOU... WHERE ARE THEY? SHOW THEM TO ME..."
And then he saw their faces and understood.
"NOOO! NOO! You can't do that! You... let them go! Let them... No..."
...
"Good job!" - said Tough Luck, with surprise and admiration in his voice. His young colleague accomplished in a matter of minutes what both of them had tried, in vain, to achieve for weeks.
They left the prisoner a broken, weeping, pathetic mess.
Almost a shame, thought Tough Luck, it was fun trying to break him down.
But now he knew his place. Now he was ready for what the boss wanted.
They would give him a day or do to recuperate... but The Jackal would be eating out of their hands from now on. He had nothing to fight for.
(to be continued),
Infuriated,
Irina
A Dirty Secret
Ah... nothing like Friday the Thirteenth!
Anyway, I have a secret to share.
Guess what? Although it often sounds like I'm a very opinionated, confident, goal-oriented person... the reality is a little more complex.
I'm struggling.
I'm reading all these different opinions of different people on a variety of topics... and feel constantly being challenged.
I'm learning to see points of view I haven't even thought of before.
I guess it means I'm also growing as a person.
But personal growth doesn't come without its growing pains. The most difficult part is holding myself accountable for the conclusions I make, for the decisions I come to. It's so easy just to say: "Oh, I don't know anything about this; I'm not part of this; leave me out of it." It's equally easy to use my blog as a convenient shell for discussing things I'm interested in and I like, and ignoring things that make me uncomfortable. My blog is my blog.
But what happens when I go a-visitin'? When I stop by to read other blog posts and discussions?
Of course, I always try to behave respectfully. If I disagree, I try to restrain myself and word my positinion in an inoffensive way. That part, I think, is just common sense, which every polite person should observe.
But the dynamics of the blogosphere have evolved beyond simple discussion, into complex interactions which often reflect the way similar situations occurring in real life. Which often raises MUCH more challenging questions.
For example, am I morally obligated to comment whenever someone writes about a difficult or sad or painful situation? I've seen how such well-meaning efforts can deteriorated into pity parties, not always the reaction the blogger is going for. I've always made an effort to sound as sincere as possible, but I usually find that other commenters always sound so much better, so much more sympathetic, mature and wise. I don't know who and how teaches people to write beautiful words of support, but I don't always know what to say when everyone else has already put the same thing much better than I can do. It makes me embarrassed to even say anything, especially if I don't know the blogger very well, and my simple words will be lost among numerous other comments anyway. (Nevertheless, I almost always say something anyway, even if I've never read the blogger before).
Still more difficult situation is when someone attacks the blogger in the comments section. My first instinct is to defend the blogger, even if the blogger is not my "bloggie-friend" and even if no one's asking for my help. Most of the time, bloggers are eloquent writers who are more than capable of defending themselves. However, the hidden underdog sympathizer in me usually reacts before I even have time to think about it, and there I go, embarrassing myself completely and picking fights I really don't need. That already happened on a couple of occasions, fortunately with no dire consequences for anyone involved.
What's wrong with this instinct of mine?
Well, very simply - it's not always called for! I mean, let's look at it this way. I'm at someone else's blog, someone else's personal space - and I'm butting into someone else's business without being asked. What if, despite my good intentions, I'm just being a rude busybody? How to balance good intentions with propriety and tact?
Afterwards, I usually yell at myself quietly for being such a sentimental fool. Let's admit it, a good portion of my "good intention" is just plain old sentimentality - a mushy desire to play the heroine and stand forward on behalf of the weak. Even if the "weak" are really strong people and are annoyed by my squeaking.
But again, I don't tend to think my actions through, and give way to instinct - especially, if I don't see anyone else addressing the specific ad hominem attacks of the troll. Yup, I am good at making enemies and offending people.
Sometimes, I try to put myself in place of the besieged blogger. Would I have wanted outside help if I were being attacked ruthlessly on my own blog?
I pride myself on being thick-skinned when it comes to insults, on being able to stand up for itself. What kind of a lawyer will I make if I'm not able to give as good as I get in a dispute? The truth is, I'd be grateful for defense from my fellow visitiors, but I might also find it a little embarrassing, as if I can't handle the situation. Besides, depending on the dynamics of the comment section, it might create a wrong impression - as if I'm letting my visitors brawl among themselves, while I stand by and watch helplessly.
Perhaps, other bloggers may feel the same way. Unfortunately, so far I haven't seen a single person write on this subject, so I have no idea what is the best way to behave in such situations. Perhaps, the bloggers DO need help, perhaps they are feeling vulnerable, but are embarrassed to ask their visitors to stand up for them? Perhaps, I AM doing the right thing, and the bloggers are glad that someone respects them enough to take on a troll in their behalf?
This is all so confusing.
You see, in the blogosphere I try to behave the way I would in real life. Except, in real life, I'd probably be too shy to address an aggressor directly and say: "Get the hell away from him/her; what do you think you're doing." I'm very awkward, and don't look very convincing when I try to defend someone. (Not that I had a real occasion to, but you know what I mean.) In the blogosphere, I feel brave and heroic, and am always glad to be of help, if I can. What a way to show myself off! And then, immediately, I grow ashamed of myself for being happy that someone got attacked, and there's a struggle going on: To interfere or not.
Whereas there is a very general "code of honor", etiquette, of good blogging behavior, it has no provisions for such situations.
Perhaps, if my readers are kind enough to volunteer there are opinions, we can start the process rolling - and make these situations easier in the future for confused blog visitors like me.
Well-meaning,
Irina
Anyway, I have a secret to share.
Guess what? Although it often sounds like I'm a very opinionated, confident, goal-oriented person... the reality is a little more complex.
I'm struggling.
I'm reading all these different opinions of different people on a variety of topics... and feel constantly being challenged.
I'm learning to see points of view I haven't even thought of before.
I guess it means I'm also growing as a person.
But personal growth doesn't come without its growing pains. The most difficult part is holding myself accountable for the conclusions I make, for the decisions I come to. It's so easy just to say: "Oh, I don't know anything about this; I'm not part of this; leave me out of it." It's equally easy to use my blog as a convenient shell for discussing things I'm interested in and I like, and ignoring things that make me uncomfortable. My blog is my blog.
But what happens when I go a-visitin'? When I stop by to read other blog posts and discussions?
Of course, I always try to behave respectfully. If I disagree, I try to restrain myself and word my positinion in an inoffensive way. That part, I think, is just common sense, which every polite person should observe.
But the dynamics of the blogosphere have evolved beyond simple discussion, into complex interactions which often reflect the way similar situations occurring in real life. Which often raises MUCH more challenging questions.
For example, am I morally obligated to comment whenever someone writes about a difficult or sad or painful situation? I've seen how such well-meaning efforts can deteriorated into pity parties, not always the reaction the blogger is going for. I've always made an effort to sound as sincere as possible, but I usually find that other commenters always sound so much better, so much more sympathetic, mature and wise. I don't know who and how teaches people to write beautiful words of support, but I don't always know what to say when everyone else has already put the same thing much better than I can do. It makes me embarrassed to even say anything, especially if I don't know the blogger very well, and my simple words will be lost among numerous other comments anyway. (Nevertheless, I almost always say something anyway, even if I've never read the blogger before).
Still more difficult situation is when someone attacks the blogger in the comments section. My first instinct is to defend the blogger, even if the blogger is not my "bloggie-friend" and even if no one's asking for my help. Most of the time, bloggers are eloquent writers who are more than capable of defending themselves. However, the hidden underdog sympathizer in me usually reacts before I even have time to think about it, and there I go, embarrassing myself completely and picking fights I really don't need. That already happened on a couple of occasions, fortunately with no dire consequences for anyone involved.
What's wrong with this instinct of mine?
Well, very simply - it's not always called for! I mean, let's look at it this way. I'm at someone else's blog, someone else's personal space - and I'm butting into someone else's business without being asked. What if, despite my good intentions, I'm just being a rude busybody? How to balance good intentions with propriety and tact?
Afterwards, I usually yell at myself quietly for being such a sentimental fool. Let's admit it, a good portion of my "good intention" is just plain old sentimentality - a mushy desire to play the heroine and stand forward on behalf of the weak. Even if the "weak" are really strong people and are annoyed by my squeaking.
But again, I don't tend to think my actions through, and give way to instinct - especially, if I don't see anyone else addressing the specific ad hominem attacks of the troll. Yup, I am good at making enemies and offending people.
Sometimes, I try to put myself in place of the besieged blogger. Would I have wanted outside help if I were being attacked ruthlessly on my own blog?
I pride myself on being thick-skinned when it comes to insults, on being able to stand up for itself. What kind of a lawyer will I make if I'm not able to give as good as I get in a dispute? The truth is, I'd be grateful for defense from my fellow visitiors, but I might also find it a little embarrassing, as if I can't handle the situation. Besides, depending on the dynamics of the comment section, it might create a wrong impression - as if I'm letting my visitors brawl among themselves, while I stand by and watch helplessly.
Perhaps, other bloggers may feel the same way. Unfortunately, so far I haven't seen a single person write on this subject, so I have no idea what is the best way to behave in such situations. Perhaps, the bloggers DO need help, perhaps they are feeling vulnerable, but are embarrassed to ask their visitors to stand up for them? Perhaps, I AM doing the right thing, and the bloggers are glad that someone respects them enough to take on a troll in their behalf?
This is all so confusing.
You see, in the blogosphere I try to behave the way I would in real life. Except, in real life, I'd probably be too shy to address an aggressor directly and say: "Get the hell away from him/her; what do you think you're doing." I'm very awkward, and don't look very convincing when I try to defend someone. (Not that I had a real occasion to, but you know what I mean.) In the blogosphere, I feel brave and heroic, and am always glad to be of help, if I can. What a way to show myself off! And then, immediately, I grow ashamed of myself for being happy that someone got attacked, and there's a struggle going on: To interfere or not.
Whereas there is a very general "code of honor", etiquette, of good blogging behavior, it has no provisions for such situations.
Perhaps, if my readers are kind enough to volunteer there are opinions, we can start the process rolling - and make these situations easier in the future for confused blog visitors like me.
Well-meaning,
Irina
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Hell Just Froze Over! Let's Go Skating!
I never thought the day would come when I would find myself debating whether or not to go to the movies.
I mean... that's a non-issue. A red herring.
To watch or not to watch... That is a stupid question!
Nevertheless, recent events have found me defending me *both* sides of the argument.
In reality, it all started with the hoopla over "The Passion of the Christ". During the months of fuss surrounding the movie, many of my acquaintances decided not to see the movie, because of the allegations that it included some anti-Semitic scenes.
Which is exactly what made me want to see the movie. I figured that as long as a shadow of reasonable doubt remains, I ought to give the movie a chance. Perhaps I would see things differently from everyone else. The chances are slim, but who knows. (I had to agree with the conclusions of the critics). Nevertheless, I felt satisfied with my own sense of justice and open-mindedness.
The same happened with Munich, though the reverberations seemed more limited to the Jewish community, and appeared to have less of a national impact. I just couldn't believe someone like Steven Spielberg would make a blatantly anti-Israeli movie. I went, I saw, and I drew my own conclusions. Everything's fine. I figure, some people are saying this, some people are saying that; how am I supposed to know the truth until I see it with my own four eyes? Again, I left feeling proud of being such an intellectually open person, however disturbed I was by what I saw in the movie.
In light of these two episodes, one may think that it would be inconsistent of me to refuse to see a movie because of its content alone.
I was asked to go watch "Brokeback Mountain".
I refused.
I refused, because I'm a bigot... no, that sounds wrong. I refused, because I have absolutely no interest in watching a "love story" of two cowboys. First of all, I'm not found of cowboys. Secondly, the trailer made the romantic angle sound awfully boring. Thirdly... I don't care about gay love affairs. I can't possibly care about everything in the world, and gay love affairs just don't strike a chord. Doesn't mean that I'm a homophobe who wants to forbid gays to have love affairs. Not at all. It's their own business. And watching or not watching a movie is mine. I'm not interested in the subject matter, knowing fully well the plot of the movie.
And frankly, I don't want to see gay sex, even if it's only 15 seconds. Let's be frank, I find the very idea of gay sex absolutely disgusting and I don't want to be forced to watch it. Nor do I want to watch any other signs of physical interaction between two gay men. What can I say? Not my kind of thing.
How is this movie different from the other two movies I cited? Very simply - I know for sure what the general story is. I'm simply not interested in the subject matter. The other two movies courted the type of controversy, which struck a personal cord. This one achieves quite the opposite. Does it mean I'm self-censoring? No. I don't mind reading books or watching movies featuring gay characters. I'm just not interested in anything, the main focus of which is a gay affair. I don't want to see it for its own sake.
I've read books with very graphic situations surrounding gay characters. I've read books, in which the story lines surrounding these characters were much more disturbing than the plot of these movie. The difference was the context - and the agenda. I hate when a point of view is being shoved down the throat, which is how I perceive the presentation of the story in the movie. In the books I've read, I was left to form my own opinion.
What disturbed me about this discussion was the possibility of an underlying assumption that IF I refuse to watch a movie dealing with an issue I dislike or disagree with, THEN IT NECESSARILY follows that I'm close-minded and censoring myself, or worse still, I'm afraid that the picture will challenge my own beliefs or even change my mind. First of all, I have yet to see a Hollywood production which is capable of changing anyone's mind all on its own. Movies are made to illustrate the point of view of the artists involved. In very rare cases, they challenge our view of art. But political/social ideas? Pshaw. It usually takes a lot more than a movie to convince someone in favor of or opposed to a major issue. Secondly... secondly, I've seen enough movies which dealt with controversial issues that I can safely say, I can "take" just about anything, without being scared off. And I, of course, am talking about such movies as "The Cider House Rules", which dealt with incest and abortion, and "Million Dollar Baby", which dealt with euthanasia - all these issue I find much more disturbing than gay affairs, and yet I watched the movies. Because abortion and euthanasia happen to be medical issues, which I'm interested in and the discussion of which I find relevant to the society at large. Gay love affairs do not have such importance, in my opinion.
And finally... come on, what's wrong with simply not wanting to watch something? Why do I have to suffer through 2+ hours of boredom and distasteful subject matter if there's no real urgency? Why do I have to do something just because it's considered to be an open-minded and intellectual thing to do? Just because "everyone, who's intellectual" is watching it? You know, the more I think about it, the more I think that some people who've praised this movie are being slightly disingenious, in that they are praising it for ideological reasons, and not necessarily because it's such a great scene.
Of course, I can't exactly prove it, since I haven't seen the movie.
And have no interest in seeing the movie. I don't want to waste my time, when there are so many things I am interested in that I want to see.
So what do I do?
Confused,
Irina
I mean... that's a non-issue. A red herring.
To watch or not to watch... That is a stupid question!
Nevertheless, recent events have found me defending me *both* sides of the argument.
In reality, it all started with the hoopla over "The Passion of the Christ". During the months of fuss surrounding the movie, many of my acquaintances decided not to see the movie, because of the allegations that it included some anti-Semitic scenes.
Which is exactly what made me want to see the movie. I figured that as long as a shadow of reasonable doubt remains, I ought to give the movie a chance. Perhaps I would see things differently from everyone else. The chances are slim, but who knows. (I had to agree with the conclusions of the critics). Nevertheless, I felt satisfied with my own sense of justice and open-mindedness.
The same happened with Munich, though the reverberations seemed more limited to the Jewish community, and appeared to have less of a national impact. I just couldn't believe someone like Steven Spielberg would make a blatantly anti-Israeli movie. I went, I saw, and I drew my own conclusions. Everything's fine. I figure, some people are saying this, some people are saying that; how am I supposed to know the truth until I see it with my own four eyes? Again, I left feeling proud of being such an intellectually open person, however disturbed I was by what I saw in the movie.
In light of these two episodes, one may think that it would be inconsistent of me to refuse to see a movie because of its content alone.
I was asked to go watch "Brokeback Mountain".
I refused.
I refused, because I'm a bigot... no, that sounds wrong. I refused, because I have absolutely no interest in watching a "love story" of two cowboys. First of all, I'm not found of cowboys. Secondly, the trailer made the romantic angle sound awfully boring. Thirdly... I don't care about gay love affairs. I can't possibly care about everything in the world, and gay love affairs just don't strike a chord. Doesn't mean that I'm a homophobe who wants to forbid gays to have love affairs. Not at all. It's their own business. And watching or not watching a movie is mine. I'm not interested in the subject matter, knowing fully well the plot of the movie.
And frankly, I don't want to see gay sex, even if it's only 15 seconds. Let's be frank, I find the very idea of gay sex absolutely disgusting and I don't want to be forced to watch it. Nor do I want to watch any other signs of physical interaction between two gay men. What can I say? Not my kind of thing.
How is this movie different from the other two movies I cited? Very simply - I know for sure what the general story is. I'm simply not interested in the subject matter. The other two movies courted the type of controversy, which struck a personal cord. This one achieves quite the opposite. Does it mean I'm self-censoring? No. I don't mind reading books or watching movies featuring gay characters. I'm just not interested in anything, the main focus of which is a gay affair. I don't want to see it for its own sake.
I've read books with very graphic situations surrounding gay characters. I've read books, in which the story lines surrounding these characters were much more disturbing than the plot of these movie. The difference was the context - and the agenda. I hate when a point of view is being shoved down the throat, which is how I perceive the presentation of the story in the movie. In the books I've read, I was left to form my own opinion.
What disturbed me about this discussion was the possibility of an underlying assumption that IF I refuse to watch a movie dealing with an issue I dislike or disagree with, THEN IT NECESSARILY follows that I'm close-minded and censoring myself, or worse still, I'm afraid that the picture will challenge my own beliefs or even change my mind. First of all, I have yet to see a Hollywood production which is capable of changing anyone's mind all on its own. Movies are made to illustrate the point of view of the artists involved. In very rare cases, they challenge our view of art. But political/social ideas? Pshaw. It usually takes a lot more than a movie to convince someone in favor of or opposed to a major issue. Secondly... secondly, I've seen enough movies which dealt with controversial issues that I can safely say, I can "take" just about anything, without being scared off. And I, of course, am talking about such movies as "The Cider House Rules", which dealt with incest and abortion, and "Million Dollar Baby", which dealt with euthanasia - all these issue I find much more disturbing than gay affairs, and yet I watched the movies. Because abortion and euthanasia happen to be medical issues, which I'm interested in and the discussion of which I find relevant to the society at large. Gay love affairs do not have such importance, in my opinion.
And finally... come on, what's wrong with simply not wanting to watch something? Why do I have to suffer through 2+ hours of boredom and distasteful subject matter if there's no real urgency? Why do I have to do something just because it's considered to be an open-minded and intellectual thing to do? Just because "everyone, who's intellectual" is watching it? You know, the more I think about it, the more I think that some people who've praised this movie are being slightly disingenious, in that they are praising it for ideological reasons, and not necessarily because it's such a great scene.
Of course, I can't exactly prove it, since I haven't seen the movie.
And have no interest in seeing the movie. I don't want to waste my time, when there are so many things I am interested in that I want to see.
So what do I do?
Confused,
Irina
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Modesty Uncovered
The issue of modesty in dress has been appearing more and more often in the blogosphere lately.
A Curious Jew and Treppenwitz both touch on it in their particular way.
Modesty...
I was seventeen years old. A secular girl, accompanied by her secular parents and grandmother, I got out of the car and walked a few blocks to the secular restaurant, where my secular cousin was holding a secular birthday celebration.
I was wearing a cocktail dress with a very open back.
Night, end of June.
Unbelievably hot.
Borough Park.
I ignored the passers-by, who gave me annoyed looks. The men ignored me. The women stared at me, and if looks could kill, I would have been dead ten times over.
We stopped at the lights. He was sitting in the car. A grown-up Orthodox Jew, with a red beard. He saw me, and pushed his body out of the car, and scrutinized me until the lights changed. Then he moved on.
I walked on, with an icy look on my face, holding my head up. I knew why they stared. But I didn't *understand* why. If they were so insulted by my appearance, why didn't they turn away? Why did they look at that, which they weren't supposed to see? Why didn't they just move on?
I didn't feel uncomfortable. Truthfully, I didn't really care.
I've changed a lot for the past five years. When I was twelve, I dreaded summer. I dreaded putting on shorts which would uncover my legs. I felt naked and embarrassed.
By the time I was seventeen, I was comfortable in my body. I was comfortable wearing a bikini on the beach, and I was comfortable wearing shirts with open arms and cuts on the chest. I was beginning to grow comfortable with flirting and accepting male attention.
I never allowed any familiarities, nor excesses.
I knew, from my parents, that it wasn't what you wear as much as how you wear it.
I enjoyed the attention I received. I didn't enjoy drunks catcalling me on the streets. I enjoyed being called beautiful. I wouldn't allow strangers get too close to me. I enjoyed walking down the streets and knowing people stared at my body. I knew self-respect and wouldn't be caught dead walking to school in pajamas or mini-skirts. I wouldn't be caught dead standing outside my high school slobbering all over some pathetic guy and letting him catch a feel of me. I liked being liked. And I knew that there was a time and place for everything.
It took time for me to learn how to manage to wear what I wanted to wear without feeling embarrassed... and I found myself enjoying it. I found myself enjoying harmless flirtations, which would lead nowhere, because there was a boundary I would never cross. Being a young female was beautiful, I learned. And it was fun. My parents told me that men only go as far as woman wants them to go (unless they are maniacs, in which case even a sack cloth wouldn't stop them.) I learned they were right. I talked about it with Orthodox Jews and for the life of me couldn't understand what was wrong with the way I looked at things. Guys and girls want to flirt? So what, as long as they aren't having premarital sex or cheating on their spouces?
Why would I be dishonoring myself and my family if I consciously attracted men?
We are civilized people, I thought, and as long as I show clearly where it ends, there's no harm to anyone's reputation.
Ironically, it was when I was at my defensive, at my most modest that I was made to feel as dirty and humiliated as I could have been.
Both instances took place in ninth grade.
I was painfully shy and after a few unpleasant incidents with the opposite sex, stayed away from males. They hated me, they made fun of me, they called me ugly. Why would I want to have anything to do with them?
I was standing alone in the crowd, waiting to be let in. It was winter. I was wearing plain blue jeans, old sneakers, and a heavy coat. My hair was tied back in an old-fashioned bun and didn't flatter me. I was definitely not at my best. Suddenly, one of the guys standing right in front of me, turned towards me... and leered. For a long time. I couldn't break off that look. It was... I can't describe how dirty and humiliated it made me feel. How violated. I felt like he just tore off my clothes roughly and left me standing naked in the middle of the crowded hallway. I was breathless; I wanted to disappear, to get away, but there was nowhere to go. He just stared, and I was completely powerless. He did not touch me. He didn't say anything to me. To this day, I don't know who he was. I haven't seen him since that incident. But I still remember how that one look made me feel filthy. For a long time, I couldn't forget it. It was awful.
At the end of the year, we were having a party at the end of the class.
I was looking the same as always. Plain summer clothes. A bun. No makeup or jewelry. I was sitting in the back of the class, minding my own business. A typical nerd, I ate oatmeal for breakfast, and though I really wanted a donut, I was too stuffed to take even a bite.
He came to me unexpectedly, that classmate of mine.
To him, all girls were the same - sluts.
It was his right to take them. And they loved it. It was his right to touch them, to leer at them, to toss them around. They thought it was fun, and loved his hands on them. They loved his the way he whispered to them, dirtily, dirtily. They were all like that. Why should I be any different?
He thought all girls were like that.
He came to me, and I shied away, but he didn't care.
He came to me suddenly, and suddenly he took his hand and tickled me under my chin, and left, just as suddenly, laughing to himself. It was a good joke to him, it was all ok.
And I... I wanted to die.
For the next few years, I wouln't even sit next to another guy (unless it was a relative).
I was choking, I didn't know what to say. And to whom? Who would take it seriously? What would be done? And anyway, it wouldn't help. That dirt of his hands I couldn't wash off.
I was wearing plain, modest clothes.
And my hair was tied back...
In order to live with myself, I had to find my own definition of modesty. For me, modesty was not what I wore, but where and when, and how I felt about it. My modesty was inside. Most importantly, however, it was about being treated with decency and respect.
Remember the famous quote from "My Fair Lady"?
Audrey Hepburn (Eliza): The difference between a lady and a flower girl is not how she behaves, but how she is treated.
It is more than just clothes, it is your manner, your body language, your facial expression, your smile, your intonation, your words. It is what you say. Your modesty is your self-respect. And not the other way around.
No matter what I wear, I don't feel naked. I haven't allowed myself to be put into that situation again. I don't know what it is that changed in me. The veil of modesty that I wear is invisible. It wouldn't fit any halachic standard by the wildest stretch of the imagination. But it certainly fits me well enough to restrict the kind of attention I'm getting to the kind of attention I want to be getting. And that's enough.
And as for men... I'd suggest they think about the quote... and think twice before looking at all women the same way.
Invisibly modest,
Irina
A Curious Jew and Treppenwitz both touch on it in their particular way.
Modesty...
I was seventeen years old. A secular girl, accompanied by her secular parents and grandmother, I got out of the car and walked a few blocks to the secular restaurant, where my secular cousin was holding a secular birthday celebration.
I was wearing a cocktail dress with a very open back.
Night, end of June.
Unbelievably hot.
Borough Park.
I ignored the passers-by, who gave me annoyed looks. The men ignored me. The women stared at me, and if looks could kill, I would have been dead ten times over.
We stopped at the lights. He was sitting in the car. A grown-up Orthodox Jew, with a red beard. He saw me, and pushed his body out of the car, and scrutinized me until the lights changed. Then he moved on.
I walked on, with an icy look on my face, holding my head up. I knew why they stared. But I didn't *understand* why. If they were so insulted by my appearance, why didn't they turn away? Why did they look at that, which they weren't supposed to see? Why didn't they just move on?
I didn't feel uncomfortable. Truthfully, I didn't really care.
I've changed a lot for the past five years. When I was twelve, I dreaded summer. I dreaded putting on shorts which would uncover my legs. I felt naked and embarrassed.
By the time I was seventeen, I was comfortable in my body. I was comfortable wearing a bikini on the beach, and I was comfortable wearing shirts with open arms and cuts on the chest. I was beginning to grow comfortable with flirting and accepting male attention.
I never allowed any familiarities, nor excesses.
I knew, from my parents, that it wasn't what you wear as much as how you wear it.
I enjoyed the attention I received. I didn't enjoy drunks catcalling me on the streets. I enjoyed being called beautiful. I wouldn't allow strangers get too close to me. I enjoyed walking down the streets and knowing people stared at my body. I knew self-respect and wouldn't be caught dead walking to school in pajamas or mini-skirts. I wouldn't be caught dead standing outside my high school slobbering all over some pathetic guy and letting him catch a feel of me. I liked being liked. And I knew that there was a time and place for everything.
It took time for me to learn how to manage to wear what I wanted to wear without feeling embarrassed... and I found myself enjoying it. I found myself enjoying harmless flirtations, which would lead nowhere, because there was a boundary I would never cross. Being a young female was beautiful, I learned. And it was fun. My parents told me that men only go as far as woman wants them to go (unless they are maniacs, in which case even a sack cloth wouldn't stop them.) I learned they were right. I talked about it with Orthodox Jews and for the life of me couldn't understand what was wrong with the way I looked at things. Guys and girls want to flirt? So what, as long as they aren't having premarital sex or cheating on their spouces?
Why would I be dishonoring myself and my family if I consciously attracted men?
We are civilized people, I thought, and as long as I show clearly where it ends, there's no harm to anyone's reputation.
Ironically, it was when I was at my defensive, at my most modest that I was made to feel as dirty and humiliated as I could have been.
Both instances took place in ninth grade.
I was painfully shy and after a few unpleasant incidents with the opposite sex, stayed away from males. They hated me, they made fun of me, they called me ugly. Why would I want to have anything to do with them?
I was standing alone in the crowd, waiting to be let in. It was winter. I was wearing plain blue jeans, old sneakers, and a heavy coat. My hair was tied back in an old-fashioned bun and didn't flatter me. I was definitely not at my best. Suddenly, one of the guys standing right in front of me, turned towards me... and leered. For a long time. I couldn't break off that look. It was... I can't describe how dirty and humiliated it made me feel. How violated. I felt like he just tore off my clothes roughly and left me standing naked in the middle of the crowded hallway. I was breathless; I wanted to disappear, to get away, but there was nowhere to go. He just stared, and I was completely powerless. He did not touch me. He didn't say anything to me. To this day, I don't know who he was. I haven't seen him since that incident. But I still remember how that one look made me feel filthy. For a long time, I couldn't forget it. It was awful.
At the end of the year, we were having a party at the end of the class.
I was looking the same as always. Plain summer clothes. A bun. No makeup or jewelry. I was sitting in the back of the class, minding my own business. A typical nerd, I ate oatmeal for breakfast, and though I really wanted a donut, I was too stuffed to take even a bite.
He came to me unexpectedly, that classmate of mine.
To him, all girls were the same - sluts.
It was his right to take them. And they loved it. It was his right to touch them, to leer at them, to toss them around. They thought it was fun, and loved his hands on them. They loved his the way he whispered to them, dirtily, dirtily. They were all like that. Why should I be any different?
He thought all girls were like that.
He came to me, and I shied away, but he didn't care.
He came to me suddenly, and suddenly he took his hand and tickled me under my chin, and left, just as suddenly, laughing to himself. It was a good joke to him, it was all ok.
And I... I wanted to die.
For the next few years, I wouln't even sit next to another guy (unless it was a relative).
I was choking, I didn't know what to say. And to whom? Who would take it seriously? What would be done? And anyway, it wouldn't help. That dirt of his hands I couldn't wash off.
I was wearing plain, modest clothes.
And my hair was tied back...
In order to live with myself, I had to find my own definition of modesty. For me, modesty was not what I wore, but where and when, and how I felt about it. My modesty was inside. Most importantly, however, it was about being treated with decency and respect.
Remember the famous quote from "My Fair Lady"?
Audrey Hepburn (Eliza): The difference between a lady and a flower girl is not how she behaves, but how she is treated.
It is more than just clothes, it is your manner, your body language, your facial expression, your smile, your intonation, your words. It is what you say. Your modesty is your self-respect. And not the other way around.
No matter what I wear, I don't feel naked. I haven't allowed myself to be put into that situation again. I don't know what it is that changed in me. The veil of modesty that I wear is invisible. It wouldn't fit any halachic standard by the wildest stretch of the imagination. But it certainly fits me well enough to restrict the kind of attention I'm getting to the kind of attention I want to be getting. And that's enough.
And as for men... I'd suggest they think about the quote... and think twice before looking at all women the same way.
Invisibly modest,
Irina
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Rediscovering Totalitarianism
I've had a copy of Hannah Arendt's On the Origins of Totalitarianism for a solid year now, but I've only gotten around to reading it now.
The book has a lot to it, so much that I could not possibly touch on everything at once - and I've finished less than a quarter of it so far!
Nevertheless, there are a few points I cannot help but examine more closely.
1)Power, Wealth, and anti-Semitism
Arendt makes the point that anti-Semitism emerged when Jews lost their power, but retained their wealth. She argues that resentment flares up when people see wealth not being used. She compared the examples to the rise and fall of nobility. Until the aristocrats had political power, no one minded that they grew wealthy at the expense of the lower classes. However, as soon as they lost power, the society turned on them. The situations took place in society with significant socioeconomic inequalities and few opportunities for advancement. This is a very interesting historical observation, which I feel I should study in depth.
I'm sure many books have been written on the subject since... nevertheless, I've never heard this point being argued in my history or political science classes. I wonder whether the theory would hold up in a contemporary context. One country when I can clearly see such a possibility is contemporary "democratic" Russia. One may argue that the contemporary backlash against the oligarchs (many of whom are Jewish) is a perfect modern illustration. Which is very sad, considering that once something has been diagnosed in a book, we're supposed to be aware of it and guard against it. In fact, if I'm following Arendt's thought correctly, what is happening in Russia today is only the first step on a way to a totalitarian regime of some sort.
2)Orientalist attitude towards Jews.
Arendt described the preludes towards European flare-ups of anti-Semitism, which took place throughout the 19th century. As it turns out, right before a strong anti-Semitic backlash against the semi-assimilated Jewish communities took place, the high society was fascinated with Jews, imagining them to be "wicked", "exotic", and "romantic", the words Edward Said used to describe how the imperial British and French scholars used with respect to the Middle Eastern peoples. Except Edward Said's "Orientalism came much later and, well, wasn't really a historical/political analysis as much as it was a *literary* analysis. Nevertheless, I was surprised to find the similar terminology applied to an internal community.
One of the major criticisms of Said was that his attitude was you can't really understand the Middle Easterners unless you're one of them, an insider, because each society is so different from others that you can't grasp various particularities unless you "belong", born into it.) For obvious reasons, I have a problem with such an outlook. Arendt seems to argue that Jews were viewed as outsiders within the mainstream secular European societies, and that Europeans didn't want to look at them any other way - but in fact, Jews were much less exotic than many Europeans wanted to think. Arendt criticizes Disraeli and others, for adopting an attitude which fed the romantic desire for finding "the terrible and the sublime" in a minority, an attitude , which turned out to be the predecessor of prejudice and misconceptions and eventually led to anti-Semitic incidents.
Both Said and Arendt have a bit of a point. I'm wondering whether Said may have read Arendt and was influenced by her theory. Whatever the case may be, his point was lost when it was blown out of all proportion. But I digress. What is interesting about Arendt's theory is that she explains the roots of anti-Semitsm through *mistaken perceptions*, rather than standard political and economic factors and inadequacies of society. She rejects the standard interpretation of the need to scapegoat as the sole and simple reason of anti-Semitism.
Which is rather surprising, considering that scapegoating is considered the standard reason for the religious anti-Semitism. She also rejects Sartre's description of anti-Semitism as a completely irrational, rootless, and cowardly hatred, preferring a rational outlook. Considering that anti-Semitism has long since outlived the necessity to scapegoat among the Europeans (and by Europeans, I mean ethnic Europeans, rather than recent Muslim communities, among whom anti-Semitism seems to stem out of different roots), perhaps it would be wise to look at alternative possibilities for its causes.
The so-called Orientalist attitude towards a minority group may often appear to be a strength, and can be just as present within a society, as towards other societies. If we take a closer look at some of the recent far-left flirtations with extreme multiculturalism and emphasis on diversity for diversity's sake, we can often find that at the root of this "tolerance" and love of minority and "different" culture is the same shallow, preconceived, and often *misconceived* romanticization and the imagining of the exotic where is and should be none. It's quite easy to tell when such multiculturalism is skin-deep; its proponents love the costumes, the food, the fun traditions, and the scary stories of the group in question, but would never dare to dig deeper into the tangled web of its history, internal politics, and the difficulties of its religion.
It's so much easier to stop at the surface. For a while, a minority, which catches the rays of this sudden faddish fascination may benefit from it - but only short-term. Just as quickly as the minority is embraced, studied, coddled, and pitied, it is abandoned for something new and more interesting. Before the War of 1967, many in the West - United States - in particular, sympathized with the Jewish struggle and the emerging and growing Israel - not because, they knew the history of the Jews in the Middle East and found their reasons compelling, but because the Jewish side of the conflict appeared to be "cool" and "in". The shallow, badly-done propaganda films such as "Exodus" flamed this short-term fascination, without presenting the history of the Jews in the area... and thus, it is not surprising that as soon as the attention turned to the Arab side, its own propaganda seemed to be even more appealing.
The events of the last few years - 9/11, the war in Iraq, the statements of certain Iranian leaders - have made "Muslim culture" (I'm being sarcastic, as the esteemed lovers of multiculturalism so often fail to distinguish between the various Middle Eastern society and judge all of them as if it were a single entity) cool. Thus, we can observe a sudden interest in the Middle East Studies, the ever-growing popularity of the Middle Eastern cuisine (which is quite good, by the way) and the passionate defense of the hijab. This pique in interest of all things Middle Eastern is as short-lived as the temporary interest in the "mysterious Slavic soul" during the Cold War, or the shallow interest in Buddhism among those who're dissatisfied with the restrictions and tedium of their own Western religions. And just as the Jews were abandoned as soon as they assimilated and desired equality, it appears the minorities these liberal lovers of diversity now embrace are fated to be betrayed by the very public interest that is now on their side.
This shallow interest in "exotic minorities" is also apparent on an individual level. I've observed a number of instances when someone (be it a blogger, or simply a random individual), who offers a controversial or marginal viewpoint be attacked and beaten down by a clique of various individuals - until that person offers a sob story of some form. That sob story may or may not be a misfortune. It may be a tear-jerking tale of life-long abuse or it may be a tale of coming to terms with one's religion or culture or background, a tale of critique and reconciliation - but necessarily with elements of struggle, conflict, and difficulty. The sob story may also be an aura of "fascinating difference" that emerges from these challenges. I don't mean that the individuals who tell those stories are cynical manipulators of public emotions. On the contrary, most of the time these people are honest and are genuinely hoping to touch their listeners in some significant way.
But the way public opinion works, the same people who didn't hesitate to attack them just moments before for their beliefs, now rush towards them with warm words of sympathy - and will abandon them or renew the heartless attacks as soon as the novelty of the information fades. I've been the dubious beneficiary of such "sympathy", both in the Internet and off, and I have seen others... Ugh, I feel disgusting, because sometimes I become one of these well-meaning would-be attackers (I hate staging mob attacks so I never actually say anything, but I may think it!), only to slobber all over the victim when I learn something interesting, even as I believe I'm genuinely coming to his or her defense. I've caught myself at it several times and forced myself to confront my motivations and to reach out to my "protegees" for real, even when the general interest subsided. But many other people don't. Small group dynamics are mere reflections of what is happening on the larger scale.
3)The possibility of social anti-Semitism in the United States.
Hannah Arendt wrote that the structure of the United States is such that she wouldn't expect legal discrimination against the Jews. Nevertheless, she warned of social backlash in the future. A glimpse of this dark possibility can be seen in the unreasonable reaction of the Crown Heights Riot, which others have chose to interpret as a mere exhibition of general social unrest. Fortunately, we've had no repeat incidents so far... but I'm not sure the potential for it has been stiffled completely. In fact, if not for the strong legal and political structure of our society, it would probably exhibit the very same prejudices and dynamic as any society in the world. Fear of reprisal is the only thing that is stopping the most ardent of anti-Semites against violent outburst. Why Jews, though? What have they done in this country? Well, why NOT Jews? Excuse my dark outlook on the human nature, but I'm convinced Arendt is right, and the optimism in the "difference over here" is at least somewhat unfounded. I would consider this unhappy possibility, and I would start thinking of what to do if our legal and political framework were to deteriorate for some reason. (And that's also a possibility, by the way.)
(to be continued),
Thoughtful,
Irina
The book has a lot to it, so much that I could not possibly touch on everything at once - and I've finished less than a quarter of it so far!
Nevertheless, there are a few points I cannot help but examine more closely.
1)Power, Wealth, and anti-Semitism
Arendt makes the point that anti-Semitism emerged when Jews lost their power, but retained their wealth. She argues that resentment flares up when people see wealth not being used. She compared the examples to the rise and fall of nobility. Until the aristocrats had political power, no one minded that they grew wealthy at the expense of the lower classes. However, as soon as they lost power, the society turned on them. The situations took place in society with significant socioeconomic inequalities and few opportunities for advancement. This is a very interesting historical observation, which I feel I should study in depth.
I'm sure many books have been written on the subject since... nevertheless, I've never heard this point being argued in my history or political science classes. I wonder whether the theory would hold up in a contemporary context. One country when I can clearly see such a possibility is contemporary "democratic" Russia. One may argue that the contemporary backlash against the oligarchs (many of whom are Jewish) is a perfect modern illustration. Which is very sad, considering that once something has been diagnosed in a book, we're supposed to be aware of it and guard against it. In fact, if I'm following Arendt's thought correctly, what is happening in Russia today is only the first step on a way to a totalitarian regime of some sort.
2)Orientalist attitude towards Jews.
Arendt described the preludes towards European flare-ups of anti-Semitism, which took place throughout the 19th century. As it turns out, right before a strong anti-Semitic backlash against the semi-assimilated Jewish communities took place, the high society was fascinated with Jews, imagining them to be "wicked", "exotic", and "romantic", the words Edward Said used to describe how the imperial British and French scholars used with respect to the Middle Eastern peoples. Except Edward Said's "Orientalism came much later and, well, wasn't really a historical/political analysis as much as it was a *literary* analysis. Nevertheless, I was surprised to find the similar terminology applied to an internal community.
One of the major criticisms of Said was that his attitude was you can't really understand the Middle Easterners unless you're one of them, an insider, because each society is so different from others that you can't grasp various particularities unless you "belong", born into it.) For obvious reasons, I have a problem with such an outlook. Arendt seems to argue that Jews were viewed as outsiders within the mainstream secular European societies, and that Europeans didn't want to look at them any other way - but in fact, Jews were much less exotic than many Europeans wanted to think. Arendt criticizes Disraeli and others, for adopting an attitude which fed the romantic desire for finding "the terrible and the sublime" in a minority, an attitude , which turned out to be the predecessor of prejudice and misconceptions and eventually led to anti-Semitic incidents.
Both Said and Arendt have a bit of a point. I'm wondering whether Said may have read Arendt and was influenced by her theory. Whatever the case may be, his point was lost when it was blown out of all proportion. But I digress. What is interesting about Arendt's theory is that she explains the roots of anti-Semitsm through *mistaken perceptions*, rather than standard political and economic factors and inadequacies of society. She rejects the standard interpretation of the need to scapegoat as the sole and simple reason of anti-Semitism.
Which is rather surprising, considering that scapegoating is considered the standard reason for the religious anti-Semitism. She also rejects Sartre's description of anti-Semitism as a completely irrational, rootless, and cowardly hatred, preferring a rational outlook. Considering that anti-Semitism has long since outlived the necessity to scapegoat among the Europeans (and by Europeans, I mean ethnic Europeans, rather than recent Muslim communities, among whom anti-Semitism seems to stem out of different roots), perhaps it would be wise to look at alternative possibilities for its causes.
The so-called Orientalist attitude towards a minority group may often appear to be a strength, and can be just as present within a society, as towards other societies. If we take a closer look at some of the recent far-left flirtations with extreme multiculturalism and emphasis on diversity for diversity's sake, we can often find that at the root of this "tolerance" and love of minority and "different" culture is the same shallow, preconceived, and often *misconceived* romanticization and the imagining of the exotic where is and should be none. It's quite easy to tell when such multiculturalism is skin-deep; its proponents love the costumes, the food, the fun traditions, and the scary stories of the group in question, but would never dare to dig deeper into the tangled web of its history, internal politics, and the difficulties of its religion.
It's so much easier to stop at the surface. For a while, a minority, which catches the rays of this sudden faddish fascination may benefit from it - but only short-term. Just as quickly as the minority is embraced, studied, coddled, and pitied, it is abandoned for something new and more interesting. Before the War of 1967, many in the West - United States - in particular, sympathized with the Jewish struggle and the emerging and growing Israel - not because, they knew the history of the Jews in the Middle East and found their reasons compelling, but because the Jewish side of the conflict appeared to be "cool" and "in". The shallow, badly-done propaganda films such as "Exodus" flamed this short-term fascination, without presenting the history of the Jews in the area... and thus, it is not surprising that as soon as the attention turned to the Arab side, its own propaganda seemed to be even more appealing.
The events of the last few years - 9/11, the war in Iraq, the statements of certain Iranian leaders - have made "Muslim culture" (I'm being sarcastic, as the esteemed lovers of multiculturalism so often fail to distinguish between the various Middle Eastern society and judge all of them as if it were a single entity) cool. Thus, we can observe a sudden interest in the Middle East Studies, the ever-growing popularity of the Middle Eastern cuisine (which is quite good, by the way) and the passionate defense of the hijab. This pique in interest of all things Middle Eastern is as short-lived as the temporary interest in the "mysterious Slavic soul" during the Cold War, or the shallow interest in Buddhism among those who're dissatisfied with the restrictions and tedium of their own Western religions. And just as the Jews were abandoned as soon as they assimilated and desired equality, it appears the minorities these liberal lovers of diversity now embrace are fated to be betrayed by the very public interest that is now on their side.
This shallow interest in "exotic minorities" is also apparent on an individual level. I've observed a number of instances when someone (be it a blogger, or simply a random individual), who offers a controversial or marginal viewpoint be attacked and beaten down by a clique of various individuals - until that person offers a sob story of some form. That sob story may or may not be a misfortune. It may be a tear-jerking tale of life-long abuse or it may be a tale of coming to terms with one's religion or culture or background, a tale of critique and reconciliation - but necessarily with elements of struggle, conflict, and difficulty. The sob story may also be an aura of "fascinating difference" that emerges from these challenges. I don't mean that the individuals who tell those stories are cynical manipulators of public emotions. On the contrary, most of the time these people are honest and are genuinely hoping to touch their listeners in some significant way.
But the way public opinion works, the same people who didn't hesitate to attack them just moments before for their beliefs, now rush towards them with warm words of sympathy - and will abandon them or renew the heartless attacks as soon as the novelty of the information fades. I've been the dubious beneficiary of such "sympathy", both in the Internet and off, and I have seen others... Ugh, I feel disgusting, because sometimes I become one of these well-meaning would-be attackers (I hate staging mob attacks so I never actually say anything, but I may think it!), only to slobber all over the victim when I learn something interesting, even as I believe I'm genuinely coming to his or her defense. I've caught myself at it several times and forced myself to confront my motivations and to reach out to my "protegees" for real, even when the general interest subsided. But many other people don't. Small group dynamics are mere reflections of what is happening on the larger scale.
3)The possibility of social anti-Semitism in the United States.
Hannah Arendt wrote that the structure of the United States is such that she wouldn't expect legal discrimination against the Jews. Nevertheless, she warned of social backlash in the future. A glimpse of this dark possibility can be seen in the unreasonable reaction of the Crown Heights Riot, which others have chose to interpret as a mere exhibition of general social unrest. Fortunately, we've had no repeat incidents so far... but I'm not sure the potential for it has been stiffled completely. In fact, if not for the strong legal and political structure of our society, it would probably exhibit the very same prejudices and dynamic as any society in the world. Fear of reprisal is the only thing that is stopping the most ardent of anti-Semites against violent outburst. Why Jews, though? What have they done in this country? Well, why NOT Jews? Excuse my dark outlook on the human nature, but I'm convinced Arendt is right, and the optimism in the "difference over here" is at least somewhat unfounded. I would consider this unhappy possibility, and I would start thinking of what to do if our legal and political framework were to deteriorate for some reason. (And that's also a possibility, by the way.)
(to be continued),
Thoughtful,
Irina
Monday, January 09, 2006
Two Homes
Jameel asked a challenging question.
Do I want to move to Israel; why or why not?
The answer to that, I'm afraid, is not going to be as simple as I would like it to be.
Since the beginning of the Second Intifada, I was obsessed with all things Israel. I couldn't wait to um, grow up, and just... go there. I felt my fate lay in Israel, etc, etc.
However, when I turned eighteen and there was nothing stopping me from packing my things and moving away, I... didn't.
I wanted to go to college. College seemed a natural step to take after school. IDF? What? It just didn't fit into my plans. I kept my grades up throughout high school, I studied for the SATs - all so I could get into a good college and continue my education. Serving would mess things up for me. Besides, what would I live on??
OK, so I'm just about done with college - what's stopping me now, you may ask? Not so fast. It seems that I want to continue my education, perhaps endlessly. I don't want to interrupt it by serving. And anyway, what would I do? Leave my parents behind, when they came to the United States to gave me the best possible opportunity? Would I leave my home, my family, my friends, the track I'm pursuing, everything I have... and move to a country I've never visited, to live all alone, without language, without any practical skills, from which that country might benefit, without any specific plan for the future, and, most importantly, without any resources or backing?
That would be impractical and unrealistic, to say the least.
Don't get me wrong. I do love Israel, and one day, I'm interested in living part-time there.
But if and when I pursue aliya, I will be in control of my destiny. I will pursue that path wisely. I will finish my education, get a good job and practical working experience here, in the United States. I will become the kind of professional, who is necessary anywhere. I will broaden my horizons, pay off my loans, and save enough money to live comfortably. I will learn at least some Hebrew to make things easier. I will research what I want to do, and what professional options are open to me. I will make sure to have a place to live both in the United States and in Israel. I will make sure I have an independent source of income. I will make sure I'll be able to serve the country in some significant way. I will make sure that I'm prepared for the challenges of living at least part-time in a country with a different language, political system, reality, climate, and demographic. I will behave responsibly towards myself, and my future home, and my family.
I will pursue aliya, only when I'm ready.
And right now, I'm anything but.
See, there's that little question of "homeland". Yes, I know, Israel is my historical homeland, the place for my nation, the place Jews have fought for so long and have sacrificed so much for.
However... after having lived in the United States for ten years, I don't think I want to leave. I came to this country as a refugee, fleeing with my family from anti-semitism and various limitations. I was welcomed and sheltere here. I have worked hard to get where I am right now, and will continue to work to pay off my debt to this country. I love this country; I love the arts, which flourish here, I love the beautiful, cosmopolitan New York, I love living here. I feel that the United States is my home. I cannot imagine abandoning it. I don't want to. I'm happy here. So you see, there's a dilemma.
Notice, I leave out the question of political interests out of the picture entirely. There's no conflict of interests or double loyalty or any of that for me. I would never do anything to hurt either of the countries, and that's as simple as that. There's only a question of *personal interests* clashing. And they do clash.
How can I choose between two countries, which are, in emotional sense, both my homes? I can't. The most I can hope for is to live in a way that will benefit them both, dividing my time, and my intellectual resources equally - and hoping it will be enough.
Divided,
Irina
Do I want to move to Israel; why or why not?
The answer to that, I'm afraid, is not going to be as simple as I would like it to be.
Since the beginning of the Second Intifada, I was obsessed with all things Israel. I couldn't wait to um, grow up, and just... go there. I felt my fate lay in Israel, etc, etc.
However, when I turned eighteen and there was nothing stopping me from packing my things and moving away, I... didn't.
I wanted to go to college. College seemed a natural step to take after school. IDF? What? It just didn't fit into my plans. I kept my grades up throughout high school, I studied for the SATs - all so I could get into a good college and continue my education. Serving would mess things up for me. Besides, what would I live on??
OK, so I'm just about done with college - what's stopping me now, you may ask? Not so fast. It seems that I want to continue my education, perhaps endlessly. I don't want to interrupt it by serving. And anyway, what would I do? Leave my parents behind, when they came to the United States to gave me the best possible opportunity? Would I leave my home, my family, my friends, the track I'm pursuing, everything I have... and move to a country I've never visited, to live all alone, without language, without any practical skills, from which that country might benefit, without any specific plan for the future, and, most importantly, without any resources or backing?
That would be impractical and unrealistic, to say the least.
Don't get me wrong. I do love Israel, and one day, I'm interested in living part-time there.
But if and when I pursue aliya, I will be in control of my destiny. I will pursue that path wisely. I will finish my education, get a good job and practical working experience here, in the United States. I will become the kind of professional, who is necessary anywhere. I will broaden my horizons, pay off my loans, and save enough money to live comfortably. I will learn at least some Hebrew to make things easier. I will research what I want to do, and what professional options are open to me. I will make sure to have a place to live both in the United States and in Israel. I will make sure I have an independent source of income. I will make sure I'll be able to serve the country in some significant way. I will make sure that I'm prepared for the challenges of living at least part-time in a country with a different language, political system, reality, climate, and demographic. I will behave responsibly towards myself, and my future home, and my family.
I will pursue aliya, only when I'm ready.
And right now, I'm anything but.
See, there's that little question of "homeland". Yes, I know, Israel is my historical homeland, the place for my nation, the place Jews have fought for so long and have sacrificed so much for.
However... after having lived in the United States for ten years, I don't think I want to leave. I came to this country as a refugee, fleeing with my family from anti-semitism and various limitations. I was welcomed and sheltere here. I have worked hard to get where I am right now, and will continue to work to pay off my debt to this country. I love this country; I love the arts, which flourish here, I love the beautiful, cosmopolitan New York, I love living here. I feel that the United States is my home. I cannot imagine abandoning it. I don't want to. I'm happy here. So you see, there's a dilemma.
Notice, I leave out the question of political interests out of the picture entirely. There's no conflict of interests or double loyalty or any of that for me. I would never do anything to hurt either of the countries, and that's as simple as that. There's only a question of *personal interests* clashing. And they do clash.
How can I choose between two countries, which are, in emotional sense, both my homes? I can't. The most I can hope for is to live in a way that will benefit them both, dividing my time, and my intellectual resources equally - and hoping it will be enough.
Divided,
Irina
4Ever
Stealing this from A Curious Jew:
Four Jobs I have had:
1)Summer intern in a library - in charge of ordering people on and off computers and interpreting
2)Summer intern at DA's office - interviewing witnesses and arresting officers, writing screening sheets, drafting complaints, interpreting, et.
3)Fall intern at the UN Russian Radion - translating, writing articles, observing plenary sessions, creating a counter hit graph, hunting for the elusive Macedonian Ambassador
4)Full-time student. Oy vey!
Four Places I have (briefly) lived:
1)Kharkov, Ukraine (10.5 years)
2)Monticello, Upstate NY - 5 summers (Ok, not really Monticello... around Monticello... the placed with two synagogues and a Jewish camp nearby... you know?)
3)Bay Ridge, Brooklyn - seven years (have moved to a different part since)
4)Pocono, PA (one summer)
Four Favorite Foods:
1)Mushrooms - any kind
2)Cheeses - especially blue cheese, soft creamy and spicy cheeses, and goat/sheep cheses
3)Sushi (and other sea food - but not regular fish, ewww~)
4)Assorted Indian food
Four Books That I Would Read Over & Over:
1) Steppenwolf, by Hermann Hesse
2) Lord of the Rings (Tolkien, who else?!)
3) The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov
4) Immortality, by Milan Kundera
Four Jewish Books That I Would Read Over & Over:
(Well, that's a tough one; haven't read too many. Instead, I'll write Jewish-themed books I really enjoyed)
1) The Brothers Lautensack, by Lion Feuchtwanger
2) The Parrot, which spoke Yiddish by Ephraim Sevela
3) Exodus, by Leon Uris
4) The Jewish Antiquities - by Josephus
Four Fantasy Books that I Would Read Over & Over:
1) His Dark Materials, by Philip Pullman
2) The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis (don't you roll your eyes at me; those were really good books)
3) The Chronicles of Amber, by Roger Zelazny
4) The Xanth series, by Pierce Anthony
Four Books that I Loathe with a Passion:
1) Sister Carrie, by Theodor Dreiser
2) For Whom The Bell Tolls, by Ernest Hemingway
3) The Protocols of Zion (fine, I'm cheating, haven't actually read that one, but hate it anyway!)
4) The Capital, by Karl Marx
Four Movies That I Would See Over & Over:
1)Once Upon a Time in America
2)Big Fish
3)Ghost
4)A Clockwork Orange
Four Pieces of Music I'd Listen to Over & Over again:
1)Rachmaninov's Second Concerto
2)Rachmaninov's Third Concerto
3)Adagio di Albignoni
4)Vivaldi's Four Seasons
Four Vacation Spots:
1)Israel
2)Tibet
3)India
4)Brazil
Four Places I'd Rather Be:
1)Any fantasy world
2)A big, BIG law firm with international connections
3)A cruise
4)Underground, plotting and scheming.
I pass it on to Evolver and whoever else wants to do it!
Adventurous,
Irina
Four Jobs I have had:
1)Summer intern in a library - in charge of ordering people on and off computers and interpreting
2)Summer intern at DA's office - interviewing witnesses and arresting officers, writing screening sheets, drafting complaints, interpreting, et.
3)Fall intern at the UN Russian Radion - translating, writing articles, observing plenary sessions, creating a counter hit graph, hunting for the elusive Macedonian Ambassador
4)Full-time student. Oy vey!
Four Places I have (briefly) lived:
1)Kharkov, Ukraine (10.5 years)
2)Monticello, Upstate NY - 5 summers (Ok, not really Monticello... around Monticello... the placed with two synagogues and a Jewish camp nearby... you know?)
3)Bay Ridge, Brooklyn - seven years (have moved to a different part since)
4)Pocono, PA (one summer)
Four Favorite Foods:
1)Mushrooms - any kind
2)Cheeses - especially blue cheese, soft creamy and spicy cheeses, and goat/sheep cheses
3)Sushi (and other sea food - but not regular fish, ewww~)
4)Assorted Indian food
Four Books That I Would Read Over & Over:
1) Steppenwolf, by Hermann Hesse
2) Lord of the Rings (Tolkien, who else?!)
3) The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov
4) Immortality, by Milan Kundera
Four Jewish Books That I Would Read Over & Over:
(Well, that's a tough one; haven't read too many. Instead, I'll write Jewish-themed books I really enjoyed)
1) The Brothers Lautensack, by Lion Feuchtwanger
2) The Parrot, which spoke Yiddish by Ephraim Sevela
3) Exodus, by Leon Uris
4) The Jewish Antiquities - by Josephus
Four Fantasy Books that I Would Read Over & Over:
1) His Dark Materials, by Philip Pullman
2) The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis (don't you roll your eyes at me; those were really good books)
3) The Chronicles of Amber, by Roger Zelazny
4) The Xanth series, by Pierce Anthony
Four Books that I Loathe with a Passion:
1) Sister Carrie, by Theodor Dreiser
2) For Whom The Bell Tolls, by Ernest Hemingway
3) The Protocols of Zion (fine, I'm cheating, haven't actually read that one, but hate it anyway!)
4) The Capital, by Karl Marx
Four Movies That I Would See Over & Over:
1)Once Upon a Time in America
2)Big Fish
3)Ghost
4)A Clockwork Orange
Four Pieces of Music I'd Listen to Over & Over again:
1)Rachmaninov's Second Concerto
2)Rachmaninov's Third Concerto
3)Adagio di Albignoni
4)Vivaldi's Four Seasons
Four Vacation Spots:
1)Israel
2)Tibet
3)India
4)Brazil
Four Places I'd Rather Be:
1)Any fantasy world
2)A big, BIG law firm with international connections
3)A cruise
4)Underground, plotting and scheming.
I pass it on to Evolver and whoever else wants to do it!
Adventurous,
Irina
Sunday, January 08, 2006
Make It Pretty... Please
I saw them today.
Reese Witherspoone and Ethan Hawke.
Two "stars".
There was a crowd of ogling bystanders and walls of reporters, screaming incoherent banalities.
And I was there, surprised by how ugly and *ordinary* the actors looked out of context of the movies, without make-up and pretty lines to cover up their real selves.
What am I really like, when I'm not rationalizing my actions and mood swings, when I'm not hiding my flaws or trying to put myself out in the best possible light?
I heard something that shocked me recently. I had no idea how to react. I was shocked, because my expectations were totally different and I couldn't possibly predict something like that could happen. Part of me wanted to be self-righteous. I would never do something so horrible, I thought. Part of me wanted to laugh at the party getting exactly what it deserved. Part of me felt sorry that things turned out the way they did and wishing that I could have been there and done something to help. Part of me was disgusted with myself for dwelling on such things when I'm facing more immediate problems. I should be extending the same charity to my own family, but of course, family isn't as interesting as strangers, I thought quite sarcastically. Part of me enjoyed the story and laughed and part of me felt sad and even guilty for laughing.
So what was my real reaction to the situation?
... Having crossed the street and joined the bystanders, I became part of the mob and even had the same delirious reaction to the actors for a moment, even though I'm not the kind of person who idolizes other human beings, no matter what their accomplishments are. Having laughed at the story and having felt the schadenfreude for the punishment of the party in question, I, too, have exhibited the same type of mentality.
I think the two reactions stem from the same root.
In both cases, the audience/on-lookers wanted to see reality in a way other than what it was. With the actors, they wanted to see Beautiful People. They wanted to stop their mundane, unglamorous life for just a moment and see heroes from screen. I fell for it for a moment - and my punishment was the disappointment I felt when the actors failed me by not living up to the expectations of beauty and perfection my imagination created. I should have known better than to show interest in something so shallow. I wanted to see "pretty", but instead of beauty, I wound up seeing ugliness.
In the second case, the situation disgusted me... I expected only the beautiful from the participants... and was disappointed, because they were mere humans and didn't live up to my unrealistic expectations. So I took it out by laughing and judging harshly, at least initially.
In both cases, the unrealistic expectation of beauty ( virtue, grace, moderation, self-control, wisdom, depth, perfection) was a defense mechanism, which failed me. Instead of seeing what I wanted to see, I saw what really was. In the first case, it was stupid and self-defeating to expect what could never be from the actors. In the second case, it was cruel... because, well, I was not in the exact precise situation and I could not know what happened precisely, and I was laughing at someone's misfortune, which is never a good thing.
I was looking for beauty in all the wrong places.
Remember the earlier discussion about whether "real beauty can kill?"
Now, I'm looking at it in a different way. We, as individuals, can hurt other people, if they fail to meet our expectations and satisfy an escapist urge in us. If we expect someone to be wonderful and lionize the person or institution, and the person or institution fails in some way, we bring it down just as quickly and perhaps, injustly, as we brought it up. We love our heroes as long as they are strong and heroic... but as soon as they show a real weakness... not the cute kind of weakness we like to see, but whatever weakness we despise the most as individuals... we're more than ready to trample our heroes and humiliate them. How dare they disappoint us. We feel outraged for having been misguided and need to take it out on the guilty ones.
So... how much beauty should we really expect?
How should we react when those, on whom we relied to fulfill our mortal expectations, fail to live up to them?
In short, what do we with fallen heroes?
"Fallen heroes" is an exaggerated way.
Most often, such people aren't really heroes... just people we admire, or people we expect to have certain qualities because, well, of their status.
Noblesse oblige.
And when they act in a way we consider *ignoble*, when they fall short of what *we* feel *their* status calls for... how should we act towards them?
I'm still debating the question.
I feel angry at myself for turning out to be so much like the people I've condemned, the mob.
It is only in retrospect that I realize I shouldn't be so quick to judge.
And I know that the next time, I'll probably do so again.
I want everything to be beautiful without doing anything about it myself. Just like msot people. I hold everyone else to the highest possible standard... and I am angry for these people if they are simply... themselves.
I'd probably be the kind of girl who'd turn away from a good friend or a beloved had he uncovered a major, major weakness I found personally disgusting. I'm not a forgiving person. I don't like when others show weakness... But when it comes to me, me personally, I expect others to be understanding, gentle, and accept my flaws in good humor.
I'm not sure I'm qualified to call myself independent-minded and individualist after what I've uncovered.
The funny thing is, tomorrow, I'm going to come back and find that as always, I acted the drama queen, and exaggerated truly insignificant incidents just to prove my point. And even the point will probably turn out to be more dramatic-sounding that it really needs to be.
Oh well. I'm trying.
Escapist,
Irina
Reese Witherspoone and Ethan Hawke.
Two "stars".
There was a crowd of ogling bystanders and walls of reporters, screaming incoherent banalities.
And I was there, surprised by how ugly and *ordinary* the actors looked out of context of the movies, without make-up and pretty lines to cover up their real selves.
What am I really like, when I'm not rationalizing my actions and mood swings, when I'm not hiding my flaws or trying to put myself out in the best possible light?
I heard something that shocked me recently. I had no idea how to react. I was shocked, because my expectations were totally different and I couldn't possibly predict something like that could happen. Part of me wanted to be self-righteous. I would never do something so horrible, I thought. Part of me wanted to laugh at the party getting exactly what it deserved. Part of me felt sorry that things turned out the way they did and wishing that I could have been there and done something to help. Part of me was disgusted with myself for dwelling on such things when I'm facing more immediate problems. I should be extending the same charity to my own family, but of course, family isn't as interesting as strangers, I thought quite sarcastically. Part of me enjoyed the story and laughed and part of me felt sad and even guilty for laughing.
So what was my real reaction to the situation?
... Having crossed the street and joined the bystanders, I became part of the mob and even had the same delirious reaction to the actors for a moment, even though I'm not the kind of person who idolizes other human beings, no matter what their accomplishments are. Having laughed at the story and having felt the schadenfreude for the punishment of the party in question, I, too, have exhibited the same type of mentality.
I think the two reactions stem from the same root.
In both cases, the audience/on-lookers wanted to see reality in a way other than what it was. With the actors, they wanted to see Beautiful People. They wanted to stop their mundane, unglamorous life for just a moment and see heroes from screen. I fell for it for a moment - and my punishment was the disappointment I felt when the actors failed me by not living up to the expectations of beauty and perfection my imagination created. I should have known better than to show interest in something so shallow. I wanted to see "pretty", but instead of beauty, I wound up seeing ugliness.
In the second case, the situation disgusted me... I expected only the beautiful from the participants... and was disappointed, because they were mere humans and didn't live up to my unrealistic expectations. So I took it out by laughing and judging harshly, at least initially.
In both cases, the unrealistic expectation of beauty ( virtue, grace, moderation, self-control, wisdom, depth, perfection) was a defense mechanism, which failed me. Instead of seeing what I wanted to see, I saw what really was. In the first case, it was stupid and self-defeating to expect what could never be from the actors. In the second case, it was cruel... because, well, I was not in the exact precise situation and I could not know what happened precisely, and I was laughing at someone's misfortune, which is never a good thing.
I was looking for beauty in all the wrong places.
Remember the earlier discussion about whether "real beauty can kill?"
Now, I'm looking at it in a different way. We, as individuals, can hurt other people, if they fail to meet our expectations and satisfy an escapist urge in us. If we expect someone to be wonderful and lionize the person or institution, and the person or institution fails in some way, we bring it down just as quickly and perhaps, injustly, as we brought it up. We love our heroes as long as they are strong and heroic... but as soon as they show a real weakness... not the cute kind of weakness we like to see, but whatever weakness we despise the most as individuals... we're more than ready to trample our heroes and humiliate them. How dare they disappoint us. We feel outraged for having been misguided and need to take it out on the guilty ones.
So... how much beauty should we really expect?
How should we react when those, on whom we relied to fulfill our mortal expectations, fail to live up to them?
In short, what do we with fallen heroes?
"Fallen heroes" is an exaggerated way.
Most often, such people aren't really heroes... just people we admire, or people we expect to have certain qualities because, well, of their status.
Noblesse oblige.
And when they act in a way we consider *ignoble*, when they fall short of what *we* feel *their* status calls for... how should we act towards them?
I'm still debating the question.
I feel angry at myself for turning out to be so much like the people I've condemned, the mob.
It is only in retrospect that I realize I shouldn't be so quick to judge.
And I know that the next time, I'll probably do so again.
I want everything to be beautiful without doing anything about it myself. Just like msot people. I hold everyone else to the highest possible standard... and I am angry for these people if they are simply... themselves.
I'd probably be the kind of girl who'd turn away from a good friend or a beloved had he uncovered a major, major weakness I found personally disgusting. I'm not a forgiving person. I don't like when others show weakness... But when it comes to me, me personally, I expect others to be understanding, gentle, and accept my flaws in good humor.
I'm not sure I'm qualified to call myself independent-minded and individualist after what I've uncovered.
The funny thing is, tomorrow, I'm going to come back and find that as always, I acted the drama queen, and exaggerated truly insignificant incidents just to prove my point. And even the point will probably turn out to be more dramatic-sounding that it really needs to be.
Oh well. I'm trying.
Escapist,
Irina
Haveil Havalim # 52
Haveil Havalim ("Vanity of Vanities") is the carnival of Jewish blogs -- a weekly collection of Jewish & Israeli blog highlights, tidbits and points of interest hosted by a different blogger each week. This week it's hosted by Ze'ev at Israel Perspectives. It deals with Ariel Sharon, but also thoughts from all around J-blogosphere! Check it out! : ) Next week it's hosted at Elie's Expositions! E-mail submissions to rosenfeld.elie@gmail.com
Participating,
Irina
Participating,
Irina
Saturday, January 07, 2006
The Theater Has A Blonde Moment
I ventured outside today.
Yes, I did, and in utterly freezing weather as well.
So cold and no snow. Not fair.
What does a reasonable person do on such a freezing day?
...
Why, stand on a long line outside for Broadway show tickets, of course!
Hey, they are only half price, if you buy them on the same day as the performance.
Which should make them really cheap, right?
Er... no, actually.
So the line seems endless, though it moves relatively quickly. And I'm freezing every part of my body off. Especially my hands and feet; they are so cold that the skin is actually painful. And that's considering that I'm wearing a puffy winter coat, a woolen sweater, gloves, and VERY warm boots.
But I wait there... only to learn that a)the guys selling the tickets only accept cash (which I don't have) and b)um... the tickets they sell originally cost about $118 a piece... take 50% off... that would make them.... you guessed it. A *reasonable* person would leave immediately.
Which I did.
Only to return and to stand on the same line all over again.
Except this time, the line was longer. Much longer. And the sun hid somewhere. And my hands and feet were eved deader. If that's even possible.
I got in.
...
I wound up seeing "The Woman in White".
I was sitting in row D of the orchestra, the closest I've EVER, EVER sat in a theater of any kind. It was incredible. When the guy onstage used a flashlight, it shone right into my eyes.
Suffice to say, I don't agree with the review at all. Then again, NY Times doesn't seem to like any of Webber's shows, and I'm a huge fan.
What can I say, it was a very creative show, which I can't really described, because it was just... wow. Using revolving walls and a 3-D effect, the producer managed to take the show to a new level. And the songs are just stuck in my head now. Go, go. Ignore the boring, stuffy critics. Remember, they are there to complain. Just see it.
Watching the show threw me back into my childhood, to the good old days when my mother used to read to me every night. Her reading books made the process of absorbing the story even more suspenseful, since I didn't have the control over it. Wilkie Collins' mystery novel was one of my personal favorites.
There was something inherently magical about his style of writing. Now, combined with the great special effects, and the haunting music, the story took on a new life. I sure hope they'll make a screen adaptation of the show, so I could put it next to my "The Phantom of the Opera" DVD and listen to it over and over again. Now you know why I have such a warped mind. Listening to Lloyd Webber one too many times.
The film made me re-think a very important question. Does saying "I love you" really mean anything? I'm not trying to assert that love doesn't exist. However, I'm trying to figure out whether making such a pronouncement is worth anything. It's pleasing to hear... but why? If we agree that love needs to be shown through actions, then the words are superfluous. And if love exists only in words, then it doesn't really exist. And yet people pine fore hearing these three banal words, as though they cannot figure out whether the object of their affection cares for them or not. The feeling has so many shades - from motherly love to romantic - that the phrase doesn't do it justice. Besides, it's old. I find it especially annoying when people get into a habit of saying it without really thinking about it, without really meaning it. They say these words at the end of every conversation, before going off to work, each time they happen to speak on the phone. Thus, they devalue what ought to be a rare and dramatic pronouncement.
And what of all the songs about love? Well, as the show demonstrated quite nicely, not one of them has the same effect until the major characters defeat themselves, a reluctance, resolve their internal conflicts, and act on behalf of their beloved in a selfless manner. Only then, do these songs gain any meaning, only then do they really sink in and begin to haunt the audience.
We should be thinking twice before confessing our love.
It's such a big thing. We've gotten into the habit of labeling every kind of affection as "love". Not good.
There's love, and then there are the bathrooms, I thought, as I stood in a seemingly endless line.
I had to philosophize in order to keep my mind off more immediate matters.
After drinking two cups of jasmine tea, which always has a very particular effect on me, and after standing for quite a while in the cold, I knew which of the two was a more urgent matter.
Unfortunately, the theater didn't share the same belief.
The women's bathroom was single, overcrowded, and tiny, with only four stalls.
As I've discovered, a little too late, two of the stalls had broken doors.
As I rushed into a big stall for the handicapped, I did my best to close the door... but alas! Nevertheless, I shut it and... a moment later it suddenly opened by itself. After several frustrating thrusts forward, I left the stall and decided to wait for another one. Too bad the door was too far from me for me to hold it.
Just as another stall appeared to be free (and just as I was about to explode), an old, handicapped lady entered the stall I just left and asked me to hold the door for her. You can imagine what I thought! It seemed she'd never come out.
When I finally entered another stall... the story repeated. The door started to open. Fortunately, this time I was able to grab it before a disaster occurred, but just in case, waited, until the bathroom emptied.
It was ridiculous.
The theater must have been having a blonde day. Or something.
They should get their act together and build more bathrooms.
The most annoying thing, though, was that through it all, I had the songs from the show playing in my mind at the most inappropriate moments.
Gotta love Sir Andrew.
Shaking head,
Irina
Yes, I did, and in utterly freezing weather as well.
So cold and no snow. Not fair.
What does a reasonable person do on such a freezing day?
...
Why, stand on a long line outside for Broadway show tickets, of course!
Hey, they are only half price, if you buy them on the same day as the performance.
Which should make them really cheap, right?
Er... no, actually.
So the line seems endless, though it moves relatively quickly. And I'm freezing every part of my body off. Especially my hands and feet; they are so cold that the skin is actually painful. And that's considering that I'm wearing a puffy winter coat, a woolen sweater, gloves, and VERY warm boots.
But I wait there... only to learn that a)the guys selling the tickets only accept cash (which I don't have) and b)um... the tickets they sell originally cost about $118 a piece... take 50% off... that would make them.... you guessed it. A *reasonable* person would leave immediately.
Which I did.
Only to return and to stand on the same line all over again.
Except this time, the line was longer. Much longer. And the sun hid somewhere. And my hands and feet were eved deader. If that's even possible.
I got in.
...
I wound up seeing "The Woman in White".
I was sitting in row D of the orchestra, the closest I've EVER, EVER sat in a theater of any kind. It was incredible. When the guy onstage used a flashlight, it shone right into my eyes.
Suffice to say, I don't agree with the review at all. Then again, NY Times doesn't seem to like any of Webber's shows, and I'm a huge fan.
What can I say, it was a very creative show, which I can't really described, because it was just... wow. Using revolving walls and a 3-D effect, the producer managed to take the show to a new level. And the songs are just stuck in my head now. Go, go. Ignore the boring, stuffy critics. Remember, they are there to complain. Just see it.
Watching the show threw me back into my childhood, to the good old days when my mother used to read to me every night. Her reading books made the process of absorbing the story even more suspenseful, since I didn't have the control over it. Wilkie Collins' mystery novel was one of my personal favorites.
There was something inherently magical about his style of writing. Now, combined with the great special effects, and the haunting music, the story took on a new life. I sure hope they'll make a screen adaptation of the show, so I could put it next to my "The Phantom of the Opera" DVD and listen to it over and over again. Now you know why I have such a warped mind. Listening to Lloyd Webber one too many times.
The film made me re-think a very important question. Does saying "I love you" really mean anything? I'm not trying to assert that love doesn't exist. However, I'm trying to figure out whether making such a pronouncement is worth anything. It's pleasing to hear... but why? If we agree that love needs to be shown through actions, then the words are superfluous. And if love exists only in words, then it doesn't really exist. And yet people pine fore hearing these three banal words, as though they cannot figure out whether the object of their affection cares for them or not. The feeling has so many shades - from motherly love to romantic - that the phrase doesn't do it justice. Besides, it's old. I find it especially annoying when people get into a habit of saying it without really thinking about it, without really meaning it. They say these words at the end of every conversation, before going off to work, each time they happen to speak on the phone. Thus, they devalue what ought to be a rare and dramatic pronouncement.
And what of all the songs about love? Well, as the show demonstrated quite nicely, not one of them has the same effect until the major characters defeat themselves, a reluctance, resolve their internal conflicts, and act on behalf of their beloved in a selfless manner. Only then, do these songs gain any meaning, only then do they really sink in and begin to haunt the audience.
We should be thinking twice before confessing our love.
It's such a big thing. We've gotten into the habit of labeling every kind of affection as "love". Not good.
There's love, and then there are the bathrooms, I thought, as I stood in a seemingly endless line.
I had to philosophize in order to keep my mind off more immediate matters.
After drinking two cups of jasmine tea, which always has a very particular effect on me, and after standing for quite a while in the cold, I knew which of the two was a more urgent matter.
Unfortunately, the theater didn't share the same belief.
The women's bathroom was single, overcrowded, and tiny, with only four stalls.
As I've discovered, a little too late, two of the stalls had broken doors.
As I rushed into a big stall for the handicapped, I did my best to close the door... but alas! Nevertheless, I shut it and... a moment later it suddenly opened by itself. After several frustrating thrusts forward, I left the stall and decided to wait for another one. Too bad the door was too far from me for me to hold it.
Just as another stall appeared to be free (and just as I was about to explode), an old, handicapped lady entered the stall I just left and asked me to hold the door for her. You can imagine what I thought! It seemed she'd never come out.
When I finally entered another stall... the story repeated. The door started to open. Fortunately, this time I was able to grab it before a disaster occurred, but just in case, waited, until the bathroom emptied.
It was ridiculous.
The theater must have been having a blonde day. Or something.
They should get their act together and build more bathrooms.
The most annoying thing, though, was that through it all, I had the songs from the show playing in my mind at the most inappropriate moments.
Gotta love Sir Andrew.
Shaking head,
Irina
Something to Think About
Michael has a very different take on Munich. His review is one of the first I've seen criticizing the movie from an artistic, rather than merely ideological point of view.
He also has an interesting piece on the Radical Left Anti-Semitism, an important issue to ponder.
Check it out!
Pondering,
Irina
He also has an interesting piece on the Radical Left Anti-Semitism, an important issue to ponder.
Check it out!
Pondering,
Irina
Friday, January 06, 2006
Machiavellian Blogging
Jack is asking a very important question: why do we blog?
I've written numerous times about my reasons for blogging. I love writing in general; it's a good way to express myself, to practice and to learn writing tricks. A nice cozy salon for interacting with people and learning about special social dynamics. Entertainment.
My major, Numero Uno reason for blogging, however, has remained undisclosed until now. Don't all attack me at once.
I blog for power.
That's right, blogging is a great away to win friends, make enemies, and influence people. There's nothing like blogging to blind you with an illusionary sense of control. It's not the kind of thing we like to brag about in polite company. In fact, many of us are blogging completely undercover. But let's admit it = blogging provides ample opportunities for emotional and intellectual manipulation - and who are we not to exploit those opportunities?!
Look at it this way. As a blogger, you have much more control over the company you keep. You interact with people you like and you avoid or even ban people that annoy you. You get to choose your own friends and your enemies. Blogging dynamics are almost a game. It's a very sophisticated game, with real passions flaming, despite virtual communication. Sensibilities get hurt. Egos are wounded. Competition over blogging awards ensues, with mixed results. Once in a while, you get a catfight over who said what about whom and why. Blogging allows the freedom of saying what you *really* think and feel to everyone's faces. Personalities open up and emerge. Bonds are forged, bonds, which perhaps would never have seen the light of day under different circumstances.
And you can be in control. Imagine that! Isn't it tempting?!
You have time to think over what you want to say in your own post or in the comments. You can control the number of people you allow into your life by choosing whom to read. You can control how you want others to see you. You can control how much you allow others to learn about you. You can choose whether to become closer acquaintances with your fellow bloggers or whether to keep a safe distance. You can keep your little home of a blog single or you can invite others to join you. You can keep it plain, simple, and formal, or take your time to make it look all fancy.
You can lie or you can tell the truth, and no one will know.
You can show your true face... or you can sneak around.
You can lurk or you can come out of the closet.
You can limit yourself to the news stories or allow emotional reactions for the major and minor events in the personal lives of other bloggers.
Blogosphere is a strange place, where you choose your own adventure and form your own world. Build your own house. You're free to do what you wish. Blogoshphere is a microcosm, which gives you chances you don't always have in real life. You don't always feel comfortable with your friends and family to rant about things that bother you. You don't always have a company, which shares your interests and would allow you to develop your ideas.
But blogosphere is more than just a second chance for nerds and no-lifes, who've failed to connect to real human beings in any other meaningful way. Well, maybe at some point that's all it was, but now... many of the bloggers I read are amazing, truly amazing people, for whom I have tremendous respect even though I don't really "know" them... Maybe I'll meet them, and maybe I won't, but I feel lucky knowing such decent, intelligent, and open-minded human beings exist, somewhere, somewhere. Meeting such people, if only online, gives me hope.
Still, blogosphere is even more than that. It has its own politics. And that's where, you can practice your skills and have an outlet for your powerhungry instincts. You can compete for ratings, awards, attention, fame, influence in the blogosphere. You can attain satisfaction knowing how many people have read and linked to your post. You can gain some pleasure, realizing you were able to make a little bit of a difference today by contributing to a developing story. Or debunking a myth. Or exposing a scandal. Or helping someone, who's in dire need. Or, depending on the type of person you are, being accepted into a group of like-minded people from all over the world... and uniting against other groups.
You can be quite devious about it, actually, as I've realized. Blogosphere has alliances, but blogosphere also has its own cliques. In the end, it often comes down to yet another popularity contest.
What is it that makes a blogger popular? Well, it can't be just the design. So it's often about certain aspects of one's personality - friendliness, passion, but also writing style, originality of ideas, frequency of posting. There are warm bloggers, just as there are annoying and repulsive bloggers. And you can play with that, getting to know what makes someone tick, figuring out a blogger's "style".
Blogging, in some ways, is also about commanding respect by the sheer force of your words. Isn't that amazing? You can't physically control people in the blogosphere... but you can draw them to you. Or you can scare them away. It's all up to you.
And I love it.
Grateful,
Irina
I've written numerous times about my reasons for blogging. I love writing in general; it's a good way to express myself, to practice and to learn writing tricks. A nice cozy salon for interacting with people and learning about special social dynamics. Entertainment.
My major, Numero Uno reason for blogging, however, has remained undisclosed until now. Don't all attack me at once.
I blog for power.
That's right, blogging is a great away to win friends, make enemies, and influence people. There's nothing like blogging to blind you with an illusionary sense of control. It's not the kind of thing we like to brag about in polite company. In fact, many of us are blogging completely undercover. But let's admit it = blogging provides ample opportunities for emotional and intellectual manipulation - and who are we not to exploit those opportunities?!
Look at it this way. As a blogger, you have much more control over the company you keep. You interact with people you like and you avoid or even ban people that annoy you. You get to choose your own friends and your enemies. Blogging dynamics are almost a game. It's a very sophisticated game, with real passions flaming, despite virtual communication. Sensibilities get hurt. Egos are wounded. Competition over blogging awards ensues, with mixed results. Once in a while, you get a catfight over who said what about whom and why. Blogging allows the freedom of saying what you *really* think and feel to everyone's faces. Personalities open up and emerge. Bonds are forged, bonds, which perhaps would never have seen the light of day under different circumstances.
And you can be in control. Imagine that! Isn't it tempting?!
You have time to think over what you want to say in your own post or in the comments. You can control the number of people you allow into your life by choosing whom to read. You can control how you want others to see you. You can control how much you allow others to learn about you. You can choose whether to become closer acquaintances with your fellow bloggers or whether to keep a safe distance. You can keep your little home of a blog single or you can invite others to join you. You can keep it plain, simple, and formal, or take your time to make it look all fancy.
You can lie or you can tell the truth, and no one will know.
You can show your true face... or you can sneak around.
You can lurk or you can come out of the closet.
You can limit yourself to the news stories or allow emotional reactions for the major and minor events in the personal lives of other bloggers.
Blogosphere is a strange place, where you choose your own adventure and form your own world. Build your own house. You're free to do what you wish. Blogoshphere is a microcosm, which gives you chances you don't always have in real life. You don't always feel comfortable with your friends and family to rant about things that bother you. You don't always have a company, which shares your interests and would allow you to develop your ideas.
But blogosphere is more than just a second chance for nerds and no-lifes, who've failed to connect to real human beings in any other meaningful way. Well, maybe at some point that's all it was, but now... many of the bloggers I read are amazing, truly amazing people, for whom I have tremendous respect even though I don't really "know" them... Maybe I'll meet them, and maybe I won't, but I feel lucky knowing such decent, intelligent, and open-minded human beings exist, somewhere, somewhere. Meeting such people, if only online, gives me hope.
Still, blogosphere is even more than that. It has its own politics. And that's where, you can practice your skills and have an outlet for your powerhungry instincts. You can compete for ratings, awards, attention, fame, influence in the blogosphere. You can attain satisfaction knowing how many people have read and linked to your post. You can gain some pleasure, realizing you were able to make a little bit of a difference today by contributing to a developing story. Or debunking a myth. Or exposing a scandal. Or helping someone, who's in dire need. Or, depending on the type of person you are, being accepted into a group of like-minded people from all over the world... and uniting against other groups.
You can be quite devious about it, actually, as I've realized. Blogosphere has alliances, but blogosphere also has its own cliques. In the end, it often comes down to yet another popularity contest.
What is it that makes a blogger popular? Well, it can't be just the design. So it's often about certain aspects of one's personality - friendliness, passion, but also writing style, originality of ideas, frequency of posting. There are warm bloggers, just as there are annoying and repulsive bloggers. And you can play with that, getting to know what makes someone tick, figuring out a blogger's "style".
Blogging, in some ways, is also about commanding respect by the sheer force of your words. Isn't that amazing? You can't physically control people in the blogosphere... but you can draw them to you. Or you can scare them away. It's all up to you.
And I love it.
Grateful,
Irina
Thursday, January 05, 2006
All Politics Aside
The past few days, I've been on a vacation from life.
Physically, I haven't left New York.
However, I've been so completely absorbed in relaxing, having fun, and doing what I feel like - totally! - that I might as well have been away, for all intents and purposes.
Last night, coming home at night, somewhat "out of it", as in reality, I turned on the news, having forgotten that the news exist during the day... lo and behold, the world does go on even when I'm not online!
I haven't been so shocked since I came home from school one day and hear about Nord Ost theater being held hostage in Moscow.
The news of Sharon's cerebral hemorrhage overwhelmed me. I didn't even know how to react, at first.
A few years years, I was imploring fate to make Sharon PM. He, according to me, was *the last hope of Israel*. His history as a legendary general and a tough guy made him a hero in my eyes. As the years passed, I grew increasingly disillusioned, especially over the way the disengagement was handled. I couldn't quite decide whether Sharon had good intentions, but was deluded, whether he was getting a little too enamored of power, whether he was giving in to international pressure, whether he didn't really care about the good of the country anymore, or whether he was simply senile and it was time for him to retire.
However, when I heard this information, I simply went blank. All my latest sarcastic and exasperated thoughts vanished without a thought.
All I felt was just plain surprise and horror.
It wasn't *really* all that shocking, all things considering - his age, health problems, and a recent mini-stroke all being indications pointing to the possibility of such an outcome.
The true shock was in that it happened to Sharon the Legend, not Sharon the Common Mortal.
That was the Sharon I heard so much about. That was the Sharon my parents praised and put their hopes into, as I was growing up. That was the Sharon I knew I should love because my enemies hated him. That was Sharon who was Larger Than Life, so Large than even the corruption scandals couldn't finish him off. You've got to admit, you have to admire someone like that even if you disagree with what he's doing. (I certainly do, nowadays).
And yet, at the same time, it's hard to admit there are really two Sharons - the Sharon we all know as a great political figure (or once-great, if you wish), and Sharon the regular, obesce old man who has an incredible burden on his shoulders. The hardest part is to reconcile these two figures into one. It's almost absurd. Which Sharon is real? The hero... or The Other, whatever it is, undefinable, unprinicipled, traitor of his party, as many of those who were disillusioned in him came to think of it? Trying to understand what I really think of Sharon, I realized that when such a misfortune strikes, your anger at the mistakes and deliberate misdoings vanish, and you feel a wave of sudden, surprising sadness.
Whatever it is, I cannot bring myself to judge Sharon by his latest decisions. At this point, alone with myself, I realize that I must weigh in all of his actions, all of his life... and that sadness, being the primary emotions, shows that it probably matters more what he did for Israel when he was at his best than those other latest things. But really, in the end, Sharon is also a human being... and I have to keep that in mind. Prime Minister is a position. A general is a military function. Ariel Sharon was both... and now, he's just a human being.
After browsing through a couple of reports, I realized that I don't want to read any more updates and information, so I turned away. The updates made me sick. The doctors made me sick in a variety of ways. Part of the sickness was no one's fault. It's just that there's something gruesome and morbid in the way people juggle with statistics and probabilities of the various outcomes, as if placing a bet in a horse race. This kind of approach, even given the fact that Sharon is a Prime Minister and a leader of a party, is... very repugnant and dehumanizing. I don't want to see any more medical details. I don't care. I hope he gets well, although I've got to admit, I also hope that the next PM is someone, whose policies, I think, will turn out to work better for Israel.
I also have to say that I cannot understand those Jews who wish him to die. My gosh, some of them claim to love Israel... but loving Israel means also accepting Israel's choice as a democracy, even an imperfect democracy. Sharon was elected Prime Minister, Sharon became widely supported as a Prime Minister. So you hate his policies. Ok, that's your right. But don't lower yourself to the level of those, whose names I will not mention. If you relate to Israel as Jews, have some grace towards its leader, who's in a grave condition. And for goodness's sake's, show some class as human beings. Whatever his mistakes, delusions, and imperfections, Sharon is not Arafat. I just can't understand it. I can't understand how people can confuse love with hatred and unity and compassion with a sort of masochistic schadenfreude these people are showing.
So where do I stand at the end of the day?
I do not claim to say anything different from what the other bloggers have said already. Unfortunately, the spectrum of human emotions are rather narrow.
All I have to say is I cannot think of politics right now. I mean, I'm wondering what will happen with Israeli elections and the future of Kadima, but I don't want to think about disengagement or any of that. I don't know why. At this moment, I must put all politics aside.
When someone is sick, I think, we should show some respect and just wait, quietly. It's in God's hands now...
And so I will be still.
Silent,
Irina
Physically, I haven't left New York.
However, I've been so completely absorbed in relaxing, having fun, and doing what I feel like - totally! - that I might as well have been away, for all intents and purposes.
Last night, coming home at night, somewhat "out of it", as in reality, I turned on the news, having forgotten that the news exist during the day... lo and behold, the world does go on even when I'm not online!
I haven't been so shocked since I came home from school one day and hear about Nord Ost theater being held hostage in Moscow.
The news of Sharon's cerebral hemorrhage overwhelmed me. I didn't even know how to react, at first.
A few years years, I was imploring fate to make Sharon PM. He, according to me, was *the last hope of Israel*. His history as a legendary general and a tough guy made him a hero in my eyes. As the years passed, I grew increasingly disillusioned, especially over the way the disengagement was handled. I couldn't quite decide whether Sharon had good intentions, but was deluded, whether he was getting a little too enamored of power, whether he was giving in to international pressure, whether he didn't really care about the good of the country anymore, or whether he was simply senile and it was time for him to retire.
However, when I heard this information, I simply went blank. All my latest sarcastic and exasperated thoughts vanished without a thought.
All I felt was just plain surprise and horror.
It wasn't *really* all that shocking, all things considering - his age, health problems, and a recent mini-stroke all being indications pointing to the possibility of such an outcome.
The true shock was in that it happened to Sharon the Legend, not Sharon the Common Mortal.
That was the Sharon I heard so much about. That was the Sharon my parents praised and put their hopes into, as I was growing up. That was the Sharon I knew I should love because my enemies hated him. That was Sharon who was Larger Than Life, so Large than even the corruption scandals couldn't finish him off. You've got to admit, you have to admire someone like that even if you disagree with what he's doing. (I certainly do, nowadays).
And yet, at the same time, it's hard to admit there are really two Sharons - the Sharon we all know as a great political figure (or once-great, if you wish), and Sharon the regular, obesce old man who has an incredible burden on his shoulders. The hardest part is to reconcile these two figures into one. It's almost absurd. Which Sharon is real? The hero... or The Other, whatever it is, undefinable, unprinicipled, traitor of his party, as many of those who were disillusioned in him came to think of it? Trying to understand what I really think of Sharon, I realized that when such a misfortune strikes, your anger at the mistakes and deliberate misdoings vanish, and you feel a wave of sudden, surprising sadness.
Whatever it is, I cannot bring myself to judge Sharon by his latest decisions. At this point, alone with myself, I realize that I must weigh in all of his actions, all of his life... and that sadness, being the primary emotions, shows that it probably matters more what he did for Israel when he was at his best than those other latest things. But really, in the end, Sharon is also a human being... and I have to keep that in mind. Prime Minister is a position. A general is a military function. Ariel Sharon was both... and now, he's just a human being.
After browsing through a couple of reports, I realized that I don't want to read any more updates and information, so I turned away. The updates made me sick. The doctors made me sick in a variety of ways. Part of the sickness was no one's fault. It's just that there's something gruesome and morbid in the way people juggle with statistics and probabilities of the various outcomes, as if placing a bet in a horse race. This kind of approach, even given the fact that Sharon is a Prime Minister and a leader of a party, is... very repugnant and dehumanizing. I don't want to see any more medical details. I don't care. I hope he gets well, although I've got to admit, I also hope that the next PM is someone, whose policies, I think, will turn out to work better for Israel.
I also have to say that I cannot understand those Jews who wish him to die. My gosh, some of them claim to love Israel... but loving Israel means also accepting Israel's choice as a democracy, even an imperfect democracy. Sharon was elected Prime Minister, Sharon became widely supported as a Prime Minister. So you hate his policies. Ok, that's your right. But don't lower yourself to the level of those, whose names I will not mention. If you relate to Israel as Jews, have some grace towards its leader, who's in a grave condition. And for goodness's sake's, show some class as human beings. Whatever his mistakes, delusions, and imperfections, Sharon is not Arafat. I just can't understand it. I can't understand how people can confuse love with hatred and unity and compassion with a sort of masochistic schadenfreude these people are showing.
So where do I stand at the end of the day?
I do not claim to say anything different from what the other bloggers have said already. Unfortunately, the spectrum of human emotions are rather narrow.
All I have to say is I cannot think of politics right now. I mean, I'm wondering what will happen with Israeli elections and the future of Kadima, but I don't want to think about disengagement or any of that. I don't know why. At this moment, I must put all politics aside.
When someone is sick, I think, we should show some respect and just wait, quietly. It's in God's hands now...
And so I will be still.
Silent,
Irina
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
The Ministry of Offense Conducts an Ignoble Experiment with Disastrous Results!!!!!!
Wait, I can explain!!!
Yes, it's me. Same old Irina. But with the wonders of the modern plastic surgery, my blog has been transformed from an ugly duckling into a lovely... dung beetle.
This was the secret project we've been working on for the past several months.
By August of this year, I was pretty sick of my template. I mentioned the desire to change it, but several of my readers explained what a challenging task it would turn out to be. I didn't like that. The view of my mangy old blog annoyed me. I have outgrown it and was more than ready to move on to a more individualized look.
But what would that new look be? Of all the things in me, how could I choose just a few to represent my being?
I decided that at least to some extent, the new look would have to match the title of the blog.
The Ignoble Experiment has several roots. In the beginning, I was planning to call it "The Noble Experiment", an early reference to the Constitution and the Federalist. However, I finally change it to add the name of the blog a little of my own quirky, mischievous personality. Later on, I found out that tthe term "ignoble experiment" is a reference to the Prohibition. How ironic, considering that I don't drink. As for the "Live Dangerously" part, it's a reference to Nietzschean idea of transcending conformity.
Both go hand in hand with The Jump.
I have to take a step back here and explain.
Both the train on the way to the broken bridge and the sea gull above it are literary allusions.
The train is an image from a story called "The Yellow Arrow" by the contemporary Russian writer Viktor Pelevin. In the story, everyone who's ever been born is travelling on a yellow train towards the broken bridge (which symbolizes death), and it never stops. The protagonist of the story learns that a person can, theoretically, stop the train... but most people are either unaware of their destiny, or too apathetic, or are afraid of leaving the safety of the train. The protagonist, however, finally decides to make the jump. As for the seagull, it's a reference to "Jonathan Livingston Seagull" by Richard Bach. I strongly recommend the story... suffice to say, the lonely little sea gull learns how to soar...
If you scroll down to the bottom of the post, you'll see the train morphing, as it approaches the bridge. But I hope, as a passenger of the train, to make the jump, and soar as the seagull, above and beyond the train and the bridge. Alone... and free!
Blue works great as the background. It's the color of hope, and also the color of the sky in which the sea gull soars. And the yellow text of course, (which will be my main color from now on), matches the yellow train. Moreover, as you can see, the Dung Beetle aspect of me comes into play in the sidebar.
The new blog allowed me to express what is important to me through a number of logos, also in my sidebar.
But the best part about my Renaissance is that it reflects the changes in ME as an individual. Recently, I wrote about seeking a sense of direction through blogging. I'm on my way there, coming to associate with a wider circle of bloggers, primarily the J-blogosphere. However, the new blog is about more than just blogging. It's also about the development of my personality through the months I've spent thinking about the new look. I'm liberating myself through this new appearance, discarding the old fears and the straws, which I was grasping lamely. I'm throwing off the old skin, which has grown to small, and embracing a new, adult, permanence. I've always felt as if the old template was some kind of limbo, a temporary step, before I moved on to something which truly reflected me.
This is it. THIS is the kind of person I am, or at least hope to become. Daring, adventuraous, courages, open-minded, unconventional, unconforming... with a future, and a hope, and only the sky my limit.
I've been changing. I have a much better sense of where I stand and what I want. I've grown to define my views, values, and preferences. I'm ready to answer for what I am. Having an individual face in the design of this blog is but one of the reflections of this sense of responsibility, of this pride and dignity in all the things I wish to embody.
I'm willing to look the world straight in the eyes. I'm ready for the challenge of living to the fullest, of living the way I've always wanted to live.
I'm preparing myself for The Jump. I don't know when or how it will happen; but my decision has been made. One day, I will escape that which has restrained me, that which stands in the way of my values, and of my potential as a human being.
The blog makeover is a renewal. I feel I'm cleansing myself, ridding myself of the childish doubts and delusions. I have a very, VERY long way to go... but at least, I know that I'm going somewhere. The blue is the color of my confidence and hope. I believe I can develop my skills and some day use them for something good... Not great, but *good*, beneficial, interesting, inspiring.
Last year has been a very difficult one for me. Due to the numerous challenges, for a long time,I felt overwhelmed, almost broken. Now, I'm picking myself up... I'm finally transcending the darkness... I'm learning how to laugh again... To laugh and to smile. I'm returning to the me that I like, the real me. It will take time, it will not be easy. But I see that I'm already on my way. With the start of 2006, I'm making a commitment... to everything that this blog represents.
I don't know where I'm going... but no matter, I will learn to see in it a beautiful, magical journey... and I'm inviting you all for the ride.
Thank you... thank you for your support, for coming back to read me... thank you for being there with me...
Thank you...
I'm laughing... deep inside, I'm laughing, and it's the most wonderful feeling in the world.
Yours,
Irina
Yes, it's me. Same old Irina. But with the wonders of the modern plastic surgery, my blog has been transformed from an ugly duckling into a lovely... dung beetle.
This was the secret project we've been working on for the past several months.
By August of this year, I was pretty sick of my template. I mentioned the desire to change it, but several of my readers explained what a challenging task it would turn out to be. I didn't like that. The view of my mangy old blog annoyed me. I have outgrown it and was more than ready to move on to a more individualized look.
But what would that new look be? Of all the things in me, how could I choose just a few to represent my being?
I decided that at least to some extent, the new look would have to match the title of the blog.
The Ignoble Experiment has several roots. In the beginning, I was planning to call it "The Noble Experiment", an early reference to the Constitution and the Federalist. However, I finally change it to add the name of the blog a little of my own quirky, mischievous personality. Later on, I found out that tthe term "ignoble experiment" is a reference to the Prohibition. How ironic, considering that I don't drink. As for the "Live Dangerously" part, it's a reference to Nietzschean idea of transcending conformity.
Both go hand in hand with The Jump.
I have to take a step back here and explain.
Both the train on the way to the broken bridge and the sea gull above it are literary allusions.
The train is an image from a story called "The Yellow Arrow" by the contemporary Russian writer Viktor Pelevin. In the story, everyone who's ever been born is travelling on a yellow train towards the broken bridge (which symbolizes death), and it never stops. The protagonist of the story learns that a person can, theoretically, stop the train... but most people are either unaware of their destiny, or too apathetic, or are afraid of leaving the safety of the train. The protagonist, however, finally decides to make the jump. As for the seagull, it's a reference to "Jonathan Livingston Seagull" by Richard Bach. I strongly recommend the story... suffice to say, the lonely little sea gull learns how to soar...
If you scroll down to the bottom of the post, you'll see the train morphing, as it approaches the bridge. But I hope, as a passenger of the train, to make the jump, and soar as the seagull, above and beyond the train and the bridge. Alone... and free!
Blue works great as the background. It's the color of hope, and also the color of the sky in which the sea gull soars. And the yellow text of course, (which will be my main color from now on), matches the yellow train. Moreover, as you can see, the Dung Beetle aspect of me comes into play in the sidebar.
The new blog allowed me to express what is important to me through a number of logos, also in my sidebar.
But the best part about my Renaissance is that it reflects the changes in ME as an individual. Recently, I wrote about seeking a sense of direction through blogging. I'm on my way there, coming to associate with a wider circle of bloggers, primarily the J-blogosphere. However, the new blog is about more than just blogging. It's also about the development of my personality through the months I've spent thinking about the new look. I'm liberating myself through this new appearance, discarding the old fears and the straws, which I was grasping lamely. I'm throwing off the old skin, which has grown to small, and embracing a new, adult, permanence. I've always felt as if the old template was some kind of limbo, a temporary step, before I moved on to something which truly reflected me.
This is it. THIS is the kind of person I am, or at least hope to become. Daring, adventuraous, courages, open-minded, unconventional, unconforming... with a future, and a hope, and only the sky my limit.
I've been changing. I have a much better sense of where I stand and what I want. I've grown to define my views, values, and preferences. I'm ready to answer for what I am. Having an individual face in the design of this blog is but one of the reflections of this sense of responsibility, of this pride and dignity in all the things I wish to embody.
I'm willing to look the world straight in the eyes. I'm ready for the challenge of living to the fullest, of living the way I've always wanted to live.
I'm preparing myself for The Jump. I don't know when or how it will happen; but my decision has been made. One day, I will escape that which has restrained me, that which stands in the way of my values, and of my potential as a human being.
The blog makeover is a renewal. I feel I'm cleansing myself, ridding myself of the childish doubts and delusions. I have a very, VERY long way to go... but at least, I know that I'm going somewhere. The blue is the color of my confidence and hope. I believe I can develop my skills and some day use them for something good... Not great, but *good*, beneficial, interesting, inspiring.
Last year has been a very difficult one for me. Due to the numerous challenges, for a long time,I felt overwhelmed, almost broken. Now, I'm picking myself up... I'm finally transcending the darkness... I'm learning how to laugh again... To laugh and to smile. I'm returning to the me that I like, the real me. It will take time, it will not be easy. But I see that I'm already on my way. With the start of 2006, I'm making a commitment... to everything that this blog represents.
I don't know where I'm going... but no matter, I will learn to see in it a beautiful, magical journey... and I'm inviting you all for the ride.
Thank you... thank you for your support, for coming back to read me... thank you for being there with me...
Thank you...
I'm laughing... deep inside, I'm laughing, and it's the most wonderful feeling in the world.
Yours,
Irina
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Peace Out
I'm creating my own dictionary, based on my observation that some usages of common words are becoming archaic. They take on a whole new meaning. It's nice to keep track, or else I might find myself overwhelmed, operating in a society, the language of which I cannot understand.
The first word to re-define is "peace".
So here's the "old"/official/accepted meaning of the word:
Peace:
1. The absence of war or other hostilities.
2. An agreement or a treaty to end hostilities.
3. Freedom from quarrels and disagreement; harmonious relations: roommates living in peace with each other.
4. Public security and order: was arrested for disturbing the peace.
5. Inner contentment; serenity: peace of mind.
Of the five definitions, the two I'm really concerned with are #1 and #3.
So let's see. Is peace really ONLY an absence of war and other hostilities?
I find this definition excessively vague. Some periods of Cold War included the absence of open hostilities... but one could hardly call this period of tension and mutual suspicion peace.
When your enemy is completely wiped out and there's no one left to fight with, you can also call it "peace". Can't you?
In recent years, the word "peace" lost its meaning, becoming an empty rhetorical device for political arguments. I can hardly stand it.
In some ways, what some people (mostly on the left) call peace should really be written as "peace". As in, the opposite of what most people really do want to see in a peaceful situation - definition # 3, harmonious relations among all parties involved.
The word peace ceased to be a concrete concept and became a tool in the hands of demagogue.
My problem with its idea is that it has become transformed from a means to a happier, more productive present and future for the society to an end in itself.
Peace, by becoming an unattainable ideal, lost any real significance. It is a shadow-word, set up to mask lack of any agendas. It has been created to elicit specific emotional reactions.
And many people swallow it all, without analyzing what it really means, what price they are willing to pay for it, and why they actually want that mysterios "peace". Think about it. Has there really been a time when the world was completely free of conflicts and strife? All the world? No? Not even during Pax Romana, really, since other corners of the world were filled with their own conflicts. I'm afraind that "world peace" is inherently a contradiction. I'm also afraid that real harmony and well-being must be defended even at the price of war. You know the saying: "When they speak of peace, prepare for war?" The very fact that there must be a need to mention the word shows that it is not realizable at the moment.
I, for one, am not willing to remain satisfied with a mere absence of hostilities at the cost of compromising my personal values, at the cost of betraying other human beings, at the cost of relinquishing self-defense. For me, peace is only meaningful in so far as its benefits are higher than it costs. Peace is not an absolute value in my eyes; it cannot compare to the values of life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness.
If peace is valued above all, (as some peace activists put it)... then we're on a self-destructive path. We will be willing to sacrifice what is most important enough for the sake of a nebulous, slippery, elusive quality that most of us cannot really define without including the very values we would have to sacrifice to achieve it.
In short, give peace a chance... but not at all costs.
Belligerent,
Irina
The first word to re-define is "peace".
So here's the "old"/official/accepted meaning of the word:
Peace:
1. The absence of war or other hostilities.
2. An agreement or a treaty to end hostilities.
3. Freedom from quarrels and disagreement; harmonious relations: roommates living in peace with each other.
4. Public security and order: was arrested for disturbing the peace.
5. Inner contentment; serenity: peace of mind.
Of the five definitions, the two I'm really concerned with are #1 and #3.
So let's see. Is peace really ONLY an absence of war and other hostilities?
I find this definition excessively vague. Some periods of Cold War included the absence of open hostilities... but one could hardly call this period of tension and mutual suspicion peace.
When your enemy is completely wiped out and there's no one left to fight with, you can also call it "peace". Can't you?
In recent years, the word "peace" lost its meaning, becoming an empty rhetorical device for political arguments. I can hardly stand it.
In some ways, what some people (mostly on the left) call peace should really be written as "peace". As in, the opposite of what most people really do want to see in a peaceful situation - definition # 3, harmonious relations among all parties involved.
The word peace ceased to be a concrete concept and became a tool in the hands of demagogue.
My problem with its idea is that it has become transformed from a means to a happier, more productive present and future for the society to an end in itself.
Peace, by becoming an unattainable ideal, lost any real significance. It is a shadow-word, set up to mask lack of any agendas. It has been created to elicit specific emotional reactions.
And many people swallow it all, without analyzing what it really means, what price they are willing to pay for it, and why they actually want that mysterios "peace". Think about it. Has there really been a time when the world was completely free of conflicts and strife? All the world? No? Not even during Pax Romana, really, since other corners of the world were filled with their own conflicts. I'm afraind that "world peace" is inherently a contradiction. I'm also afraid that real harmony and well-being must be defended even at the price of war. You know the saying: "When they speak of peace, prepare for war?" The very fact that there must be a need to mention the word shows that it is not realizable at the moment.
I, for one, am not willing to remain satisfied with a mere absence of hostilities at the cost of compromising my personal values, at the cost of betraying other human beings, at the cost of relinquishing self-defense. For me, peace is only meaningful in so far as its benefits are higher than it costs. Peace is not an absolute value in my eyes; it cannot compare to the values of life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness.
If peace is valued above all, (as some peace activists put it)... then we're on a self-destructive path. We will be willing to sacrifice what is most important enough for the sake of a nebulous, slippery, elusive quality that most of us cannot really define without including the very values we would have to sacrifice to achieve it.
In short, give peace a chance... but not at all costs.
Belligerent,
Irina
Monday, January 02, 2006
Memoirs With a Question
Undaunted by the inclement weather, I travelled into the city to meet with a friend.
We wound up watching "Memoirs of a Geisha", based on the book we've both read and loved.
Despite the terrible reviews, the movie actually worked much better than we expected, despite leaving out so much that made the book more than just a good yarn.
Nevertheless, watching it inevitably raises a few questions.
1) Is there such a thing as love at first sight? Can a childhood impression blossom into a mature feeling with only a few chance meetings to support it?
I would say that it's extremely unrealistic. One can certainly become *attracted* at first glance, but love takes time to develop. Real love is not just about a person's appearance or the image of the person you've constructed for yourself. I think it's based on what the person actually is, with all his/her faults and quirks. For obvious reasons, that couldn't happen in this story. So was it really love that Sayuri felt for Mr.Chairman, or was it a self-delusion of sorts?
2)Where does virtue come from?
Despite all her hardships, Sayuri remained essentially a decent person throughout the movie, and always fought fair. Her rival Pumpkin, on the other hand, wound up being vengeful and doing something very nasty at the end of the movie... whereas, she seemed to be a decent person to begin with, and resist becoming someone like Hatsumomo. Why didn't it work? How was it that she succumbed to the temptation of blaming the easiest target, Sayuri, instead of bad luck, her own mediocrity, and the backfired schemings of Hatsumomo? What was it that made Sayuri strong enough to resist such temptations and why didn't Pumpkin develop the same quality? How is it, that as children growing up in very similar circumstances, we eventually draw different lessons and offer different interpretations of the world around us? How do we really learn morality? How do we *choose* our own morals? What do we find in being decent, if decency is not always rewarded? Why do we often choose over some much easier ways of behavior?
3) Can hard work and perseverence really beat natural beauty, talent, and luck?
That's the question I'm pondering... Suppose Pumpkin was the most diligent of geishas. Would she stand a fair chance against Sayuri... or was she doomed to begin with? And if someone is doomed and has no real chance, is he or she justified in avenging oneself for one's unfortunate fate? An interesting question to ponder, because, depending on what you believe in, your interpretation of much larger-scale events, such as political situations, will vary. My personal opinion is what made Sayuri so attractive wasn't just the color of her eyes, but the kind of person she was, and people sensed it. I think attractive appearance without meritorous character wouldn't do it for her, just like it didn't do it for Hatsumomo.
4) There's an expression "Strength obeys virtue". How true is it to real life?
Well, I think it largely depends on whether we think of virtue necessary for the sake of itself or virtue for an (implied) long-term sake of something else, i.e. evolutionary benefit to the society. Because frankly, I don't think there's such a thing as virtue for the sake of itself, because, well, that's not how things work. The very idea of "virtue" is dependent on what it is that it's supposed to bring about. Why should we go around doing "good" things if they don't help anybody? More often then not, in fact, such things wind up harming someone. So no, effort alone is not good enough. The consequences, as well as the intentions, of one's actions should count. Thus, virtue should be tied to specific ideas. And if it is, there is no question in my mind that it is stronger than strength on its own. Virtue tied to a specific intent is a strength aimed with direction, an organized power. Strength alone is not much.
Unvirtuous,
Irina
We wound up watching "Memoirs of a Geisha", based on the book we've both read and loved.
Despite the terrible reviews, the movie actually worked much better than we expected, despite leaving out so much that made the book more than just a good yarn.
Nevertheless, watching it inevitably raises a few questions.
1) Is there such a thing as love at first sight? Can a childhood impression blossom into a mature feeling with only a few chance meetings to support it?
I would say that it's extremely unrealistic. One can certainly become *attracted* at first glance, but love takes time to develop. Real love is not just about a person's appearance or the image of the person you've constructed for yourself. I think it's based on what the person actually is, with all his/her faults and quirks. For obvious reasons, that couldn't happen in this story. So was it really love that Sayuri felt for Mr.Chairman, or was it a self-delusion of sorts?
2)Where does virtue come from?
Despite all her hardships, Sayuri remained essentially a decent person throughout the movie, and always fought fair. Her rival Pumpkin, on the other hand, wound up being vengeful and doing something very nasty at the end of the movie... whereas, she seemed to be a decent person to begin with, and resist becoming someone like Hatsumomo. Why didn't it work? How was it that she succumbed to the temptation of blaming the easiest target, Sayuri, instead of bad luck, her own mediocrity, and the backfired schemings of Hatsumomo? What was it that made Sayuri strong enough to resist such temptations and why didn't Pumpkin develop the same quality? How is it, that as children growing up in very similar circumstances, we eventually draw different lessons and offer different interpretations of the world around us? How do we really learn morality? How do we *choose* our own morals? What do we find in being decent, if decency is not always rewarded? Why do we often choose over some much easier ways of behavior?
3) Can hard work and perseverence really beat natural beauty, talent, and luck?
That's the question I'm pondering... Suppose Pumpkin was the most diligent of geishas. Would she stand a fair chance against Sayuri... or was she doomed to begin with? And if someone is doomed and has no real chance, is he or she justified in avenging oneself for one's unfortunate fate? An interesting question to ponder, because, depending on what you believe in, your interpretation of much larger-scale events, such as political situations, will vary. My personal opinion is what made Sayuri so attractive wasn't just the color of her eyes, but the kind of person she was, and people sensed it. I think attractive appearance without meritorous character wouldn't do it for her, just like it didn't do it for Hatsumomo.
4) There's an expression "Strength obeys virtue". How true is it to real life?
Well, I think it largely depends on whether we think of virtue necessary for the sake of itself or virtue for an (implied) long-term sake of something else, i.e. evolutionary benefit to the society. Because frankly, I don't think there's such a thing as virtue for the sake of itself, because, well, that's not how things work. The very idea of "virtue" is dependent on what it is that it's supposed to bring about. Why should we go around doing "good" things if they don't help anybody? More often then not, in fact, such things wind up harming someone. So no, effort alone is not good enough. The consequences, as well as the intentions, of one's actions should count. Thus, virtue should be tied to specific ideas. And if it is, there is no question in my mind that it is stronger than strength on its own. Virtue tied to a specific intent is a strength aimed with direction, an organized power. Strength alone is not much.
Unvirtuous,
Irina
Sunday, January 01, 2006
The Nameless XXXVII
The Nameless I * The Nameless II * The Nameless III * The Nameless IV * The Nameless V * The Nameless VI * The Nameless VII * The Nameless VIII * The Nameless IX * The Nameless X * The Nameless XI * The Nameless XII * The Nameless XIII * The Nameless XIV * The Nameless XV * The Nameless XVI * The Nameless XVII * The Nameless XVIII * The Nameless XIX * The Nameless XX * The Nameless XXI * The Nameless XXII * The Nameless XXIII * The Nameless XXIV * The Nameless XXV * The Nameless XXVI * The Nameless XXVII * The Nameless XXVIII * The Nameless XXIX * The Nameless XXX * The Nameless XXXI * The Nameless XXXII * The Nameless XXXIII The Nameless XXXIV * The Nameless XXXV * The Nameless XXXVI
A few light touches - and Leslie was ready for the job. The lawyer found herself instantly transformed into a slightly vulgar girl-next-door, substituting her usual business attire with faded jeans, ripped at the knee, a pair of old sneakers, a parka, and a messy wig. The hood, which hid her face, completed the metamorphosis. No one would let her into a classy restaurant like that, but she could comfortably fade into its surroundings, and wait until Amikam and Shira emerged. Perhaps, she'd be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of their "friend". If not, she'd simply follow Shira, catch her with her guard down, reveal herself, and try to find out as much as possible from the girl.
Leslie arrived outside the restaurant some time before she expected the "couple" to make their dramatic appearance. It was getting cold, and Leslie was glad she was wearing the parka. Shortly, she knew, it would begin to snow. It was a good night for a blizzard. Leslie placed herself in a strategic spot on a bench not far from the restaurant. Good thing the restaurant was in the park. There was always a place to sit down. Who knows how long the meeting would last. Leslie wasn't keen on spending two hours walking around after a full day at work running around on spike heels. Leslie took out a book and opened it carelessly, pretending to read it, and glancing at her watch. She still had some time. Her mind drifted off.
She recalled Gideon's outrage during their brief confrontation last night. She spent hours thinking it over, and came to the conclusion that Gideon probably wasn't directly involved in the scheme. He wasn't smart enough, nor good enough to play double agent. But then, why didn't he raise ruckus to attract attention to The Jackal's disappearance? Why did it seem that he was doing everything possible to *suppress* that information? Of course, he didn't want to give the opponents of the L.I.O.N.S. a moment of schadenfreude, and Leslie could understand it... but wasn't it taking the protectiveness a little too far? No, there had to be a reasonable explanation even to Gideon's actions. Leslie found herself wishing to spit every time she thought of this unpleasant, hysterical character. She couldn't muster any respect for the so-called leader of this weird little group. She sensed that the dislike was mutual. Gideon was probably a little intimidated by her (who could blame him?) and was purposely refusing to cooperate.
So... what could it be that outweighed the benefit of freeing The Jackal with the help of wide media coverage? The answer had to be very simple. And it was. The risk of that very same media coverage outweight the benefit. What risk? It took Leslie a while to arrive at what she thought was the answer, but finally she understood. That. The Jackal wasn't her acquaintance's real name, of course. His real name, however, was known in the firm, where he practiced. And of course, they, of all people, would be alarmed by his unexpected disappearance. There was no doubt about it; they'd be searching for The Jackal... under his real name. Had Gideon published a similar ad, it would certainly make the front pages.
The Jackal's photograph would attract attention... and reveal his identity to the world... and his employers, clients, and everyone else. Not only would his career be ruined for good, but it might give unnecessary advantage to his possible abductors. Gideon, therefore, had to exercise extreme caution. He could not turn to the police with this matter. The Lions would have to rely on their own resources to find their leader. Unfortunately, it didn't sound like they were doing a good job with tracking the abductors down. Strange, strange people. Running around, worrying needlessly... over things that would change of their own accord or not at all. The Lions were but a drop in the ocean. Why were they risking their lives and reputations for a chimera? Leslie couldn't understand their desperate idealism. It was touching in its naivete... but also dangerous.
Ah, there they are! Leslie brought up the book before her eyes, and looked over it. Amikam, in a suit. And Shira, some distance behind him, barely able to walk in exceedingly high heels. Leslie noted the skirt of a hideous dress the color of sea sickness the girl was wearing. No better way to attract attention to herself than by putting on this unbecoming monstrosity. The "couple" ignored each other until the very entrance to the restaurant. Amikam didn't seem to care that Shira was trailing far behind him, limping pathetically, looking as though she was about to trip over her own heels any second.
And Shira, putting on a brave face, pretended that Amikam didn't exist... and when he stopped suddenly and she bumped into him, she walked by him without acknowledging his presence. Leslie found the situation very strange. Shira was knew to the organization. How was it that the two already behaved as if they'd been at each other's throat for quite some time? What an unprofessional way to behave! No wonder the organization sounded like a bunch of losers, if its members put their personal little squabbles above the goals of the L.I.O.N.S.! Leslie would never have allowed such selfish and immature behavior. She would have given the adversaries a day or two to shape up - and if they didn't resolve their problems quietly, she'd have simply thrown both of them out. Let them fight it out elsewhere. Now, however, was not the time to bring up her sage advice. All she could do was watch.
It was interesting to see two people, who obviously couldn't stand each other, being forced to behave like a harmonious couple. With a grimace of disgust, Shira took Amikam's arm, as he looked on in a different direction, nothing but cold detachment showing on his face. Barely touching each other, they made their way inside their restaurant. They didn't speak, didn't look at each other. Leslie shuddered. The situation was so delightfully awkward. Perhaps, unwittingly, Gideon was wise to assign the two enemies to this unpleasant task. The forced and obviously humiliating cooperation would take both of them down a notch or two and humble them. They obviously thought too much of themselves. Leslie couldn't say anything about Shira, not having met the girl personally. However, she did know Amikam as a client. He wasn't a bad guy - but hot-blooded and stubborn. Life will toss him around quite a bit before he learns his lesson and softens, rubs off the edges. Evidently, the same was true for Shira.
Finally, the odd couple went in. Nothing was to be heard or seen, as the door closed behind them. There was nothing left for Leslie but to wait... to wait and watch for any sign of... of what? She didn't even know what to expect. Well, whatever happened - or not -, she'd be here. And Leslie waited. And the night fell, and it grew cold. She waited...
(to be continued),
Annoyed,
Irina
A few light touches - and Leslie was ready for the job. The lawyer found herself instantly transformed into a slightly vulgar girl-next-door, substituting her usual business attire with faded jeans, ripped at the knee, a pair of old sneakers, a parka, and a messy wig. The hood, which hid her face, completed the metamorphosis. No one would let her into a classy restaurant like that, but she could comfortably fade into its surroundings, and wait until Amikam and Shira emerged. Perhaps, she'd be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of their "friend". If not, she'd simply follow Shira, catch her with her guard down, reveal herself, and try to find out as much as possible from the girl.
Leslie arrived outside the restaurant some time before she expected the "couple" to make their dramatic appearance. It was getting cold, and Leslie was glad she was wearing the parka. Shortly, she knew, it would begin to snow. It was a good night for a blizzard. Leslie placed herself in a strategic spot on a bench not far from the restaurant. Good thing the restaurant was in the park. There was always a place to sit down. Who knows how long the meeting would last. Leslie wasn't keen on spending two hours walking around after a full day at work running around on spike heels. Leslie took out a book and opened it carelessly, pretending to read it, and glancing at her watch. She still had some time. Her mind drifted off.
She recalled Gideon's outrage during their brief confrontation last night. She spent hours thinking it over, and came to the conclusion that Gideon probably wasn't directly involved in the scheme. He wasn't smart enough, nor good enough to play double agent. But then, why didn't he raise ruckus to attract attention to The Jackal's disappearance? Why did it seem that he was doing everything possible to *suppress* that information? Of course, he didn't want to give the opponents of the L.I.O.N.S. a moment of schadenfreude, and Leslie could understand it... but wasn't it taking the protectiveness a little too far? No, there had to be a reasonable explanation even to Gideon's actions. Leslie found herself wishing to spit every time she thought of this unpleasant, hysterical character. She couldn't muster any respect for the so-called leader of this weird little group. She sensed that the dislike was mutual. Gideon was probably a little intimidated by her (who could blame him?) and was purposely refusing to cooperate.
So... what could it be that outweighed the benefit of freeing The Jackal with the help of wide media coverage? The answer had to be very simple. And it was. The risk of that very same media coverage outweight the benefit. What risk? It took Leslie a while to arrive at what she thought was the answer, but finally she understood. That. The Jackal wasn't her acquaintance's real name, of course. His real name, however, was known in the firm, where he practiced. And of course, they, of all people, would be alarmed by his unexpected disappearance. There was no doubt about it; they'd be searching for The Jackal... under his real name. Had Gideon published a similar ad, it would certainly make the front pages.
The Jackal's photograph would attract attention... and reveal his identity to the world... and his employers, clients, and everyone else. Not only would his career be ruined for good, but it might give unnecessary advantage to his possible abductors. Gideon, therefore, had to exercise extreme caution. He could not turn to the police with this matter. The Lions would have to rely on their own resources to find their leader. Unfortunately, it didn't sound like they were doing a good job with tracking the abductors down. Strange, strange people. Running around, worrying needlessly... over things that would change of their own accord or not at all. The Lions were but a drop in the ocean. Why were they risking their lives and reputations for a chimera? Leslie couldn't understand their desperate idealism. It was touching in its naivete... but also dangerous.
Ah, there they are! Leslie brought up the book before her eyes, and looked over it. Amikam, in a suit. And Shira, some distance behind him, barely able to walk in exceedingly high heels. Leslie noted the skirt of a hideous dress the color of sea sickness the girl was wearing. No better way to attract attention to herself than by putting on this unbecoming monstrosity. The "couple" ignored each other until the very entrance to the restaurant. Amikam didn't seem to care that Shira was trailing far behind him, limping pathetically, looking as though she was about to trip over her own heels any second.
And Shira, putting on a brave face, pretended that Amikam didn't exist... and when he stopped suddenly and she bumped into him, she walked by him without acknowledging his presence. Leslie found the situation very strange. Shira was knew to the organization. How was it that the two already behaved as if they'd been at each other's throat for quite some time? What an unprofessional way to behave! No wonder the organization sounded like a bunch of losers, if its members put their personal little squabbles above the goals of the L.I.O.N.S.! Leslie would never have allowed such selfish and immature behavior. She would have given the adversaries a day or two to shape up - and if they didn't resolve their problems quietly, she'd have simply thrown both of them out. Let them fight it out elsewhere. Now, however, was not the time to bring up her sage advice. All she could do was watch.
It was interesting to see two people, who obviously couldn't stand each other, being forced to behave like a harmonious couple. With a grimace of disgust, Shira took Amikam's arm, as he looked on in a different direction, nothing but cold detachment showing on his face. Barely touching each other, they made their way inside their restaurant. They didn't speak, didn't look at each other. Leslie shuddered. The situation was so delightfully awkward. Perhaps, unwittingly, Gideon was wise to assign the two enemies to this unpleasant task. The forced and obviously humiliating cooperation would take both of them down a notch or two and humble them. They obviously thought too much of themselves. Leslie couldn't say anything about Shira, not having met the girl personally. However, she did know Amikam as a client. He wasn't a bad guy - but hot-blooded and stubborn. Life will toss him around quite a bit before he learns his lesson and softens, rubs off the edges. Evidently, the same was true for Shira.
Finally, the odd couple went in. Nothing was to be heard or seen, as the door closed behind them. There was nothing left for Leslie but to wait... to wait and watch for any sign of... of what? She didn't even know what to expect. Well, whatever happened - or not -, she'd be here. And Leslie waited. And the night fell, and it grew cold. She waited...
(to be continued),
Annoyed,
Irina
Off to a Good Start
It's the first day of 2006.
Which doesn't really seem any different from the last day of 2005.
Maybe, it's just me getting old. Whatever the case may be, something seems to have gone out of the celebration. And with each passing year, it gets a little worse. By next year, I'll bet, I'll be in bed by 9. : (
Amyway, my New Year started with a piece of somber news.
Remember all the cats that live around my neighborhood?
Someone's been poisoning them. This afternoon, as I went out for a walk on the boardwalk, I saw a piece of paper posted on the gates of the backyard next to the boardwalk.
It reminded the passers-by that poisoning cats is a felony in NY state and that they (ASPCA) are offering a $1000 reward for the information about the person(s) who's been poisoning cats in the neighborhood.
That piece of information made me a little sick. No wonder I haven't been seeing cats recently. Today, I only saw one, though it may have been due to the weather. But the fact is, many of the familiar faces seemed to have disappeared in the last couple of months. True, it's been called and rainy, but...
Who would do something so horrible? Look, I know, many people really don't like having cats around. (Though cats here are very helpful in keeping the rodent population under control). But come on, you don't like the animals, contact ASPCA and get them to find new homes for the animals!
The news upset me for the rest of the day. Who could be doing this? Why? What's even scarier is that people who are cruel to animals, have been known to exhibit hostile, anti-social behavior towards human beings; one might even say, *pathological* behavior. I mean, no person in his right mind would just go around killing *cats* for fun, would he? This is not just sad and disgusting, but frightening. I wonder what will happen next. I wonder whether they'll ever catch whoever is behind it.
I'm trying to imagine who might do something like that. It's terribly upsetting, considering how many people have truly cared for the animals. I know a few senior citizens who come out to feed the cats on a regular basis. I also know how many people stop by to look at the cats, or who show tiny, adorable kittens to their children. The person poisoning cats must not realize what an intergral part of the community life he's been ruining. Not only is he or she a heartless, cruel person, but a completely selfish one as well.
Is it someone young, middle-aged, or old? Is it a man, a woman, or a bunch of people? Is it someone Russian-speaking? Right now, if I were forced to guess, I'd probably say that it's probably a single young guy, who's probably not part of the Russian-speaking community. Which is probably a stereotype. It could also be a bunch of careless, irresponsible, spoiled young people. But it could also be someone older, bitter at the whole world and probably a bit of a misanthrope as well.
Whatever the case may be, rest assured, that if I had gotten my hands on the perpetrator(s), I would have no problem with beating the crap out of them and throwing them in a dungeon for a good couple of years. I doubt you can rehabilitate someone who's deliberately killing animals.
Furious,
Irina
Which doesn't really seem any different from the last day of 2005.
Maybe, it's just me getting old. Whatever the case may be, something seems to have gone out of the celebration. And with each passing year, it gets a little worse. By next year, I'll bet, I'll be in bed by 9. : (
Amyway, my New Year started with a piece of somber news.
Remember all the cats that live around my neighborhood?
Someone's been poisoning them. This afternoon, as I went out for a walk on the boardwalk, I saw a piece of paper posted on the gates of the backyard next to the boardwalk.
It reminded the passers-by that poisoning cats is a felony in NY state and that they (ASPCA) are offering a $1000 reward for the information about the person(s) who's been poisoning cats in the neighborhood.
That piece of information made me a little sick. No wonder I haven't been seeing cats recently. Today, I only saw one, though it may have been due to the weather. But the fact is, many of the familiar faces seemed to have disappeared in the last couple of months. True, it's been called and rainy, but...
Who would do something so horrible? Look, I know, many people really don't like having cats around. (Though cats here are very helpful in keeping the rodent population under control). But come on, you don't like the animals, contact ASPCA and get them to find new homes for the animals!
The news upset me for the rest of the day. Who could be doing this? Why? What's even scarier is that people who are cruel to animals, have been known to exhibit hostile, anti-social behavior towards human beings; one might even say, *pathological* behavior. I mean, no person in his right mind would just go around killing *cats* for fun, would he? This is not just sad and disgusting, but frightening. I wonder what will happen next. I wonder whether they'll ever catch whoever is behind it.
I'm trying to imagine who might do something like that. It's terribly upsetting, considering how many people have truly cared for the animals. I know a few senior citizens who come out to feed the cats on a regular basis. I also know how many people stop by to look at the cats, or who show tiny, adorable kittens to their children. The person poisoning cats must not realize what an intergral part of the community life he's been ruining. Not only is he or she a heartless, cruel person, but a completely selfish one as well.
Is it someone young, middle-aged, or old? Is it a man, a woman, or a bunch of people? Is it someone Russian-speaking? Right now, if I were forced to guess, I'd probably say that it's probably a single young guy, who's probably not part of the Russian-speaking community. Which is probably a stereotype. It could also be a bunch of careless, irresponsible, spoiled young people. But it could also be someone older, bitter at the whole world and probably a bit of a misanthrope as well.
Whatever the case may be, rest assured, that if I had gotten my hands on the perpetrator(s), I would have no problem with beating the crap out of them and throwing them in a dungeon for a good couple of years. I doubt you can rehabilitate someone who's deliberately killing animals.
Furious,
Irina
Haveil Havalim # 51
Haveil Havalim ("Vanity of Vanities") is the carnival of Jewish blogs -- a weekly collection of Jewish & Israeli blog highlights, tidbits and points of interest hosted by a different blogger each week. This week, the host is Batya. Take a look!
Involved,
Irina
Involved,
Irina
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