Comfort in Calm

The past several days have been blissfully calm, yet somewhat lonely. I've had the week off from teaching, though next week sees my last two days working at Emanu-El. I've had so little to actually "do," and for the first time in my recent memory, I've forced myself to do nothing. Literally. I've had to force myself to not set the alarm, not make plans, not drive to the city on impulse. I've forced myself to slow my body down, enjoy the calm, and not make myself crazy. I've taken a few naps, watched some horrible television, and above all else, I haven't felt compelled to be in a rush all week.

Now before you conclude I'm just gloating, let me assure you... this has not been an easy week. Since birth I've been on the go; I cannot remember a prolonged period of time where I chose to be lazy. Any eras of laziness were undoubtedly forced upon me. For example, the summer after high school the GAP hired me, then neglected to give me hours. Thus, by mid-July I was officially jobless, unable to find something else to do, and the endless UC summer became interminable. I hated that summer and craved something, anything, to do. I was antsy, bored, and uncomfortable in that state of mind.

I enjoy being busy; I like juggling different things at once. I'm more comfortable having a packed schedule with different things to do than I am just sitting around doing nothing and watching TV or sitting in an office staring at a computer screen. I thrive on being busy, but also commend others who do their best work when not under pressure. And, I look forward to my eventual career as a rabbi, where craziness and staying busy are the norm!

Anyway, I feel like I'm catching up on all the rest I missed out on during the last two years. All the rushing and the pushing and the nutso-futso-ness that ensued really took its toll. Going through those two physically and emotionally draining application processes, balancing three different jobs at once, the Hebrew tutoring, the voice lessons, and everything in between was not easy. It definitely made me into a stronger human being, but it was exhausting. Hence, I feel I deserve at least a week of chilling out.

It's very interesting to experience Berkeley during the hours most people are at work. Usually when I go out it's in the evening, and with Adam. I rarely, if ever, see people by themselves. Today, everywhere I went there were solitary people. People eating alone; people shopping alone. People armed with nothing but a book. People just wandering, enjoying their day. It was just so interesting to observe; so many people were alone, just like me. I wanted to talk to them, strike up random conversations, bridge the gap between us lonely folk. But most of these "loners" looked completely comfortable in their own solitude, and not at all interested in talking to the curious girl with the big mouth. So, I kept to myself.

In other news... this weekend is the premiere of Sex and the City: The Movie. Let me assure you, there are few other women in the world more excited to see this thing than me. I can quote episodes, dominate trivia contests, and rattle off about the social and psychological implications of Carrie and Co.'s trials and tribulations. I've looked forward to seeing the movie with my girlfriends for almost a year. I even watched a scene being filmed in New York when we visited in November!

But now that it's finally here, I'm nervous to see it. I've built it up in my head as the Most Amazing Movie of All Time. It's too much pressure! I've read the somewhat unkind reviews coming out, and they've made me a bit sad. I don't expect it to be amazing, I just want to enjoy it. To live and laugh with the characters of the show who have, rather unapologetically, become a major part of my life. Whether it's lame or not, the show has had an impact on my evolution as a young woman and my understanding of love and relationships. As unrealistic as the lives of the women were, the interaction between all the characters was very real, and very wonderful. I'm excited to see the movie, to be with my friends, and to laugh with the girls again.

It's time to go to sleep. I wish you all a lovely Friday, a Shabbat Shalom, and a restful weekend.

Love,
J

Memorial Day Thoughts

The silence in Berkeley this past weekend has been deafening. Adam and I have taken several walks in our neighborhood and seen almost no one. There's very little traffic (which, I must say, is awesome) and the stores and restaurants just seem kind of dead. It feels just a little bit lonely.

The weather has been miserable this weekend, too. Chilly, gray, cloudy; I think it rained on Saturday night. It's oddly depressing and super confusing, considering last weekend it was 100 degrees in the shade. It was so hot the UC Davis sticker on the back of my car melted and burned into oblivion. This weekend, it's practically frozen back on.

All this has made me eerily pensive about Memorial Day. I once viewed the holiday as nothing more than a day off from school, tinged by the scent of grilled meat and frisbees gliding through the air. I used to think nothing of it; just an extended weekend, a day for sleeping in.

But today, for some reason, Memorial Day 2008 has taken on a different persona. This is the first year I've ever really thought about what the day means. Today for the first time, I stopped flipping through the channels when I got to Fox News, only for a moment, to observe the feed from memorial services for soldiers in Iraq or elsewhere.

I've spent a lot of the day thinking that Memorial Day honors those who died while they were doing their job. Men and women who handed themselves over to the government and said, "Here I am. I want to defend my country. Take me and train me. Do what you want with me. I'm willing. I'm ready." Of course, Memorial Day also honors those who perhaps weren't so willing. People who were forced, drafted, or pushed into doing something they didn't necessarily want to do. Those people gave their lives, too.

Memorial Day is not about politics. It's not about Bush or Barack, Hillary or Johnny MC; it's about people. Ordinary men and women who are no longer living. People who died doing what they were assigned to do: defend... whatever that word entails. And I think those people deserve to be honored, remembered, and thought about. So, I'm thinking about them today.

Next year in Jerusalem, I will experience a Memorial Day unlike any I've thought about before. Yom HaZikaron, which always falls the day before Israel's Independence Day, is a day unlike any other. There is a buzzer and everything stops; people get out of their cars and leave their offices to gather together and think: think about the many, many people who came before them. They gave themselves while defending their country. Defend... what does that word mean, anyway?

As my departure date draws closer, I get more and more excited and freaked out. Sometimes both emotions hit me in waves, and it's like a roller coaster to observe. What I look forward to most is having my mind open up as it never has before. Submerging myself in a completely different way of living life; experiencing what life has to offer in a completely new environment. Celebrating holidays and memorial days in a country so far away from my cozy California home. I look forward to having my mind blown in so many ways next year.

Bring it on.

You know what they say about big feet...

At approximately eleven o'clock this morning, I, J.Fro of Berkeley, entered a war zone.

I'm not talking war zone like, say, the one I'm going to be living in starting July 2. And I don't mean war zone like Afghanistan or Iraq or even a diva-licious Hollywood movie set.

I entered what can only be described as the Valley of Forgotten Shoes. Or perhaps I shall call it by its appropriate title: The Nordstrom Half-Yearly Sale Shoe Racks for Well-Endowed Women.

For those of you who've known me awhile, you've probably been acquainted with my large (and dare I say well-groomed) feet. I passed size 10 toward the end of elementary school, and around seventh or eighth grade I established myself as a solid 12. Sometimes, very rarely, I can push my feet into size-11 strappy sandals. But this is a rare, and often celebrated, occasion.

As Nordstrom is one of the few stores that actually carries my size (less and less frequently as the years have progressed) I feel I owe it to myself to brave the first day of each sale, if I can. As brutal and as chaotic as the environment may be, it's worth it to hold those precious pieces of gold in your hands. The possibility of walking home with new footwear is a splendid high.

There's also a great comfort in talking to fellow big-footed women in your designated section. Those of us who leave a larger footprint commiserate with each other; we ruminate on how "nobody understands how we suffer" and "Our moms are so petite! How did this happen to me?" and my favorite, "If I ever have kids, I swear to G-d, I'm binding my feet."

We're like war buddies, us big-footed women. We know how it is. We've been dismissed from mainstream shoe stores, ignored by salesmen and women, shoved our feet into size 10s only to damage our pedicures; we've poured over Zappos and Piperlime and Nine West online, only to discover that the shoes we've paid an extra sum for in shipping don't fit at all.

We've walked past the "regular size" shoe sale racks time and time again, heads down in agonizing shame. We've been harassed, made fun of, joked about, laughed at, and yet we've still kept our heads high, all the while knowing that our feet give us a more solid foundation to stand upon than any size-6 pixie-footed shrimp.

But we're also a tad competitive; we're pushy and overbearing and want to make sure we get our hands on the Stuart Weitzmans and Sam Edelmans first. We're polite and kind, but deep down each of us has one goal: walking away with as many pairs as possible. We commiserate and we suffer, but we do it together. We go to battle with one another, and with our own two feet.

So I am pleased to report that I did find two pairs of shoes perfect for my Jerusalem adventure. I survived the war zone with my sanity intact.

Perhaps the so-intense-it-prepares-you-for-Israel factor was what made it so fulfilling, or perhaps it was just the fact that I had fun at the mall, but today was a good day.

I'm excited.

Early Ruminations

The departure date and jumping-off point for my new life as a future rabbi is set for July 1. That's a little less than a month and a half away. A little less than a month and a half is not sitting well with me. I've started to get emotional, and that's just the way it is.

We sold two pieces of furniture and I cried. A 13-year-old girl and her father came by to check out our piano and I cried. I got the final version of our lease in my inbox this morning and I cried.

I watched Inside the Actors Studio with Sarah Jessica Parker talking all about the SATC Movie and I got totally, completely, all encompassing-ly ferklempt.

I like blogging. It helps to get the emotions out.

Introducing: Adam!

This is Adam, posing with me at Picnic Day 08. He's a cool dude who likes to color inside the lines.

The first, the very first, the bright and shining promise of a new start

Welcome one and all to my blog! I'm pleased as punch you've found your way here.

Stay tuned!