I'd rather be bothered

Let's just start off by sweeping questions of where the hell I've been the last few months under the proverbial rug, and continuing on to the inspiration for this entry.


Preface: About a month and a half ago, I started volunteering at Tzeva (צ.ב.ע. - צעירים בונים עתיד), a non-profit organization that sponsors after school programs for youth all over Israel (mostly in low-income areas), including 7 centers just in Tel Aviv. Once a week I go to one of the centers in southern Tel Aviv for about two hours and help run the afterschool program. The program involves about an hour of tutoring/academic work followed by an hour of group activities.

So far I've really enjoyed it and it's definitely helped fill the void of wanting to feel connected to the world around me (not that easy to do sometimes from the 35th floor of a skyscraper where people talk in millions of dollars). I've met some great people along the way, and the kids - well, sometimes I think that it's them volunteering to hang out with me and not the other way around :-P

The Story: This week I was witness to a pretty disturbing event where one of the little girls who we work with was last to leave the building and was completely humiliated by the family member who was there to walk her home. He yelled at her for being the last one of the kids to leave (all the volunteers were still there, we stay after for a while to debrief) and said a few other things that I'd just rather not repeat. She became silent immediately and walked out towards the gate with her head down. Needless to say, it broke my heart.

It took all of my will power not to say something, but unfortunately it is not our place to do so. The other volunteer that was there with me communicated what happened to one of the teachers who happened to be in the building for a meeting, and I can only hope that the school system is sensitive to these kinds of situations and do their best to help. Perhaps there are bigger problems in the family, or cultural norms that I am not used to. But regardless of any of those variables, there's just no excuse for saying such terrible things.

The Subject of this Blog: As I was walking out of the building with my fellow volunteers, I was expressing how much it hurt and saddened me to hear someone yell at a child like that. One of the other volunteers essentially said to me that I shouldn't get so upset and let it bother me so much. While I can completely understand that this comment was made in an effort to comfort me, I can honestly say that I hope, for the rest of my life, I will continue to be as bothered and saddened when I am witness to such an event. Some may label this attitude naive, but my choice to be bothered is not a result of being blindfolded from the world. I am aware that this single incident is only one of millions that happen on a daily basis all around me. But should its universal and prevalent nature make it any less repulsive or disturbing?

It is my choice to let things affect me as they do. I make a terrible cynic and take no comfort in the "shit happens" mentality when it comes to these sorts of things. It's definitely not an easy route, choosing to be bothered, and I can't say that I do it with every terrible event that I hear or read about. But when you watch a sweet little girl be verbally attacked for wanting to spend a couple extra minutes in a place where she's happy, it's hard to just write that off as unfortunate and move on. Perhaps they are just words and she's dealt with worse. Perhaps she's just one of many. Perhaps I should just let it go.

But at the end of the day, I would rather be bothered.

it's the little things...

at the end of the day it's all about noticing all the little things...

the guy at a bar I was at complained to the bartender that the salad on his plate was really bothersome and how he had asked specifically to not have salad on his plate... (WTF??)

when someone jumps and clicks their heels together (think Mary Poppins) lifting one leg in the air before you jump creates the illusion of both legs being in the air for longer and jumping quite high...

in the movie Wit (great great movie) Emma Thompson doesn't REALLY not have eyebrows, they just dyed them a light blonde so that people can't see them...

young Israeli fathers that love playing with their kids in the park are collectively one of the most attractive things in this country... (or maybe just for me)

my cat has a particular meow when she first sees me (or anyone, really) in the morning, and it almost sounds like she's saying "good morning" in her own kitten language...

i am very good at remembering random names and telephone numbers that aren't important and all and information and knowledge i acquired during college that could be quite helpful seem completely erased from my short and long term memory...

well-placed pauses in songs (in some ways this is the same is interesting syncopation) can be extremely important and unique. it seems odd to appreciate the silence in a song, but if you pay attention to them, they add great character to music...

the split second when you can see a flash of satisfaction on a person's face (before the nervousness sets in) as they do something courageous and decide to take a risk...

ok... those are all my "deep thoughts" (SNL style) for today...

I like them before they become famous

Perhaps it's the influence of my company, as we only invest in startups before they are really companies, just a couple talented people with a good idea or two, but my taste in music lately has been all about finding the random artists that haven't made it big yet... and yet, in my opinion, are clearly on their way there.

The best way to find these people, besides of course a recommendation from someone I know with good musical taste or someone in the industry, is to go through the artists you already know. One of my favorite not-yet-totally-discovered artists is a young woman named Sara Bareilles. Calling her my favorite is sort of an understatement as there have been months where my iPod might as well have been "stuck" on her name. She has one album that I know inside out, some myspace and website mp3s and another album coming out in 2007 (and if i knew exactly when, i might be counting the days). Perhaps her background in a college a cappella makes her arrangements particularly interesting for me, but overall, the girl just rocks. Her website is one of my links on the sidebar.

So, I figure, if she likes and gives props to some other not-so-famous artists out there, chances are, it's worth giving them a listen. ALthough I only recently began browsing, i have found one more addition to my list of somewhat randoms: a guy named Ernie Halter. Perhaps people know him and I'm just a little late in the game, but from what he has online, his new album (also coming out in '07) should be pretty hot.

The "moral" of this blog post is that if you people out there know of good, young, upcoming artists that you'd like to recommend, preferably of the acoustic-guitar-y-folky-pop genre, I'm all ear(phone)s.

back to my roots

So, last night I realized that it's been quite a while since I sat down and wrote (creatively). It made me go back to the last set of things i wrote a few months ago. I've decided to post them here. Please feel free to read/browse/comment.

My reaction to the Peace Rally in commemoration of the death of Yitzhak Rabin:

My back sends reminders of its discomfort, which I gladly ignore. You see, I am busy, busy giving up my voice, a martyr in the name of Peace’s survival. We lean back and open up our memories and our souls and let the Hope pour out. He stands next to me, a complete stranger. Green shirt. Slightly taller than most. Broad shoulders. Sneakers that have done a fair amount of traveling. These are the things I know about him. But we stood there and for the moment, we were “we” and not just a “him” and a “me.” The words erupt without invitation, a mosaic of accents and intonations gluing the air together. We live together in this moment. We live in the blood of the tears we wipe away too quickly. We live in the salt of our optimism, exaggerated and mistrusting. All 200,000 of us, including the “he” and the “me” that are for the moment a “we.” I know that our voices will soon abandon their temporary engagement. Perhaps they will collide, without purpose, as I squeeze by his now domesticated sneakers on the train, or while ordering pita and houmus to satisfy the impatience of empty stomachs. Or not. The moment gives birth to “we,” only to remind us of it’s conditional existence as the Hope fades and the murmur of the crowd grows. Even so, the temporary invention of “we” reverberates and, perhaps, brings us one step further down the path Rabin started 10 years ago.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A short story (very short): Table for Two Minus One

The second of the two waxy brick red candles flickers slightly before joining me and its twin in a sigh of “I give up.” Not long ago they awaited patiently in the middle of my modest but sturdy mahogany table; two darling ballerina legs of grace, ushering in the evening. Now I see them for what they truly are: Hallmark-ridden, cliché molds of romance, a category that, given the situation, seems utterly appropriate.

Fuck it. Where’s the corkscrew? It’s times like these that I crave the headache I know will pound quietly on my temples tomorrow morning should I actually finish the bottle. At the very least it would interfere with my need to analyze my overanalysis of what just happened. If I wasn’t so goddamn rational, I would pull one of those Almodovar film stunts, where the enraged woman thrashes about her apartment, uniting the porcelein dishes and tiled floor with a chaotic yet purposeful sweep of her hand. But despite my anger and clearly warranted frustrations, my next thought would surely be: shit, now I have to clean this up too.

My gut instinct seems to have gone on vacation to Vegas. I just see her now, gambling away my sanity on a pair of Aces. As it turns out, she’s only around when I’m already making the “right” decision. “Uh-huh, yup, that’s what I would have done too,” she declares with confidence. Wow. Thanks. Really. Where the hell was she yesterday when I bought and put on layaway each and every word that slid off his tongue. Sure you can come over for dinner. Sure you can apologize and make me laugh. Sure you can act like it’s water under the fucking bridge. Like a baby with a passé fire, I know it’s not the real thing, but apparently I’ll suck my little heart out just to sleep easy, won’t I?

Thanks to a bottle of red wine and some too-old-but-I-don’t-care-right-now Milky Way bars, I’ll be out within the hour. Here’s how it’ll happen: I’ll flip back and forth between “Sleepless in Seattle” on TNT and “Casablanca” on AMC, and avoid commercials as much as possible. The last thing I need right now is some soft, gimmicky barbie voice asking me if I want to meet local singles, how they can surely find the right match for me within minutes. Very funny. I’m not amused. I’ll somehow convince myself that the world is trying to mock me and put on the ugliest pajamas I own before crawling into my now way too big bed. I’ll fall asleep quickly but wake up within a half hour to realize that I have a rancid taste in my mouth from stale chocolate and too much wine. Some Colgate action and eye-makeup remover later, I’ll collapse back onto the mattress even though sleep now seems frivolous. Dreams will conquer sooner than expected and tomorrow morning will arrive without invitation per usual.

Having it all planned out makes it easier to avoid. I pick up the phone.

He picks up on the fourth ring. The one that says he wasn’t sure he was going to answer it, but decided at the last minute that it would be easier than having to call me back, perhaps.

“Heeyyyy hon, I was just about to call you.”

This is a lie. I can’t even convince myself otherwise because when someone picks up on the fourth ring it’s a sign that either they had the phone on hand and weren’t going to call you, or the phone was far away, and they weren’t going to call you. I tell him this.

“No. You weren’t. But we can pretend if it makes you feel better.”

“What’s wrong?? Why the trigger-happy tone of voice?”

He took a stab at ignorance, I’ll play along perhaps. Ok, no I won’t. There’s too much blood in my wine stream.

“You missed an amazing dinner tonight. Leek and spinach cream soup. Sauteed garlic and lemon on chili pepper spiced salmon. Pistachio and walnut mousse. And the worst part is that you made me miss it too. Food served on tables for two minus one lose all flavor, you know? It’s basic culinary law.”

I heard him silently stutter…so I continued.

“And the thing is, I was ready for my two classic “c’s” – clarity and closure. Yesterday the deck of cards was shuffled and placed neatly on the table, ready to be slid into the box, neatly and without too much fuss. But you pleaded. You jumbled. You called me the Queen of Hearts and promised to abandon the ways of a Joker. And you won. You won without my even putting up a real fight. And throughout today your words let my heart convince what’s left of my sanity that I could spend concert money and thesis preparation time on something much more worthy: dinner with my future. And now your silence and lack of explanation delivers exactly what I’ve been looking for. I’ve finally found my clarity. And as for closure…”

The phone beeped it’s monotone nod of approval as I place it back on the charger. The ringer is turned off of course. The end of the evening has arrived, and I am drunkenly grinning as tears whisper down my cheeks. I open the dead-bolt and let it all in. Tomorrow hangs over the arm of the loveseat where I doze off, and I let National Geographic’s explanation of bird migration lull me away from clarity.

Closure.

the wonderful world of text messaging

So I'm not sure why I hadn't really thought of it until a couple days ago, but Dianna and I are now conversing via sms, which is so so nice. Yes, it's slightly more expensive than email (free) but definitely cheaper than calling (have yet to find really good rates). And beyond that i just really like sms. Yes, it's true that it's nice to disconnect from everything once in a while and just enjoy the surroundings. But that's why the phone has an on/off button, you know? But how fun is it that I can get text messages from Morogoro, Tanzania?? :-)

I'd like to give a shout-out to my sister who is currently working her ass off -- and essentially has been for the last two years -- with her doctorate program. YOU CAN DO IT! And knowing her, she'll finish it all with about 9 and a half seconds to spare, but having completed a flawless work of art...or psychology, rather.

I'm going to the kibbutz this evening to visit, which should be fun. It'll be my first time there without any of my Ulpan buddies, and I'll probably see people walking in and out of our old rooms, which is always odd -- kind of like being in an old dorm room at college and realizing that the whole experience and atmosphere left when you did and someone has since replaced it with their own version of Room Blah blah blah, Such-and-such Hall. But in any case I'm excited to go back and see both Tzofit and Roie and perhaps my old boss and co-workers in the laundry room.

Enzywayz...I saw a great apt the other night on the corner of Dizengoff and Jabotinsky...keep your fingers crossed people! The guy wasn't sure if his sister is going to move in with him, so if that doesn't happen and they are offering it, hopefully I will be the one they choose to move in! I'll keep you posted.

Work continues to go well. I have a good amount of things on my to-do list all the time, so the time goes by rather quickly and I am learning a good deal about this world of venture capital. It doesn't hurt that the view outside is beautiful (most days) and my co-workers send me funny forwards to help ourselves procrastinate :-P

There are so many new cds coming out in the near future that i want...Tower Records, you and I are going to have some quality time together...I can feel it... and Sara Bareilles has started (finally) recording her next album which i am so so so excited for. She also has a blog I realized, and I have to say, her writing style is quite entertaining. Check her/it out if you want: http://www.sarabmusic.com/

Ok, time to get back to work. I also have to work with Riki to find a fun place for me and the family to all spend the weekend together when my mom is here (a birthday bash of sorts). Probably at a kibbutz somewhere in the North. we'll see.

להיתראות :-)