Today a co-worker of mine moved to the office outside my cube. The thing is, she speaks Hebrew. ALL THE TIME. I understand weird snatches of her conversations. I feel like I should know more. I took Hebrew in college and also in my early teens for the perpous of being Bat Mitzvah. Most, if not all, people know what a Bar Mitzvah is, but a startling number of people have no clue that there is the female counterpart known as the Bat Mitzvah. Weird, but true.
And now I reveal to you, dear reader one of my most embarassing revelations. My parents were not strict about Hebrew school. In fact they very liberally sought my advice on whether I wanted a Bat Mitzvah. Feeling competitive as many younger siblings do, I figured if my brother did, then I should too. Besides there was delicious food, new clothes, a band, and most important of all to a child, gifts. Also, in my youth, I was a bit of a show-off, a performer, a ham (some would say that I have yet to grow out of this annoying trait).
Now, on to my great secret. Which ironically, is no secret at all to the Rabbi, my father, and many of the participants on that fateful day one month before my 13th birthday. I faked my Haftorah Portion, this is the selection from the Prophets, not from the actual Torah, but it often relates to the Torah portion in some manner. Now, this would not be a big deal except A. I was entering Jewish adulthood on a pretense, B. the Rabbi surely knew that I was faking it, and C. the 2 pages of Hebrew that I never learned still haunts me to this day.
Some might say that I am trying to find things to feel guilty about, but that is not it at all. I am merely chagrined that no one ever spoke with me about this rather evident faux pas. Did no one notice? Were people so polite that they did not want to spoil my day? Were they so taken with my incredible guitar playing and singing (yes, I had a captive audience, so I took advantage of that fact) that they didn't see the evident look of demonic concentration on my face up at the bima (the Jewish equivalent of a holy platform on which the ark that holds the Torah is kept and by ark, I mean cabinet).
So, here I am almost 2 decades later exposing my own fradulence. Why? Because that day meant more to me then just the Haftarah Portion. It meant my whole extended family coming to see ME and it made me feel important and loved. I look back on it with joy and happiness because no one said anything bad, they loved me and that feeling has not been mitigated by anything. It's a good feeling, and it's funny to me how much I worried about it beforehand.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Equus 11/20/05 East-West Players
On Sunday I attended a performance of the critically acclaimed play, Equus by Peter Shaffer. This performance starred George Takei or the Original Star Trek series. For those of you unlike myself, who do not gobble up science fiction television, writings, and blogs, Mr. Takei played Mr. Sulu on Star Trek. Reluctantly I admit to a fascination with asian culture and found out about the show from Mr. Takei's blog (as I am fascinated by celebrity blogs too,. my favorites being Margaret Cho and Kevin Smith for their insights and conversational tone).
Also, when I was a theater student at USC, before switching to Cinema-Television, I had read and discused Equus in a class there. It's interwoven dialog style did not make sense to me when I was reading it so I wanted to see how it came together onstage. To give you a sense of the extremities of this play, I make mention of the sign on the theater's box office, "This show contains graphic nudity, loud noises, and coarse language." This is paraphased, but you get the point. To further drive it home, my friend sitting next to me looked over at me at intermission and said, "You're weird", as if somehow I was responsible for the playwrite's words and director's actions. I laughed heartily.
George's performance as psychiatrist Martin Dysart was at turns represssively British, breathtakingly frustrating, and rapturously jealous. He displayed such a range of emotions while treating his fragile, distraught patient, an adolescent, named Alan who possesses a unorthodox obsession with horses. Mr. Takei's voice is distinct and captivating. His words with their bass resonance and slight accent transport me to the office where he does his psychiatric work. I was in heaven closing my eyes and listening to him.
The nudity in the play was less shocking then I expected. It was far less shocking then the scenes with men as horses interacting with Alan in his devotion and defilement. The horse costumes and men playing them were beautiful. They showed the splendor and majesty of the animals with proud tosses of their heads. A great piece of theater for adults to enjoy.
Also, when I was a theater student at USC, before switching to Cinema-Television, I had read and discused Equus in a class there. It's interwoven dialog style did not make sense to me when I was reading it so I wanted to see how it came together onstage. To give you a sense of the extremities of this play, I make mention of the sign on the theater's box office, "This show contains graphic nudity, loud noises, and coarse language." This is paraphased, but you get the point. To further drive it home, my friend sitting next to me looked over at me at intermission and said, "You're weird", as if somehow I was responsible for the playwrite's words and director's actions. I laughed heartily.
George's performance as psychiatrist Martin Dysart was at turns represssively British, breathtakingly frustrating, and rapturously jealous. He displayed such a range of emotions while treating his fragile, distraught patient, an adolescent, named Alan who possesses a unorthodox obsession with horses. Mr. Takei's voice is distinct and captivating. His words with their bass resonance and slight accent transport me to the office where he does his psychiatric work. I was in heaven closing my eyes and listening to him.
The nudity in the play was less shocking then I expected. It was far less shocking then the scenes with men as horses interacting with Alan in his devotion and defilement. The horse costumes and men playing them were beautiful. They showed the splendor and majesty of the animals with proud tosses of their heads. A great piece of theater for adults to enjoy.
Bitter, Party of One
Last week I was in Target looking around for some necessity items, cat litter, cat food, dryer sheets, underwear and the like. It was a normal shopping trip until I noticed the aisles upon aisle stocked full of Christmas geegaws.
There were stockings, fake trees, ornaments of all shapes, sizes, and themes, wrapping paper, cards, lights, and various household knicknacks to decorate with. So, getting into the spirit of this early holiday ambush I decided that I should find some Hanukkah items to take home (since all the ones at my local party store looked cheap and garrish screaming "Happy Hanukkah" in canary yellow and basic blue). I was hoping to find some classy silver and blue tinsel, maybe some lights, wrapping paper with the Star of David, and some card with a generic seasonal greeting.
Boy, was I outta luck. At first I inquired gently to one of the red vest wearing teens unloading tinsel from boxes in front of a plastic Santa Claus. "Excuse me, where are your Hanukkah decorations?" She looked up, shrugged her shoulders and said, "They might be downstairs?" and went back to her task. At this point there was only mild annoyance at poor customer service amidst the festive atmosphere.
Since I had more regular shopping to do, I chalked this interaction up to age and inexperience. Next I tried a gentle men passing by pushing a palette of toilet paper. He was little more help and instructed me to try Customer Service. Ah-ha, I thought, this will be perfect, they will point me in the right direction and I'll just throw some stuff in my cart and be on my way.
Sadly, things often do not work out the way you imagine. Customer Service was not very customer friendly and pointed me back upstairs with the comment that, "All holiday materials are upstairs and (I) must've missed something."
Coming off the escalator on the second floor my spirits were low and my anger beginning to boil. I was starting to feel marginalized and unimportant to one of the US's gigantic retailers. Silly I know, but this sums up my feelings for so many years about the December Dilemma. It is unclear to me when my "bah humbug" menatality started. Whether it was fostered doing Christmas themed art projects in Elementary School or if it was feeling disappointed that my parents wouldn't put lights on our house (although we did have an electric menorah in the window).
Whatever the reason, the epiphany I experience in that Target last week was the realization that I did not accept who I was and am. It is a deepseated self-loathing of this difference that I am a Jew in an American Culture that has taken Christmas and turned it into a hugely commercial holiday. Basically, I suffer from feeling left out. Pity party, table for one?
Standing, staring up at the flocked and decorated trees the department manager simply stated, "We don't have any Hanukkah stuff, but you might try Party City." My feelings were depressed and introspective as I checked out with my small pile and trudged to my car. In the safety of my drivers seat a wave of guilt and shame overcame me and I cried for all the children that love Santa. Wow, I thought, I am being selfish and small, what a horrible irony that during this season, a time of year for peace, love, joy, and family should cause me such angst.
Change can be inspired by many circumstances and this was one of them. It is time to work on my attitude, to be more accepting of myself, and enjoy the holidays with my friends and family instead of sitting in judgement on the trappings of those same holidays, be they trees, lights, or snowmen. These elements only have the power that we imbue them with and I am not going to let myself be manipulated by these negative emotions anymore. Happy Holidays to all whatever you may celebrate!
There were stockings, fake trees, ornaments of all shapes, sizes, and themes, wrapping paper, cards, lights, and various household knicknacks to decorate with. So, getting into the spirit of this early holiday ambush I decided that I should find some Hanukkah items to take home (since all the ones at my local party store looked cheap and garrish screaming "Happy Hanukkah" in canary yellow and basic blue). I was hoping to find some classy silver and blue tinsel, maybe some lights, wrapping paper with the Star of David, and some card with a generic seasonal greeting.
Boy, was I outta luck. At first I inquired gently to one of the red vest wearing teens unloading tinsel from boxes in front of a plastic Santa Claus. "Excuse me, where are your Hanukkah decorations?" She looked up, shrugged her shoulders and said, "They might be downstairs?" and went back to her task. At this point there was only mild annoyance at poor customer service amidst the festive atmosphere.
Since I had more regular shopping to do, I chalked this interaction up to age and inexperience. Next I tried a gentle men passing by pushing a palette of toilet paper. He was little more help and instructed me to try Customer Service. Ah-ha, I thought, this will be perfect, they will point me in the right direction and I'll just throw some stuff in my cart and be on my way.
Sadly, things often do not work out the way you imagine. Customer Service was not very customer friendly and pointed me back upstairs with the comment that, "All holiday materials are upstairs and (I) must've missed something."
Coming off the escalator on the second floor my spirits were low and my anger beginning to boil. I was starting to feel marginalized and unimportant to one of the US's gigantic retailers. Silly I know, but this sums up my feelings for so many years about the December Dilemma. It is unclear to me when my "bah humbug" menatality started. Whether it was fostered doing Christmas themed art projects in Elementary School or if it was feeling disappointed that my parents wouldn't put lights on our house (although we did have an electric menorah in the window).
Whatever the reason, the epiphany I experience in that Target last week was the realization that I did not accept who I was and am. It is a deepseated self-loathing of this difference that I am a Jew in an American Culture that has taken Christmas and turned it into a hugely commercial holiday. Basically, I suffer from feeling left out. Pity party, table for one?
Standing, staring up at the flocked and decorated trees the department manager simply stated, "We don't have any Hanukkah stuff, but you might try Party City." My feelings were depressed and introspective as I checked out with my small pile and trudged to my car. In the safety of my drivers seat a wave of guilt and shame overcame me and I cried for all the children that love Santa. Wow, I thought, I am being selfish and small, what a horrible irony that during this season, a time of year for peace, love, joy, and family should cause me such angst.
Change can be inspired by many circumstances and this was one of them. It is time to work on my attitude, to be more accepting of myself, and enjoy the holidays with my friends and family instead of sitting in judgement on the trappings of those same holidays, be they trees, lights, or snowmen. These elements only have the power that we imbue them with and I am not going to let myself be manipulated by these negative emotions anymore. Happy Holidays to all whatever you may celebrate!
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Fight Night
Tonight I had a fantastic time releiving the stress and pressure of everyday life by beating the crap out of a guy dressed in head to toe protective gear. I attended an Impact Personal Safety Fight Night. Three hours of whatever kinds of fights the participants want to practice to feel more confident about their verbal and physical abilities to defend themselves.
Looking back it's incredible to me that I actually completed 3 self defense classes. I mean I am astonished that I was able to accomplish something that I set my mind to. When I first learned about Impact the class that truly appealed to me was the Weapons class. It teaches the students to defend themselves against an assailant who is armed with a knife, club, or gun. It took a full year to go through Basic and complete Advanced and finally move on and do weapons.
Some of the amazing aspects of these classes are the people who teach them. Our instructor tonight teaches self defense at two all girl high schools. This is a valuable resource that I feel should be available to all teenage girls. A friend of mine used to be a kids class instructor. What a tremendous honor it must be to instill confidence and protection in children.
Looking back it's incredible to me that I actually completed 3 self defense classes. I mean I am astonished that I was able to accomplish something that I set my mind to. When I first learned about Impact the class that truly appealed to me was the Weapons class. It teaches the students to defend themselves against an assailant who is armed with a knife, club, or gun. It took a full year to go through Basic and complete Advanced and finally move on and do weapons.
Some of the amazing aspects of these classes are the people who teach them. Our instructor tonight teaches self defense at two all girl high schools. This is a valuable resource that I feel should be available to all teenage girls. A friend of mine used to be a kids class instructor. What a tremendous honor it must be to instill confidence and protection in children.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)