Hope

Something I heard this weekend: Hope is not a symptom of naivete, it's an act of defiance.

I like that. Sometimes I feel like I am too optimistic and too hopeful, but maybe I'm not. Maybe I can make things happen for myself just because I maintain hope in the face of life and all that life throws at me.

Maybe...

I am Jewish

I was at a wedding tonight and going into it, Neil and I knew we'd probably be the only Jewish people in attendance. This is not something I usually think about when going somewhere, but our friends are very religious and Jesus was mentioned more than a few times on their wedding web site, so we knew we might be a little different than most of the wedding guests.

The wedding was great and the party was on a yacht, which was even cooler than it sounds. Everyone was very friendly and we met a lot of friends and family of the bride and groom which is always fun. The bride was beautiful and it was fantastic to see our two friends so in love with each other.

At dinner, we ate with the couple's marriage coaches from the church. Basically, the marriage coaches are a happily married couple that volunteer to council new couples pre- and post-wedding. They were very nice and very committed to their coaching. They said that two of the three couples they coached last year didn't end up getting married. (Wow - think of how much the divorce rate might drop if every couple had to go through similar counseling before getting married.)

I suppose it was inevitable that they would ask what I do for work. I started with, "PR and Marketing for a nonprofit." Then they asked what kind of non profit and I explained that we bring high school students to DC to teach them about the political system and about political and social involvement. And then they asked how we select our high school students at which point I explained that all of our students are Jewish. I told them how we teach the students that Judaism demands that we be involved and take an active role in making the world a better place.
With all of the explaining out of the way, the woman doing the questioning said, "So to do that kind of work do you have to be that?" (or something close to that) I believe she wanted to ask, "Are you Jewish?" but for some reason couldn't bring herself to do it. I took her awkwardness in stride and said that you don't have to be Jewish to work in my office, but I am Jewish. This was somewhat of a watershed moment for me. Even though I am proud of who I am, I have not often felt comfortable coming out as Jewish. It is hard for me to say, "I am Jewish" - probably because of reactions I have gotten throughout my life and because I grew up in a place where not many people were Jewish.

The rest of the conversation at dinner was peppered with people's Jewish experiences - which were VERY limited. The stories ranged from a neighbor who invited someone to his bar mitzvah, and e-mail with a link to a video about Israeli soldiers, another neighbor who shared hamantaschen at Purim, a recently attended Jewish/Catholic wedding, and, a trip to the National Holocaust Museum. No matter where we tried to steer the conversation, if there was a tiny bit of silence, someone would pull out another Jewish story.

Everyone was very nice, and I know they were trying to find commonalities and create conversation, but I couldn't help but to feel a bit uncomfortable. I would have rather someone said, "I haven't met very many Jewish people, can I ask you some questions?" than run through every experience they ever had with a Jewish person as if I would, for some reason, care deeply.

What if Neil and I had been the only Black people at the table? Would we have received a litany of stories about our fellow diners' Black schoolmates and coworkers? I somehow suspect that most people know that would be inappropriate.

I am not offended and I actually think that the couple and the other woman at our table are very nice people. I wouldn't mind having dinner with them again someday, though I doubt that will happen. I just wish that they could have seen themselves tonight. Or I wish I could have found a tactful way to let them know what they were doing. "Hey, you're embarrassing yourself by telling me about every Jew you've ever met." Maybe I should have started telling all of my own Christian stories? I really have no idea what I could have done to stop them and make things less awkward. Probably nothing - it's just human nature.

Maybe I should be thanking them, really, because before all of the inane stories about their bar mitzvah experiences, they gave me a chance to say "I am Jewish" out loud and to feel proud of making that declaration. I am sure there are a litany of reasons as to why I am now, at age 28, finally able to embrace my religion as part of my identity and feel proud of it (I am working for a Jewish organization, I have met lots of Jewish friends since moving to DC, I am more comfortable with myself overall, etc.) But it feels good to be able to own my religious identity and even when it's a little scary, to be able to say "I am Jewish".

Reason # 472 I Like Living In A Big City

There is something oddly satisfying about grabbing the garbage bag from the can, walking down the hall, opening a small metal door on the wall marked "rubbish" and dropping the trash down a long tube. Trash chutes are awesome.

A Bucket of Keep Your Shirt On

Who else thinks the Subway ads are completely hilarious? I love them. Neil's watching football and I am enjoying the first-game-of-the-season commercials including the fantastic Subway commercial where the guy takes his co-workers' orders and everyone orders things like, "Make your pants tight combo.," "A bucket of keep your shirt on,"and other hilarious meals... It was almost funny enough to make me want to eat Subway, but I really hate it.

Fall?

It's supposed to begin to feel like Fall soon. It's getting light later and dark earlier, kids are back in school, stores are selling plaid, but because I live in a muggy swamp, it's still in the 80s and 90s and muggy.

I am dreaming of crisp air and changing leaves.

Wedded Bliss

I was in my friend Julia's wedding this past Saturday. It was her wedding day and Neil and my fifth anniversary. Funny, I have been feeling old lately, but at the same time, I feel very young to have been married for five years. Strange how ambiguous time can be.

The wedding was a lot of fun. Spending our anniversary dancing with our friends really wasn't bad at all. There were several perfect moments during the evening... you know, those glimpses of divinity when you see your friends really happy, when you're in the moment with people you love and the world slows down for a second.

Julia looked absolutely beautiful, the sunset was amazing, even the rain storm was fantastic.

Of course, the visit to Santa Fe was far too short, but it was nice to be there, to have the chance to see family and have my feet on the ground for a minute.

Oh Dear

Several public moments of stupidity in the media today:

Poor Caitlin Upton. I have no idea how she managed to say something so incomprehensible, but there you have it. I am sure that she's not THAT dumb, but somehow she managed to string a whole bunch of words together in a way that made absolutely no sense. It didn't help that she had a vapid look on her face and a blank tone of voice. I know that I was incredibly self-conscious when I was her age, I can't imagine how I would have felt if my most embarrassing moment had been broadcast on You Tube for millions to watch. People are saying that her answer shows how dumb Americans are or somehow makes a broader statement about our culture. I don't believe that's the case. I think she just got scared and nervous, but wow is it funny! Hang in there Caitlin - definitely a classy move to go on the Today Show this morning - way to go.

And for fun. here's a transcript of her answer to why a fifth of Americans could not locate the United States on a world map (yikes): “I personally believe that U.S. Americans are unable to do so because, uhmmm, some people out there in our nation don't have maps and uh, I believe that our, I, education like such as, uh, South Africa, and uh, the Iraq, everywhere like such as, and I believe that they should, uhhh, our education over here in the U.S. should help the U.S., uh, should help South Africa, it should help the Iraq and the Asian countries so we will be able to build up our future, for us.”

I have a bit less sympathy for Idaho Senator Larry Craig who pleaded guilty to lewd conduct in June when he was caught soliciting another man in an airport bathroom and didn't bother telling his wife about it until it broke in the news yesterday. He is a conservative Republican who wants to pass an amendment defining marriage as a union between one man and one woman, but many gay man say they have had sex with him, he has been accused of lewd conduct in the past, and should I repeat the fact that he plead guilty in June and didn't tell his wife??? Today he held a press release during which he repeated "I'm not gay" multiple times in an angry tone and all I could think while watching him was, "Wow, he must really hate himself." And there I am, back to feeling sorry for him. I know it's hard, especially for men of his generation, to be open about sexual preference. But isn't it simpler when we're ourselves? And shouldn't people elected to public positions be as honest and open as possible? Doesn't it all eventually come out anyways? Yes, I am an idealist, but senator or no senator, Larry Craig has some work to do because he's not going to be happy until he is comfortable with who he is.

Things

Thing 1: I saw a great documentary last night called Can Mr. Smith Get to Washington Anymore? I recommend it to anyone who's even slightly politically-minded. Not only does it detail an inspirational, though failed, campaign, but it also points out one of the major problems inherent in our political system - legacy candidates who win on name recognition and familyreputation alone. A side note: watching the poor guy make all the painful phone calls and have the door slammed in his face definitely served as a reminder about why I do not want to run for office.

Thing 2: I have been meaning, for some time, to blog about my neighborhood Street Sense vendor, Ivory Wilson. I met Ivory last winter. It was shortly after I'd attended one of the seminars my work puts on for teenagers and I'd heard some speakers from the National Coalition for the Homeless. What resonated with me most that the homeless speakers said was all they want is some friendly human interaction - to be treated like people. I certainly didn't make a practice of being mean to homeless people I passed on the street, but I also didn't often smile at them or even say hello. Armed with my new awareness, I decided to make a concerted effort to be friendly to homeless people I pass each day. It was right around then that I noticed a new Street Sense vendor on the corner between Starbucks and the metro. I walk past his spot each morning and each morning I would smile at him and say good morning. I also began to buy the newspaper from him. He was always very friendly and appreciative and started to call me his friend.

"Good morning, my friend," he'd say.

I looked forward to walking past him. His would be at least one friendly face on my morning commute and often the only friendly face. On days when he wasn't there, I began to miss him.

Then, one day, I bought the paper from him and he told me his profile was in it. The first paragraph of the profile began with an accurate description and ended with a surprise: "He speaks with swagger. He smiles, but always a sideways grin making you doubt everything he says. But if he didn't smile you wouldn't believe him. If he didn't smile you wouldn't see the detail that remains from his former life: four diamonds set in gold in a front tooth. You see, Ivory Wilson III was a pimp."

After the initial shock of reading the intro, I noticed the pull-quote on the page in 24-point font: "I know that some day I am going to meet somebody that is going to give me that opportunity to talk to them and realize that I am very talented at something else besides turning women into hookers. That I am a writer."

As a woman and a feminist, I really wasn't sure how to proceed. Should I talk to Ivory in the morning? Could I still smile at him knowing what he'd done? At the same time, he's reformed and he's trying to become a writer - an aspiration I can certainly identify with. I discussed the dilemma with Neil, I mulled it over for a few days, meanwhile, Ivory was missing from his corner - as if to give me the space to process the new information I had obtained. Later he said that he was very busy because of the profile - the media had done an interview, he had to sell some of his books "How to be a Pimp", etc.

Ultimately, even after reading some of Ivory's disturbingly graphic book about being a pimp (I bought a photocopy for $5), I decided to continue my friendship. Now, Ivory brings printed word documents with new stories and poems he's written each week. I give him a dollar or two for each poem and I buy the paper when it comes out. Sometimes I stop and talk to him for a couple of minutes, but I always smile. I've noticed that I'm not the only young woman who stops and talks to Ivory. In fact, I've never seen a man talking to him on his corner. It's funny, because he's not particularly charming - but there must be something about him?

During a recent conversation, Ivory told me that living in DC doesn't tempt him to go back to his life as a pimp. Living in California, however, does, so he's staying here. I appreciated the courage it took for him to open up to me like that (I don't even think he knows my name) and it made me trust him just a little bit - enough to keep letting him call me his friend.

A couple issues of Street Sense ago, Ivory published a poem called "The Salesman at 7th and E" that chronicled his time selling the newspapers on his corner. He wrote of being cold and sad in the winter and the difference that was made by the people who said hello to him. I like to think I helped make that difference and seeing that poem in the paper felt rewarding.

There is some humor that comes with my "friendship" with Ivory. For instance, I can say things to Neil like, "Oh, sorry, I gave my last dollar to my pimp" after buying the paper from Ivory on the way home from work. I like the novelty of being friends with a reformed pimp. But really, I'm glad I took the chance and opened myself up to befriending someone to whom I previously wouldn't have given the time of day. It sounds a little made-for-tv-movie, but being friends with Ivory, regardless of his past crimes and current homelessness isn't just favor to Ivory, it makes me feel good about myself.

Ugh

This makes me sad.

It's raining today and I think I inhaled too much dust while cleaning the office for new employees yesterday so now I feel sick. I realize it's bizarre that the Marketing and PR director cleans for new employees, but nobody else was going to do it and I think that having a nice space on your first day of work is important. Note to self: Next time, let somebody else clean the office.

Neil is in South Padre Island on hurricane watch. Fortunatley, so far, the hurricane seems to be hitting mostly uninhabited parts of Mexico. Also fortunate, it didn't hit where Neil was. Maybe he will come home soon?

Still Thinking About Liam and Suicide

...and so I present this poem by Galway Kinnell...

Wait

Wait, for now.
Distrust everything, if you have to.
But trust the hours. Haven't they
carried you everywhere, up to now?
Personal events will become interesting again.
Hair will become interesting.
Pain will become interesting.
Buds that open out of season will become lovely again.
Second-hand gloves will become lovely again,
their memories are what give them
the need for other hands. And the desolation
of lovers is the same: that enormous emptiness
carved out of such tiny beings as we are
asks to be filled; the need
for the new love is faithfulness to the old.

Wait.
Don't go too early.
You're tired. But everyone's tired.
But no one is tired enough.
Only wait a while and listen.
Music of hair,
Music of pain,
music of looms weaving all our loves again.
Be there to hear it, it will be the only time,
most of all to hear,
the flute of your whole existence,
rehearsed by the sorrows, play itself into total
exhaustion.

Liam Rector 1949-2007

I was a student in the Bennington Writing Seminars for two years, a program that was started and directed by the poet Liam Rector. I learned this morning that after a long illness, Liam killed himself yesterday morning. To me, a student of his who didn't know him well, but was completely inspired by him, the news of his death is like a star going out. He was brilliant, eccentric, completely devoted to language and literature and his exuberance for life was infectious. Liam described the Bennington Writing Seminars as a vortex or radiant node. We gathered in Vermont twice a year to gain the energy and synergy found in the vortex and then we traveled home for the necessary isolation in which art is created. He was a great man and the world is a little bit less wise, less rich and less bright without him.

A quote from Liam: "I've been a student of music and film, and I think of life as that tragic and embarrassing thing that takes place between the poems, films, and the songs I inhabit."

And a poem he wrote that strikes a chord:

The Remarkable Objectivity
of Your Old Friends

by Liam Rector

We did right by your death and went out,
Right away, to a public place to drink,
To be with each other, to face it.

We called other friends - the ones
Your mother hadn't called - and told them
What you had decided, and some said

What you did was right; it was the thing
You wanted and we'd just have to live
With that, that your life had been one

Long misery and they could see why you
Had chosen that, no matter what any of us
Thought about it, and anyway, one said,

Most of us abandoned each other a long
Time ago and we'd have to face that
If we had any hope of getting it right.



To Liam: Thank you for sharing your joy of life with me. I will endeavor to Always Be Closing. You will be missed.

Slight Panic About Getting Older

Do we become infinitely less interesting as we age? Do we lose our capacity for adventure with each passing year? I have a fear that my days of adventure and intrigue are numbered. If they are, why am I not doing something amazing every day? There is a line in Bright Eyes' Travelin' Song that, for some reason, captures what I am talking about, the could-care-less bad-ass adventure. It is something about parking in an ally and hoping that their shit is safe.

I am such a contradiction. In a way, I wish I could limit my belongings to what would fit in a car and just wander. At the same time, I need to have a home, a community and a sense of place.

I am afraid. I am afraid of growing older, of having regrets, of not seeing everything, of not living up to my potential, of being lost, of losing too much, of missing the people that mean the most to me. I need to harness the fear and use it. I need to stop thinking and act. I need to go skydiving, travel to Thailand, learn Spanish (for real this time), scuba dive with sharks, perform in a dance recital, complete a triathlon, publish a book. I need to get it done.

Hip Hop

I have a confession. Since sometime
in early spring, I have been going to hip hop classes. Each week, Lia
and I leave work right on time, head downtown and spend an hour dancing
to loud hip hop music in an historic library building. We don't have a
ton of rhythm and while we're getting better, I still usually only get
all the steps once in a class even though we repeat the routine at
least 25 times each class. Two weeks ago, the instructor told us we
don't suck (not exactly in those words, but that was the message) and
we were so excited.

But, in spite of a slight lack of natural hip hop talent and my strong instinct to point my toes and dance like a ballerina
instead (damn childhood ballet lessons) the highlight of my week is
dance class. We have so much fun that when we get to work on Friday,
we're still smiling. I love it. I love dancing. It is one of the most
life-affirming joy-filled activities I can do.

So there it is. Now you know. Whew, it's nice to have that off my chest.

Shame by Hello Kitty

Check out this article! This is so completely bizarre that it's hilarious. The Thai police definitly get the award for "most interesting use of Hello Kitty."

My favorite pull quote: "(Hello) Kitty is a cute icon for young girls. It's not something macho police officers want covering their biceps," Pongpat said.

Amazing.

New Mexico

There's a fantastic article on Santa Fe in the New York Times and Neil saw a billboard in Minneapolis that sends you to a website suggesting New Mexico is the best place in the universe. I always tell people I meet that I am from Santa Fe. Then they say, "Santa Fe?" and I say, "Yep, it's the best place on earth." Maybe I will upgrade that to "It's the best place in the universe."

Anyway, all of this New Mexico talk has me longing to be back there instead of the swampy inferno that is D.C.

Next time on j.g.s. "Why I love living in D.C."

Really?
So, apparently, I hate the world?

(Thanks to Britty and Amy for capturing this Seattle poster on film and sending it my way.)

You can check this band out here. They are actually kind of good...

More Potter Please

Highlight of the week: Seeing dozens of normal-looking people reading Harry Potter 7 on the metro.

Low point of the week: Running out of Harry Potter 7 to read.

On Monday, the metro had a few people here and there who were reading Harry Potter, but by Tuesday, people were no longer ashamed and every third person had a copy of the book tucked under his or her arm. I have said it before and I'll say it again, but it's a rare cultural phenomenon that can get adults and children alike around the world to read a nearly 800-page book. There really was something magical about reading my Harry Potter with a bunch of other suit-wearing business people on my way home from work Monday. Thank you J.K. Rowling for making me believe in the good in the world and bringing good old imagination to millions.

Odale!

Neil and I spent a week in Santa Fe attending two weddings, rafting, hiking, relaxing and seeing friends and family. Being at Nancy and Justin and Britten and Brooke's weddings was fantastic. There is not much better than seeing your friends happy and celebrating happiness. I do a lot of complaining about going to weddings (we sure do have a lot of them this summer) but really, what better way to spend a day or evening than basking in the joy that surrounds weddings?

Being back in the southwest was fantastic. We slept with the window open every night and I woke up early every morning and always in a good mood. There's nothing like breathing crisp mountain air all night long - it was amazing. If I were to sleep with my window open in DC I would a) choke on humidity and b) breathe the aroma of chinese food all night long.

We got to see my brother who came in the second weekend we were in town and we spent time with my grandma and my parents and cousin Pam. We even got to see some old friends from our time living in Albuquerque. Of course, there were people we didn't get to see as well... but we will be back in NM for Labor Day!

Other than the weddings, the highlight had to be rafting in the Rio Grande. It was so much fun and it was so fantastic to spend time with Britty, Brooke, Rachel, Brian and Neil - five of my favorite people. Neil fell out of the raft which was both terrifying and then when he was ok, hilarious. The boys went to Dairy Queen and made a pact to never admit it. Britty posed for photos while the rest of us paddled. It was a blast. Thank you to Britten and Nancy for scheduling your weddings a week apart and forcing me to take summer vacation. It was much needed.

Inspiration

Inspiration comes from all kinds of places. A beautiful girl on the metro, a reformed pimp selling newspapers, a man who danced around the world, a beautful voice, a glance from a stranger, a smile from my husband, an elevator conversation, an early summer breeze. There are moments in every day that make me feel alive, make me want to do more, be a better person, fulfill my potential, be inspiring. Today, I had quite a few of those moments, when I remembered how beautiful life can be. Last weekend in Los Angeles, I also felt inspired by the ocean, the sunshine, the love between Bella and Maurice, the tenuous joy of adolescence, the bonds of family... Sometimes, all I need to do is take a minute and remember all of the inspiration, all the little moments of joy that lead to renewed hope.

Travel makes me lonely

Traveling alone is a very isolating experience. As I bustle through train stations and airports with too much luggage, I feel very very alone. Even though people are everywhere, nobody is a part of my journey and nobody knows me.

I have been traveling a lot the last couple of weeks and I'm exhausted.

The first trip was to NYC with Miriam for a work meeting. The meeting was great and then the night with Miriam's family was even better. They are so incredibly nice and all very interesting and intelligent, the kind of people I like to surround myself with. The next morning, after another good meeting, I was on a train back to DC by myself. I made it just in time to go home, switch suitcases and head to the airport for a weekend in Chicago.

Seeing Northwestern for the first time in seven years was awesome and hanging out with amazing friends was even better. Yay girl's weekend!

And now, I am off to LA for a wedding weekend. When I return, one more train ride to NYC and then, I will hopefully get to stay put for a few days. Sometimes I need some stillness to process life's events and get ready for the next adventure.

Also, I am saying a special prayer for Robin's dad. May he speedily recover from heart surgery.

Where Have I Been?

So many things to blog about.
Let's
begin with Jury Duty. On Monday, I spent five hours of my life sitting
in a crowded jurors' lounge waiting for my number (211) to be called.
It was called for two panels, which meant I got to stand up, leave my
seat in the jurors' lounge and wait in a hall outside a courtroom until
I was told that I wasn't needed. Then I got to go home. It wasmind numbing
and felt a bit like I was in jail for the day (or how I imagine jail
would be) because we couldn't leave the lounge for more than 10 minutes
and if someone did, and their number was called - trouble! They would
call the name of themiscreant over the loudspeaker VERY loudly and demand whoever it was report to the jurors' office immediately. All of this would have been fine if I hadn't been robbed of my leatherman on my way into the courthouse.

I have (had) a small pink Leatherman Squirt that I carried with me in my purse at all times. It had such dangerous tools as scissors,
tweezers, a nail file, a screwdriver and a teeny tiny knife that would
be effective at slicing a very tiny block of cheese and that's about
it. I forgot it was in my purse and put it through the scanner. The
guard said i needed to take it out, I did and said, "Oh my goodness, I
forgot to leave this at home. I'm early, so I'll take it home and come
back." To which the guard said, "Once you enter the building with it,
it's mine."

What the???

Even at the airport, they allow
you to mail that stuff to yourself. How can he justify not letting me
leave the building to take myleatherman home? At the end of the day, I
returned to the scene of the crime and tried to talk them into giving
it back to me. It was still there, shiny and pink, in a cardboard box.
They actually handed it to me (I should have sprinted out the door) and
told me to put my name on it, come back to the court on another Monday
morning and ask the chief judge to give it back. I am pissed. I took
time out of my (busy) life to be a good citizen and do my civic duty,
they stole myleatherman , stuffed me into a dirty and uncomfortable
Juror's lounge, treated me as a number and then refused to return my
stolen property.Aaaahhhhhh!