Bethanysmash

So, this image popped up on my feed today, and I just couldn't stay silent about it, despite a solid 10 hours of trying. 

Besides the obvious frustrating issues with it (Mexican and Muslim aren't races...), there's only one answer to this "question". 

Because white pride is already every other day. 

Because you're already assured on a daily basis that your skin color and race and heritage is correct. 

Because you open magazines, watch TV and movies, see posters of people who look like, who assure you that you are beautiful because you look the same as them, that you matter, that you are represented in the world around you. 

Because you are taught the history of your ancestors in school.  Because you can name most of the countries in Europe, but you can't name most of the countries in Africa or South America.  Because you know the rough history of the leaders and types of government of various European countries, but have no idea how Africa, Asia, and South American countries are governed.  Because you know the names of a few Native American tribes, but would have trouble naming where they were located, how they governed, or whether they still remain.  Because you assume nearly all Africans live in poverty and all Native Americans lived in teepees. 

Because you know the advances that were made by your people.  You can rattle off several white inventors, scientists, etc, but when it comes to successful Black people of history, you're pretty sure that George Washington Carver invented...I dunno...something with peanuts? 

Because the only thing you fear when you're pulled over having to pay a lot of money for that ticket.  Because the worst name you get called is "hillbilly", or "white trash".  Because you've never been refused service, or followed home by a man on a cell phone, or asked to prove that you're a legal citizen. 

Because you've never been called a terrorist.  Because when Dylan Roof shot up that church, you didn't fear retaliation because of your association with Christianity, or because you were white.  Because 6 million of your grandparents weren't gassed to death because of their religion.  Because you're not forced to take your cross necklace off in order to work. 

Because when you move into a house, the neighbors automatically assume you're a good family.  Car dealers don't automatically assume you have bad credit.  Employers don't automatically assume you have a rap sheet.  

The world already celebrates you.  Celebrating others doesn't hurt you.  Shut up and stay in your seat for a change. 

An amazing day

This weekend was...eventful, to say the least.  I walked a 5k (The Color Run), which is my second 5k completed ever, and I was pretty proud of myself.  I did have one bit in the middle where I started to panic, and at the end I was exhausted and tired and out of breath, so I got a bit scared again, but I never actually had a panic attack, and I was able to manage myself to a degree that I never felt out of control.  I was really proud of myself Saturday morning.  We went and got my windshield replaced, and I was ready to go home and take a nap.

Then.  THEN!

My sister went into labor. She was in the hospital all day Saturday, and Olivia Noel was born at 12:25am July 19th, a Prime Day, as I call it.  7, 19, 719, 197....all prime. She's basically destined to be a math nerd, is what I'm saying.

Baby Olivia is perfect.  I mean, obviously no baby is REALLY perfect, but I'm completely in love with her already.  She's got little ears that look like bacon, and her nose is all smushed to the side, and she's so quiet.  I've yet to hear her actually cry.  I forsee myself spending a lot of time in Sunbury visiting her.  I didn't get to see Hiro as much when he was a newborn, and I plan on making up for that with Oliva.

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I was taken aback by how impressive my sister was during her labor and delivery.  My baby sister (whom I will always think of as 12 years old even though she's 25) handled the whole thing so well.  There was never any screaming, or crying, or yelling.  She gave birth the same way she was born - quietly and calmly.  Her first epidural didn't work, and even then, she worked through the contractions silently, with her eyes closed. The only time I heard her make a noise that almost sounded like crying was when she saw Olivia for the first time.

She was amazing.  She was awe-inspiring.  I'll always look up to her now, for how she did that. I'm absolutely not saying that women who make noise during labor aren't impressive, obviously.  I just...it was so unexpected, especially from someone related to me, the girl who whines and moans when she gets a stomachache.  I strive to be like her, to be so graceful in such an intense situation.

Watching Olivia be born feels like a life-changing experience.  Once Sarah started pushing, I started texting Brian, telling him how there's no way I could ever do this, that I was terrified for her, that I wouldn't be able to handle it.  I watched my sister's heartrate go from 90 to 180 and back again, over and over and over.  I watched her shake uncontrollably from the hormones. I watched her get nauseated from the epidural, and the whole time, I thought "there's no way I could do this. There's no way." I'd be inconsolable, out of control, screaming to be put under. I'd be sobbing and scared and completely insane.

But she did it, and did it well. Once Olivia came out, my brain flipped a switch, and suddenly I felt like maybe I could make it through that. I looked at her daughter, exactly like her mother, quiet as a mouse, looking around wondering who it was that forced her out of her warm little home, and wanted that. If my delicate little baby sister can be so strong, maybe I can be too.

Learning from Terror

Yesterday I had the worst panic attack of my life so far.  Now that I'm feeling better, I'm trying to find the positives in feeling like I was about to die for an hour and a half.

We took my nephew to the zoo yesterday, and it was fun.  He liked the giraffes and the little fish, and he didn't like the penguins or the really big fish.  I drank lots of water and wore sandals against my better judgement, so by the time we were ready to leave, my feet were hurting pretty badly, but I felt okay otherwise.

As we were walking out to the car, my stomach started to feel a bit upset, probably due to the fact that I ate chicken tenders for lunch instead of like, you know, anything else which would have been better for me.  (Looking back, I honestly think this whole thing would have been avoided had this feeling come on sooner, before we'd left the zoo, and I could have used the restroom.  I feel like 90% of my regular panic attacks start because of an upset stomach.  For some reason they always make me dizzy, which sets off the panic.)

As we got closer to the car, I started to freak out a little, feeling like I was going to puke or faint or both.  I got in the car and tried to breathe and drink water, and we set off for my parent's to drop Hiro off.

Then things got really, really bad.  I think I was maybe more dehydrated than I'd realized, and thinking that made me feel like I was about to die for sure.  My head had either too much pressure or an utter lack of pressure in it (a mix of panic and dehydration), my arms, legs, and lips were tingling and wouldn't stop (panic), and I still had an upset stomach and nausea (lunch, with a sprinkle of panic).  I completely lost it.  Poor Brian had to be in the car with me for an hour as we drove to Sunbury, with me INSISTING that we needed to stop and go to an Urgent Care or an Emergency Room RIGHT NOW so I could live.

Eventually, I managed to push the worst of the panic at bay, and worked on accepting what was happening, enough for me to allow Brian to stop at a CVS and get me a Powerade, in case I needed me some electrolytes (What Plants Crave.)  I basically put my head down and let the feelings wash over me, practicing observation without judgement, and kept thinking "the absolute worst that could happen is I slip into a coma, which Brian will notice and take me to a hospital."

We got to my parent's house, and I limped inside, literally.  My legs and arms were still weak and tingly and it was kind of hard to walk (panic with a sprinkle of dehydration).  I went immediately to the bathroom and took a brief shower. The shower has been my Calm Place for years, and as soon as I stepped in, I felt more normal. My inner thought changed to "the absolute worst that could happen is that I faint, which my family will hear and call an ambulance."

I took advantage of the normalcy I felt in the shower and did a few yoga stretches and poses (safe ones, like Mountain and Upward Salute!), and my inner thought changed to "I am a mountain, rooted safely in the ground," which sounds ridiculous to someone who isn't feeling like they're about to die, aka me right now, but me back then really needed that.

I turned off the shower and immediately lost the sense of normalcy, I went out to sit with my family and lost my rootedness. I went back to panicking, and spent probably half an hour trying to convince everyone that I was dying, before eating a few Tums (another Calming Habit) and lying down on the floor with my eyes closed while everyone politely pretended I wasn't there. Eventually I felt well enough to go home, and I promptly took a two hour nap (typical for panic - once it's over, you feel like you haven't slept for DAYS).

So, now that it's the next morning (4am what's up thanks for not letting me sleep, body), I am trying to look at the positives of what happened yesterday, because it was literally one of the worst 3 hour stretches of my entire life.  So, a list!

• I got to practice AWARE (Accept, Watch, Act, Repeat, Expect): Once I started to accept what was happening, I was able to watch it, mostly without judgement, which eventually allowed me to act mostly normal, and expect the best outcome, which obviously did happen.  This is something I really try to practice when I have panic attacks, but I accept that I didn't do very well with this one, because it was so much worse than anything I've experienced before. 
• I managed to remember my Calming Habits (shower, water, Tums, and sleep).  Unfortunately I didn't have any Tums in the car when we were driving (damn me and my switching of purses!), or things might have calmed down earlier.  I also learned that water isn't always a Calming Habit apparently, as it kept making me feel worse this time. 
• Googling is apparently becoming a Calming Habit for me, as I was able to use it to a) help figure out what symptoms I was having were panic vs dehydration, and b) remember how to slow down a panic attack.  I was also able to see that at worst, I was suffering from moderate dehydration, which is solved with fluids and not hospitals. 
• While in the worst of it, I kept saying "there's no way I can do the 5k next weekend I really WILL die." But after my nap, that changed to "I can probably still do the 5k, if I only walk and drink water the whole time."  Yeah, it'll probably take me over an hour to finish, but I'll still finish and maybe not even want to faint at the end of it. 

So far, those are the only positives I've been able to find - it was still a pretty traumatic experience.   But, I woke up this morning not feeling too thirsty, which is good, and my arms barely hurt at all, which is good, and I don't feel like death is imminent, which is REALLY good.  I'm going to have a relaxing day, maybe go to the Music and Arts festival, maybe not, and overall BE WELL. 

Such fail. Wow.

Guys, I completely forgot about this thing!

Well, that's kind of a lie.  I didn't completely forget, I just didn't have anything to say.

Okay, that's definitely a lie, I never don't have something to say.  I'm just...lazy?

Oh, yep, that's the one.

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I don't have anything big and important to say - I think I've just been too tired lately to be deep.  I've been very tired for a very long time, but I'm finally taking steps to fix that.  I've got an appointment with a sleep clinic for an initial consultation at the end of this month, and maybe they'll finally figure out why I'm so sleepy.  I'm also seeing "a guy" (as I refer to my therapist), which is theoretically helping?  But I never feel like I have anything to say during my hour, so it's a lot of awkward silences.  He wants to give me things to work on, but I don't feel like I have much to work on, or maybe I have to work on ALL the things, so it's too overwhelming to start trying? Sometimes I feel like my rational brain prevents me from benefiting too much from therapy.

I think right now I'm feeling like kind of a failure, and since I have an appointment with "the guy" tomorrow, I'll write down why I'm such a failure:

1) I worry that the knit and crochet things I've made lately are going to fall apart in a few months, leaving me with nothing but a pile of yarn and a lot of embarrassment.

2) I haven't quilted since before Christmas, and I have multiple quilt tops to finish, and I feel like if I don't make them I'm just wasting money (other people's money, since the kits were Christmas gifts). My brain doesn't allow for the idea that I'll make them in the future....apparently they're a waste if I don't make them NOW.

3) I want to find a new job, but also I don't want to find a new job, but I'd like to make more money and I could somewhere else, but I don't want to leave my boss, but maybe I just don't want to work at all, but perhaps I should just start applying for things and see where it goes, but...effort....and maybe I'm just a lazy failure.

4) I don't remember the last time I cooked dinner. Making salad from a kit last night doesn't count.

5) I still can't decide if I want kids.

6) I haven't done any cross-stitch, embroidery, or non-yarn-related crafts in months.  I like doing them, but I have so many other projects that I want to do.

7) My gallery wall is a mess and needs reorganized, and many of the like, 20 other pieces I have to hang on it still need to be framed, and now that the TV is up I just have no excuse, but I don't even know where to start with it so instead I'll just sit on the couch and take a nap.

8) Haven't gone to temple in probably almost a year.  Haven't worked on converting at all.  I was so close, and now I've just...given up.  Or maybe I wasn't close at all.


Obviously I am aware that many of these are just absolutely ridiculous things to be down on myself about, and if I mention them to the guy he's just going to tell me to read another Brene Brown book or something, which, no.  BUT I SHOULD JUST LISTEN, right?

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Ugh, this whole entry is a mess.  What a comeback.  I'll leave you with this super cool gif:

What a slow process.

July 24th, 2013 was the day that I decided to explore Judaism for serious.  (As opposed to my previous explorations, which were at best half-hearted and mostly revolved around trying to figure out if I should find a nice Jewish boy to marry and also if Brian was secretly Jewish because I mean seriously have you seen him?)

It's now 8 months later, and I'm finally almost ready to START converting.  The last 8 months have been a process of deciding if I want to convert, spending some time immersing myself in Judaism, and studying history, lifestyle, and law, and generally waffling back and forth over whether or not I should.  Now, I've just sent off an email to my rabbi's assistant, indicating that I'd like to meet with him and actually begin.  If he lets me, which honestly I'm still not sure he will, this process will take probably another year.

I hadn't been to services in a month, and somehow along with that I hadn't done anything Jewish - no books, no candles, no Shabbat dinner, nothing, and I felt bland.  But then I went to services on Friday night and sang along and amazed myself by knowing the words to Lecha Dodi.  I got home and discovered a package from my also-converting friend Jamie with a hand-crocheted kippah in it. Today I went to the Kosher Kroger for the first time, and I just felt happy.  I wanted to try all the things and buy all the things and make a kosher dinner.   I just feel...energized now.

There was a big crowd at services on Friday - Bar Mitzvah AND a Bat Mitzvah - and I sat next to an older lady, Marilyn, that I've sat with before.  She comes with her mother, who cracks me up, because she starts making fun of the "ch" sound whenever things get "too Hebrew", as she puts it.  Her daughter gives her a stern look and she always goes "I'm just clearing my throat."  I want to be BFFs with this 80+ year old woman, guys.  Marilyn invited me to a Women's Intergenerational seder next week, which I'm excited for.  I want to meet more people, and this seems like a good way to do so.

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On a related but different note, there's something else that's been weighing on my mind.  Over the past 8 months, as I've been studying, I've started to recognize the huge gap between Judaism and Christianity.  Prior to this, I've always felt like Christianity was just an extension of Judiasm - taking the original religion and expanding it, dropping some things and picking up others - much like the difference between Mormons and Catholics. Obviously that was just terribly wrong, and I'm kind of relived that I finally recognize that.  Christianity, the religion I was raised with, feels completely alien to me now. (Don't get me started on how odd the concept of Jesus is to me.)  The concept of original sin, and the requirement of "salvation"...those are things I never have to worry about or even think about again.

I have this tiny book - Why Be Jewish - and there was a passage in it that keeps sticking with me:

Judaism sees human beings as the measure of all things.  We have mixed within us the varied and contradictory characteristics of all creation.  Judaism does not look on human beings as essentially sinful.  Original sin, the view of classical Christianity since Paul and Augustine, eems to condemn us to lose the game before we begin.  In this view, all human beings are born sinners, and only unearned grace can save them.  In the Jewish tradition, each of us writes his or her own personal moral slate.  We do not begin life with an unpayable debt.  At each moment we make a moral choice.  Our lives are the sum of our actions, tempered by our intention, limited by our endowments, ennobled by our faith. 

 This is such a relief.  To not have to live under the burden of thinking that you're doomed to be this horrible terrible person without religion....it's so freeing.  It's such a realistic and positive view of life - I'm never going back.

I'm going to go read now, I think.  I've got a backlog of Judaism books and I really want to catch up. Gots to capitalize on this energy while I've got it.

Hobbies

Several years ago, I realized that I didn't have any hobbies.  Whenever I came across the "what do you do in your spare time" question, I was stumped.  I mean, I had things that I did when I wasn't at work and/or sleeping, but they were exclusively "spend time on the internet" and "watch TV".  Those are not really hobbies.  I was envious of people with proper hobbies - Brian spent his time repairing electronic things and making his arcade video game system thing, but I couldn't really find a similar way to occupy my time.

I started to look around at my friends, and I realized that what I was really jealous of was their ability to create.  I have some amazingly talented friends, people who take beautiful pictures, make fantastic string art, freaking write plays...they all had something that they made that was separate from them and would last long after they were gone.  That's what I wanted.

So I decided to create, and in doing so I found some hobbies.

My first step was to narrow down what I had at least some ability to do.  I can't draw stick-figures, all of my photographs come out blurry and off-center, and any story that I try to write, well, also comes out blurry and off-center.  Then I remembered that my mother actually taught me useful things when I was a kid.  She never taught me how to do make-up, style my hair, or carry on a normal conversation, but she did teach me how to use a sewing machine, how to cross-stitch, and how to crochet a little.

So I started with buying a sewing machine for my birthday.  Eager to show Brian that I hadn't just wasted several hundred dollars, I promptly made a couple of messenger bags and a hilariously too-big pair of PJ pants.  At that point I remembered that I am terrible with patterns (although I do love the messenger bags), and despaired that I actually HAD wasted several hundred dollars.  I started futzing around with my leftover fabric, and I accidentally made a quilt block.   Then I accidentally made a whole quilt top.

I guess I quilt now.  That's a hobby, right?  I'm not good at it, and I haven't actually finished a quilt yet (that top is still waiting to be batted, backed, and bound), but I have blocks from two other quilts going now, so it is officially a hobby!

BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE:

After my success with the quilt top, I decided to venture away from the machine and remember how to cross-stitch.  My first project was a complete success, and I still love looking at it each day when I come home.  I just finished my second project, and I haven't quite decided what to do with it yet.  I have a third, fourth, and fifth pattern in the queue, so cross-stitching is officially a second hobby!

BUT STILL MORE?

After my success at cross-stitching, I decided to go into other thread-related arenas.  I started embroidering a challah cover (still not done).  I knitted a scarf (just finished).  I just learned last night how to crochet in the round, and we'll see how that goes.   SO MANY THINGS.  I'm not sure if any of these will become official hobbies or not, but these are still things that I've created and can use in my life and in my house, and I feel so good about them, wobbly worksmanship or not.

The best part of this though, is that when I come across the "what do you do in your spare time" question, I finally have an answer.

The 614th Mitzvah

Sometimes in my reading and watching and all the learning that I have to do, the weight of the history of the Jewish people feels like it's too much to take on.  Last night I read about the Shoah and it really clicked how many Jews were actually killed.  For Germany to go from 3,300,000 Jews to 300,000...you hear 6 million tossed around and yes, it's a lot but there are 7 billion people in the world, so 6 million doesn't seem so many...and then you realize there are only maybe 13, 14 million Jews alive today, and suddenly you realize that 6 million is an entire third of that.  90% of Poland's Jews were exterminated.

It's just so many.  It's so heavy.  We watched The Pianist and it just felt like my soul was breaking.

Each day it seems my eyes are opened a little bit more, like I can see through a crack in a door to another world wherein most of the Jews of the world WEREN'T killed.  What would a world be like?

More feelings

Well, I went to services again last Friday, and they were fairly similar to the week before.  The makeup of the crowd was similar, although there were a couple of younger people floating around.  I still liked it, maybe more so because instead of a choir, there was a cantor, and it was easier to understand what she was singing. Plus this time she sang Shalom Aleichem which is basically the only one I can sing along with properly, so I felt included.

I've bought so many books recently that I feel like I need to do an inventory, because seriously it's getting kind of ridiculous.  Maybe I should use Goodreads or something.  Currently I'm reading this one, and I'm enjoying it, I think because so far it's mostly a history book and I do love me some history.

I've got to get back to trying to read Hebrew, because I feel like I'll never be able to immerse myself properly until I can understand what's written in front of me.  But I am le tired.  So there's that.

That's all I've got.  Another book just arrived and I've got to investigate.

Homework

Sorry it's been pretty silent on the homefront - my life has been fairly dull.

Well, I finally met with Rabbi Misha about properly beginning the conversion process.  He was quite hesitant, which...I'm not sure I was expecting.  He was very serious and very blunt with me about not wanting to waste his time with someone who converts and then disappears, and seemed to be most concerned about the fact that all of my close friends are evangelical Christians and I'm not friends with any Jewish people.  I think worried that I'll be a Messianic Jew or something like that, which...no thanks.

He said he wouldn't see me again until I've gone to four services and read at least one of the two books he recommended to me.  I bought three books on Amazon (take THAT you doubting Rabbi you!), and on Friday night, I went to services for the first time.  He told me to write down how I felt about it so that I remember, and I'm just now getting to it.

To be honest, I'm not sure how I feel.  The services themselves were fine - lots of singing and standing and sitting. and I was interested in what was going on the whole way through.  There was no Torah reading since it was Erev Shabbat, and I'm finding myself interested in how Saturday services are different. (No one goes to those though.  If I do go, it won't be until I feel solidly on my feet at Erev Shabbat.)  I was concerned about the age of the congregation - with the exception of the nice girl who sat next to me and helped me through, they were all extremely aged.  Emiy (the nice girl) mentioned something about a children's something going on in another room, but I'm not sure if that means all of their parents were there too, or if all of these children were being raised by their grandparents.

The congregation was also smaller than I expected.  I suppose having been raised in a mega-church, my concept of "normal" is a bit off, but there were definitely less than a hundred people there, maybe less than fifty. To be honest, that made me a little angry about the Rabbi's hesitation with me - dude needs all the congregants he can get.  (But then I realize that time spent with me is time not spent with trying to get all his current Jews into seats and engaged.)

As far as any spiritual feelings...I honestly can't say I had any real stirrings.  I enjoyed the service, and I didn't feel embarrassed to try and sing along with the prayers even though I didn't know them at all (as opposed to the way I've always felt at church, which is embarrassed all the time even though I know all the songs), and I definitely want to go again, but I wasn't moved in any particular way during it.  I'm not bothered by that though.

I do think that I'm going to go again this Friday, and then perhaps after that I'll try the other two Reform shuls in town, just to get a sense of what else there is.  He said I had to attend four services - he didn't say where.

Books

A small cut from one of the sections in Unscrolled

I'm currently reading two very good books, one which is very serious and one which is much more loose and interesting but still just as thought-provoking.

The first one was assigned for our Intro to Judaism class, and I mentioned it before - Finding God.  It is very serious but is still pretty interesting.  Basically, it takes a look at some of the great Jewish writers and philosophers - Maimonides, Buber, Philo, Fromm (who I think I'm related to!), etc - and the way they looked at God.  There's rationalist, humanist, mystic, everything in there.  It's really helping me define how I feel about God, and I wanted to write down those feelings before I forget them.  Forgive me if it gets a little awkward and/or cheesy.

God is indescribable, on purpose. God is the word on the tip of your tongue that you just can't get out.  God is that color blue that you want to paint the bathroom, but you can't find the color chip that matches what you're seeing in your head and there's no way to describe it properly.  God is the idea for a short story that you dreamt last night but can't nail down enough to put onto paper in a nonsensical way.  God the name of the song that you know you've heard before and if you could just remember enough of the lyrics you could figure it out but...no, it's gone. As soon as you try to put a picture and personality to God in your head in a way that makes logical sense, it twists and turns and you lose hold of it again. 

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The second book is new and while still serious, is very creative and interesting too.  Unscrolled: 54 Writers and Artists Wrestle with the Torah.  There are a lot of famous names in this - Josh Radnor, Damon Lindhof, Joel Stein, etc.  The way each section is done (there's one essay/drawing/photograph/whatever for each weekly section of the Torah) is just fantastic.  There's a script where Abraham is questioned by police for trying to kill his son, there are photographs of an artist's grandmother, there are prayers written by authors...it's just so interesting.  I just can't decide if I want to read the whole thing now or read a section each week along with the Torah portion.  Decisions are the worst. 

That's mostly it.  I think I really just wrote this because I feel like Alex would find both of these books to be really interesting, but really really the second one.  So you should probably read them. 

Questioning

I don't really have anything interesting to say, but I came across this article through another article and it made me feel a lot more comfortable with this possible impending acceptance of religion:

"There is a risk in being guided by conscience, but no less a risk than following the voice of “commandedness.” Martin Buber once wrote, “Moloch [an idol to which children were sacrificed] imitates the voice of God.” How can we discern the voice of God knowing that Mephi­stopheles is a ventriloquist, skillfully projecting his voice onto others? A “slippery slope” is to be preferred to being cemented in the ground. On a slope I may be able to grasp a tree or rock. But in cement, I am immobilized and subject to the threats of the wilderness."

In discussing Judaism and religion in general, this question of doing something because you are commanded to and not because you want to seems to come up again and again. This article doesn't answer the central question of "Why does God care if I do [thing that doesn't hurt anyone and makes not logical sense NOT to do, aka eat a cheeseburger or use a light switch on Saturday]," but it does make me feel better about commandments that I don't particularly think are right.

Mainly the thing I'm thinking of here is forgiveness.  From what I'm reading, the Jews don't seem to be big on turning the other cheek, and frankly, I don't blame them.  When you've been persecuted for basically your entire existence, justice seems a lot more appropriate than "okay, just don't do it again..."  I've spent my entire life trying to be more forgiving of other people's flaws, and while the prospect of fully embracing a justice-oriented existence is great, I just don't think it's the right thing for me to do.  I have to try to keep being forgiving when people are jerks.

"I shall be what I shall be."

It's been pretty quiet on the homefront lately.  I just haven't had much to say.  But I feel like now maybe I do.

I started an Introduction to Judaism course on Sunday.  (Brian's taking it with me but really only because I begged him to.)  We're the only couple there that isn't half-Jewish.  I went into this wanting to find out more about Judaism with the option at the end to decide whether or not to convert, and it seems like this class is exactly that.  The Rabbi is funny and passionate and vegan, which I find particularly interesting because I wouldn't necessarily expect that from a Reform rabbi - going vegan seems to be more of an Orthodox approach.

Anyway, there are a lot of books to read for this course, and the one that is used the most is Jewish Literacy. I've read the assigned reading for this week and next week, and quite frankly, I find it so interesting that I've just started at the beginning and begun reading it straight through.  Last night I was reading about Moses, and this particular segment struck me:

"The three word name God gives Himself is not easy to translate.  The most precise rendering is 'I shall be what I shall be,' although it is sometimes translated as 'I am that I am.'  The 1962 JPS translation of the Torah despaired of coming up with an accurate rendition, and just left the words in their Hebrew original.  Although generations of Bible scholars have tried to decipher the name's precise meaning, it really did not seem to matter that much to Moses.  Rabbi Gunther Plaut has pointed out that though God gave Moses a new name to take to the Israelites, Moses never again refers to it.  Plaut deduces that 'the revelation was never meant for the people at all, nor did Moses really inquire for the sake of the people.  Moses had asked for himself, and the answer he receives is also meant for him.' In some way, God's answer is satisfactory to Moses, if not to us, implying perhaps that when one has a true experience of God, it is very private.  In other words, God shall be what God shall be to that person.  He cannot adequately be described to others."

 For some reason, this really struck me, and I think it's really at the heart of how I feel about God and religion in general.  I've never been able to justify the image of a man in a white robe looking down at all of us disapprovingly, and it reassures me that there are others who believe that each individual's perception of what God is is acceptable. In fact, the individual interpretation of what God is seems to be a running theme with Judaism and this class - the next book that's been assigned is about that very topic: Finding God.

Anyway, long story short, I really really like this class, and I really really like what I'm learning so far.  We'll see where this goes, but I suspect I already know the answer.

Style Cure Day 11

Day 11: Plan a get-together

Ha!  Hahahaha.  No.

As this Cure goes on, I'm definitely getting a lot more choosy about what days I do and what I'm ignoring, and that's okay.  I'm less discouraged than I was yesterday, which is good too. I think letting go of both the need to follow each day exactly and that feeling of "I'm behind I'm behind I'm behind" really helped.

Last night, I went to Home Depot and got a bunch of different colors that could possibly work together and started fiddling on the wall.  With a lot of discussion last night and this morning, I think we've decided to do grey on the bottom, blue on the trim, and white on top.  (This combination is the fourth from the left or third from the right.)  Brian is a bit hesitant because that's a LOT of blue all around the room - the trim is all along the ceiling and the floor, around all the windows, and around all the door frames.

BUT WAIT maybe I should be doing white on the trim, grey on the top, and blue on the bottom??? ARGH THIS IS THE WORST.


The task for this weekend is to shop, so we'll see.  I can't get past the painting part to even consider starting to style the room, so I think some stuff is going to have to be done out of order here.  Perhaps I'll paint this weekend and then shop and style next weekend.

ASSUMING I CAN PICK SOME PAINT COLORS THAT IS.

Days 7, 8, 9, and 10

I must own you, loveseat

Day 7: Clean your room and think about paint chips
Day 8: Choose your color and think about a "pairing"
Day 9: Research your pairing
Day 10: Make a shopping list

Ooomg I am failing so hard at this you guys.  It started this weekend, when our job was clean the room.  That didn't happen, at all.  Instead, Brian did a little bit of organizing, taking a lot of stuff off the green shelves and moving it to the shelves next to the fireplace...but that's all we did.  The rest of the weekend was spent looking for a chair for the living room, since we're switching the downstairs furniture with the upstairs furniture.  So instead of thinking about what color to paint the den, I've been obsessing over this loveseat for our upstairs.  We also bought a mount to put the TV (again, upstairs) on the wall.

So then we come to day 8, picking a color.  The farthest I've gotten on that is taping a bunch of paint chips on the wall.  Brian is worried that whatever we pick will darken the room too much, since it's a downstairs room with low ceilings, and I mean, he has a point, but the brown makes me so sad that I'm pushing forward with painting anyway.  I think we're going to end up with a blue, although grey is a strong contender, and I think it's going to be extremely light in color.

Because we haven't picked a color, it's basically impossible to do Days 8 and 9, because how do you pair something with a color that hasn't been selected yet?  And then a shopping list...I feel like this has gotten way more advanced than I'm capable of.  They're talking about lampshades and pillows and I don't even know how the room is going to be arranged or what color it's going to be. :(

I'm getting really discouraged.

Days 4, 5, and 6.

Day 4: Set up a one room outbox
Day 5: Make a floor plan
Day 6: Learn about color

I've been quiet the last few days because the tasks didn't really lend themselves much to blogging, with the exception of the floorplan fiasco.  I set up our outbox (which is just a box of things that you think you might want to get rid of, which you go through after a week and make a final decision about), put some of my stuff in, and realized there's no way Brian will put any of his in.  (He really likes his stuff.)

We worked on this floor plan last night, and we totally need help.  (I realize now I really should have made the floor brown, since, you know, that's the color of the floor, but I digress.)  The layout that's up there now is roughly the same as the layout is currently, except that there are two chairs instead of one+end table, and there are three bookshelves instead of two green ones. The little blue square is an ottoman, the colorful thing there is the pinball machine (which is cabinet-style, not giant machine style, and the light brown things are a DVD rack and the 9-cube thing.  Everything is proportional.

So HELP.  How do we lay out this room so that the pinball machine isn't neglected in a corner, and we're not splitting the room up so harshly into two pieces?  Keep in mind that there's a 3-4 inch ledge at about waist-height that goes around the length of the room, except on the wall where the bookshelves are now, and the red bit is another ledge where the fireplace is, but it's thankfully much lower.

Looking at the pictures in the previous entry and the layout, any suggestions for color are appreciated.  I realize we're going to have to do warm colors, which...ugh, and Brian has made it clear that he doesn't want anything too contrasty, which nixes my idea for super dark on the bottom and light on the top.  Possibly a green on the bottom? Maybe?

how i did i get here i'm no good with decorating

Day 3: Choose your room

Some of the video games.  A lot are still in storage.

Day 3: Choose your room and sit in it for 10 minutes

The task for yesterday was to pick the room that needs restyled. I puzzled over this for ages, honestly.  All our rooms could use a little sprucing, but I've also been working on them for months now, so there wasn't a ton of revamping that needed done in any room.

Except one.  The one that I was most sure I wouldn't be allowed to touch:  our den.

When we first moved in, I had originally pictured the room as a cozy place where we could watch TV and sit by the fireplace, and just generally be comfortable.  I thought maybe it would be our main hang-out room, where we would entertain most often, and had great ideas for it.

Then we moved in, and it became Brian's room.  Not that that's a bad thing, but just not what I had pictured.  Currently the room has a small TV, a couch, a couple of old chairs, a pinball, and aaaaallllll the video games.  The room is perfectly functional for him, and he likes the simplicity, which is great for him.

But it does make for a room that's really not particularly nice to be in if you're not Brian or one of his immediate friends. 

But really, the worst thing about the room to me is the poor use of space.  We have shelves that are basically empty, or have things on them that I set down literally the day we moved in and never moved. (See: the jar of peanuts on the mantle.) 

So, after talking to Brian, I think I can make some changes, as long as I don't go overboard and ruin the things he likes about the room, which is that he has a place to sit, he has a TV, and he has easy(ish) access to whatever game he wants to play at any particular time.  I need to find a way to spruce up the room and make better use of the space without completely disrupting his flow (OR spending a ton of money, haha.)

Pictures and to-do list below.  Suggestions are desperately wanted.  Required even.

UFYH

Picture discs from the 40's that we hung up last night.

Because we're having company over today, Brian and I have made really good progress towards unfucking our habitat this weekend.  Right now I'm really pleased with how at least our middle floor looks.

There are two problems with this:

1) Whenever the phrase "made really good progress" comes up in our house, suddenly Brian and I manage to completely stop whatever we're doing and give up.  It's a sign of the end whenever we get pleased with our progress.  So, crap.

2) Now that everything is neat again, I'm moving into that "oh there's so much to be fixed here" state.  I'm now painfully aware of how there really should be a houseplant on the cart in that corner, and how we need to make a firm decision on putting the TV on the wall or on a stand because the white space above the TV is driving me nuts, and how I'm going to have to rearrange my gallery wall soon because the empty spots are driving me crazy, and how I need to reupholster the wing-back chair, and on and on and on.

But overall, I'm happy right now. I'm able to look around right now and see things that are in my house not because they're functional, but because they're lovely. I have live flowers in a vase behind me.  (Okay, live is stretching it...they're a week old.) I got new throw pillows yesterday, and they are ORANGE.  I hate orange!  But I like these and they look nice with the sofa that's currently in our living room and the sofa that is soon to be in our living room.

I like being happy.

Style Cure: Day 2

Day 2: Go on a style treasure hunt

Well, this didn't go so well for me. I am terrible at window shopping. I have a tendency to see what I like, decide that I want to buy it, and I buy it. I'm not good at mulling things over or thinking about it over the weekend or "saving money" to buy things.

But, I tried.  Brian and I went into Uptown Westerville and looked in a couple of shops.  I fell in love with this long media table at Amish Originals, and I managed to take a picture of a lamp there too.  Brian and I did get the chance to talk about what we liked, and we realized we like wood furniture that's not too dark, and we're willing to spend more money on pieces that are well-made and will last for years. (This is a big deal, trust me.)

Then we went into Cinda Lou, and I found these dishes, and I absolutely fell in love.  Aaaaand I bought them. >_>  I read on the internet after I got home that this was estimated to be the most popular dish pattern in the country in 1957.  So basically it's perfect.  They're blue and brown and it's not a complete set but you can buy pieces online so I can get a complete set and I am just in love with it.

So that ended the actual window shopping portion of our day, wherein we liked one expensive thing that we didn't buy but probably will soon, and we liked another much less expensive thing that we did buy.  I am so bad at this!

Well, I suppose the point was to narrow down what I like.  And I spent some time in the Ikea catalog today and I think I have a pretty good idea, maybe.

- I like wing-back chairs
- I like color, especially blue.  I don't particularly care for red or yellow but I'm coming around to muted orange.
- I don't super like the country feel, but I definitely don't like modern either.  The only way I can describe it is "solid and comfortable".
- I like vintage, but not 70's.  Early 60's and before, but not too overboard.
- I like plants.  I want plants in our house. (But caaaaats.)
- I don't like clean, white, Scandinavian. I need the white to be broken up with color.

So there.  I succeeded even though I failed. =P

Style Cure: Day 1

My fledgling gallery wall, plus one unimpressed cat

Last time I did an Apartment Therapy Cure, I tried to blog it.  I ended up failing towards the end, but I shall try again!  If I write about it, I'm more accountable about it, which increases the odds of me actually finishing it.

Day 1: Complete the Style Cure interview

This Cure is going to be harder, because as bad as I am at organizing and cleaning, I'm even worse at decorating.

I've always felt like I have no particular sense of style, and I didn't grow up in a decorated home, so I didn't learn as I grew up.  Our apartment growing up had white walls without much on them.  There were a few pictures or art of some kind here and there, but not much, and there wasn't anything in the house that was just there to make things look nice.  (There might have been at one point, but then we kids probably broke it.  Like my grandfather's clock.  We were dancing, okay?)

Feeling like I don't have an innate knowledge of how to make things look nice made me leery about trying this, but I can't give up if I haven't begun, so let's get to it.

My answers to the interview are below the cut, in case you're interested.   What I got from it is this:

- I like actors, writers, movies, and TV shows that are funny and clever, and I've clearly been focusing on female writers more than male ones.
- I have a distinct bias towards British actors and cars.  I feel like this leads back to the enjoyment of things that are clever. 
 - I like things that are comfortable more than I like things that are beautiful.
- I like things that are vintage, either in actuality or just appear to be so.
- I'm really hungry. (Seriously, it's lunch time.)

So, whatever I do, it has to be comfortable and functional.  Having a really nice looking end table is all well and good, but if you can't find a pen or scissors or the remote when you need it, then there's no point.  I've found in the past when I try to organize especially that it all ends up getting undone because we leave out the things we use most often.  Putting them back becomes too much of a hassle.

Hm, it would appear that this interview was more helpful than I thought it'd be.  Bring on Day 2!

Fatass

Tonight, Brian asked me if I wanted to take a walk.  In the spirit of trying to make at least one healthy choice every day, I said yes.  (All I've had to eat today is bagels, and all I've done is watch romcoms on Netflix, so this literally was my one healthy choice for the day.)  As we walked, we determined that we'd try and find some kind of dinner before going home.

As we walked, something happened to me that, in all my years of being fat, has never, ever happened before: a van drove by, and some guys inside yelled "FATASS" at me.  It stung.  But, I tried to ignore it and not let it bother me and not completely ruin the nice time that Brian and I were having.  But of course, stupid is as stupid does, and the van swung back around for another go.  This time, it was a rousing "FAT WHORE".

At that point, I gave up and took a hard left towards home. I ended up crying basically the whole way home, while Brian walked along attempting the impossible task of making me feel better. (I very much appreciate his efforts.  He's a good husband.)  I took a shower after I got home, in an attempt to, I dunno, wash off the meanness?  So now I sit and try to process the feelings.

I hate that their hate got to me.  I hate that I no longer wanted to eat dinner after the incident, because I would have felt fat and ugly and disgusting doing so.  I hate that the rest of the way home, I jumped every time a car went past.  I hate that I don't want to take any more walks in my neighborhood because of one stupid idiot.  I want to find them and show them what my fat ass is capable of by beating the crap out of them.  (I have three brothers and grew up in a neighborhood with no girls. I could at least do a little damage.)

But most of all, I hate that so much of my self-esteem can be wiped out by a couple of words yelled out of a car.

In the end, I recognize that it wasn't me that caused those guys to yell out their window.  They would have yelled no matter what I looked like.  If I had been a person of color, it would have been a racial slur.  If I had been thin and pretty, it would have been a request to have sex with them, and then it would have been "slut" when I said no.  If I had been disabled, it would have been something else.  If I had been with a woman, it would have been "gay".  They wanted to yell, and I was just a target.

But it still hurts.