Supermodel Hair and Saggy Butt--HOTT

So y'all. I am having a moment today. I would have to count the days but I really hope this is hormones because FUCK.

There is a big work thing next week. With lots of important people. And I look like utter shit. I look sloppy and sad and SIGH.

It is days like today that I hate working in fashion. Because I cannot get away with wearing the same damn thing every day especially when that same damn thing now has a whole worn in it.

Worse. I woke up with supermodel hair this morning, despite having dried the living shit out of my hair last night. Supermodel hair sounds like a good thing and god knows that during the 90's everyone (that includes me) sported the hell out of it. It is when your hair is straight at the top with big ol' fat curls at the bottom. People spent a lot of time and money trying to get that hair and mine just wants to do that. Mainly because of the very anti-laws-of-nature, anti-physics, anti-is-this-even-fucking-possible ability of my hair to get curlier as it gets longer. Shit, anyone with thick wavy hair knows that your stylist will tell you to grow it to make it easier to straighten. That is logical, the weight will pull out the curl. Except my hair wants to be all counter-culture and fucking go bananas.

And I don't really follow hair trends so I would probably wear my hair this way if it were at all flattering but sadly it is not. Big head + big hair = MY FUCKING GOD WOMAN BUY A FLAT IRON.

The curls just make my jaw heavy and I don't know, my face demands simplicity. I can't wear much makeup or I look weird. And hair with too much going on is the same way. And the girls make me look young. Not like FOREVER twenty-five young. But depending on the lighting it can be why-do-we-have-a-fifteen-year-old-doing-that-job young or mutton dressed as lamb young (why does office lighting make me look 100 years old and all shadowed and yellow?).

So supermodel hair is bad. And I wore a sloppy ponytail today. Completely forgetting about another meeting I had and I just felt so gross and fat and ugly and BLAH BLAH BLAH.

So I have nothing to wear and no one has anything I want and I will probably work myself up into a BIGGER state about this make my husband and dogs tear out their hair/fur in frustration only to get my period and get over myself--in that order--but until then?

I'll be trying on all my pants--all of which look terrible with saggy butts and waists.

HOTT.

Moral Of The Story? DON'T BE A DIRTY WHORE WHO SITS ON BUSES

I have a very grade school problem. It involves a boy and a seat on a bus. And I am starting to feel like it is sixth grade again and Internet, I need to figure this shit out before I start curling my bangs again. No good comes from curling bangs not for you, not for me, not for the Ozone Layer.

This boy, or man, or whatever the fuck this person is rides my bus home. And he likes me. I do not know this because he talks to me (which THANK GOD because I am not mature enough to handle that) but because he will not stop staring at me when I get on the bus, he always saves me a seat, and if I sit somewhere else he sends me the glares of death like nobody's business.

If this was 1989 and he knew my name I would be in a slam book somewhere. Actually, I probably am--as blond bitch on my fucking bus. Now y'all are thinking, and rightly so, JESUS CHRIST ON A CRACKER(or a more appropriate deity which escapes me now because I am upset y'all), AB, you are a grown woman can you not handle this like an adult.

Internet, I can't.

Because I thought I was. I just ignored it. The puppy eyes. The weird seat saving. His happiness if I did sit next to him that was starting to look pathological considering we have never talked. I just sat in the first available seat. Every day. If it was the one next to him I took it, if not then I didn't. Adult yes?

I am relatively here.

But he is creeping me out. I mean adults, specifically ones who do not KNOW EACH OTHER, do not do this. And they especially do not do what he did today.

I took the first available seat. And he stood up and was like WHY DO YOU KEEP DOING THIS TO ME?!

The gentleman next to me checked in on me and then agreed to look at a line up if I were ever murdered (great news for J--an ALIBI). I mean this guy was screaming on a bus. And like an idiot I kept turning to people and trying to explain it, "OH I DON'T EVEN KNOW HIM BUT WE SIT TOGETHER SOMETIMES, I MEAN AT LEAST ONCE A MONTH!" "I AM SURE HE WON'T RUN ME DOWN WITH HIS CAR!" "SOMEBODY HELP ME HE IS FREAKING ME OUT!"

I am at a loss. I mean, I could change my schedule around and take another bus but that feels like I am admitting I did something wrong or letting him win. Of course if letting him win means I don't have to die I really should be all for it.

How Much To Get Brains Out

Oh dear. My head is spinning lately.

I am just in a mood I think. Because nothing in particular is happening and I am not horrifyingly busy but I just feel sort of overwhelmed. Right now Linda is laughing her ass off because that word for us is more like code for FUCK SOME ONE IS MAKING ME DO SOMETHING.

I feel like I am getting ready for something, what I have no idea, but my body and mind seem to be preparing. Whatever it is needs to happen soon because I am wound incredibly tight. Everything just feels ready to snap.

I mean I worked myself up into a lather about legwarmers today. That is just crazy. Not as crazy as wearing the fucking things like some refugee from Chorus Line or something but still. Please. If you are the woman I saw wearing gaucho pants, gold sandals, LILAC legwarmers and a fucking wool coat today just fucking stop it. If you do I will totally pay your drying cleaning bill from wear my head exploded on your coat.

They Better Not Oil The Meat With That Shit

Last night we went out to dinner to celebrate our anniversary. We ate large quantities of various cuts of still-bloody meat. And potatoes. And liquor.

And when we were through I had to pee, as you do, and went into the bathroom. To be greeted by a sight that made me regret SO MUCH that I had broken my camera phone. Because MY GOD internet you needed to see what was in the hospitality basket in that bathroom (for those, like J, who have no idea what a hospitality basket is--it just a basket of things like lotion and hairspray and such that restaurants have out for guests to use to freshen up).

K-Y JELLY.

I can't exactly fathom why that was in there unless that place is even more of a dirty hookup than this certain chain steakhouse in Bellevue that I heard is the best place to have a one night stand in the bathroom.

Let me clarify that I never did that.

I mean, I could even understand K-Y being in the men's room. Guy's on a hot date, maybe worried about being a little quick on the draw so he relieves a little. . .pressure. We have all seen There's Something About Mary.

But I don't know any women that just get so turned on by their prime rib that they CANNOT WAIT until they got home. Or perhaps I do. If you are one I cannot decide if I want to know or not.

Probably not.

I Just Want To Know Who Picked More Than Five Years Because They Owe Me A Slurpy Or Something Today

It is the tomorrow already on the east coast so I am going to post this now.

Five years ago today I made the dumbest decision I have ever made. There was no good reason for two twenty-two year olds with no money and no idea what they were doing to get married that day but we did.

And I have felt grateful for that every day since.

It seems sometimes that other people often get the breaks when it comes to money or their careers while J and I just paddle along. There are moments when this seems unfair until I realize that I got to marry the perfect person for me almost by accident. And then I feel lie I owe the world an apology. I have gotten to grow up with my husband, to break him in slowly. I do not have undo another woman's bad habits and believe me I know what a gift that can be.

I feel truly lucky every single day. That is what love and marriage can be--that is how you know that even though there is undoubtedly a pool going at your wedding and you can barely afford to go out to dinner on your wedding night let alone a honeymoon that you should marry him anyway. Because waking up every day and feeling so fortunate is something that logic cannot replace.

I never wanted to be married. And I was an idiot. I know that I spent all my lucky chips in one fell swoop five years ago. And I would do it all again.

Happy five years, Baby.

Suck My GBD

Y'all, the circumstances of this** are so very sad. And if the facts are how they appear to be then words cannot express my sympathy to this family. But the contract. Oh the CONTRACT. Is possibly the most fucked up thing I have ever read in my life. Go read it. I'll wait.

And what makes me laugh (in a fucked up, morbid way) is that I can totally imagine the guy that would write such a thing. That is every goddamn douche you ever dated. What every Chipper in high school thought his marriage would be like. The difference is that most grew out of that shit or are at least smart enough not to put it in writing.

I mean I can imagine that once you put highly specific pubic hair shaving instructions in front of your wife it is kind of hard to take it back.

Also hard to take back: the requirement that she pose for nude photos with sex toys each month. And that she only wear thong underwear--though she is allowed to own five pairs of regular underwear for use during her menstrual cycle. Quite a thoughtful guy you caught there.

If you are a fucked up couple like J and myself you will spend tonight the way we spent last night. "Baby, your underwear selection is up to par but you complained when I tried to do you in the ass while you were sleeping. I am deducting 27,000 GBDs."

"Well, I deserve about 50,000 GBDs per minute I stay married to you so I think we are doing ok."

"FUCK. I don't think you are allowed to disagree with me, pull up that contract again."

I mean really. I know that people have S&M contracts (which is what this looks like) and relationships all the time and if that works for them then FABULOUS but I don't think that would work for a married couple with small children. Especially since one partner isn't really so gung ho on it.

Meanwhile in my house J is threatening to measure my pubic hair on Saturdays and I am suggesting he track this shit on a chart with gold star stickers.

We are just that fucked up.

**Of course his lawyer is basically claiming that none of this can be tied to him, which is about all they can do. It occurs to me that the only way I am going to buy that she downloaded all that crap to frame him (because he would have to do something pretty bad to inspire that much hate in his wife who supposedly loves him and he is the father of her children etc) is to admit that he tried to force this contract on her. Of course that opens him up to the kidnapping charge which is plenty bad but . . .

In Other Words Shut Up Fucking Gumbel

Today I celebrated our country's Presidency (well except we in the AB household do not celebrate either Bushes, Reagan, Nixon--actually it is just easier to say we are celebrating the day off) by eating macaroni and cheese and watching the Olympics.

And I am just done done done with the American media coverage of the Olympics. Now I am a sentimental fool I know. But for me the pleasure in the games is in the weird sports. In watching curling and moguls and screaming HOLY SHIT during the snowboard cross. I cheer for the Americans of course, but I especially love the sports that we are not really even in. I must confess to crying a little bit during the men's biatholon. As some one who is not an athlete I am stunned by all the things people are able to do. And our media just sneers at anything but gold medals. They make fun of sports they don't like. They complain about the lack of diversity without thinking about how the WORLD IS HERE THAT IS PRETTY FUCKING DIVERSE but if you just want to see black athletes they are here too. They bitch about how poorly the Americans are doing even though they are doing amazingly well.

But I am not missing it.

Especially when I have the day off.

It shouldn't shock me that we as a country get it wrong. It is like so many things. We focus so much on the result we miss out on the amazing pieces that make it up.

Results

The past couple of days are ones I would just rather forget. I managed to dump olive oil mixed with garlic into my favorite purse (and now my scarf, leather gloves and everything else smells like it which you would think is nice but is hell on earth). I dropped my cell phone into the toilet while trying to answer it after I vomited. I thought I had left my wallet in the bathroom (but found it later THANK GOD so I am just an idiot but not an idiot who has to cancel all of her cards). I spilled most of a coke into another purse (FUCK and a waste of coke).

There is nothing like a period of time like that to convince you that you are too stupid to live.

But, I survived it and nothing bad better happen to me.

The internet voted and chose, this as their favorite and I listened to the internet (because I know what happens when you don't--woodpeckers swarm your car and force you off the freeway so they can bash in your windshield) when I got my haircut this morning. I like the result, a long shag that looks nothing like the Rachel. It isn't quite that cut, because my hair was still shorter in the back than in the front so I didn't have quite enough length yet. But it is on it's way and I am glad I listened to internet. Not just because of my woodpeckerless drive home either.

Of course J was like, "Did you even get it cut?" so I don't know why I fucking bother with him.

Missing It

A year ago I was losing my mind. I was in shock and feeling lost and out of control. I feel the same way today. Less raw, a little more together, but a lot of days I forget she is gone and try to shoot her an email.

Linda made me cry with this. The luncheon was my idea. I just wanted to mark the occasion because I felt like people were forgetting her. And because I needed to have something, not closure (because I don't feel like I will have that ever really) but something to tie up some loose ends emotionally. And I felt terribly guilty because when Linda and I talked about it I could tell she felt like she didn't want to do it. And I felt selfish.

So I am glad that she enjoyed it. Today wasn't how I expected it to be. I was sad, as I knew I would be, but I felt more raw today. I think because I feel like I should be farther along in the grief process, everyone else (except Linda) seems to be. But I suppose I am learning that everyone grieves differently and maybe I am just not going to get to that place for a long time.

I don't really miss her physical presence anymore--well that isn't exactly true I miss her laugh, her smile and her fucking sarcastic emails--now I miss more of what she is missing. What we are missing together. Linda brought Baby E today and I had this vision of how things might have been. Had the lunch been for something else and Ang brought her daughter along. I am not angry she is dead anymore, I have progressed that much, it just seems wrong though. She is missing it. Maybe that is why today was hard, it is hard to know what we are all missing.

Maybe I Shouldn't Ever Skip Class And Inflict This Crap On You

In honor of our Wednesday night class, which we are skipping so J can study for an exam he is taking Friday (so he better pass) I have been thinking a lot about Judaism and religion in general.

My family is Christian. All different sects (my parents are one, one set of grandparents another, the other set of grandparents yet another and my sister something else entirely) but related enough that it doesn't cause serious issues. There is no doubt that I grew up in a home that looked at the world from a distinctively Christian point of view.

And I thought our view was "normal" and was totally ignorant to the variety of viewpoints out there. Even within the Christian community the experience is pretty diverse.

But in my experience it is almost impossible to explain to a Christian how Judaism differs from their religion. Most Americans today think of Judaism as being like Christianity but without Jesus, after all they are closely related and that is a simple distinction.

However, when I talk to my mother or friends or my sister it becomes pretty clear that they do not understand how different the two are in practice and philosophy. This is not to say that Christianity is wrong or that my Judaic experience is universal, but it is frustrating to me that people want to turn Hanukkah into Christmas and Passover into Easter.

Now I am saying all of this as some one who is becoming a Reform Jew and is still forming my form of belief but, well I guess that is a great place to start, Judaism is highly individualized. It is highly encouraged for people to analyze meaning from scripture and to find meaning in ritual and prayer. If it has no meaning than you shouldn't do it. That is why there are Jews that don't go to temple but keep Kosher and there are Jews who would eat a ham sandwich but attend services every day. There are millions of Jews in the world and the beliefs of each one are highly specific. Now I know Christians have their individual beliefs but in my experience it is heavy on teachings and there are certain tenents that you pretty much have to believe. Judaism just doesn't work that way--in fact there are several people in our community that identify as Jews but do not believe in God (something that my sister and I got into an argument about and I am still a little mad over but am working to get over because We Are All Different).

Most Americans know that the Jewish Sabbath is on a different day from the Christian one. But many do not know why and if asked would assume that temple services look like church services. But in our community services are more like study sessions in a group but with wine. The Sabbath is less about worship and more about celebrating and resting the mind and body. So when my mother is worried because we don't go to services I am frustrated because I can't get her to see that we can do Shabbat at home and it counts the same. Because we don't believe God is counting.

Passover is not our Easter. Hanukkah really is a minor holiday. Yeah, there are a crapload of Jewish holidays. No, I couldn't even name them all. But many involve parties and liquor and that cannot be bad. If we skip services for a year we are not going to Hell because we don't believe in Hell or a particularly vengeful God. We (as in J and I because this is controversial) don't believe in a messiah, not a literal one. Nor the devil. Nor the Holy Trinity. And again, I am not saying those things are wrong (because really prove any of this) but they are just not for me.

The interesting thing about this whole experience for me is how much more big picture I can look at my religious upbringing now. How I can see elements from all of the sects that my family believes in that are meaningful. I can see why those people find comfort in their faiths.

The hard part is accepting that because my experience is so different a lot of people will never feel that way about mine.

Valentine's Day

My head is intact by still crabby and I am home sick today. Watching my dogs freak the fuck out about snow and the construction crew across the street.

Today is obviously Valentine's Day. I am not disgusted by it the way I think you are supposed to be if you want to be a hipster (which clearly I can't pull that shit off anyway) nor am do I love it the way I would if I were the kind of woman who wears pink angora sweaters and the heart charm bracelet from Tiffany's. Both of those responses to the day seem pretty valid to me, but like so many things Valentine's Day just doesn't illicit much of a response from me.

I miss the grade school version of this holiday--making a construction paper mailbox to sit on your desk, getting cards from everyone in class, the cupcakes. Wouldn't that be refreshing for the corporate world? Seriously, if you had to give your co-workers little notes and candies. Now that is a holiday of love.

J and I don't really celebrate it so much. Our anniversary is in about a week and of course that is more important to us. This year, because of some financial shenanigans and pay day being tomorrow, we didn't even exchange cards. That feels about right to me. I love me some love notes and flowers and dinners out. But I don't really need it on a specific day (not that I would be outraged or anything).

In fact, I can remember only one Valentine's Day that was a great one for me. My freshman year in college I was away from home. I kept trying to break up with my boyfriend who I didn't even like anymore but was (shamefully) not ballsy enough to break it off clean. We were on a break (sigh, I was eighteen y'all, that is my only excuse) and I was sort of dating some one else. And had slept with some one else the week before. I bitched and bitched to a friend of mine in a manner that only a student at a women's college (where a holiday like Valentine's Day is practically an OLYMPIC competition) that I hated the holiday, that I wished we could all skip it.

The next day I woke up and my friend had covered my door with hearts with messages about how glad she was that I was there, how happy she was to be my friend, how much she loved me. Again, I know this was a women's college so y'all are imagining that this ended with us in a pillow fight in our underwear and an orgy in the shower and I am tempted to lie (IMAGINE THE HITS) but I shall resist the urge to Jame Frey it and really that was just my best holiday because what an expression of love from a friend.

Heh. I also got flowers from the ex-ish boyfriend, the date and the guy I slept with so I was the GOLD MEDALIST. And honestly a legend for that one, well deserved I think.

So I hope all of you have a lovely day, celebrated in the manner which you desire and that if you need it some one pastes valentines to your door.

No Explosion

Unfortunately, my face did not melt off today. I say unfortunately because I would have done anything to have my head explode. It felt like it was splitting in two slowly so why not have it pop in a blaze of glory and possibly land on the front page?

The infection is not better.

I barely made it through the day.

I probably should not have even driven home from the bus station, since I was dizzy enough to almost crash the car and had to stop and throw up. J rubbed my head (while I cried and after I had emptied about ten gallons of snot out of my face in the shower) and made me canned spaghetti and I feel a little more able to deal with living.

I actually have fun and interesting things to write about (no really! I mean to me but still!) if I ever stop feeling hungover--I didn't even get to get smashed to earn this sucker.

My Face Is Still Melting

So.

My fucking sinus infection is still with me. My face hurts. It is swollen. My head feels clogged, my eyes keep watering and I have creases under my eyes. It is taking a lot of effort for me to hold my head up. I barely have the energy to get annoyed with the Olympic commentators--leave Michelle Kwan alone VIPERS, stop trash talking about female hockey players CANADA.

So today has passed in a fog.

And then the washing machine broke. It started smoking and stopped working and SIGH. We decided that we were spending my bonus on a vacation. The first vacation ever for us. Somewhere warm and sunny. Somewhere we could relax. I have a sinking feeling that we will be buying a new washer instead.

Sometimes I really fucking hate being an adult.

Cry Baby

I am a crier.

I am sure those of you that have been reading along for a while now are nodding your heads and saying something like, "No shit, Mistress of the Obvious," but I just like to earn my keep around here letting y'all know what is going on.

And I cry. I cry at commercials (God, the one with the Grandma and the baby and the Cheerios? KILL ME). I cry during movies. I cannot listen to country radio anymore, in part because of songs like this. I am sure everyone can imagine how I am during the Olympics.

I love the Olympics. More than is probably healthy. I especially love the obscure sports--it feels like those competitors are more excited about the Olympics than anyone else. I am amazed by how hard they work. I even like some of the human interest stories--I mean some of them are ridiculous but if you cannot root for a guy who broke his back than you have no heart. I know that NBC plays up the angles a little too much, to the point that you wonder if people have to go out and shoot their dog to get on camera but seriously, people are amazing.

What is even more amazing is watching all this stuff on Ti-faux so that I don't have to listen to Bob Costas drone on.

I only have two votes for haircuts so far, please tell me what you think--ask your husband/wife/girlfriend/boyfriend what they think because I mean obviously this is the most important thing happening on the internet today. I'll just be sitting on my couch watching the Luge and waiting for you to chime in (side note, the only thing I hate about Blogger is that I don't get the email addresses to reply to comments so just know that I appreciate people who comment so much) and bawling every time some one wins a medal.

Help Me Internet, You're My Only Help

I have tried to post this something like five million times--I think Blogger is trying to make me rip my hair out so I can't talk about it anymore. If this fucking thing actually publishes than I will have PREVAILED.

Since Frank tells me he loves the hair posts here is another one. Help me choose a style because I have looked at so many pictures I do not even know what I like anymore. Just remember I have a giant head and thick medium length hair. Try not to pick something that will make me look like cheese.

Also. Don't judge me because one of the photos is Ashley Simpson. I am desperate internet.

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Vote in the comments--even if you have never commented before. I need help.

I Mean Other People Ask For World Peace. . .I Guess I Want That Too But GOOD HAIR PLEASE

Y'all I am just fucking obsessed with my hair.

I cannot stop looking for that "perfect" haircut. Something that will look fun and different but not make my head look like a block of cheese. Something that is sexy but not whorey. Something that will not look eighties which with big Dynasty-prone hair like mine is a tall order.

I haven't had a haircut in thirteen weeks and I am through the withdrawal symptoms but DEAR GOD do I miss good hair. To others my hair probably seems fine, to those who like plainness it is probably lovely. To me it is an abomination that is trying to make me lose my shit.

How much shit do I possibly have to lose at this point one might very well ask?

One is kind of shirty bitch isn't one?

My main problem that for all my smug talk about how I like to look cute--I don't have anything to wear. I love dressing other people up--my mom looks like she belongs in a magazine y'all (unless she deviates from AB prescribed outfits then she looks like one of the women from the back page of US Weekly--Bad Fashion to Good People)--but I don't dress myself up. I am black pants, black shirts, jackets. And so my hair is an accessory. My nod to the very fashiony place I work in while wearing my very not fashiony clothes (don't get me wrong my all black clothes are modern and not at all highwaisted tapered legged monstrosity but I am not working a Sienna Miller thing).

Right now my hair is boring and it is making me feel frumpy. And also fat. Or it could be that all the queso dip I ate during the football playoffs has done that. Another thing to hate the NFL for.

You might recall that I was a little mental when I got home from my last haircut. I think that the whole mess happened for a couple of reasons. My reliance on my hair as my main fashion statement. My stylist's vision of my hair. My total inability to confront anyone and say something that might upset them even if I am PAYING that person. Different expectations of what a stylist does.

And I am at a loss. And Linda is so fucking tired of me on this one. She has been trying to get me to go to her gal--and I probably will. But I just love the guy I have been going to. I go round and around about it making both arguments. I am making her nuts. I also made at least one terrible Brokeback Mountain joke so you now I sunk LOW. Of course when J went to get his haircut he told him that I thought he was MEAN. Dear god, it is like he is TRYING to make me sound more ridiculous than I am which I would have previously thought impossible. For the record my stylist is not mean. He just maybe doesn't get me. But cuts my hair so nicely (when you have thick wavy hair many many people will make you look like a poodle so you treasure those who don't).

I just want to be pretty. And to not look like too much like a block of cheese.

That must be too much too ask.

It Is A Damn Good Thing It Is Almost The Olympics And Then Spring Training Because I Am Upset About This Shit

I am not the only one.

See, I am not arguing that the Seahawks should have won that game. I am saying that the refs should have let them play that game. The Steelers played like shit. And Seattle couldn't get anything going when the refs penalized every significant play they had. Yes, Stevens dropped SO MANY PASSES. Yes, Hasselbeck threw an interception. But take away eleven points from any team and they are going to struggle.

I could have handled losing.

I am a CUBS FAN.

But this felt like I was watching pro-wrestling, like the NFL wanted to have a special JEROME BETTIS gets the ring moment. Which is fine, I mean league has to do marketing and all but I don't know. This is my second season as a real football fan. I will never feel the same about the game. I will probably watch next year, probably get caught up in it, because I just love sports. But I won't ever be as starry-eyed. The NFL has all but admitted that the "Immaculate Reception" was a bad call made out of fear of the city of Pittsburgh ripping the place apart. Judging by the officiating it is hard to believe that an admission of that nature might come out thirty years from now.

The NFL needs to take a long look in the mirror. It is the number one sport in the country. But maybe they need to decide if they really want to go the WWE route.

Just because Seattle won't burn their city down doesn't mean that you should fuck with us. We do control your email, your coffee and your access to large vats of olive oil.

DAMN

They are just trying to fucking steal the game from us aren't they?

We had a touch down.

They took it away.

They didn't have one.

They gave it to them anyway.

I am a little drunk.

For Once

J and I have been taking a class on Wednesday nights as part of our on-going conversion process. It is a catch-all class about history and religious practice. There are people in it who want to convert, those who have always been Jewish and some that just want to learn. The sort of mish-mash of purposes lend the class a fluid feel--the rabbis that teach tend to let the class go in whatever direction it wants to--present me with one of my greatest challenges with the course. Oddly enough, my challenge isn't with mastering the material, but with trying not to master the material. My A-student self always wants to ace the test and try for extra credit but in this course does not have a test and the objective is not to learn a list of facts, but (for me) to immerse myself more fully into a Jewish life.

And it is hard y'all. There is a part of me that craves homework and for the rabbis to follow the damn syllabus. The woman this week had us divide up in groups to talk about the stress of our week and even though I knew what the purpose was (we were studying Shabbat practices, which is celebrated in a different way than the Christian Sabbath) I just wanted to move on. It is hard for me to live in the moment but I bite my tongue and try to go with the flow.

Weirdly enough, for me, part of that is not really participating in the class. I am listening and answering any questions that I have to, but I am trying not to answer or raise my hand. I think it is important for me to not concentrate on getting the right answer but on getting the right answer for me. Just so you know though, I TOTALLY know the right answers.

One of my ugliest traits, which I fight and try to rise above, is that I am a fucking snob about people who might not be as smart (see! the SNOBBINESS) or learn as quickly as I am and do. I try to not be this way, because really it does not matter, we are not taking a time test (though man, I miss those timed times table tests and I just ruled at those), and people have the right to learn in their own way. But GODDAMN people are slow and stupid sometimes. There are these two women in our class, who are both ESL so they get miles and miles of slack on this to me because I cannot imagine taking a course in a second language (though both have been in this country and have spoken English for years), who are very literal about things. I don't know if it is a language thing or if they are both just literal people but they cannot follow along. They don't really want to think about concepts in a personalized way. And they want the instructor to explain every single joke or innuendo to them. They cannot let anything go. It is just so maddening and then I feel like a big bitch and no one likes that.

It is a growth experience but obviously I have a lot to do.

Of course it is Shabbat and some Jews don't even turn on their lights and I am blogging. But maybe this is how I bring peace to the day and honor it? Well, I mean at least I am not talking about my tits or shit. For once.