I'm really not sure what's going on. But the little switch inside of me that is seldom approached seems to have the most frightening potential. I have a couple of these switches. There's the fear one, and then there's the hypochondriac one. That one does not need to roll in its grave of dormancy when I act the way I normally do; pshaw at any possible disease or injury. But every once in a while... Maybe it's because I read the internet and the modern day black plague has befallen us stinky new yorkers. Who knows. But I did ride two 5 express trains this evening crammed in so hard that both the subway pole AND my hockey stick were covered in eager, haphazardly placed hands, hands who belong to those dimwits rushing around during rush hour, clutching the phallus(took me 3 tries to spell that correctly) of mundanity.
Hockey scrimmage: why did I go? I shouldn't have. thought it would draw me out, but instead, I know too much. Last year it was an exciting free for all, I had no skill but my willingness to hustle, and it was me playing for myself, not know anybody else there, just being constantly humbled by their skills. Now it is different. Now I know who my competition is, who's mean and who's nice, who I can play hard on and who I best keep my distance from. Granted, all of the above are constructs I created over the past 10 months, but what isn't?
TBNYU/morals/ activism: I am a voyeur. I care about some stuff, but feel that brandishing your care for something in a public sphincter is nothing but cringe-worthy. Sorry, but it's in me.
I made a pretty bad decision last night. I really fucked up. Maybe it was what I needed though, to finally tip the scales. I'm afraid that it wasn't though, and will remain a bad decision made in vain.
Thursday 30 April 2009
The Urge To Blag
I've been getting it. Here's what I'm eating for breakfast: trader joes honey bunches of oats with milk, raisins, and peanuts. zesty. I might as well dwell in a house of peanut butter, it seems to line my every surface.
Stuff I care about:
sign language. It is mad rad. I like to fingerspell everything (circa "occupy everything")
bdsm blogs. heh.
conversing with someone via frisbee tossing: It is more intimate than most conversations. All we ever use are words, and I am realy trying to get myself to wholly believe that communication can happen as definitively through physical metaphors as it can through verbal exchange. We think if we see something, it must be there. But if we hear something, it could be a simulation, or far away, or misheard. So to, with frisbee. A story develops as we toss, the nuanced eye contact, the directness and speed of the throws, the playful nature, the candor of plastic exchange, the congratulatory measures coupled with the dutiful apologies for (if in nyc) hitting passersby in the head) and elsewhere-- a bad throw.
I played hockey last night in a small gym in washington heights. This one very nice guy who played disclosed to me and some of the other players that his mom died that morning (yesterday). I couldn't say anything, so I gave him lots of eye contact, and was frank. I have insights into death, although not of a parent, but a parent's parent. I asked him on the subway if he felt that he had sufficiently / appropriately individuated into his own person such that he does not feel like he lost his left side of the body when his mother passed. He said yes; it gave me hope that someday I will be as autonomous as all getout.
Stuff I care about:
sign language. It is mad rad. I like to fingerspell everything (circa "occupy everything")
bdsm blogs. heh.
conversing with someone via frisbee tossing: It is more intimate than most conversations. All we ever use are words, and I am realy trying to get myself to wholly believe that communication can happen as definitively through physical metaphors as it can through verbal exchange. We think if we see something, it must be there. But if we hear something, it could be a simulation, or far away, or misheard. So to, with frisbee. A story develops as we toss, the nuanced eye contact, the directness and speed of the throws, the playful nature, the candor of plastic exchange, the congratulatory measures coupled with the dutiful apologies for (if in nyc) hitting passersby in the head) and elsewhere-- a bad throw.
I played hockey last night in a small gym in washington heights. This one very nice guy who played disclosed to me and some of the other players that his mom died that morning (yesterday). I couldn't say anything, so I gave him lots of eye contact, and was frank. I have insights into death, although not of a parent, but a parent's parent. I asked him on the subway if he felt that he had sufficiently / appropriately individuated into his own person such that he does not feel like he lost his left side of the body when his mother passed. He said yes; it gave me hope that someday I will be as autonomous as all getout.
Monday 20 April 2009
Ode to the ovum
I raised up my arms atop my head to prepare to dive into a handstand against the inside of the front door. Upon throwing myself down and kicking off my right leg into the air, my foot crashed full speed against a stepstool thingy that has somehow found its way into my apt. I was taken aback, and my arms crumbled, leaving me in a heap on the dusty floor, my cheek against the chilly door. I viewed it immediately as the world closing in on me. I sat cross-legged for some time, head down towards my toes, unwittingly getting the most ghastly whiff of my day-old socks. I remained there, humbled, and then got up and did a proper handstand, taking supreme caution of how far my legs would extend. Woe unto those who cannot be upside down.
Friday 17 April 2009
peanut butter and chocolate
most inspiring food ever. hands down. unfortunately the pb i got in my haste to procure quality chametz last night from whole foods has a bit too much salt for my liking. Oh well, at least I'm melting on my tongue right now. I also got this bag (not box, bag.) of cereal that is cinnamon toast crunch...but natural. whole foods natural. organic, and advertises "no phony flavors!" It's mad good. It will be finished soon. This manic food consumption is offset (I hope) by my ass busting of sports playing by weekend. Otherwise, I am nothing. It's my common Jewish name with an Elana- shaped hole of empty space immediately preceeding and anteceding it.
So last night a coupla things happened. I rejoiced inwardly upon reaching thursday evening, which means no class for 4 days, and in those 4 days I can only predict what sort of blasphemy might go down. At least its routine, at least it's in the peanut butter zone. What else is there to dub?
Last night I played hockey. With some girls who really hustled. Especailly this one girl. she looked small, compact, and mousey, and I usually assume that I can take any girl, but this one put up a fight. I was humbled and proud of her. She really hustled and didn't miss many passes.
I practiced my boxout, and that term means basically any time I use my body as a strategic barrier. It's one of my few moves to call upon. Too bad it doesn't directly involve smooth tricky movement of the ball. Maybe I'll get there.
I play pretty physically with some people and I want to be sure they are ok with it. So I sometimes ask bluntly, awkwardly, just to be sure that my hump-like trap into the boards D isn't unwelcome.
last night was frisbee night too. i dont want to take for granted the comfort and contentment i feel playing with these kids. I recall freshman year feeling so out of place, illegit, and dweeby, and am so glad that I have found a niche, at least I percieve myself to have found one. I actually get it. It took me long enough, that's for sure. I made a good catch/bid/fall/lay on the concrete and got minimally hurt, and it was my body acting governed by "get disc" without thought about personal injury, or adding insult to. I want that to be the way I always play. *scrapes off dried blood from elbow.*
When boys cry. It's the best reminded of our humanity across the board and I want it to be more than okay.
So last night a coupla things happened. I rejoiced inwardly upon reaching thursday evening, which means no class for 4 days, and in those 4 days I can only predict what sort of blasphemy might go down. At least its routine, at least it's in the peanut butter zone. What else is there to dub?
Last night I played hockey. With some girls who really hustled. Especailly this one girl. she looked small, compact, and mousey, and I usually assume that I can take any girl, but this one put up a fight. I was humbled and proud of her. She really hustled and didn't miss many passes.
I practiced my boxout, and that term means basically any time I use my body as a strategic barrier. It's one of my few moves to call upon. Too bad it doesn't directly involve smooth tricky movement of the ball. Maybe I'll get there.
I play pretty physically with some people and I want to be sure they are ok with it. So I sometimes ask bluntly, awkwardly, just to be sure that my hump-like trap into the boards D isn't unwelcome.
last night was frisbee night too. i dont want to take for granted the comfort and contentment i feel playing with these kids. I recall freshman year feeling so out of place, illegit, and dweeby, and am so glad that I have found a niche, at least I percieve myself to have found one. I actually get it. It took me long enough, that's for sure. I made a good catch/bid/fall/lay on the concrete and got minimally hurt, and it was my body acting governed by "get disc" without thought about personal injury, or adding insult to. I want that to be the way I always play. *scrapes off dried blood from elbow.*
When boys cry. It's the best reminded of our humanity across the board and I want it to be more than okay.
Tuesday 7 April 2009
Hockey
I just got back from my last regular season hockey game in scrappier league. I am happy I played this season with this team because athough we lost every game, we improved and I got to be a part of timed, reffed games against good other teams and players. Granted, I get that in scrimmage and it is more fun, but still- hockey is hockey. My teammates are all super nice, and while our skill does not match that of the other teams like pete and kevin's teams, I still believe that we have good solid players. Solid, albeit scattered.
I think I might feel strongly about this game because it is the sole recreational activity that marks the end of the time I have here in the city before pesach, before i tread to yardley for another 5-dayer. I remember th 5 day yom tovs of yore, i remember them well. and honestly, i never thought i'd be a month shy of my 21st birthday, typing a blog naked in my dorm room, having broken free of the constraints set upon me by the world in which i was raised. I mean, (unsure as to who I am addressing, but yet) I dig Judaism. I teach the kiddies about it every sunday for the last 3 years. I tutor special needs kids for their bar mitzvahs. I do, and I do.
About hockey though, I feel like all these guys have my back. We may not be best of friends and all chum-chummy, but that might be because we live in different worlds, or are at different stages of life, or, and most likely, because I am a social dunce. Regardless, I do feel like they like me and respect me and my hockey playing, and always ask if I am ok if I fall down, which I like to have happen during these games so that the adrenaline rush keeps me from feeling any pain that may be there. (If pain is present, but not felt, is it still pain? Riddle me that.)
So they have my back, and they give me tips, but not in an overbearing condescending way, rather in a helpful useful way, because after all, my hockey knowledge can be measured by a geiger counter. And I don't feel [all that] stupid asking questions to the ones who know about hockey and play good. And they exist, and I am so unsure as to what our relationship is. Is there more camaraderie with the Jewish ones...because we're Jewish? Am I making that up? Am I creating crushes where there are none? Probably, that seems to be erupting in my head pretty often these days. It is hard to separate someone who is a pal and I look up to, especially in a sport, which I hold in such high regard, from being someone who I want to become closer with. I'm not even sure. I admire certain players and for that reason I want to fuck them. That's a joke.
I also want to go to a tournament. I consider myself to live by certain tenets with regards to hockey (and frisbee). Let's see if I can flesh em out academically:
1. If there is hockey to be played, I am there.
- no matter what time of day or night, if I am aware of a hockcey game/ scrimmage going on, I will get up and go there, and play, despite the other ersponsiblities or fatigues I may have.
2. Hmm. I don't know if there is a second one. They all kind of fall under the umbrella of the first. I mean I always need to tell myself to remember that even though I am tired, the greatest feeling ever that is pure purity and exhilaration comes from my sports, and as a human, this is what I am meant to be doing and it makes sense. It fits like a magnetic puzzle. Like a rubix pajamas.
3. Never show weakness. This one may not be so wise, but it has been how I've been playing. If I fall, don't exaggerate or complain, just get up and let the bruises/ blood speak for themselves. I'm not sure what I'm getting at here, but like, I'm ok, just way too complex for my own good.
eff that ess.
I think I might feel strongly about this game because it is the sole recreational activity that marks the end of the time I have here in the city before pesach, before i tread to yardley for another 5-dayer. I remember th 5 day yom tovs of yore, i remember them well. and honestly, i never thought i'd be a month shy of my 21st birthday, typing a blog naked in my dorm room, having broken free of the constraints set upon me by the world in which i was raised. I mean, (unsure as to who I am addressing, but yet) I dig Judaism. I teach the kiddies about it every sunday for the last 3 years. I tutor special needs kids for their bar mitzvahs. I do, and I do.
About hockey though, I feel like all these guys have my back. We may not be best of friends and all chum-chummy, but that might be because we live in different worlds, or are at different stages of life, or, and most likely, because I am a social dunce. Regardless, I do feel like they like me and respect me and my hockey playing, and always ask if I am ok if I fall down, which I like to have happen during these games so that the adrenaline rush keeps me from feeling any pain that may be there. (If pain is present, but not felt, is it still pain? Riddle me that.)
So they have my back, and they give me tips, but not in an overbearing condescending way, rather in a helpful useful way, because after all, my hockey knowledge can be measured by a geiger counter. And I don't feel [all that] stupid asking questions to the ones who know about hockey and play good. And they exist, and I am so unsure as to what our relationship is. Is there more camaraderie with the Jewish ones...because we're Jewish? Am I making that up? Am I creating crushes where there are none? Probably, that seems to be erupting in my head pretty often these days. It is hard to separate someone who is a pal and I look up to, especially in a sport, which I hold in such high regard, from being someone who I want to become closer with. I'm not even sure. I admire certain players and for that reason I want to fuck them. That's a joke.
I also want to go to a tournament. I consider myself to live by certain tenets with regards to hockey (and frisbee). Let's see if I can flesh em out academically:
1. If there is hockey to be played, I am there.
- no matter what time of day or night, if I am aware of a hockcey game/ scrimmage going on, I will get up and go there, and play, despite the other ersponsiblities or fatigues I may have.
2. Hmm. I don't know if there is a second one. They all kind of fall under the umbrella of the first. I mean I always need to tell myself to remember that even though I am tired, the greatest feeling ever that is pure purity and exhilaration comes from my sports, and as a human, this is what I am meant to be doing and it makes sense. It fits like a magnetic puzzle. Like a rubix pajamas.
3. Never show weakness. This one may not be so wise, but it has been how I've been playing. If I fall, don't exaggerate or complain, just get up and let the bruises/ blood speak for themselves. I'm not sure what I'm getting at here, but like, I'm ok, just way too complex for my own good.
eff that ess.
Yeah so blogging hasn't happened in a while. Seems as though more people I know in real life have been privy to my blog and that has been made clear to me, so I can write less and less under the guise on anonymity. I have been asked about somethings written here, and felt the need to defend, explain away, or edify them. I could always start a new totally anonymous blog, or just write in my infamous word document I have had for the past coupla years. Or, I could just think and not write, or type an email and them delete it. Hmm endless options. roll.eyes.
I feel a little deviant right now, I am typing this blog entry and there are people waiting in line to use a computer at the swanky new kimmel lab where i wrote my post several weeks ago in rage that Jsex wouldn't let me into his grad student town hall. Memories abound, and yet I remain the same. I should send some all-important emails, right now.
I haven't said anything here yet, but for those of you who crave my voice in writing and pursue regular updates, this should soften the blow of negligence.
I feel a little deviant right now, I am typing this blog entry and there are people waiting in line to use a computer at the swanky new kimmel lab where i wrote my post several weeks ago in rage that Jsex wouldn't let me into his grad student town hall. Memories abound, and yet I remain the same. I should send some all-important emails, right now.
I haven't said anything here yet, but for those of you who crave my voice in writing and pursue regular updates, this should soften the blow of negligence.
Yeah so blogging hasn't happened in a while. Seems as though more people I know in real life have been privy to my blog and that has been made clear to me, so I can write less and less under the guise on anonymity. I have been asked about somethings written here, and felt the need to defend, explain away, or edify them. I could always start a new totally anonymous blog, or just write in my infamous word document I have had for the past coupla years. Or, I could just think and not write, or type an email and them delete it. Hmm endless options. roll.eyes.
I feel a little deviant right now, I am typing this blog entry and there are people waiting in line to use a computer at the swanky new kimmel lab where i wrote my post several weeks ago in rage that Jsex wouldn't let me into his grad student town hall. Memories abound, and yet I remain the same. I should send some all-important emails, right now.
I haven't said anything here yet, but for those of you who crave my voice in writing and pursue regular updates, this should soften the blow of negligence.
I feel a little deviant right now, I am typing this blog entry and there are people waiting in line to use a computer at the swanky new kimmel lab where i wrote my post several weeks ago in rage that Jsex wouldn't let me into his grad student town hall. Memories abound, and yet I remain the same. I should send some all-important emails, right now.
I haven't said anything here yet, but for those of you who crave my voice in writing and pursue regular updates, this should soften the blow of negligence.
word
Yeah so blogging hasn't happened in a while. Seems as though more people I know in real life have been privy to my blog and that has been made clear to me, so I can write less and less under the guise on anonymity. I have been asked about somethings written here, and felt the need to defend, explain away, or edify them. I could always start a new totally anonymous blog, or just write in my infamous word document I have had for the past coupla years. Or, I could just think and not write, or type an email and them delete it. Hmm endless options. roll.eyes.
I feel a little deviant right now, I am typing this blog entry and there are people waiting in line to use a computer at the swanky new kimmel lab where i wrote my post several weeks ago in rage that Jsex wouldn't let me into his grad student town hall. Memories abound, and yet I remain the same. I should send some all-important emails, right now.
I haven't said anything here yet, but for those of you who crave my voice in writing and pursue regular updates, this should soften the blow of negligence.
I feel a little deviant right now, I am typing this blog entry and there are people waiting in line to use a computer at the swanky new kimmel lab where i wrote my post several weeks ago in rage that Jsex wouldn't let me into his grad student town hall. Memories abound, and yet I remain the same. I should send some all-important emails, right now.
I haven't said anything here yet, but for those of you who crave my voice in writing and pursue regular updates, this should soften the blow of negligence.
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