It has not yet been a month since I left Israel.
Needless to say, it feels like forever.
Just over a month ago I was still in school. In this way of seeing things, a year seems so very long. Heck, a day is a long time. And six months? Well, that's damn long too.
It makes me wonder: what can I do with all this time? There's school and someday a job and everything, but there's always more. Extra hours. They're wasted so easily.
But we are so focused on the future that we don't think of now. Obviously you've got to plan some things, otherwise nothing would happen at all, but what about now? Often I forget about the now. Oh, in so many minutes or hours or days or months such and such is happening, but something is also happening now.
There will never be a moment again like this moment. That's what spurs me to do stuff.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
IBIL
International Baroque Institute at Longy.
Explanations
1. My mom is a flutist.
2. My mom is a baroque flutist.
3. Baroque is "a period of artistic style that used exaggerated motion and clear, easily interpreted detail to produce drama, tension, exuberance, and grandeur in sculpture, painting, architecture, literature, dance, and music." (Or so Wikipedia says. To my personal knowledge, Wiki is right.)
4. Longy is a school/conservatory of music in Cambridge, MA near Harvard. I have been around the school for as long as I can remember.
5. My mom teaches at Longy.
6. My mom is teaching at IBIL.
7. My brother and I went along with her to IBIL today.
We arrived near nine for the first class of the day - my mom was teaching flute, I attended the cello master class, and my brother went to the violin class. I didn't have my cello, since my teacher hasn't yet had the chance to return it to me after she kept it when we were in Israel, but that was okay, since it was a master class. I learned a lot about shifting, fingerings, and bowing - sometimes watching is the best way to learn. One of the cellists had a shirt that said "cello player fueled by chocolate." One of the cooler shirts I've seen. Also, one of the cellists memorized dates connected to composers and loved Harry Potter. How much better can you get?
Then they had coffee break until eleven, and my mom took me to the Conservatory's other building, where a Medieval/Baroque dance class was held. I managed to follow along well enough - the footwork isn't particularly difficult, even though some of it is exactly the opposite of ballet technique. Often it's more about the use of space and travelling around with your partner than the actual footwork, which is nice.
After that, we left the Conservatory for Border Café for lunch. I love that place - good food, and according to my mom it's fairly inexpensive. Also filling. Very filling. It's Mexican and southern-US-style food. In Harvard Square, if ever you come by there.
Then, after stopping by the newly reopened Bob Slate Stationer, we went home.
At IBIL, I found the same kind of intensity that you find at a summer dance program. It surprised me a little, since I always had a part of me that took music for granted - I've heard early music since before I was born. But I suppose that's the way it should be. I'd love to do this kind of thing for writing, as well.
This is exceedingly like a written version of a "Thoughts From Places" Vlogbrothers video.
Anyways.
DFTBA!
Explanations
1. My mom is a flutist.
2. My mom is a baroque flutist.
3. Baroque is "a period of artistic style that used exaggerated motion and clear, easily interpreted detail to produce drama, tension, exuberance, and grandeur in sculpture, painting, architecture, literature, dance, and music." (Or so Wikipedia says. To my personal knowledge, Wiki is right.)
4. Longy is a school/conservatory of music in Cambridge, MA near Harvard. I have been around the school for as long as I can remember.
5. My mom teaches at Longy.
6. My mom is teaching at IBIL.
7. My brother and I went along with her to IBIL today.
We arrived near nine for the first class of the day - my mom was teaching flute, I attended the cello master class, and my brother went to the violin class. I didn't have my cello, since my teacher hasn't yet had the chance to return it to me after she kept it when we were in Israel, but that was okay, since it was a master class. I learned a lot about shifting, fingerings, and bowing - sometimes watching is the best way to learn. One of the cellists had a shirt that said "cello player fueled by chocolate." One of the cooler shirts I've seen. Also, one of the cellists memorized dates connected to composers and loved Harry Potter. How much better can you get?
Then they had coffee break until eleven, and my mom took me to the Conservatory's other building, where a Medieval/Baroque dance class was held. I managed to follow along well enough - the footwork isn't particularly difficult, even though some of it is exactly the opposite of ballet technique. Often it's more about the use of space and travelling around with your partner than the actual footwork, which is nice.
After that, we left the Conservatory for Border Café for lunch. I love that place - good food, and according to my mom it's fairly inexpensive. Also filling. Very filling. It's Mexican and southern-US-style food. In Harvard Square, if ever you come by there.
Then, after stopping by the newly reopened Bob Slate Stationer, we went home.
At IBIL, I found the same kind of intensity that you find at a summer dance program. It surprised me a little, since I always had a part of me that took music for granted - I've heard early music since before I was born. But I suppose that's the way it should be. I'd love to do this kind of thing for writing, as well.
This is exceedingly like a written version of a "Thoughts From Places" Vlogbrothers video.
Anyways.
DFTBA!
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Gimme the salt
My cousins are here. The youngest one (age 3 as of this past Friday) and I were eating cucumber slices. I noticed he was putting way too much salt on his, so I moved it far away from him.
Him: Give me the salt.
Me: No.
Him: Give me the salt.
Me: No.
Him: Give me the salt.
Me: No.
Him: I'll punch you in the face.
At which point I burst out laughing.
I have an interesting family.
Him: Give me the salt.
Me: No.
Him: Give me the salt.
Me: No.
Him: Give me the salt.
Me: No.
Him: I'll punch you in the face.
At which point I burst out laughing.
I have an interesting family.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
In which I seem to be crazier than usual
So, here I sit by my computer with languages jumbled in my head along with the blog post that started writing itself as I was setting the table for a dinner that my dad is out shopping for while my brother is watching Jeopardy downstairs and I am eating cereal (because, you know, cereal is awesome).
One of the strangest run on sentences I've ever written.
I went out and bought a few books today - The Hobbit and Fahrenheit 451 because they are classics that must be read and Looking for Alaska, An Abundance of Katherines, and Paper Towns by John Green because they are awesome and hopefully someday they shall be classics that must be read.
I started re-reading Looking for Alaska because when I read it I hadn't read any of his other books yet and besides I was all depressedly screwed-up (or anyway, more depressedly screwed-up than I am now) and probably read it slightly differently.
People, you have to read this book. And all of John's books. But heck, if you haven't read any of them, stop reading this blog post now and go to your bookstore or library or website of choice and get it somehow. Break-in may be necessary if it's past closing time. But even if you get chucked in jail for a bit, you know, you'll have read the book.
And I know it's controversial and whatever, which sort of startled me when I first read it (prepare for extreme profanity), I've become someone who swears more often now (though thankfully enough I don't smoke) so that part doesn't bother me that much.
I can so relate to these characters. Oh my freaking Rowling, just read it.
One of the strangest run on sentences I've ever written.
I went out and bought a few books today - The Hobbit and Fahrenheit 451 because they are classics that must be read and Looking for Alaska, An Abundance of Katherines, and Paper Towns by John Green because they are awesome and hopefully someday they shall be classics that must be read.
I started re-reading Looking for Alaska because when I read it I hadn't read any of his other books yet and besides I was all depressedly screwed-up (or anyway, more depressedly screwed-up than I am now) and probably read it slightly differently.
People, you have to read this book. And all of John's books. But heck, if you haven't read any of them, stop reading this blog post now and go to your bookstore or library or website of choice and get it somehow. Break-in may be necessary if it's past closing time. But even if you get chucked in jail for a bit, you know, you'll have read the book.
And I know it's controversial and whatever, which sort of startled me when I first read it (prepare for extreme profanity), I've become someone who swears more often now (though thankfully enough I don't smoke) so that part doesn't bother me that much.
I can so relate to these characters. Oh my freaking Rowling, just read it.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Throwin'
I always feel the need to clarify this. In ceramics, the term "throwing pots" does not mean we're all chucking vases at the walls; it means we're making clay pots on the pottery wheel. Just making sure everyone knows.
This week I'm attending Afternoon Ceramics at the art center nearby. I skipped it on Monday in favor of a day at the beach with my friend but yesterday I arrived for class in clothes made for turning brown with clay stains.
I have attended something at the art center for at least one summer or vacation per year since fourth grade, except for last summer, when I did a five-week intensive dance program instead. But in any case, the teachers know me.
So I arrived about ten minutes early to find one of my former teachers digging in the recycled clay bin and slopping it onto boards to make it dry into clay that's fit for working with instead of just muddy slip. I offered to help because I love getting dirty in this way, and I needed to get my clean clothes flecked with clay already. "You grew a lot," she says.
While doing that I realized that someone who had been with me in the pottery classes I'd attended two years ago was in my class again. We reacquainted ourselves with each other and remembered our jokes. Since we've both been to Israel it was mostly about the messed-up-ness of security and terrorists in airports and trying to drag pottery wheels into the airport. It's probably the best time I've had in an organized class in a while.
I'd really forgotten how much fun it is to go somewhere with the intention of making art, to come with a group of people and get your hands so very dirty. I don't know if anybody else does this, but my friend and I start talking to the clay in the middle of conversations. Like, one minute we're talking about depression and then he says to the mug he's making, "Don't flop over, I'll kill you if you do," and we're talking about television. That doesn't happen without the occasional lunatic talking to random objects.
Today I'll go back and throw a few more pots. Ah, pottery. The most fun I've had in a while.
I have attended something at the art center for at least one summer or vacation per year since fourth grade, except for last summer, when I did a five-week intensive dance program instead. But in any case, the teachers know me.
So I arrived about ten minutes early to find one of my former teachers digging in the recycled clay bin and slopping it onto boards to make it dry into clay that's fit for working with instead of just muddy slip. I offered to help because I love getting dirty in this way, and I needed to get my clean clothes flecked with clay already. "You grew a lot," she says.
While doing that I realized that someone who had been with me in the pottery classes I'd attended two years ago was in my class again. We reacquainted ourselves with each other and remembered our jokes. Since we've both been to Israel it was mostly about the messed-up-ness of security and terrorists in airports and trying to drag pottery wheels into the airport. It's probably the best time I've had in an organized class in a while.
I'd really forgotten how much fun it is to go somewhere with the intention of making art, to come with a group of people and get your hands so very dirty. I don't know if anybody else does this, but my friend and I start talking to the clay in the middle of conversations. Like, one minute we're talking about depression and then he says to the mug he's making, "Don't flop over, I'll kill you if you do," and we're talking about television. That doesn't happen without the occasional lunatic talking to random objects.
Today I'll go back and throw a few more pots. Ah, pottery. The most fun I've had in a while.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Alive
I've been reading Fahrenheit 451, party due to the urging of my friend and partly due to the Nerdfighter Book Club.
I like it and it's rather amazing.
This video is the first in a series in which John and Hank Green, aka the vlogbrothers, discuss the book and its meanings. I would discourage you from watching it if you've not read the book yet but it's not entirely spoilerific.
Anyways...in the video, John asks us what makes us feel alive. Now, I don't have a YouTube account so I can't exactly comment but I figured it would make a worthy enough blog post.
I feel alive when I feel I am doing something meaningful.
Sometimes I'll be doing the same thing at different times but at one time I'll feel like it's meaningful and at the other I'll feel it's pointless.
I feel alive when I spout random facts. I feel alive when I learn those facts. I feel alive when I write things I feel are worthy, or something that I feel will not end up as total crap. I feel alive when I walk outside and watch the world and suddenly I have the amazing feeling of something eagerly writing itself in my head. I feel alive in the hours I spend in libraries, searching, always, for more. I feel alive when I watch things I like on the internet. I feel alive when I see something that someone else is proud to have created to show to all the other living people. I feel alive when I read, especially in that time at the end of the book when you are feeling emotionally over-capacitated but blissfully aware of the world, moving and changing. I feel alive when I make art. I feel alive when I am aware of everything inside me, pumping blood and handling food and my brain creating spurts of electricity as neurons communicate with each other. I feel alive when suddenly I can see in my mind the infinite wound ball of connections that the world is, when things seem just as they should be and yet could always be better.
I feel alive.
"I'm on a roller coaster that only goes up, my friend."
I like it and it's rather amazing.
This video is the first in a series in which John and Hank Green, aka the vlogbrothers, discuss the book and its meanings. I would discourage you from watching it if you've not read the book yet but it's not entirely spoilerific.
Anyways...in the video, John asks us what makes us feel alive. Now, I don't have a YouTube account so I can't exactly comment but I figured it would make a worthy enough blog post.
I feel alive when I feel I am doing something meaningful.
Sometimes I'll be doing the same thing at different times but at one time I'll feel like it's meaningful and at the other I'll feel it's pointless.
I feel alive when I spout random facts. I feel alive when I learn those facts. I feel alive when I write things I feel are worthy, or something that I feel will not end up as total crap. I feel alive when I walk outside and watch the world and suddenly I have the amazing feeling of something eagerly writing itself in my head. I feel alive in the hours I spend in libraries, searching, always, for more. I feel alive when I watch things I like on the internet. I feel alive when I see something that someone else is proud to have created to show to all the other living people. I feel alive when I read, especially in that time at the end of the book when you are feeling emotionally over-capacitated but blissfully aware of the world, moving and changing. I feel alive when I make art. I feel alive when I am aware of everything inside me, pumping blood and handling food and my brain creating spurts of electricity as neurons communicate with each other. I feel alive when suddenly I can see in my mind the infinite wound ball of connections that the world is, when things seem just as they should be and yet could always be better.
I feel alive.
"I'm on a roller coaster that only goes up, my friend."
Saturday, July 7, 2012
I have absolutely no idea what to put as the title
Right...yes...
I am obsessed with my ukulele which I got when I was three and only got interested in like four days ago. Ukuleles are super cool. I can now play "Time to Reply" by Charlie McDonnell (charlieissocoollike on the YouTubes). My goal is to be able to play "The Big Bang 2" by Chameleon Circuit, but that might be a while. It's not like I don't know the chords, I just can't transition between them quickly, and that is a fast song.
Back in America. Everything is so American.
"Things are thingy." ~ Hank Green
I should probably continue unpacking...or really, sorting my books, because it bothers me so much that they're messy that I can't do anything else.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Le fin du voyage
I suppose this was always coming.
But now I'm not typing from our living room in Tel Aviv but from our (notably larger) living room in Newton.
It's strange being back, and I'm not really sure how I feel about it yet. Weird. Now I won't have to put the tag "Israel" in the labels...
I just don't want things to be exactly as they were. I want that time in another place to matter.
Anyway - here goes for summer! If you're American, happy fourth of July! If not, happy fourth of July anyway!
(The French title means "the end of the journey.")
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