I just went to visit BUA. And right now I am so confused.
Not only did about half the students there tell me I should have applied, two of the teachers did, and the rest seemed to like me fairly well.
And you know what else? I really want to apply. But I also don't. But I do, but I don't.
I don't because I love my friends and community and speech team. I do want to go because, well, because it's BUA.
But the thing is, they usually admit only people coming for freshman and sophomore year. And I missed that chance. And I'm worried now that I missed my chance at everything else, because I don't have time to do all the things I want to do. I live for knowing, for being among the educated, for having a reason to be superior. Why did I not realize back in the fall that this was my best chance?
Don't get me wrong - if nothing else, I'm glad I went and saw the place. It's going to give me motivation in my independent studies.
But I am so, so confused. And I'm worried that I've missed my chance at everything I've wanted, and that I'll never get one like this again.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Monday, April 15, 2013
Marathon 2013
I don't understand what just happened. Explosions at the Boston Marathon's finish line. The area is in havoc. Nobody knows anything for sure.
My friend Yinuo posted about this on her blog, but I think I need to talk about it too.
Boston is one of my homes. I love it dearly, and the Marathon is of course an important part of our city. To have something like this happen - I just don't know what I'm supposed to think.
Right now nobody knows who did it and why. I heard that one bomb went off at the JFK Library, and I hear that another one was found at Riverside Station, which is three train stops from my house, but I don't know if anything is true. The train (or as we call it, the T) is, of course, down at the moment. Facebook is exploding, and I'm honestly terrified. Not really for myself but for other people and how close it is to me. I am not invincible, and no one I know is invincible. It takes something like this to realize that.
The worst part of this is not the injured or the dead, although both are absolutely terrible. No, the worst is that nobody knows anything for sure and nobody knows where more bombs might be found. Everybody is terrified because nothing is certain.
And another thing - it seems so horrifically planned. There are enough bombs that no one knows if there are more, and they are in strategic places. Whoever did this must have spent ages thinking about it. The fact that there is someone who will target this area and be so focused on it is truly frightening.
It seems so surreal. It's something that seems like it would never happen here - and now it has. And I don't know what I'm supposed to think anymore.
My friend Yinuo posted about this on her blog, but I think I need to talk about it too.
Boston is one of my homes. I love it dearly, and the Marathon is of course an important part of our city. To have something like this happen - I just don't know what I'm supposed to think.
Right now nobody knows who did it and why. I heard that one bomb went off at the JFK Library, and I hear that another one was found at Riverside Station, which is three train stops from my house, but I don't know if anything is true. The train (or as we call it, the T) is, of course, down at the moment. Facebook is exploding, and I'm honestly terrified. Not really for myself but for other people and how close it is to me. I am not invincible, and no one I know is invincible. It takes something like this to realize that.
The worst part of this is not the injured or the dead, although both are absolutely terrible. No, the worst is that nobody knows anything for sure and nobody knows where more bombs might be found. Everybody is terrified because nothing is certain.
And another thing - it seems so horrifically planned. There are enough bombs that no one knows if there are more, and they are in strategic places. Whoever did this must have spent ages thinking about it. The fact that there is someone who will target this area and be so focused on it is truly frightening.
It seems so surreal. It's something that seems like it would never happen here - and now it has. And I don't know what I'm supposed to think anymore.
Monday, April 8, 2013
Remember
Today is Holocaust Remembrance Day in Israel, or Yom Ha'sho'a.
Last year, I was of course in Israel. I was there for the siren, the two minutes of statewide silence. It's jarring, really. There was an entire performance, with sad songs and everything. We all had to wear white shirts that day. It was...well, it made an impact. It's impossible to imagine the individual people, so all we can think of is the numbers. Numbers crawling barefoot through the snow, silent in the forests, praying before a fatal shot. The blood of numbers staining the soil. Even the faces are impossible to find. They are only numbers now.
Today is also my great-grandmother Gertrude's birthday. She was killed at Auschwitz. I have seen only one picture of her, and I'm fairly sure it's the only one that still exists. She is smiling in the photograph, and I can see hints of my mother in her. What really saddens me, though, is that the only part of her I know is the fact that she was killed. I remember once sitting at a café and my mother telling me about the Nazis for the first time, and how they killed people, like my grandmother, in machines. She told me about Anne Frank, pointing to a house across the street with an attic window, and saying that Anne Frank lived there for a long time, being very, very quiet. I did not understand, really. I remember also seeing the one picture of Gertrude and asking who she was. My mother said she was her grandmother, and that she never met her.
That is all I know. I will never hear stories about her laugh, or about her cooking, or about her dislike of receiving gifts. I will never know whether she was a reader, or an artist, or if she liked music or dance. I will never know if she's anything like me. What was she like when she was young? How did she live?
Today is the first time I ever imagined her death. It never struck me before. How did she die? Was she shot or sent to the gas chambers? It's a twisted thought, but what else could I know? Did she cry? Did she give up hope? Did she pray?
Does she hear me wonder?
Last year, I was of course in Israel. I was there for the siren, the two minutes of statewide silence. It's jarring, really. There was an entire performance, with sad songs and everything. We all had to wear white shirts that day. It was...well, it made an impact. It's impossible to imagine the individual people, so all we can think of is the numbers. Numbers crawling barefoot through the snow, silent in the forests, praying before a fatal shot. The blood of numbers staining the soil. Even the faces are impossible to find. They are only numbers now.
Today is also my great-grandmother Gertrude's birthday. She was killed at Auschwitz. I have seen only one picture of her, and I'm fairly sure it's the only one that still exists. She is smiling in the photograph, and I can see hints of my mother in her. What really saddens me, though, is that the only part of her I know is the fact that she was killed. I remember once sitting at a café and my mother telling me about the Nazis for the first time, and how they killed people, like my grandmother, in machines. She told me about Anne Frank, pointing to a house across the street with an attic window, and saying that Anne Frank lived there for a long time, being very, very quiet. I did not understand, really. I remember also seeing the one picture of Gertrude and asking who she was. My mother said she was her grandmother, and that she never met her.
That is all I know. I will never hear stories about her laugh, or about her cooking, or about her dislike of receiving gifts. I will never know whether she was a reader, or an artist, or if she liked music or dance. I will never know if she's anything like me. What was she like when she was young? How did she live?
Today is the first time I ever imagined her death. It never struck me before. How did she die? Was she shot or sent to the gas chambers? It's a twisted thought, but what else could I know? Did she cry? Did she give up hope? Did she pray?
Does she hear me wonder?
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