just in time for the 4th of July ...

 
I normally am not a chest thumping, super patriotic sort of person.  Nor do I generally like the writing of Ernest Hemingway.  However, I found (and liked) a poem which combines both of these things.

Happy Independence Day to my fellow Americanos, and a belated happy Canada Day to my Canucks.   I won't get to celebrate 4th of July this year, but I enjoyed the 1st of July thoroughly.  Canadians know how to party!

 I Like Americans

 Ernest Hemingway

(originally credited as 'A Foreigner' and written while he was abroad in Canada ... sort of like me.)

 I like Americans.

They are so unlike Canadians.

They do not take their policemen seriously.

They come to Montreal to drink.

Not to criticize.

They claim they won the war.

But they know at heart that they didn't.

They have such respect for Englishmen.

They like to live abroad.

They do not brag about how they take baths.

But they take them.

Their teeth are so good.

And they wear B.V.D.'s all the year round.

I wish they didn't brag about it.

They have the second best navy in the world.

But they never mention it.

They would like to have Henry Ford for president.

But they will not elect him.

They saw through Bill Bryan.

They have gotten tired of Billy Sunday.

Their men have such funny hair cuts.

They are hard to suck in on Europe.

They have been there once.

They produced Barney Google, Mutt and Jeff.

And Jiggs.

They do not hang lady murderers.

They put them in vaudeville.

They read the Saturday Evening Post

And believe in Santa Claus.

When they make money

They make a lot of money.

They are fine people.

  Happy Holidays to my friends north and south of the border, and love to all. 

untitled

 
There’s a point where you grow up and realize that the things you envisioned as a child will never be, and that the things you never thought true will come to pass.  You get fat, you lose friends, you realize your parents aren't infallible, and, perhaps worst of all, you accept that your plans of becoming a ballerina-archaeologist-Olympic gold medalist are simply not going to come true.  You change.  You accept certain things.  You mourn and move on.


But most of all, you grow apart.


You grow apart from your childhood dreams.  You grow apart from old friends.  You grow apart from an unshakable optimism in the world.  You grow apart from your younger self. 


You become like a snake, shedding your infant skin and leaving it behind on some forlorn and dusty rock.  If you look carefully, you can watch your younger self turn to dust.  It's as if you lose your childhood in layers, piece by painful piece. Years of your life crumble away, falling to the ground in piles of ash.  It's all so quick, so messy, so impossible to imagine when you're six or seven years old. And then one day, you're in your twenties and realize ... where did it all go?


Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.   Layers of self, blown away in an instant.


                                                * * * *


Adulthood is like a dance.  A dance with uncertainty, a duet of utter joy and complete despair.  Beautiful and ugly, a mantle of maturity that is placed upon your shoulders.  Some people wear their adulthood like royalty.  Others wear it like paupers.  Me? I just feel like I'm wearing a wool sweater, itchy and uncomfortable.  Why can't I stay a child forever, laughing in the sunlight and dancing in moonbeams?


I never wanted to grow up.  And yet, here I am, twenty-something years later, awkward in my new found adulthood.  Unwilling and unable to give up that elemental piece of myself, that tiny three year old that exists inside of me and tells me that unicorns exist, love is real and that it is still okay to imagine life as a ballerina-archaeologist-Olympic gold medalist.


I think to myself how sad it is that, at some unspoken point in time, we are no longer allowed to dream.  Why is it that our hopes and aspirations have an expiration date?  Why is it acceptable for a little girl to hug trees, but unacceptable for a grown woman to do the same? 


I wear the mantle of adulthood as best as I can.  However, I look forward to the day when I can cast it off and say to a child of my own to never give in, to never allow anyone to take your dreams from you, and to never, ever stop believing in unicorns.

Rest in Peace, Grammy. Thank you for letting me believe in my dreams.

image courtesy of Nasa

Thanks to a nifty (and new) blogger.com feature, I can now see basic 'stats' about my blog.   I'm incredibly excited to report that, despite this being a blog designed for a few family members and two friends, I've had quite a few international visitors! Thanks to everyone in the United States, Canada, Japan, India, Russia, Germany, Indonesia, Austria, the UK, Netherlands, Belgium and Iran who have read my blog! Wow. I feel so inspired to actually update this thing on a more frequent basis. 

Also, apparently my entry from 2007 on the Miss Universe pageant has gained the most page views (ahhh, why?!). 

The most common phrases that people type in to search engines to find my blog have to do with Mexican candy.  Who knew?

I'm really touched that so many people from around the globe have taken the time to scope out my blog.  Even if they only stayed for a single entry, I appreciate your time and value your feedback! Keep on keepin' on.



i like ... yoshitaka amano

  I haven't done an 'I like ...' post in awhile.  However, there are a lot of things I like, and the Japanese artist Yoshitaka Amano is one of them.  You might recognize his work from the Vampire D novels.

  (And yes, I seem rather obsessed with red, yellow and black right now.)
 

i want to start a hugging revolution in canada

I like to hug.  People, animals, trees, you name it and I'll probably give it a squeeze -- well, as long as it's not poisonous, dangerous or a person who's a complete stranger.  If you've ever met me, we've probably hugged.  I'm a big fan of platonic hugging, and few things in life make me happier.

However, I've come to the realization that Canadians do not hug.  I mean, they do occasionally, but you will be hard pressed to find a Canadian willing to hug someone they aren't dating, sleeping with or related to.  In the eight months since I've been here, I have hugged exactly two people.  One wasn't even born in the country, although I suppose she counts since she's a permanent resident.  The other person was definitely Canadian, although the hug was completely awkward and insincere.  I think I caught the poor girl by surprise. 

 I've mentioned this point to quite a few Canadians.  I can't mention how many times I've asked, "Why don't you guys like to hug? What is the deal?"  People answer me with baffled expressions and a half-hearted reply along the lines of "But we do hug ... sometimes."  (Uh yeah, only if you're romantically involved, related, or drunk.) 

 Apparently I'm not the only person to be confused by the Canuck habit of no touching.  After a final exam, a foreign born student of mine ran up to a Canadian and gave the girl a hug.  The Canadian froze up, looking completely shocked.  She then grimaced, drew in a shuddering breath, and stepped out the hug.  After the non-Canadian ran off, the girl turned to me and muttered, "Canadians don't do that." 

 I have yet to find out why there's an unspoken no hugging rule in Canada.  In fact, body space seems to generally be more of an issue here than in the States.  People stand as far apart as possible, and rarely make any sort of physical contact.  It reminds me of little boys and girls on the playground, afraid of touching each other and getting Cooties.  Maybe adult Canadians are secret carriers of that dreaded childhood disease? Who knows.

 At any rate, I want to start a hugging revolution here.  There's a wonderful YouTube video ('Free Hugs Campaign') in which a young man offers up free hugs to strangers.  The video has had over 65 million hits and spawned a Free Hug Movement.  It's pretty radical, in my opinion.  Not surprisingly, a lot of the Free Hugs videos take place in fairly contact friendly countries, like Spain, Australia and the USA.  Canada does have some, but not nearly as many.  Part of me is tempted to start a Free Hugs campaign up in the frozen north.  The weather might be cold, but I don't think people need to be.

 (Oh, and before anyone jumps on my back and comments how warm and friendly Canadians are ... you're welcome to give me a hug and change my mind!)

Free Hug Campaign

 

my first aurora borealis encounter!

photo courtesy of http://www.geology.com/



  Since I moved up north, I have been dreaming of witnessing the aurora borealis, otherwise known as the northern lights.  I had heard many stories growing up as a child about the beautiful colors that danced in the evening sky.  Unfortunately, having mostly grown up in the southern regions of the United States, I never had any experiences with them firsthand. 

  When I moved up north, I immediately signed up for an e-mail alert service that promised to send out messages when there was a good chance for aurora viewings.  While I did get a few alerts, they were generally on cloudy evenings or at times when it was impossible to get out of the city and away from all the light pollution.  I had a close call on my birthday, when apparently the northern lights were out in full force ... at the exact same time I was underground on the metro. 

  So, you can imagine my excitement when a friend called me out of the blue and offered to take me on an aurora hunting expedition.  The weather was looking promising, with clear skies for the first time in weeks.  It was fairly warm out (by northern Canadian standards) and, even better, I had gotten an aurora alert earlier in the evening that suggested there was a 'strong possibility' of seeing a light show.

  So, at 11:30pm, I jumped in to my friend's car and we took off for a little jaunt out of the city and in to the snow covered prairie. 

  It was about half an hour out of town when we first spotted the signs of auroral activity.  It didn't seem like much at first, just a green blob hovering above the horizon.  But as we watched, the colored shape slowly expanded and began to swirl and arc.  Within minutes, half of the sky was painted over in a vivid teal, pulsating and flickering in the most incredible shapes. 

  We pulled over on the side of the highway, a safe distance from the trucks barrelling alongside us with their cargoes of oil.  I quickly bundled up in to my jacket and jumped out of the car.  For the next fifteen minutes, I stood with my head tilted upwards, craning my neck towards the shimmering sky.  It was absolutely incredible.  The whorls of color reminded me of Van Gough's painting, 'Starry Night.'

 As the show began to fade, we decided to keep driving north in the hopes of catching more of the northern lights.  It was a wise decision, because almost as soon as we started up the car, the auroras began to reappear in patches across the sky.  It was utterly enchanting.

  While we were driving, I noticed a very strange arc that was running across the sky, a grayish-green shape that reminded me of a monotone rainbow.  At first, we assumed it was a contrail from a plane, but as the shape slowly expanded, we realized it was part of the aurora borealis.  It was an eerie sight, like some sort apocalyptic portent. 

  As the show began to get stronger, we decided to pull over again.  A dirt road in the middle of a very dark field seemed like an ideal spot. 

  I jumped out of the car -- and was amazed.  The aurora borealis were directly over our heads!! The rainbow-like shape that I had witnessed from the car was now snaking above our heads, weaving in fantastical shapes.  The streak of light was moving incredibly quickly, billowing around and taking on a distinctly gray color.  It was fantastic, beautiful and frightening all at once.

  While I was looking directly up, I kept noticing strange flashes of color out of the corner of my eye.  I thought my mind was playing tricks on me until my friend told me to look carefully at the sky over my right shoulder.  What I saw was literally unlike anything I'd ever seen in my life. It was like I was at the bottom of a vast pool, with waves of color streaking over the surface of the water.  The light was moving at incredible speeds, sliding across the sky in curtains of bluish-green light.  Astounding.

  It was a truly Canadian moment when a chorus of coyotes began yipping and howling in the stand of trees near the car.  An angry farm dog began barking and growling a territorial warning, and it became a canine howling free-for-all.  There was a tense moment when we heard the soon of twigs breaking in the brush nearby.  My friend started to nervously laugh, and when I asked what was funny, she replied, "Oh, I guess I should have remembered that there are bears around here."  Apparently bear sightings are fairly common in the area.

  The show ended sometime after 1:30am.  The lights began to fade, like they were on a dimmer switch.  They didn't completely fizzle out, but they were slowly losing their intensity.  Since we were tired and cold, we decided to huddle back in to the car and began the trek home.

  I finally got back to my apartment around 3am.  We had a rather fun ten minutes of getting lost near a bunch of oil refineries, which were a rather magnificent sight with their blazing lights.  Unfortunately, the smell was nauseating and I felt like breathing in the air was going to induce an asthma attack.

  Soon as I got home, I rang up the one person I knew would be awake, and signed on to my blog to announce I'd (finally!) seen the beautiful lights. And now, as promised, here is the account of my first experience with the incomparable aurora borealis.

  Aurora Borealis Videos:

Aurora Borealis Explained

Beautiful Aurora Borealis in British Columbia

Aurora Borealis in Norway

aurora borealis

... I finally witnessed the incomporable aurora borealis! It's almost four in the morning, so I am going to wait to write about the amazing light show. Check back tomorrow for a full report. All I can say for now is that my evening consisted of beautiful northern lights, accompanied by the yipping and howling of coyotes. Absolutely amazing.

baby, it's cold outside ...

  It's the first day of spring, but you wouldn't know that from the weather.  The wind is howling, the sky is a mass of dreary clouds, and the temperature is cold.  Every now and then a particularily vicious blast of air rattles my windows.  It is quite discomforting, especially when I consider that back home, it is warm, sunny and a week away from the peak of cherry blossom season.  Needless to say, nothing is growing here yet. The plants have all wisely decided to wait another month or so before poking their heads above ground.

 While the weather here is depressing, there is one up side to it.  There's is absolutely no temptation -- zero, zilch, nada -- to go outside and play. This means that I'm forced to stay inside, stare at my computer screen, and attempt to write papers.  So, while I read my friend's status updates on Facebook about the 'sunny weather,' 'first day of SPRING!' and 'WARM TEMPERATURES!!,' I can console myself with the fact that it's cold, being outdoors sucks right now, and I'm better off holed up in my apartment doing school work (or pretending to).

  Oh, and just so you can see what I mean by the statement that "being outdoors sucks right now," here's pictorial proof. Don't say I didn't warn you.

   

   

photos: life on the canadian prarie

One of the best things about cold days: snowflakes, frozen on to panes of glass

Autumn view of the skyline

Some of the most beautiful sunsets in the world happen on the praries ...

More prarie sunset

... and a beautiful prarie sunrise.

 

photos: icicles

Some photos of icicles I took not too long ago:

a canadian list.

It's the end of the semester, and I just realized ... I haven't updated this blog in months. Oops.

Since there's no way for me to update you all on everything that has happened over the past 3 and 1/2 months, I'm going to write down some of my impressions of Canada so far.  Most are good, a few are bad, and several are indifferent.  But it's all honest and real.  More importantly, each and every experience has added to my evolution as a kinder, more compassionate and aware human being.

Herewith, my list ...

* Sunlight reflecting off snow is beautiful. 
* Rabbits apparently don't hibernate.
* Neither do pigeons or magpies.
* There are coyotes in the River Valley here ... in a city of almost a million people. Nature will always win, no matter what humans think.
* When you have the northern pattern of short days and long nights, you learn to love the sun.  You crave it and miss it like an old friend.
* The human body can't tell the difference between -30C and -40C.  Or, more accurately, my body can't tell the difference.
* Food really is more expensive up north.
* Yes, Canadians do say cute things like "eh" and "aboot."
* Speaking of which ... the east coast is where the steretypical Canadian accent comes from.  The western accent is completely different.
* There were northern lights on the night of my birthday. I took that as a good omen.
* Everyone talks about how Americans love their flag, but let me tell you this -- Canadians looooove maple leaves.  I can't go one block without seeing at least fifty maple leaves plastered on signs, clothing and even food wrappers.  Even the McDonald's here uses the maple leaf inside the golden arches. 
* The media here is just as biased as back in the States.
* Albertans love their pickup trucks.  The bigger and louder, the better.
* The squirrels here are all midgets.  What happened to the normal sized rodents that live back home?
* It's perfectly normal for locals to walk around in -10C weather with no jackets, hats or mittens. 'Cuz, you know, it's warm by northern Canadian standards.
* I love how international the cities are here. 
* Punjabi Radio Hour = my favorite time of day.  The music is amazing.
* Health insurance provided by the government is really useful.  To everyone in the States freaking out over 'Obamacare' ... look to your neighbors up north.
* Don't pronounce 'New Foundland' wrong in front of a classroom full of giggling freshmen. 
* You can buy elk sausage at the local farmer's market.  This fact amazes me.  I have yet to try it, but when I do ... you'll be the first to know.
* Driving in the Canadian Rockies is a frightening experience, unless you like zipping along roads designed by suicidal maniacs.
* On the subject of the Rockies -- go! They are gorgeous. 
* However, avoid the German tourists that will inevitably be there.
* By the way, the Canadians who express disdain for the United States usually have only been to 1 or 2 states, or never been there at all. It's kind of funny.
* The culture really is different.  In general, Canadians are more reserved than Americans.  I've met 1 Canadian so far who actually hugs people. 
* Then again, if you want to watch a normally laid back Canadian get riled up, give him a couple beers and a hockey game to watch.
* Oh, and please don't say 'Canadia.'
* Poutine! French fried greasiness!
* It's 'colour,' not 'color.' Other British-isms that are used in Canada: centre and labour. 
* I honestly still don't understand the metric system.
* If you want to take photos on a cold winter's day, expect your camera to freeze and stop working.  I found this out the hard way.
* When you first arrive here, and tell people you're new ... they'll invite you home for a "nice home cooked meal."
* You can't avoid American TV. I realized this after an entire classroom of students began quoting lines from 'The Big Bang Theory.'
* You can never quite escape the feeling that Canadians hold you personally responsible for George Bush.
* Apparently the entire population of Ireland has moved to Canada.  Or maybe I just have a talent for meeting Irish people. Is it in my genes?
* You are as likely to meet someone from India or China as you are a native Canadian.  Fortunately, this has lead to an array of really good places to get Indian and Chinese food.
* Being an immigrant is really, really hard and people should treat foreigners with kindness.  I came from the USA and I'm going through culture shock ... I can't even imagine what someone from Asia or Africa must go through when they first come here. I was so hurt when I read a news item in the local paper about a young Canadian woman who attacked an African imigrant.  She squirted him with bear spray (used in hunting) and told him to "go back where you came from." I just wonder how she would feel if the tables were turned and she were forced to move to Africa in search of a better life. 

almost midnight at a half empty desk

No one lives the world in general.

-- Clifford Geertz

  I'm sitting at a desk, alone and a little sad in a new country. Home seems far away, a place that doesn't even exist for me now. It has been packed up in to countless cardboard boxes and shipped off to various locations, and now even my loved ones are scattered across the eastern seaboard. My center, my house, my garden, my family -- they're all so far away, distanced and displaced from me. 

  I managed to bring small elements of my previous life with me. Pictures of my parents and boyfriend, a painting of my very loved (but expired) cat, a tiny portion of my book collection, some DVDs and an iPod. There's my eagle feather from Oregon, the necklace my father gave me when I was nineteen, a little blue Hippo on a key chain my mother bought me at the Louvre in Paris. Little and insignificant things that would probably mean very little to anyone else. But to me, they mean the world -- and they are the only tangible things left for me to hold and remind me of where I come from and who I am.

  I knew it was going to be hard. I prepared myself mentally, and I've managed to cope with the changes well. I've moved in to a new place, enrolled in new classes, and am about to be minted as a brand new Teaching Assistant. I've even handled the time zone difference pretty well. At night though, it gets pretty lonely. I miss my dad stomping through the house on his way to the kitchen. I miss my mom telling me to pick up my stuff off the floor. I miss my boyfriend snuggling up next to me. Instead of the people I love, I have a few textbooks and a laptop to stare at. Paper and electronics simply can't compete with the warmth of human contact.

  Over the past few days I've met some interesting people. A lot of them come from places that, geographically and culturally, are impossibly far away. Places like Africa and South America. I watch them, and I see them coping. Perhaps it's just on the surface, but they look content and pleased. Secretly, I wonder if they ever get homesick like I do.  Do they miss their families and pets? Do they they ever just want some home cooked food? Does anyone else wish people could imagine what 'home' is like?

  In many ways, I like it here. People are friendly. The skies are blue. The sun shines a lot. The campus has all sorts of cute critters hopping around, from the over sized rabbits to the cheeky magpies. There's a nice train that runs over the river, and a lot of parks to play in. I could shop until I drop if I wanted to -- or if I had the money to. It's not all bad. In fact, most of it is good. I just miss the familiar. I miss a certain place, a certain time, and specific people. If I could just bundle them up with me, and carry them around with me forever, I'd be happy.

  I arrived on August twenty fourth, and it's only the third of September. I realize that I still need to take some time to adjust. And yes, in that time, I've experienced some magical things, like the Rocky Mountains and seeing an elk for the first time. There will be a time for me to write about those moments, I promise. But for now, I'm just a little bit homesick. I wish I could unpack all the boxes and recreate my home for the next 2 years.

  This whole experience has made me realize how very true the quote "no one lives the world in general" is. Home is not a generalized entity. It's a specific place, a combination of people, emotions, senses and memories. Uprooting and leaving home is never easy. Yet when I look at the people here from Nigeria and El Salvador, and see them managing, it makes me think -- yes, I can. More importantly, yes, I will.

 

   

 

canada bound ...

I have my one way ticket to Canada! I'm flying out on August 24. It's now official ... I am (God willing!) going to be an official resident of Canada in less than a month. I'm packing up my bags and setting off for slighty-foreign soil.

It's interesting, because my father left his native country and moved to the United States when he was my age. And now, here I am, following in his footsteps. Is this the start of a new family tradition?

I won't be posting much on my blog until I get moved in ... and then I'm sure I will have a lot to write. Between battling loneliness, figuring out the metric system and learning to spell like a Canadian ('colour', not 'color'), I'm going to be in for an interesting ride. I'm sure this blog will be the place where everything gets documented in vivid and gory detail.

And yes, I decided to keep up the same blog for my venture north.

More from me soon ...

your opinion needed

In the next few weeks I will be re-designing and playing around with my blog. I would welcome your comments and suggestions on easy to read layouts and designs you feel would be most appropriate for the content found in this blog.

There is a possibility I will be renaming the current blog, or else starting a new one, once I begin my new life in CANADA. (Yes, Canada, eh!) This will happen in the next 5 -6 weeks. So, question: keep the old blog but redesign it/rename it, or start fresh with a new blog?

Let me know.

And, as usual, I have to type ...

it's been a long time, folks.

I returned from my unusually sunny trip to the Emerald Isle. The weather was perfect, seeing my family was lovely, and the scenery wasn't half bad, either. I'd write a more in-depth entry about my trip, but I don't feel like sharing most of it, since it was a personal one and involved a lot of family members and their time.

I don't have much to write, but I will update soon. Probably with pictures. Words aren't coming to me so easily these days. Too much stress and too little time to get anxious in.

Love to all.

IRELAND!

I'm leaving for Ireland tonight. 2 weeks on the Emerald Isle!

Please say a prayer for a safe trip for me. I'll be posting from overseas, so expect some updates soon.

wild fire

I walked on the ashes of the old wild fire, the same sort of blackened carbon dust that you find in campfire pits. The fires had been burning for several days, and had only been put out in the past few days.

Every where I looked there was evidence of obliterating flame; scorched tree trunks, burnt grass and even the bitter taste of scorched earth were proof enough of what had recently transpired. The destruction was ugly in many ways, a manifestation of the dangers of the natural world. Nothing is predictable. Anything can go up in smoke at any moment. This -- the soot, the smell, the taste-- all served as a reminder.

As I picked my way through the crust that was once ripe spring undergrowth, I began to admire the awesome power of fire. Literally, I could smell it. A clinging, ageless scent that smelled of old hearth and burnt iron skillet. (Have you ever left flame burning too long on a frying pan? Because that's the smell.)

There was one pocket of land that hadn't been scorched, and in that glorious moment, I took this photograph.

Happy Spring 2010.

an evening sunset

It's so hard to stay positive when you're really and truly sick. It takes more effort to appreciate the beautiful things that surround us every day. But, then again, it seems we only notice those beautiful things when we are sick. It's too easy to take things for granted, especially when you're in good health and cruising through life.

I was riding home from a gig about 2 weeks ago and saw the most amazing sunset. It was simply stunning. I did my best to try and capture it on my lame cell phone camera, but of course, it barely managed to capture the colors splashed across the sky. The picture itself does no justice to what I saw that evening. It was one of those rare and magical sunsets where the whole sky is a riot of fire, all pinks, lavenders, oranges and blues. Utterly perfect. I don't think a sunset on Hawaii or Fiji could do any better.

Definitely one of the top sunsets of my life.

Ever since I've become sick, I've felt a deep and welling grief (or is it panic? fear?) burning at the bottom of my lungs. It rises up suddenly and just takes over. I've never been a great cryer -- some people have that talent of unleashing tears at the drop of a hat, but alas, not me -- but I find myself prone to tears more and more. And you know what? I'm not sure that's a bad thing. The sadness just bubbles up out of me and with each tear I shed, I rip back another layer of fear and confront the things that I've been running away from for so long. It's an intense process, and often a frightening one. I actually hope I can keep up this trend of crying, because I feel like it's teaching me something. This is my hope, anyway. I literally have to turn off my internal voice that shouts at me every time I cry ("Don't! You're such a baby!"). It's tough, but honestly, I'm ready to tackle that bitch head on.

Never before have I had such an awareness of the importance of my body and what I put in to it. I had a live blood reading today, which really opened my mind -- and also put the fear of God into me about my health. To literally see my blood cells wiggling around on a microscope, and have a medical practitioner explaining to me what all those weird shaped cells and crystals in my blood meant ... it was frightening. I've literally been putting shit in to my body for the past 27 years. It's going to be an uphill battle to reverse this trend, but since Western medicine is failing me, I feel like nutrition is my best option. I hope it's not too late. But then again ... there's always hope, right? Starting tomorrow I'm starting a new diet plan. I'm excited, scared and worried I won't be able to stick with it. Let's hope I have the strength to go forward and make myself better. Because honestly ... the medicines and the doctors aren't doing anything for me. I'm still sick, a month later. It's time to get proactive instead of reactive.

It's time to grow, literally. From the inside.

one other thing that makes me feel better

... and, on a totally unrelated note, one other thing that makes me feel better, no matter what:

why yiddish makes me feel better

It's been awhile. I could write all the usual crap about 'happy new year', 'happy new decade', 'happy 2010' and 'happy year of the tiger' but really ... it's been said already. So, let's just skip the formalities and assume we all wish one another a brilliant, fantastic, amazing and super duper twelve months.

With that out of the way, I can now get to the point of my post. I have been fighting a mystery ailment for almost a month now, and it has left me exhausted and, to be honest, broke. (Ah, the joys of being sick in America!) I've been poked, prodded and x-rayed to no result. I'm on a second round of antibiotics ($125 down the drain) and completely not thrilled with the prospect of swallowing yet another round of horse sized pills. And let's not mention the depression over being sick and chronically fatigued 24/7. I can't get anything accomplished these days, and anything I do manage to get done is half assed and completely not up to par.

That said, there has been an upside. I have been spending copious amounts of time reading and browsing online, and I have re-discovered the joys of Yiddish. Yes, Yiddish. It's not a language I've heard spoken very much, but I must admit -- nothing expresses pain or anguish quite the way Yiddish does. Every now and then my father pops out the random Yiddish phrase, and it always makes me laugh. Was there ever a more heartfelt and comical language?

For example, I have become fond of moaning 'Oy vey iz mir!' and somehow it makes me feel a little better than simply saying 'woe is me.' Or, at times, a simple 'oy!' will suffice. There is some sort of hidden Yiddish gene in me that makes me feel better letting loose with an emphatic 'oy vey!'. Maybe it's one of those 'You need to be (half) Semitic to understand' kinds of things, I don't know ... but seriously folks, it's better than therapy. Try hollering 'OY VEY' and you'll see what I mean. I don't even think you need the Eastern European gene to appreciate it.

This love of Yiddish has taken me to many interesting places, including this video of the Beatles sung in Yiddish:



Oh, how it makes me laugh.

Which takes me to this:




Chills. Literally.

After browsing online, I realize I use way more Yiddish words in my daily life than I initially realized. Chutzpah, glitch, klutz, nosh, mishugena, plotz, schlep, putz (don't repeat that one) ... and the list goes on. Even my boyfriend has picked up my habit of stuttering out the occassional Yinglish word. I think both of our vocabularies are all the more enriched because of this. I must admit it makes me laugh when my Catholic boyfriend mutters "oy vey" instead of "oh crap".

With that said, I'll end this post with one of my favorite Yiddish phrases of all time:

Heng dikh oyf a tsikershtrikl vestu hobn a zisn toyt.

I'll let you google what it means. It's brilliant and I promise you will find a use for it in your daily life.

And now I'm going to go back to moaning "Oy vey!" and telling myself that old saying, "This too shall pass ..." I can only hope that this illness will go away sooner rather than later. However, I hope my newfound love of Yiddish stays with me for a long time.