Life Update

Well, the GREs are over. I got a couple of numerical "scores" that won't mean much of anything until I get the official letter in the mail, which will tell me how well I compare to the other poor schmucks who had to take the same test.And they still won't mean much of anything unless I manage to get my act together and start applying to grad school and fellowships and whatnot.

Now that I'm not spending my waking hour doing algebra and geometry problems or trying to memorize the definition of 'peripatetic,' I don't have too much to do. Other than take care of a puppy, start my grad school applications, make frustrating phone calls to the evil beings who are in charge of my student loans, pack up my belongings, finalize the details of my trip to Israel, and begin making my good-bye phone calls and social outings.

I leave two weeks from Wednesday. It's a strange thought. Last night, I couldn't fall asleep being I was mentally going through my closet and trying to decide what to bring, what to leave here, and what to give away. Then I started thinking about shoes. Then I realized that I should probably talk to someone about such practicalities as getting a cell phone and whether or not it makes sense to open an Israeli bank account. Which then reminded me that I have to talk to my bank here.

Why did I ever think that I would have nothing to do once the GREs were over?

Adventures in Puppysitting

Given that the past week has been so totally devoid of excitement, I was not at all prepared for the following events of this weekend:

1) Walking outside at 6:30am shabbos morning to walk the dog, only to find one of the neighbors passed out and snoring on the porch. At least I knew he was breathing.

2) Coming home from today's early afternoon study session (not to be confused with the early evening study session, which is to take place after dinner) to find that the puppy had gotten into my laundry and strewn clothes about the floor, and chewed up one of my favorite shoes. I'm not talking itty bitty teeth marks. I'm talking about bits of shoe here, there and everywhere, the lining ripped off, and the heel maimed beyond repair. And these weren't just any shoes. These were my super-comfy, super-cute black strappy sandals, suitable for work (not that I have to worry about that anymore), shul, and a night out on the town. These were the ultimate summer sandals. A girl doesn't find a pair of shoes like that every day. But at least now I have an excuse to go shoe shopping next week.

When Time Stops

The incident I'm about to write about actually happened a little bit ago. I just haven't really felt like blogging it until now. Even though this is my space to write about whatever is on my mind, I'm often reluctant to post anything that might be perceived as depressing, because then people think that I'm depressed. I'm not. Far from it. But I do occasionally have less-than-jolly experiences, moments or thoughts.

Lately, they tend to be Liz-related. I miss my friend, and sometimes the pain of that grief hits me so hard that it's almost a physical pain. Usually this happens when I'm alone, like when I go to bed at night or when I'm in the shower (some people sing; I think). I don't mean to imply that it hits me everytime I go to sleep or take a shower. Most of the time, I'm perfectly fine. Then suddenly the horrible realization that she's gone, and how long it's been since I heard her voice or saw her smile, smacks me in the face. I start reliving it all over again, and it feels as though no time at all has passed. I remind myself that this is normal.

Not too long ago, I went out with some college friends to a WashU Alumni happy hour kind of thing. The last time that I had seen one of them was the week after I'd returned from Pittsburgh in April. I assumed back then that he knew, because everyone else that was out that night had known. My assumption was wrong. On this night, not too long ago, I sat at the bar with this friend, and had reason, in the course of a conversation that I can no longer remember, to make reference to 'when Liz was really sick.' He responded by asking me how she was doing.

Time stopped. I don't know how long I sat there, staring at him. It probably was not really that long, but it felt long to me. I know that I didn't handle the situation very well. I was too shocked and shaken to think of a gentle way to let him know. He felt terrible, I felt terrible. That almost physical wave of grief threatened, but I wasn't alone this time. I was in a crowded bar. All I really wanted to do was go into the bathroom and cry, but I didn't want to risk making any kind of scene. I prefer not to cry in front of people, and didn't want anyone to notice that I was upset and ask what was wrong. So instead, I had to shove all those tears and the aching grief deep, deep down, until I was home, alone. I remind myself that this is normal.

GRE Word of the Day

Grandiloquent.

It's almost like a self-fulfilling prophecy. It's impossible to use the word 'grandiloquent' correctly in a sentance, either written or spoken, without coming across as rather grandiloquent.

In other GRE news, I hate algebra. If Train A leaves Boston at a speed of 62 miles per hour and Train B leaves Los Angeles at 73 miles per hour, does it really have anything whatsoever to do with how good of a social worker I'll be?

Lazy Summer Days

Strangely enough, I feel like I have less time to blog now than I did when I was employed. Maybe I'm just lazier. Or perhaps blogging was an escape route when the daily grind was driving me nuts. Now that I have all the time in the world, I never seem to find myself spending much of it in front of a computer.

Florida was awesome. I got to see Cirque de Soleil and the Magic Kingdom. I saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. And now I'm home, spending my days studying for the GREs and taking care of Big Brother and BBG's adorable puppy.

I'm really bored. Is it time to go to Israel yet?

Travel Advisory

This blog is currently enjoying the heat and humidity of Florida. Today it's Miami. Tomorrow, it's off to Orlando to hang out with Winnie the Pooh and Tigger.

For those who are interested (and did not see me on shabbos), I did indeed donate my hair. The new 'do is short, sassy, and takes a bit of getting used to...kind of like me.

Big Deep Breath

I just made an appointment to finally cut my hair. Over 10 inches of hair. The last time I cut off that much at once was when I donated my hair in November 2002, right after my grandmother, a"h, passed away. I've been letting it grow so that I can donate it again, and now that time has come.

I hate getting my hair cut. I dread it. I dread it so much that I almost hung up the phone in the middle of dialing the salon. Now there's no turning back. Unless, I "accidentally" "forget" to show up for my appointment.

At least I know that some little girl somewhere will be able to enjoy my hair as much as I have. Now all I need is someone to come to the salon with me and hold my hand while they hack it off (my hair, that is. They're not going to hack my hand off. I don't think).

A Very Special Guest Post

Liz's parents, aka Jon and Veronica, aka Mom and Dad S, have asked me to post the following on their behalf:

It has been a little over two months since Liz died. We still cannot believe that our precious, loving daughter is no longer with us. There remain many things we do not understand, but there are at least two that we do. First, our daughter was blessed to have known each and every one of you. Second, we are happy that we had the opportunity to be with many of you at her funeral, some of you for the first time, even under those circumstances. Each of you has a strength of character and a moral grounding that will guide you through life well and true.

We know that from time to time you will remember Liz. When you do, we hope that a smile will come to your face and a warmth will enter your heart as you remember the good times with her and the special person she was. Through remembrance, Liz will always be with us. We hope that your memory of Liz will serve, in some measure, as an inspiration to each of you.

You have been kind and generous to our family. We hope you will stay close to each other and that you will have the opportunity to share many joyous times. If from time to time any of you would like to tell us what's going on in your lives, or if we can ever be of help to you, we would be happy and honored to hear from you. Our new email address is:(Management edit: ask me for it- if I post it here, they'll get lots and lots of spam.)

Be safe.

Love,

Jon and Veronica Schmerling

If anyone would like their new email address, regular address or phone number, just drop me a line.

Little Pig, Little Pig, Let Me In

Back in my college days, when 90% of my closest friends were male, I never felt that my guy friends were not open with me. We talked about everything. Some of them told me way too much. But I don't remember feeling like they were holding back or keeping a certain emotional distance from me.

Out in the real world, the opposite seems true. While my guy friends from college are still open and honest with me, guy friends that I have made since them don't seem to be. I haven't quite figured out why this is. Is it that we were spending time together around the clock in college, making emotional distance more difficult? Have I changed? Do my newer guy friends think of me differently than my college friends? Is there something that I'm missing.

When a friend continues to keep you at an emotional distance, you start to wonder 1)whether you really know this person at all, and 2)why they won't let you in. At what point do you say, "Hey, we've been friends for [insert period of time]. If he's not opening up to me by now, he never will"?

This isn't a question of romantic involvement. There is a particular friend I have in mind while writing this, but there is nothing romantic between us. Besides, if there ever had been potential, it's been completely starved to death by lack of emotional sustenance. I just can't sustain an interest in a guy who shuts me out. This is a question of friendship and communication, and what you do when you start to wonder how much is really there after all.

Weekend Report

Last weekend actually started on Thursday. Saying this makes me miss my college days, when every weekend started on Thursday. Sometimes even Wednesday.

Thursday was Emily's bachelorette party, orchestrated by yours truly. I took my obligations as maid of honor very seriously. First we met up at a chocolate lounge and told funny Emily stories over fondue, bonbons and champagne. Then we relocated to Howl at the Moon to drink copious amounts of alcohol and sing along with the dueling pianos. (Note: the pianos don't actually duel. Unless you're under the influence of some very strong drugs, and then they might. Or maybe they'll start dancing with purple wombats. I hate when that happens.)

While the party was a smashing success, I've already learned the hard way that my little anecdotes don't make good stories for people who weren't there. So I'll spare you. Suffice to say, the bride had a good time.

Shabbos was more social that I had anticipated. I ended up going over to my friend Gabe's for lunch, but I still managed to get in a few hours of good shluffy afterwards.

As soon as shabbos was out, I raced over to Emily's, and spent the next 24 hours in fully wedding mode. After making lists of everything that needed to be done the next morning, we watched a few episodes of Sex and the City, and actually got a good 6 hours of sleep.

The wedding itself was lovely, and Emily was a beautiful bride. There's no such thing as a wedding that goes off with a hitch, but all of our hitches were relatively minor so it didn't matter too much. I got to wear my Pretty Pretty Princess dress, which is now retired to spend the rest of my life in a closet. I also managed to make the groom teary-eyed, in a good way, during my speech.

All in all, a phenomenal weekend. Mazel tov to Emily and David Wheeler! I'll see you for Pesach, IYH, in the Holy Land.

To Blog or Not to Blog

When my life is very busy and my brain full of very important thoughts, my blogging tends to dwindle. When it seems like nothing much is happening in my life at all, I find plenty of things to blog about.

I haven't been blogging very much in the past few months. Since Pesach, to be precise. I know that this blog probably has not been the most interesting read since then, and I apologize to those who come here looking for entertainment. The truth is that the things I think about most are the things I can blog about least.

I am still trying to come to terms with losing Liz. Every day, I look at the picture of the two of us that I keep in my bedroom. She and her mother were in Chicago on a very, very cold winter day and I met them downtown. I think we're 19 in that picture. That was five years ago. I look at that picture every day, and I ask myself the same questions: Where are you now? Where did you go? And then the most painful question of all...why did you have to go?

This Sunday will mark 2 months since she passed away (I still have trouble writing those words, let alone saying them), and I'm still very much struggling to accept that I will never talk to her or see her again. Sometimes I forget that she's gone. I didn't realize until yesterday that I still had her email in my address book. The simple act of deleting that email address somehow took on tremendous significance, as though I were eliminating my connection to her. Irrational, I know. Even knowing it was silly, it still took all of my self-control not to close my office door, put my head in my hands and cry.

As I said, this Sunday will mark 2 months. This Sunday is also the wedding of my best friend from high school, Emily, and I am the maid of honor. It's very strange juxtaposing the two. It's a pretty strong reminder that life and love go on. Knowing it doesn't make it easy.

The bottom line is, don't let the blog inactivity fool you. I'm here, and my world is actually a whirlwind of activity and emotion these days. I just haven't really felt like sharing.

Ode to Technology

Background: I loved summer camp (overnight). The weeks I spent there every summer were some of the best in my entire childhood, and the friends I made were some of the truest friends I've ever had. I was so happy back then. But once the summer camp years ended, it was harder to keep in touch. We all went to different high schools in different parts of the Chicagoland area (translation: I lived in the city, and they all lived in various suburbs) and then different colleges.

Today I got an evite for an event I can't go to. Somehow, one of the girls I met my very first day of overnight camp at the age of 9 also got that evite...even though she didn't know the people who sent it. But she saw my name and recognized it, and sent me an email. I wrote back, and then excitedly signed online to tell one of my best friends (aka The Only Girl From Camp I'm Still In Touch With). She told me that another of our camp friends had emailed her a while ago, and forwarded me the email.

So now, thanks to the wonders of evite.com and AIM, I'm now able to be back in touch with two people that I have missed very much of the past eight years. Thanks, technology! (And an honorable mention to Al Gore for inventing the internet, without which none of this would have been possible)

Eeek!

* One week from Thursday is my best friend's bachelorette party (planned by Yours Truly)
* One week from Sunday is my best friend's wedding.
* Three and a half weeks from now, I will be unemployed. (This means I have three and a half weeks to finish everything I've been doing for the past two years)
* Four weeks from now, I'm going to DisneyWorld.
* 8 weeks from now, I take the GREs.
* 11 weeks from now, I leave the country for the better part of a year.
* Sometime in those 11 weeks, I apply to graduate school.

Starting to feel a little panicky...

Yet Another Reason Why I'm Proud of Being a Jew

Warning: Biased perspective. Deal with it. This is my world.

At the top of a Nytime.com article, there is a picture of a wounded man, his left leg a bloody mess, lying on the ground. Standing above him, with a hand placed gently on his head, is another man in uniform. The caption:
An Israeli soldier comforted a wounded Palestinian on Tuesday after a mortar explosion in Ganei Tal that killed three people.

Yes, that's right. An IDF soldier comforting a wounded Palestinian. If the roles were reversed, somehow I strongly doubt a Palestinian "soldier" (or should I call them "militants" like the Times does?) would have comforted a wounded Jew.

And while I'm on the subject of yesterday's attack, let's take a moment to admire the logic of Islamic Jihad. From the same NYtimes.com article:
"The dead were two Palestinians and a Chinese laborer, and the wounded were Palestinians from Khan Yunis, all sitting at a metal table in a greenhouse sorting fresh chives into bundles tied with rubber bands. Two were injured seriously, two moderately and one slightly. They were taken to an Israeli hospital in Beersheba for treatment.

Islamic Jihad took responsibility for the attack, calling it retaliation for the death of Palestinians, including one of its commanders, at the hands of Israeli forces."

Let's see if I've got this right: Islamic Jihad is retaliating for the death of Palestinians by killing more Palestinians (and non-Jewish workers)? And the ones that they only maimed...they're being taken care of by Israelis.

Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. Way to go, Islamic Jihad! You sure showed us!

The Bush Dictionary

This weeks's Stupid Comment By A Stupid President:

Gitmo detainees are "people who hate America, people that have been trained in some instances to disassemble, that means not tell the truth."

Dissemble means to deceive. Disassemble means to take apart. Unless the dictionary editors have been lying and disassembling to us all along.