همراه شو عزیز

With best wishes

With best wishes and deep regrets that I won't be there with you tomorrow

تنها نمان به در

yesterday, as the day before, i saw the same older man, in the same wide-brimmed hat, at the same intersection, ogle a gorgeous blonde.

... can somebody's laugh have an accent?

ergg... nothing i've eaten this morning has worked out.

how to maintain your identity in the move from non-profit publishing to corporate law:

remain totally anal about punctuation following greetings (Hello, Mark, | Mark--Please see below.). while this may make you look arrogant/snooty/overly academic, so be it. perhaps it's useful to learn what it is to be disliked.

"The time has come," the Walrus said....

....to increase the font size on my monitor.

oy.

you know what, you asshole?? you and your totally english name have no idea what it means for someone to get your name wrong. i have been any number of combinations (Tina, Gina, Mina, Nina, Eye-na); i've even been Hello Rasitsan, if you can believe it. there's no point even talking about what i've heard on the iranian side.

i can be easily, easily forgiven for this mistake. and if you could be even the tiniest bit as gracious as i am in accepting the millions of errors every immigrant encounters every day, we'd all be in a better place.

strange sightings

first, it was a former oxford employee crossing the street--someone who, just days ago, had browsed the company's careers page and saw my position up and wondered

then, it was a man i used to see ages ago on various richmond hill buses--someone whose enormous eyes always struck me as looking startled... scared... whose sad, strange features had remained with me all this time, it seems

then--dare i say it--a face from elementary school? imagined, perhaps, given the somewhat surreal context, but there was a strange familiarity in that curly blonde hair, those dimples. how heartbreaking to see him now in those old, baggy clothes.. possibly homeless.. possibly broke

i consider it a real and serious accomplishment--the fact that i didn't burst into tears at my desk after reading a lovely thank-you note for the flowers i sent to my former manager...

i could never... i could never have seen myself outside oxford. but somehow i've done it. somehow i'm here.

the last few weeks have been such a struggle, such a frenzied mix of chaos, exhaustion, heartache, and just... the superhuman effort to keep myself together for the sake of both these jobs--and, more importantly, everyone around me.

on the scale of life's hardships, it was not supposed to be a trauma.

Congratulations – you will be great. Now we just need to find three talented people to replace you . . .

whoa. again...

I should make a rule of never rereading my superb university papers. (My usual debilitating modesty doesn't prevent me from saying this--they were well-written, well-researched, and well-argued.) I doubt that level of eloquence is still within my grasp, in an academic context, and the thought is extremely depressing.

I was once asked whether I look back at previous work and think, "that was brilliant." When I answered no, I was told that I wasn't old enough, yet, to do so...

Yes, I'm sure that manual will be very useful for the three people we hire to replace you.

oh man.
*sob*

f's phrase of the year

[after finding a "mini seedless watermelon" sticker attached to her sweater]

Darling, I've just thought of something. You picked up a mini seedless watermelon. See?

سال نو مبارک

دوستانم، عزیزانم،
wishing you the warmest year
the smell of spring
the sun always on your face

spell: futility

i feel ridiculous. 

i feel ridiculous because i haven't written, and i feel too ridiculous to write. 

i feel ridiculous.

I have not read one intelligent, well-reasoned argument that has convinced me of Israel's need to remain a Jewish-majority state. This experiment has failed--and failed miserably--on so many levels, beginning with injustice and ending with something that strongly resembles apartheid, whether or not you're brave enough to actually use that word.

I advocate for the two-state solution because there is no other, at this point, that realistically provides for Palestinian self-determination. But ethically, logically, the only reasonable solution is one state, granting equal citizenship and rights for all, granting the full right of return, and--come what may--a provision for the rights of a sizeable Jewish minority.

Until quite recently, listening to "Famous Blue Raincoat" had been searingly painful--memories, longings, regrets... the fortunes and misfortunes of the past wrapped up in Cohen's deep, dark voice. The sting is gone now, and in its place the peaceful melancholy of acceptance... of untroubled nostalgia.

does fog have a smell? i think it does.

i hadn't realized how much i'd banked on going until i was forced to confront the scale of my disappointment. activism doesn't need to happen on the ground, of course, but i feel so useless here... so removed from what matters. i have to join some groups .. or start some.. or do something more than.. this.

but none of it was surprising; i expected too much too quickly. i have no reach. i have no influence. and, as we say in russian, this is чтоб жизнь малиной не казалась. so you don't think life is sweet as raspberries.

no. that it isn't. i never thought my "raspberries" would be a trip to Hebron.