Coffee = Liquid Sleep
Little frum girl moves to Southern California and imagines she can have it all—life devoted to Torah, education, Ph.D., family (eventually), career, and then some ...
This is old, but I'd never seen it before and it's hilarious and, if nothing else, should cheer up your Monday (coffee is also suggested). Also, the casts of Broadway shows have a bowling league. I have no interest in bowling, but who wants to go with me to watch?
After four years at Columbia -- where large meals (20+) and long, rambling name games were par for the course -- I have cultivated a relatively strong dislike (I was going to put hatred, but that's probably a little bit extreme) for name games.
Some of the ones I've encountered, though not necessarily played (you can judge whether they're the best or the worst):
Quotes I like lately, not for their relevance so much as for their prose.
"Let that be the poetry we search for: worn with the hand's obligations, as by acids, steeped in sweat and in smoke, smelling of the lilies and urine, spattered diversely by the trades that we live by, inside the law or beyond it."
This post has evolved. Originally, it was supposed to be about how I was sad I don't have the skills to learn gemara and how my high school failed me in not giving me those skills. Then, it was going to be about how I miss learning and how I sort of want to learn for the year even though halting my life for a year feels crazy. Then it was going to be about how there are no good learning opportunities for me, partially because I don't have gemara skills, mostly because I am female. Then it was going to be about how I am unsure about how I feel about taking a Torah class in an institution where I feel hashkafically uncomfortable.
New Yorkers hate tourists.
They walk too slowly, stop to take pictures in the middle of the sidewalk, and never know where they are going. They get in the way of the things that need to get done in The City. New Yorkers don't like sharing their city.
This weekend though I was very much the tourist -- I hung out in Times Square, went to the M&Ms store, went boating in Central Park, went to other parts of Central Park, walked down Fifth Avenue, etc. All of which was actually quite pleasant (though the video my roommate has of me trying to row a boat in Central Park shall remain hidden from public view).
The truth, of course, is that it was the company that made the day so enjoyable, but I might have to admit that being a tourist was maybe a little bit fun as well. A little.
I'm still not sold on the tourist thing, and because my anal retentive side (or, as I told a friend today, "I don't think I have an anal retentive side. I am all anal retentive") loves lists, a list of tourist things I have not done -- and proud of it:
"Throughout my 22 years at the paper, copy editors have frequently interrupted my family dinner or my goodnight reading with the kids, and those rereading front-page proofs have woken me up, often after 11:30 p.m., to ask to change the smallest of things. I can only hope I have remembered to thank them each and every time, even as I've tried to fall back to sleep. They are meticulous and pride themselves, as they should, on catching the mistakes of those of us who make much more money and get much more credit for the collective daily work known as The Washington Post."