All My Gettings

Hey, alea, what's this map here?


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Why, that's the trip my friend ke and I are planning. Sure, some people might think it's a little bit crazy to try to to visit Yellowstone (just glancingly), Little Bighorn, Devil's Tower and Mount Rushmore on one trip. But, don't worry, we've got a whole three days to make it happen in.

Um, this may kill us. I'm not too soothed by the fact that google maps clocks the driving in at 1 day, 2 hours, either. Good thing we're young and hearty, right?

So, a couple of days ago, I sort of stumbled onto Ivri Lider, an Israeli pop star. What I like about him (apart from the fact that he writes about breakups and if there's a better language for sounding ugly and hateful towards someone than Hebrew, I've not heard it), is how his music seems to be entirely at odds with itself stylistically. That is the lyrics and the tone of the music are mismatched.

For example, I give you Beyaxad Mipaxad:



So, it sounds nice and peppy, right? Well, as you see, the title translates to "Together from Fear".

And the lyrics are:

We're together from fear
the mother of night below
we got out to the big garden
that your father waters before sleeping

We're together from fear
there's pictures of kids in our well-kept apartment
Two people together alone
That your mother cleaned for Shabat

We grow up and resemble our parents a little bit more
We buy a television and don't speak about everything
If only I could
Tell you about all the things you regret
And how much I wanted to give a tad more of myself
Like the kid who slept next to me

We're together from fear
What your father bought and your mother analyzed
We go traveling in Europe
We try not to fight automatic love

We're together from fear
In morning, mother puts
an empty plate on the kitchen table

We grow up and resemble our parents a little bit more
We buy a television and don't speak about everything
If only I could
Tell you about all the things I regret
And how much I wanted to give a tad more of myself
Like the kid who slept next to me

So, yeah, not exactly all that happy.

If you want more, check out this music video. Kind of beautiful, sort of haunting, and also more than a little bizarre.

If somebody loved me, they could so easily show it to me.

Just buy me this.

It meets almost all my standards for kitchen gear. Firstly, it miniaturizes something. Secondly, it turns soemthing round into something square (I'm actually a touch suspicious of square tart shells. Wouldn't there be seam issues?). And, lastly, it's distinctive, which is to say completely and totally unnecessary but charming nonetheless.

Besides, I'm sure my mini-loaf pan, my tiny silicone bundt jello molds and my madeleines pan could use some more company...

Yesterday was one of those days where I just felt thwarted. Sort of a collapsing of every aspect of my life all at once. My work in the morning was sluggish and unproductive. Then I taught in the afternoon, only to be ridiculously unengaging. And, for various reasons, I had a slick, sick feeling most of the day.
But then, a sister invited me over to have what may be the best cookies in the world. And a friend invited me to see Up, which was practically perfect in every way. And another friend stayed on the phone for over an hour with me, cheerleading and commiserating and planning a dinner party that includes miniature felafel. It's weird, and deeply reassuring to me, that my calls for compassion, either broadcasted loudy or sort of quiet and sideways get answered so immediately.

I was thinking yesterday a lot about this quote from Children of Men in which Theo, the main character, is being told he didn't mean for the old woman whose car he stole to die:

No, he almost groaned, I didn't mean it. I didn't mean to be a selfish son, an unloving father, a bad husband. When have I ever meant anything? Christ, what harm couldn't I do if I actually started to mean it!

And yeah, while that's true, it's also amazing to sit back and think about all the good that can be done by people who mean it, too. And today's much better. I've got a to-do list and some recipe research to undertake and a reason to buy teeny tiny tart shells. All in all, I think I'm for today.

problem: life as a grown-up is relentlessly disappointing.

solution: candy for dinner!

In two days, my little brother will be dropped off, rather hastily, in Provo. Because the MTC is the only place more concerned about pandemic influenza than I am, his family won’t be allowed to come in. This is a plus and a minus, given the fact that Called To Serve may or may not have been crafted specifically as a kind of tear-inducing emotional torture. On the other hand, having some sort of ceremony seems almost necessary for the reality of it all to hit.

Since watching him open his mission call, I’ve been cycling through a whole series of emotions. But now, I’ve finally settled on the fact that, above all else, I’m sad. I’m really going to miss him. It’s not that I don’t realize that he’s doing a good thing. Or that serving the people of Thailand will be invaluable for him. I’m just being selfish and petty that I won’t have anybody to ask me if I’ve already watered the cats.

Or anybody to fully appreciate when the ground sloth makes his appearance in Kentucky in a couple of weeks. I’ll miss getting random texts about dulcimers and books preparing people to die. I’ll miss being reminded that I’m twenty-five years old when I act particularly childish. I’ll also miss seeing his brain implode, rapidly, when I try to explain some theological position I hold. Like all good brothers, he amuses me and infuriates me in pretty equal measure. He’s a good guy, too, something that’s become more apparent the more adult-y he’s become. It’s weird to try and imagine holidays and even weekends where he’ll be only a thought and not a physical presence.

I’m sure the two years will fly by. I mean, I’ve been out of library school for two years now and I cannot believe how short his stay at BYU felt. But still, it’s hard to think of him leaving and me having such little contact with him. He'll be missed, probably much more than he realizes.