Honey honey, come and dance with me.

sometimes all you can do
is just be there
and hope that the people you care
will know.

NFTY, the Common Cold, Owl Eyes, and Pink Shirts.

This weekend is my third NFTY Fall weekend.

How weird is that?

Last year, I felt like NFTY Fall was my Jewish life coming full circle. So then what is this? Double circle? Venn diagram? I don't know.

I think feeling down is contagious. I think it's contagious the same way that laughs and chicken pox and yawning is contagious. And I don't even think I have any reason to feel down. Maybe it's just a mix of my notorious tendency to be impatient, a lack of text message response by a certain special someone, and worrying about my adorable Popop. I really don't know. I seem to say that a lot, and it's even starting to bother me. Why on earth don't I know? Fuck.

I also saw a college consultant today. Quite a card, that lady. Living with her husband in a tiny little cottage overlooking La Jolla, probably one of the most expensive pieces of real estate in southern California. Smiling and waving from her bookshelf was John McCain and Sarah Palin, so I knew that of course we'd get along. Oh, if only you could type sarcasm. But she was one of those sweet right wing nutjobs, like the type that thinks gay culture can be summarized by the Queer Eye guys and contained within the ghettos of Los Angeles and New York City. She was rather audacious as well. I'd say the most memorable moment involved her looking directly at me, pushing over a bowl of Swedish Fish, and asking, "Have you ever met a gay?" It was delightful. I really had to stop myself from choking, laughing, and tearing up all at the same time.

Shalom Shalom. I don't know why you say shalom, I say shalom.

As our country withers, I look back...

___ People Doing Extraordinary Things.

I have loved Heroes for a long time.

But this season is something completely unlike anything we (the viewers) have ever experienced. Sure, it is still a thrilling and mind-bending show employing extremely talented actors and digital effects people. But where did the story line go? How did the show expand so greatly that we can't even keep track of our beloved characters? How did they all go so bad?

What happened to Peter, a nurse from New York City who cared for a sweet elderly black man and dreamt of flight? What happened to Matt Parkman, the cop who wanted to be something greater? What about Claire? Where did her romance go? The show resembles an over inflated balloon. It has completely popped, and now the personalities of the characters have been completely compromised. And I don't think the old Heroes is ever coming back.

life in the house of lowe

Goodbye Waves and Driveways

I don't want my birthday to happen this year. My parents keep asking me what I want. My mom thinks my old Birkenstocks are looking pretty crappy, so therefore I must want new ones. My dad thinks my iPod is breaking (okay so maybe it is...) so therefore I must want another one. What's wrong with all the stuff I have already? It's like "Into the Wild" when Christopher's parents want to buy him a new car for graduation. Why should he want a new car? What's out there to be seen and experienced is so far past any form of temporary, superficial joy that material things can get you. My mom wants me to have a party, because you only turn sixteen once. Not a big thing, like maybe ten kids and a boom box. But how do you tell your mom that the only people you want to celebrate your birthday with are the most amazing forty six individuals you've ever had the joy of spending your summer with, and all of them are sprawled across the country? How do you say nicely: "no, I don't want your shit. I don't want your money. I don't want an iPod or shoes or any of that crap. I don't want any thing. I want my family back."

How on earth do you explain that to your mom?
And how can you love your birthday without that Santa Rosa sunshine?

homesick.

i miss camp.
i miss avodah.

i miss living out loud at the top of my lungs.
i miss eating tater tots and grilling in the jo fo.
i miss snuggling.

i miss talking in the shower.
i miss my sisters.
i miss our bathroom full of magazines.
i miss the sunshine and the trees and the grass.
i miss making friendship bracelets.
i miss the songleading office.
i miss playing guitar for hours everyday.

i miss watching grey's in the bk.
i miss holding hands.
i miss mamas woodsie, rach, and zoe kallah.
i miss newman.
i miss being home!!!

[only 10 months to CIT oh nine]

I'm getting married.

you're all invited.

one month...

camp camp camp!
dan nichols
no more lcc!
songleading
playing guitar all day
sunshine
tater tots
hikes
trees
san fran
cabins!
family
seashell sheets
dee sauce
mirpeset, beit am, beit t'fillah, kikar, mirpa'ah.
too much rock for one hand, baby.

Oh jesus...literally.

Can't we all just leave Barack Obama alone and let him get on with his campaign? Obviously, his reverend is a crazy egomaniac who has decided to drive Obama's campaign into the ground. I'm sick of it. This isn't anything like government is supposed to be. Poor Obie, he's just trying to make a difference.

bubble toes

A few weeks ago, someone told me about a new artist called Colbie Caillat. she told me that Colbie was like Jack Johnson: calm, soothing, and a great guitarist. as the daughter of Ken Caillat, an executive producer working with Fleetwood Mac, i was expecting something mediocre at worst. i'm sad to say that her hit single, "Bubbly," made me bleed from the eyeballs. Yes, she is an actual vocalist who writes her own songs and plays guitar. there is no doubt that those two things win points to even the worst of pop artists. However, what i've begun to realize is that Colbie is frustrating. too often everyone boasts "she is the female version of Jack Johnson." But she is really just the mixture of everything that people HATE about Jack Johnson. Her lyrics are tacky, her songs are overplayed, and advertise ridiculously staged and cheesy romantic situations. It's like a bad movie full of fake love. you think "ooooh, a new guilty pleasure!" and then you realize that there is no pleasure. i'm sorry, coco, but go back to LA.

crispy, crispy benjamin franklin

so someone told me not so long ago that he is a sucker for acceptance. at first, i thought...eh, that's a little weird. especially in his case. but then it kind of started to make sense. right now is the final stretch leading into nfty elections. of course, i tell that to anyone except for a select group of maybe 200 people and it means nothing. no one knows what it is. even my own parents don't really get it. it's not just acceptance. it's not a cult, it's not a place for jews to hook up or smoke pot. it's just being who you are and finding people who love you. it's like that textbook definition of family. which is why i understand his need for acceptance. because i can't imagine my life without my nfty family. because i know they love me no matter what, and i can hardly say that about most people at school. and hell only knows, if i didn't have that unconditional love, i might have to start caring about what people at school think. i might have to buy a juicy couture jacket.

so really, world, what i'm trying to tell you is this: a craving for acceptance is not as weird as i previously thought. and i'm just so ready to get back into the arms of my love, nfty. yes, that's tacky, but there will never be a time in which my life isn't tacky.

From here on in, I shoot without a script.

This song is for the rats who hurled themselves into the ocean when they saw that the explosives in the cargo hold were just about to blow. Let them all go.

This song is for the soil that's toxic clear down tho the bedrock where nothing of consequence can grow, drop your seeds there, let them grow. Let them all go.

This song is for the people that tell their families that they're sorry for things they can't and won't feel sorry for. Let them all go.

Citizens of tomorrow...cheer it on!

If you take of Montreal and throw in a girl with a green violin, you get Eagle Seagull.

If you take Good Shoes and the Rakes and throw in four extremely attractive nerds, you have Tokyo Police Club.

According to Christopher, if you take Sean Penn and give him a cousin with Downs, then you have We Barbarians.

If you put two kids with big headphones in downtown San Diego and fill them with In N Out and then throw them into an amazing show with 'seizure lights', you have my night. UH MAZING.

Avo-dah-dah-dah-dah.

I'm in!
Oh my god, I'm in!

Don't want to say I told you so...but...

told you so!

i am proud like a mom. his collection was gorgeous, original, and FIERCE. of course we all knew he was going to win, but confirmation is always comforting. i'm ready to see what this kid's going to do with his 100 grand.

Avo-di, Avo-do

I just interviewed for AV08. Yikes.
Let's get some bagels to calm our nerves.

Just something about nothing in particular...

I think I would like to be Diablo Cody.

Disdain and Pepchatas

Okay. So I realize that Pepchatas are a basically obsolete beverage invented by two Jews cerca 1999. But it's delicious. On a completely different note, I am watching a video of myself when I was three years old. My dad tends to think he's cool when he does things like make DVDs out of old school tapes that should never be watched. Back then, I was made of Band Aids and fake wisdom and cherry spin pops. And I couldn't ride a bike. I just couldn't do it. So this video progresses and by now I'm about ten. And I still can't ride this stupid fucking bike. And I just crashed into a fence. I think my dad was getting pretty close to disowning me, because you can hear him kind of sighing into the video camera. Oh, yikes, I just hit some old people in a golf cart.

Websters: Listen Up

Lately, I've been compiling a list of all that newfangled colloquial language that is so popular amongst our highly sophisticated student body.

lope- low profile. To "lope" is to keep something undercover or on the "down low." (see also: lope the mule, loper, lopers.)

steez- a complex combination of style and ease. To have a steez truck or some steez-y shoes implies that said possessions are "cool" or "dope." It may also indicate a unique quality.

mob dez- to "tear it up" by participating in desert dirt biking or four wheeling.

bro- a young white male listening to awful music of the hip hop persuasion. He may also have a "lifted" truck, ugly girlfriend, ugly hair, blank expressions, and Toyota Longbeds.

For more valuable vocabulary lessons, see www.urbandictionary.com

New Years Resolutions