I heart Oakland

The most difficult decision I made as a post-graduate was to move out of San Francisco.

San Francisco.
A city that is culturally and economically diverse. 7 by 7 miles long and wide, the buses never sleep nor do the locals tire of telling tourists how to get around. From bros in the Marina, to Lesbians in Bernal Heights, hipsters and latino families living harmoniously in the Mission district and white middle class students living wall to wall with a huge Asian population, the city is phenomenal. Some things are not so phenomenal, such as Powell street shopping and tenderloin poverty existing only blocks away from each other. Or the mass exodus of transient youth who romanticize Haight St. and sell their lives to the drug world. Then you have the food. Always ten different ethnic foods within ten minutes walking distance from your house. AND, of course, the politics. The nudists. The history, etc...

And I decided to leave it all behind.

Okay, I know I'm being slightly over dramatic. I moved fifteen miles away. But Oakland is a far cry from the city I love.

Yet, Oakland has charm that cannot compare with SF. You could spend time in berkeley, only to be bombarded with Cal students and beautiful streets and old buildings, or you could hang out in Emeryville (which isn't a real place). But Oakland is special. The people live and work and walk and bike and hold block parties and play latin music for the entire neighborhood to enjoy. The weather is divine- never too hot, never too cold. And, this is personal, I get to live five or so blocks from my love. I never get bored of driving to temescal to eat something great. I haven't tired yet of my bart station excitement (until it happened to us- $260 ticket = boo!). Also, gang members can be quite friendly too!

I look forward to this love affair with the east bay to grow, develop and produce adventures and affinity.

The Sherbert House

My new house.
I like Oakland. They have block parties with little boys break dancing on the street. They have gardens in front of houses that anyone can pick and eat.
I like my roommates. They compliment my cooking and they dress nice. They are interesting, funny and smart and share dreams together.

Birthday Cookies: huge success!


Amy's birthday! 23!!


Jenna serenading us...


The Sherbert House



Photocredit to Chelsea!!!!!

ma tovu

wake up every morning feeling directionless...

then I say this: ma tovu

then I say this: O Gd, in the abundance of your love, respond to me in truth with your help

and the day seems livable.

change. faith. working out.

The real world got the better of me this summer.

I wish John Mayer hadn't written that song about running through HS doors and shouting at the top of his lungs that the real world is a figment of our imagination persuaded by the authorities. It's not totally true.

I've spent a good two months worrying about where I was going to spend this next year.

What about India? Israel? Northridge? San Francisco? San Francisco. Oakland? Oakland.

It's happening and it's happening fast. I found a fabulous living situation, by grace. The commute will be boring. But maybe I can make it a meditation. I was convinced for a solid two weeks that it wouldn't work out. I would have to leave my friends and my favorite city in the world because I had nothing. But it worked out. It's working out. And it's weird. Some people will say that it's just how the universe works. Things work out. Karma or something. My faith has changed. It's become something that it didn't use to be. I rest in the idea that Gd was behind it "working" for the best. And so I thank that Gd.

May I learn to be engaged with my elementary students.

May I be compassionate for my volunteer work with homeless youth.

May I be more patient with my love.

May I listen and communicate with my new roommates.

May I learn about myself better.

This next year is working out. And I like how it's looking...And may the people around me learn the same things: engagement, compassion, patience, communication and lending an ear. And may they love themselves as we are the beloved.

PS: I read Henri Nouwen's Life of the Beloved and it changed my life.
PPS: I stopped eating as much bread as I use to eat. Oh hello lettuce wraps!

close.

Saying goodbye to a year is hard. There was too much laughter. A few tears. A good year.









Now, on to OAKLAND, Land Of The Oaks.

VisuaLife

William Fitzsimmons


The Shamrock


Game of Darts


BFF... Jenna, Torre, Rachel, me.


Nolan


Shabbat


Graduation Party: Marjorie, Molly, me and Sam


Graduation with Siblings


Graduation with the book that changed my life.

rabbinate

"I believe in worship"

A woman sat next to me in her yoga attire at a quant cafe near both our houses. She is older than I am, with grey, shoulder length hair and round speckled glasses. A Jewish woman, a poet, a resource- wealth of knowledge and spirit. She asked me questions yesterday about my life. What I studied, where I want to go and what I want to do, who I am. I was slightly nervous because she sat there, comfortable and successful; accomplished and secure. I sat there with my security shall wrapped around me, slurping hot chocolate; trying to appear that I had not spent the last two.five weeks in crisis. I said that I was torn between the pursuit of therapy (as a vocation) or scholarship. She asked me if I had ever considered the Rabbinate. I said yes. But the truth is no. It would be a combination of those two things. And I think I would flourish, because I, like her, believe in worship.



a thought arose like a high watered bay.
it provoked every inch of security.
the cold shriveled her hands and the sound deafed her ears.
while all was weeping silently.
her expression silently teared.

Day 4

When missionaries abroad come back to the States for furlough, or whatever, they are prepared. It's called debrief. They are taught to remember that the home they are returning to is the same, and will bring shock because the individual has changed quite drastically.

Mothers are prepared for a little something called postpartum depression. The anticipation of a child, prepping the room, prepping your heart, etc... Then you bring home the bundle of joy and it cries. It needs you. You are objectified by a thing that cannot speak nor can it talk. And you don't want to feed it. You don't want to nourish your own body, etc...

So here's my question: why doesn't anyone tell you about post-graduation blues? It's a real thing. And it sucks.

I've applied to two jobs this week. I made it out of the house to visit one friend. I went shopping. And I've thought about getting another tattoo. I make breakfast, but refuse to do the dishes. I take the dog (housesitting) on walks, but it's mostly because he gives me the saddest looks.

I am bored. I am sooo bored. I am ugly and frustrated. I want to move. I want to travel. I want to want to clean and be pretty. This is going to be a hard summer...

the days roll, roll away like wheels on jack's hill

It's midnight. Between Tuesday and Wednesday.
Thursday my second thesis is due.
Friday I have two papers due.
The last two papers.

And then I get to meet up with my sister and her bf.
Grocery shopping. Meet up with the rest of the family.
Shabbat dinner. The next morning, clean and
set up for party. Get into my robe and gown.
And walk. Walk.

It's in four days.

the annex. again.

I am here. Surrounded by two hundred young people who are studying hard. Some take smoke breaks. Others take facebook breaks. Still others sleep with their heads nestled against their laptop.

My break consists of this blog.

For some strange reason, it is this space that I have created as a safe place. No one leaves comments anymore- but that is a very good thing. It's for me. Not for you (sorry Natalie and mom). It's a place that I can check and recheck and write and rewrite and there is no grade. No determination of worth here.

Recently, someone said to me that no matter what grades I get this semester, my worth to them will not change. Their love for me will not diminish. Even if I lose the honor-status that I carry. I bought my gold chain today. The tassel that adorns the robe one wears when they graduate. They call me a distinguished student. I think it's full of shit. But I am doing it. I already did it. I already spent countless nights procrastinating and freaking out about papers and assignments, etc. I am almost finished doing that.

Tonight is the exception. I am sitting here, in my beloved annex-fake-library writing the first draft of a 15 page paper which is due tomorrow at 8:45 am. I am sitting here, with six pages down, not freaking out. A MIRACLE, I know. I am enjoying every second of it actually. I enjoy birthing sentences and listening to the rustling of keyboards type, type, type away.

I can't go home tonight. So, I might as well be settled. The last bus left five minutes ago. I am stuck. I suppose I could call someone on campus, but why not spend the night on a dirty two seater couch in a hot, bug infested room? I won't have to do this for a very long time, why not relish in it.

So that is my resolution- the last week of classes; the week before finals, exactly ten days until I turn in my last paper of the semester; I will not stress out. I will not yell at anyone (an embarrassing history), nor will I pity myself. Instead, here now, I pledge to myself that I, Malka which means queen, will enjoy her last moments of an undergraduate.

Annex as my witness.

ema

To my mother. Who moves mountains. Who loves deeply. Who listens well. Who prays with expectation. Who laughs without inhibition. Who gives abundantly. Who smiles widely; and who seeks peace in all situations.

Days of the Week...

Day 1: (humanities) ready for the week.


Day 2: (science) notice I am wearing the exact same outfit.


Day 3: (annex) too embarrassed to show the same shirt/scarf combo again.


Day 4: (bedroom) attacked.

ode to the purple robe

DISCLAIMER: profanity and severe stress...

IS there some point when we're given the answers? Or an open door? Or a key? Or a map? Or a compass? Or perhaps a companion who is directionally exceptional?

I am graduating in 16 days (or something like that). I find myself going three days with very little sleep and producing two papers and a presentation. Then I recoup for a day; maybe two. Then I get so stressed, hardly believing that I allowed myself to waste time when I could be thinking, writing, rethinking, rewriting, etc... I just have a lot of fucking writing to do. How much, you might ask?

Independent Study: 15
Modern China: 7
Women's History: 8-10
Pro-Seminar: 15 (17 written. 17 to perfect)
and
Bob Dylan: 100 multiple choice final exam.

MIght I add that they have to be organized and intelligent. Ready to send to grad school in the next two years. Proof to my Prof's that they taught me something valuable. Proof to myself that I know something.

Last night, I lay in bed for 2.5 hours before finally popping a nyquil. My mind was racing with new ideas for my papers, going from one to another. My heart was palpitating a million miles a minute. I thought it might just explode. My friend, the GRAD student, said that her last week or so of her undergraduate degree was spent on adoral and some other prescription drug. I feel a little better.

I have worked so hard the past four years. Really. My grade point average might not be phenomenal, but it is pretty darn good. And I have excellent relationships with most of my Professors. I have met really fascinating people. And I have learned about the world and all of its inadequacies and its beauty.

And in 16 days I will walk across a stage with thousands of other people and receive an empty folder. I will shake hands with someone I don't know and I will be overwhelmed, trying to track down my family in either the heat or the cold. I might run into people I know; we'll hug and kiss and tell each other "mazel tov!"

And then we'll drink beer and sleep and watch movies for a week or two. Then we'll travel a bit. Maybe home, or the East Coast, or maybe Portland. And then we'll start looking for jobs, or move to different, cheaper towns. And reality will hit like a wrecking ball. And we'll sink or swim. I hope I swim.

But I hope I am not still wearing that damn purple robe.

can I walk yet?

16 days.

patience, grasshopper.

Gd-group

Recently, my love and some friends and I started something. We started something that might get bigger. It's big to us.

It's unofficially called Gd-group.

And not all of us even believe in Gd. We are young people who believe in spirituality. Some of us are angry. Some of us are hurt. All of us are curious. All of us are pretty smart. All of us are beautiful and deep man and women. (Only one dude so far...)

Last night we read a poem. And we talked about heaven and hell. Actually, and more specifically, we talked about death. What we believe and why. It was powerful. And it was significant. One of us was raised with metaphysical beliefs and Judaism. Most of us were raised with an Evangelical background. Some of us still go to Church, others of us have denounced their Christian faith. We have a set of rules too. No side-conversations. Definition of terms, ie: predestination. We have to share our stories. And we ask for vulnerability. It's a safe place. We don't want it to look like a stereotypical Bible study, but we do want to encourage debate and discourse.

I love this group. Sometimes I say dumb stuff. But again, it's a place that is safe. So when i say dumb stuff (ex: matrix comment...I have never seen this movie, and it had nothing to do with our conversation) people still walk away with smiles and love toward me. It's nice.

It's the first real thing that I have helped start. It's the first real thing that I feel good about. It's the first real thing that I feel safe exploring. We're big kids now.

PS: Update as I venture through the second to last week of my undergraduate career: losing sleep over rethinking my thesis. losing patience for the 7 people living in my house. losing hope that i can actually finish this semester with a decent grade point average. gaining friends who see the real me and who love it still.

oh hello political spiel.

Osama Bin Laden is dead.

Mass texts, facebook statuses, tweets, press conferences, peace for the grieving families of 9/11, celebration for America’s armed forces and anger (righteous anger, mind you) for pacifists.

It’s a big deal for our generation.

Sputnik. Kennedy’s assassination. Vietnam. The destruction of the Iron Curtain. Princess Diana’s death. Columbine. Yes, even 9/11. This is what brought us here. Okay, maybe not Lady Di so much, but these major events have made our people, our military, our culture what it is today.

We are vengeance hungry. An eye for an eye. We want retribution for loss. We think we're on top and we want to keep it that way. And over the last ten years, we’ve fought a war to find a man who screamed at us, saying, “You have an enemy.”

America always wins. Does anyone doubt this? I don’t think so. Let’s take a walk back through history to look at the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941, shall we? The “sleeping dragon” was awakened and we killed and killed for justice. And we went to “sleep” again. And we were awakened again.

And we have spent the last ten years in half a dozen countries, killing and being killed.

I have friends in the military. They find pride and they find satisfaction and significance with their work and vocation. I do not argue with that. But my beliefs about Osama’s death and my reaction to the thousands of reactions go deeper than our military.

It goes to spirituality.
It goes to salvation and love
It goes to the message of peace and transparency.

So maybe instead of praising our national intelligence and claiming “justice” for innocent lives, let’s think of ways to be awakened to the world. Let’s think of ways to be awakened to grace and the kind of justice that Gd talks about. Let’s think of ways to be friends to enemies and lovers of peace. And when we think about ways to heal that do not consist of murder, let’s actually do it.

Proverbs 24:17 “Do not rejoice when your enemy falls, And do not let your heart be glad when he stumbles.”

grace

Christopher got accepted to Edinburgh! This is very exciting. N and T are getting married this summer (sayeth the bridesmaid!) and their life together is going to travel the world. I am so proud of them.

J's house-mate's cousin just gave birth to her second baby boy.

I got an email yesterday that I have been accepted to graduate with a Bachelor of Arts degree this Spring. I suppose they approve of everything. My honors include cum laude. I guess that's pretty cool.

I had a successful meeting with one of my Professors the other day. I am very excited and very nervous about the theses I am writing, and will finish in 6 weeks.

William Fitzsimmons is performing at the Independent in May and I get to go with K and J.

We're planning a very small, intimate and beautiful Passover seder next week. It's going to be sincere and great.

And I cried and cried all day today.

Life is just really overwhelming right now. I am trying my best to keep my community together and also include a new Love. And it's going to take some getting used to. Communicating. Adjusting. Loving and Believing. It's all grace my friend.

iSF

Today is beautiful.

I got to brunch with S & D. The sun is out. A light breeze through my window. The house is clean. My room is cleaned. I am clean. My love is coming over soon. Shabbat is tonight. I made a sweet dance-party mix. My feet are killing me from dancing at an 80s club last night. Worth it.

SF, you've won me over once again.

6 weeks

Six weeks of my UnderGraduate life is left.
Six years working toward this degree.

I am pooped. The weather is incredible this week in SF. I don't want to work. I don't want to study. I don't want to think. I just want to lay on the grass, in the sun. I just want to sleep.

This Senioritis is killing me slowly. It's a wonder that anyone finishes. I hope I finish well. I hope my Professor's acknowledge that this is the end. And that I am tired. I hope I want to finish, as much as I think I do.

I am so happy. The happiest I have been in a long time. I have a best friend who I get to lounge with, talk with, walk with, eat with, dream with.

Funny... how life just gets around. And how we get around with it. What does that even mean? Who knows.

it's an odd number, but a great day.

It's raining like crazy.

I am so in love.

It worked out that I am doing an independent study with one of my favorite professors.

I have absolutely no money.

I am listening to sad music, but I am not sad. It's appropriate.

I have a heating pad on my lap.

the girls are sleeping.

my tea is cold.

Shabbat was beautiful last night.

funny how moods work.

Gd is so good.

I woke up this morning, literally speaking a verse I haven't thought about in a long time:

If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don't love, I'm nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate...Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly.
1 Corinthians.

Now, to be honest. I haven't read the Bible to read the Bible in a really long time. Especially not Paul's epistles. BUT, I think these words are true. In spite of my apostate spiritual season. In leiu of my nature, ever giving, ever changing, ever taking.

remember.

adventures

Since the new year, I have experienced quite a few adventures with some new and very good friends.

Here is the proof:


^a feast with David and Sam


^my Nephew! (5 months old)


^Scrabble with Natalie and Christopher


^Salvation Mountain


^Leonard built Salvation Mountain to share Universal LOVE. He is 76 years old this year.


^Friends from City Cru and Leonard on January 2, 2011


^me and Amy near the Bixby Canyon Bridge.


^Kyle and Robert (okay, it was a photo-op)


^Ben, Amy, Kyle and Rob and I went on hikes in Big Sur a few days before school began.

walking

a hollow structure: a graduation.

you walk. there is applause. you walk.

but the walking does not stop there. you walk to job interviews in the months following. you walk back to the admissions office to get your transcripts sent to the 6 graduate schools you are applying for. you walk through new neighborhoods and old neighborhoods. you walk to the dentist appointment that is one year too late. you walk to the cheese boutique that you cannot help but wonder how it stays in business. you walk to your first, adult relationship. and you probably walk away from two or three more after that.

i don't have my diploma yet. yet, i am tired.

i don't want applause, or a hollow structure defining my way.

the lens, my walk, my dear, be clearer than the last.

i just want back in your head

I am back at my home in SF.

my roommates and I changed the living room. it looks rad.

the flight was lame.

my head hurts from thinking so much.

I spoke with my beautiful sister tonight. and we talked about so many good things.

I have not been able to stop thinking.

it's weird.

I am excited and terrified for my last semester to begin.

...