Shh! I'm Reading!

When I look back at this week, I shake my head with both amusement and horror at the amount of time I have spent reading. No, not pleasure reading-- the assigned kind, where you can feel the professor's whip poised behind your head.

That is not to say that I hate the books I am reading. In fact, I am pleasantly surprised at just how much I have enjoyed the novels assigned. Here's a list of my current reads:

• The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins. This book, often referred to mockingly by critics as a "sensationalist novel," has me utterly enraptured. Call me shallow, but I enjoy the kind of Gothic Romanticism that is often condemned rather than praised. Who can resist solving the mystery of the ghostly lady, all clothed in the purest white, who has recently escaped from an insane asylum? I certainly can't. It is most unfortunate that I really only have time to read the recommended 60 pages a day.
• Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen. Years back, I tried reading Austen's Sense and Sensibility, which I quickly abandoned after realizing that I didn't have the patience for her writing style. Now that I'm forced to read one of her novels, I am really enjoying the lady author's wit and humor. Watching her clueless "heroine" blunder through all manners of social situations and bad advice is very amusing. I also appreciate Austen's ability to parody the plot devices of 19th century novels. Maybe I'll give Sense and Sensibility another try...
• The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien. The storytelling in this book blew me away. The way O'Brien portrays the soldiers of Vietnam in a carefully neutral light should be a lesson to us all. Just read it.

Wonderful books, all. Too bad I have to read them simultaneously!

I feel like a real English major now. Lucky me.

K.

Haveil Havalim #84 is Up!

You should probably go look at it.

K.

What Summer?

So here I am, back at school. It feels like I never left (expect for the new room/roommate). Did summer really pass by that quickly? Did I really just lose three months of my life? What the hell happened?

The freshmen look so young this year, fresh-faced and eager to experience the college life they've seen in countless teen movies. Boy, will they be disappointed. The ones who focus solely on beer and bodily delights while find their stay in college very shortlived. They will be writing checks that they're bodies can't cash (great cliche, by the way), partying all night and attempting to finish that five page paper half an hour before class starts. It's morbidly entertaining to watch these slackers flounder along. Well, good luck, freshmen.

And good luck to me.

K.

PS. Oh hey, people who have blogrolled me! Thanks to Lost, The Ignoble Experiment, Raw Words, and Bagel Blogger! You guys are great.

Wow, Even I Didn't Know Some of These

Random Facts About Jews (According to Mel Gibson)

I'm sure I'm the last person on Earth to post this link, but the comments on this piece are priceless.

K.

Oh, Why Can't There Really Be Eight Days in a Week?

I hate change.

Alright, so I don't hate change, per se. It's more like I hate abrupt change. Like the change of leaving camp and beginning the school year.

Now, most people don't consider a week's rest between these two events within the definition of abrupt change. However, I like my change to have a glacial pace, sort of a comfortable middle ground between the time it takes for a species to evolve and the approximate age of the universe. I need to be able to square myself with the fact that life is taking a sharp turn and-- I'm sorry-- a week just doesn't cut it. When I think about the renovations the dorm room is going to need, the books I have to buy, the schedules I have to work out... I get a little ill.

I don't mean to complain; clearly, a week is plenty of time in the grand scheme of things. And it's not something I haven't done before. Good G-d, I'm going to be a junior! Get over it already!

But it's not that easy. I find myself falling into the same patterns that have marked my life forever. When faced with stress, I try to escape it by sleeping, reading, or surfing the internet. In fact, my behavior mirrors that of the severely depressed in that I will do anything to not think about the problems at hand, even if it is detrimental to everyone around me. The sad thing is that I know I'm doing it even while it's happening and I simply cannot shake it off. How pathetic.

I guess that something I'm just going to have to work on. If my spring semester is going to be anything like I'm planning, I'll have to face far more severe changes than this. Getting myself to Scotland? Finding my way around a new university? Deciphering Scottish accents? Making my way down the Heathrow to fly on some G-d-forsaken airline to Israel on my own?

Oh dear. I'm screwed. :(

K.

Time Stops for No (Wo)Man

This morning I received notice that my driver's license needed to be renewed. I stared at the paper for a moment or two, trying to work out whether the DMV was pulling my leg or not. Unfortunately, experience has told me that the Department of Motor Vehicles has no measurable sense of humor at all. So this had to be real.

This can't be right, I thought, digging through my wallet for my license. I'm not old enough to need a license renewal!

And yet there it was, a glaring declaration for all to see:

"Under 21 until: 10/19/2006

Valid until: 10/20/2006"

Good Lord and in the name of all that is holy, I'm going to be 21. I'm going to need to trade in my lovely vertical license for a standard horizontal license. I'm not old enough for all of this!

I suppose I really wasn't all that upset about my need to visit the DMV (though the picture on my current license is rather nice and I am loathe to change it). It was the 21 thing that had me in a tizzy.

I always pictured that I would be a different person when I turned that magical age. I would be tall, pretty, have a significant other, own a car, live in an apartment, have published something of some merit... That other person, that 21 year old, wasn't me. She was everything that I wanted to be. She had done everything that I wanted to do. She was wiser, more secure, and more sophisticated than me. She understood people better, held better conversations, regularly dazzled the writing world with essays of intelligence and deep truths.

And here I am, less than two months away from my 21st birthday, and still very much a kid inside and outside. I'm not sure whether I'm supposed to be disappointed with myself or not. After all, having a young mentality isn't necessarily a bad thing. My overlord at Jew Camp always says that an effective counselor needs to be child-like and imaginative. You have to be careful, however, not to cross the line into childishness. I believe that I managed to giggle at stupid jokes and play silly games this summer without losing myself to the kid inside. I managed to stay the 20 year old.

So while I still split my sides laughing at "your mom" jokes and find pleasure blowing bubbles for a family friend's Israeli children, I guess I'm headed irrevocably towards physical adulthood. No helping that. But, as long as I keep my inner child happy, I guess I always have a job at summer camp.

K.

PS. That post went nowhere. Guess I haven't reached that 21 year old writer yet.

Tales from Jew Camp: I Can't Keep My Promises

No doubt somebody on this vast World Wide Web has noticed that I have been a little late in posting. Nine weeks late, to be exact.

Long ago, I subscribed to the fantasy that, after working 24 hours a day for a week straight, I would have enough energy to write a lucid account of my experiences at Jew Camp. Just as foolishly, I promised that I would spend a half an hour of my precious time off sharing my stories when I wanted to be as far away from camp as possible, both physically and mentally. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

And it's sad that I didn't have the fortitude because this summer yielded tons of interesting tales. A short list:

• Suicidal campers
• My first encounter with Workman's Comp
• Severe ankle injuries
• Writing sermons
• Budding rockstars in my bunk
• Insights from a girls' camp
• Tears, tears, tears
• Harmonica jam sessions
• Battles with the Red Cross
• Israeli sob stories

It goes on.

Should I kick myself over this? Probably not. It's not like I can't write these entries at a later date when I invariably run out of ideas. Stories aren't like the milk that my brother leaves sitting out in the basement; they don't spoil. If anything, they get better. Entertaining embellishments cultivated from numerous tellings don't hurt in the least... might even yield some deep insights. Or not. Whatever.

So while I wasn't able to keep this promise, I'll venture another one: I will one day share all of my stories under the title "Tales from Jew Camp." I mean, eventually my friends are going to tire of my constant camp chatter and the Internet can't lock you in your closet to get away from your stories.

Thank goodness.

K.