Sunday, February 22, 2009


A fall day in late October, riding the Pennsylvanian across the commonwealth’s rolling red-and-orange-and-yellow-and-brown-and-all-colors-in-between farms, listening to Simon and Garfunkel’s Greatest Hits. “This could be an almost perfect day. Enjoy it.”

Sunday, January 18, 2009


(while practicing driving stick...)

first thought: I hate driving stick.
second (attempting positive) thought: I love working at Starbucks. I need to drive myself to work.
third thought: I really can't drive stick.
first thought: I mamash hate stick.
second thought: BE POSITIVE, SELF!
third thought: It's too dangerous! I can't even get into first gear!
second thought: POSITIVE!
first thought: I really really really really don't like this.
second thought: argh.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

things overheard

My Bubby, while talking about How to Find Me a Husband, on Dating:

"I don't know the hot-spots any more... I've been out of circulation for a while."

Thursday, October 30, 2008

coffee shop

(on how I think.)

The man in front of me (everyone is in front of me, I sit in the rear at the bar) wears an orange shirt. He is older, but cool. I know this to be true because he bikes (note right pant leg tucked into sock), shaves his head, and has checked both his gmail and facebook accounts thus far. He sits with a woman ("a writer") (overheard from conversation with another patron, a "'fiction' non-fiction writer"), who is looking quizzically at her book. It also seems that she knit her sweater (chenille, mock-turtle, multi-colored yarn).

At the table in front of this cool older couple is a kid, maybe my age, though it looks like he is graying. He is working on something very intently at his computer. I know this to be true because he has not once looked up at me, though I keep waiting for him to admire my cafe-beauty (selfish, we are).

In the middle of the room, sitting alone with a cup of tea and a wedding band, is an older Indian man. He occasionally watches the street, occasionally the tv mounted on the wall (CNN). He is tapping his foot (right) to the beat of the music.

And Along the Far Wall--
Another older man (it is late! shouldn't all the old people be at home? There is yet hope for my future!), documents open in much profusion on his laptop, keeps turning his head to an awkward angle to watch the tv (CNN reaction to The Infomercial).

There was a family of four on the lounge chairs at the front of the room when I walked in, playing trivial pursuit. Very beautiful. Kids my age, too.

The barista is behind me, standing unseen at the bar. She is "an actress." She has red hair (dyed), bangs, and wide hips.

(A commercial for Iron Gym cannot be that interesting!)

-and this is the part where I analyze the above.-
As I was sitting here reading Derech Hashem/The Way of God (yes, intelligent as well!)... well, I don't know how to continue that sentence without it sounding more pretentious than it does. R' Moshe Chaim Luzatto writes in the introduction:

"When an individual is confronted by many details and does not know how they relate to one another or their true place in a general system, then his inquisitive intellect is given nothing more than a difficult unsatisfying burden. He may struggle with it, but he will tire and grow weary long before he attains any gratification. Each detail will arouse his curiosity, but not having access to the concept as a whole, he will remain frustrated.

"If one wishes to understand something, it is therefore very important that he be aware of other things associated with it as well as its place among them. Without this, one's longing for truth will be frustrated and he will be pained by his unsatisfied desire.

"The exact opposite is true when one knows something in relation to its context. Since he sees it within its framework, he can go on to grasp other concepts associated with it, and his success will bring him pleasure and elation."

Thus, I come to the cafe to observe, to try to understand something of the human condition, to see how people relate to each other, to this space, and this bit of the world.

This being that I may attempt an understanding of human life--how it is we live this life.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

and I find it so annoying when others do just this, but so it is.

I am just a poor boy
Though my story's seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocketful of mumbles
Such are promises
All lies and jests
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest

When I left my home and my family
I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station
Running scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know

Lie la lie...

Asking only workman's wages
I come looking for a job
But I get no offers
Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue
I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there

Lie la lie...

Then I'm laying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was gone
Going home
Where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me,
Leading me, going home.

In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of every glove that laid him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains

did you know, there is a song about me. exactly. really, it's about me. true story.

Rebecca - Pat McGee Band

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

In vain I have struggled; it will not do!

I watched Pride and Prejudice last night (the newer less-truthful one, sadly) and now life just seems so-- so regular! Clearly, I am Elizabeth Bennet in dire need of a Mr. Darcy!

Friday, August 29, 2008

it's friday...

Once upon a time, my AIM away message read, every Friday, "it's Friday I'm in love." Some among us might recognize this as being the title of a popular early 90's song by The Cure. Others among us, my mother in particular, may not be aware of this cultural reference and think that indeed, rebecca is in love with someone. One Friday afternoon my freshman year of college, my mother called me. We had a normal conversation, talking about home, classes, etc., and then, as I was about to hang up, she asked me who I was dating.
What? I'm not dating anyone.

There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Problems with Parents Using Technology.

In recognition of love and Fridays and parents, I would like to share this really happy song by Michael Franti with you. Enjoy!

Thursday, June 26, 2008

my father.

email forward from my father today:

script of a letter found in the envelope along with my paycheck:

I believe i spoke to your father on the phone while trying to find out if you are in Pgh or [ ]. He was very funny.... Wanted to know where my name came from, told me about Japanese history, and tried to get your check depositted into his account.
Happy Summer,

Monday, June 23, 2008

late summer night

I haven't felt any urge to update lately. Maybe I feel my life is better kept only within myself, maybe I no longer crave the approval/adoration/simple readership that frequent posting bequeaths. Regardless, life continues to be lived and thoughts continue to be thunk.

What is it with everyone (ok so of course not everyone but way more than expected)(especially when one's expectations are no one) doing drugs (smoking/pot/excessive drinking)? Is life not wonderful and challenging when we just live?

I have a friend (American) who is thinking of getting a civil marriage with this Israeli she likes (who does not like her) so that he won't be deported.

You know how TV sitcoms have, generally after every line, a laugh track? And the purpose of this pre-recorded laugh track is to imply that the previously stated lines were, indeed, funny? So whenever I heard this I took the lines and the laugh under consideration, judged the humor, maybe had a fleeting internal smile, but never ("never") actually laughed out loud. And because I reacted to the laugh track in such a manner, I assumed all people did. However, dear friends, this is not true. I recently was in the presence of someone who laughed, a real, genuine laugh, along with every single laugh track. I don't really know how to respond to this.

I found this challah cover in a thrift store a month ago. Auspicious place for a challah cover...