Monday, January 18, 2010

Dear Help Desk, Please Put the Gun Down

It's probably unethical or something for me to work on Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday (observed). I came to work anyway, knowing that the office would be largely empty. I didn't know that the main source of my work-related consternation would be here, serving up shitty emails and sauntering into my office to blinkety-blink at me as they stuttered their discombombulated concerns.

I just want you to know that I just ate, so I should be less cranky, by a factor of at least five, and much less likely to begin to cry. But there's nothing really like a good frustrated cry.

Dear Help Desk, reads an email from a friend... someone I actually like and enjoy talking to... could you please change the wording of this fake official email that I keep getting from some spammer? Dear friend, I know it looks like it's our email system sending you email but we don't use the mailer-daemon for our email, so it's not us. And, yes, we've told you this at least four different times in five different ways, but I'll tell you again, patiently, because I like you. But I swear to G-d, if you ask me again about this crap I might just scream. P.S. You're still coming to the dinner-ish party I'm hosting, right?

Other topics, from people I really can't stand, or those who just annoy me intermittantly are:
"Why won't my computer knead and bake my bread for me? It is a computer after all. It can do anything, even if I have every application known to man open and running complex regression analyses."

"I've been having this recurring problem but I always call the emergency Help Desk phone number instead of documenting it in an email to Help Desk so that people can follow up on it. It gave me an error and I wrote it down, in crayon, on this napkin. I can't read this, can you?"

For the record, I disabled part of your email system because you abuse it so badly the rest of your programs won't work. And I refuse to even talk to you, even as you toddle around in my office on this quiet vacation-like day, when I was trying to get other stuff done that actually requires concentration.

Also, when I was working on your computer I took a screen shot of your desktop because you think that's where all your files should go. I share it with my co-workers and we laugh at you relentlessly because it is a great illustration of how far up your ass your head is.

Friday, November 20, 2009

Rabbi in training... or so I'd to think.

Hi Peeps! How ya doing? Howzitgoing?

Me? Aw, I'm just getting ready for ANOTHER attempt at leading services at my synagogue tonight. I did it for the first time several weeks ago, for the parasha "Lech Lecha" which is Genesis 12:1-17:27, when God tells Abram to go, and leave his home.

I'm good at the actual prayer leading, but the sermonizing was a new thing to me. I felt like my sermon was too bookish, too studied, too much reference to other Rabbis and not enough me or now. It's interesting, for sure, but I think I put some people who really don't care that much to sleep.

This time I was more inspired and a little less hard on myself as I was writing it, and I think it turned out better. I'll post tonight's dvar Torah after I give it. Until then, here's my overstudious one on Lech Lecha:

Hi everyone. For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Shel West. Shel is short for Shelly, which in turn is short for Rachelle. Just don’t call me Anna, even though that’s my first name. I’ve never gone by Anna, only Shelly. Anna Rachelle West. It’s a pretty name and it is mine, but I rarely use the whole thing. Names are funny things. They define us as much as we define them. I never felt like an Anna, maybe because I was never called that. It was only in recent years that I started to call myself Shel. I wanted to be more grown up, more adult, without the sing-song E at the end of my name. It only sort of stuck.

It was hard to try and change my name. Almost as hard to change myself, my habits and behaviors. Sometimes, you have to change your location to change yourself, as we’re about to find out.

We’re at the beginning of the beginning of the Torah still, only the third Parasha in as we read Lech Lecha. The famous line heads the portion, it’s a well known song, and it commands Moses to move. Go, from your land, your birthplace, your house – successively smaller ideas of home, larger to smaller – and I (God) will make of you a great nation (with lots of descendents) and I will bless you (with wealth, says the Rashi footnotes) and I will make your name great (by adding letters to it, in fact). It is during this portion that Abram becomes Abraham, and Sarai becomes Sarah. According to Rashi it is when God takes Abram out of his tent later in 15:5 and instructs him to count the stars that God really explains that Abram must step out of where he is and what he has predicted for his own life, to grasp the concept that even in his nineties he will be the father of a nation. Rashi says that Abram relied on astrology and the science of the stars to predetermine what his future would be. God’s message to Abram is that if you go outside of what you know, and put your trust in God, the blessings will come.

There is a lot that happens in this Parasha. Abram and Sarai travel to Egypt during a famine in the land. This will happen again later. They tell everyone they are siblings so that Abram will receive gifts and wealth as the Pharaoh take Sarai into his palace. The Pharaoh and his household are afflicted with plagues. This will also happen again. Rashi says that Sarai’s word causes the tzaras to appear – she says “strike!” and an angel of God strikes them with the plague. Pharaoh arranges an escort to take them out of Egypt. This, not so much doesn’t happen again.

Abram, with his nephew Lot, take all the wealth they have amassed and go back to southern Israel, to the Negev. Abram and Lot split up because their livestock are too many and Lot’s suspicious herdsmen can’t get along with Abram’s. Lot moves to Sodom, which will be later destroyed in the next Parasha, and his choice of surroundings is intended to make us suspicious of him, and by proxy, his shepherds.

Sodom and Gommorah are besieged by kings waging war. The battle of Four Kings against Five is waged and Lot is taken captive. The names of the kings and the names of their kingdoms all make various references to their character, generally negative. Genesis says “The Fugitive” tells Abram about the fate of his nephew. According to Rashi the fugitive is Og, the last of the Rephaim who both escaped from the fighting but also who escaped from the flood. Abram here is described as “Abram the Ivri” which the modern translation renders as “the Hebrew.” The Rashi edition, however, says this means he “came from across the river” and therefore had the courage to fight against the odds. Abram gathers up his servants and this small band go and rescue Lot and defeat the kings’ armies. At the end of this odd story King Melchizedek – sounds a lot like Melech Tzedek, doesn’t it? – brings out bread and wine, because – it says – he is a priest of God Most High. That must be the same God Abram’s always talking to, right? He blesses Abram and they share bread and wine. Could this be the first blessing of bread and wine? This will happen again, every week, as we celebrate Shabbat, until the end of time.

Melchizedek is said to be Shem, a descendent of Noah. He is the king of Salem. Rashi explains that this is the same city that Abraham will later call Yirei. This city is eventually named Yerushalem, by God, who wishes to honor both Shem and Abraham’s name for the same place.

It is at this point that Abram begins to worry that his luck has run out, according to Rashi, which is why he has another conversation with God. “How will I know?” asks Abram, how will I know I will have an heir? How will I know that I will possess this land? God reassures Abram repeatedly, explaining that his descendents will outnumber the stars, and asking for an elaborate offering. This offering is special because Abram is instructed to split the cows, goat and ram. Rashi says that the smoke and flame between the pieces of meat is the sign that God is there. God tells Abram, “I am a shield for you; your reward will be great.” God tells more about the future, about the enslavement and oppression of his children, and of their return to the land.

Then we get the story of Hagar, who is supposedly Pharaoh’s daughter. Another royal Egyptian daughter will figure prominently later. Hagar conceives and begins to take her position as servant lightly, to Sarai’s displeasure. Hagar runs away but is told by God to return and submit to Sarai’s authority. Hagar calls God “El-roi” meaning “God of Seeing” and returns to bear a son to Abram, Ishmael (“God heeds”).

Just a few verses later God self identifies as El Shaddai. Rashi explains that this is a contraction of she-yesh dai: “that there is enough”. It is at this moment that God renames Abram to Abraham and instructs him in the ways of circumcision. This will mark the covenant in the flesh and shall be done throughout the generations.

God renames Sarai to Sarah. Sarai means “my governor” and Sarah means “governor of all”… clearly a promotion in rank. Abraham falls on his face and laughs, and thus God deems Sarah’s son will be named Issac, Yitzchak, or “laugh”.

Names have great importantance, whether it’s the king Melech Tzedek, Jerusalem, Sarah, Abraham, El-roi or El Shaddai. The entity or person is the same, but the names highlight different pieces of the individual mosaic. We get used to the name-changing from here out in Genesis. Jacob will eventually become Israel, also to show a change in the person.

This parashat gives us some method to our ongoing desire for improvement. Move from where you are. Get out of your rut. Step out of your tent. Change who you are. Change your name. May we all have the courage to step outside of our norms, to have a little faith, and make of ourselves a great people.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Communications Confuzion

I'm really not the most social person in the world. Really. I can do the social thing. Sometimes it's easier than others. And some situations really confuse me.

The work thing, for example, brings much mental stress. I know my position puts me at a level of the program mangers... I *am* a program manager, for all intents and purposes. So I'm supposed to socialize with these folks?

I don't quite have enough in common. I'm working on the family aspect, which many share. But I've been the lonely single person too, and we have at least a handful of those folks. Still, I just don't feel as related to these folks as I do to the researchers who make up the ranks.

I know it's logical and standard practice to not get too chummy with folks that you manage, even if they're not directly your folks. It's a stratification of the organizational structure. At once I am drawn to break ranks but still wanting the privileges, protection and influence of the upper echelon.

Fuck.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Life is Good

Instead of relentlessly tweeting, I'll blather on here a bit. That's probably a relief for the two of you who gets my tweets directly to cell phone.

It seems ridiculously relaxing to be sitting at a pub drinking a beer before the wedding of Liz and Miles. I drove three hours, from Northern Baltimore, straight here to participate in the mitzvah of celebrating with Bride and Groom. I'm seriously kvelling, if only because I find myself so incredibly in love with a wonderful woman. I fantasize about a Ward and June Cleaver life with her. I think I'm quite silly. And smitten and in love.

The drive was nice, clear skies and plenty of animals -- wild and domesticated -- to watch along the way. A fair share of flattened tragedies as well, including a small black bear. I try to think of the cycle of life and not get overwrought about death. I spent a lot of time thinking about my sweetie and how gentle and kind she is.

I left her to finish packing her house, in preparation for the move tomorrow to the new apartment, free from the madness of her Ex finally. The apartment is in the same building with her Bubbie and other extended family. The door frame of the apartment bears the marks of at least four different mezzuzot. We nearly crashed into the young Frum woman coming out of the laundry room. I suspect we'll be quite the spectacle in the land of the very Orthodox: me and my yarmulke and men's clothes and she and her giant chest tattoo, us both holding hands everywhere we go.

Don't be afraid. We're actually both very nice.
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Friday, September 18, 2009

The New Year

I started out the morning with my love, snuggling and getting frisky. I watch her bounce between the stress of child custody battles and the joy of my distractions. It's not easy and it's been constant. I attempted to draw her anxiety and take it with me, which I may have actually done.

I knew it would be a short day. I had already planned to leave early to get ready for Rosh Hashana. My grumpiness began with a coworker who is better at getting other people to do things than doing them herself. I made a suggestion and asked her to call if it didn't work. I called later to check in. She didn't try, and instead decided to solve the problem by coming in early Monday. Maybe she was going to tell me. Maybe.

Then, too much news reading ensued. Tea baggers and pseudo-political pundits and their poor logic and bad grammar. And their sentence fragments. Who does that?! More co-workers talking loudly in the hallway then stage-whispered secrets. My ire raised like hackles on a wolf. I needed to be alone.

I graused, I tweeted. Is this the way to start the new year? No clearly not. I left my office and the drama-politcs in search of friends. Stood around for a few moments, chatting and teasing. Someone offered me chocolate and I gladly accepted.

This is what it's all about. Friends. Kindness when you need it. Chocolate when you need it. Another excuse to eat gefilte fish and good ole reliable Balducci's challah, round please, to crown the new year with glory.

May this year be better than the last. May we all have peace and love and companionship. May we have solitude when we need it, and a warm strong hand when we need that too.

I'll take the ups and down, Hashem. I'll be loving and supportive when I can, and grumpy when I need to be.

May we all have the space to honor ourselves. May our behaviour honor You, and may our souls be a reflection of Your greatness.
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Thursday, September 17, 2009

Overwhelming, Sad Day

Dear Peeps, all my peeps, and even the peeps that ain't my peeps: It's gonna be okay. I swear.

Seems like there's a lot of sadness out there today. Today especially. Worn and weary, we are all so tired of trying. Trying and failing. Trying and giving up. Just trying.

Time will pass. The earth will turn and things will change. Probably more slowly than you want. This knot, whatever knot it is that you are trying to unravel, will loosen.

Stop for a moment and listen to the wind. Put both feet on the ground, flat. Feel your feet. Breathe through your nose (if you can). Feel the source of life, universal love, energy, G-d ... what ever you want to call it ... feel it come into you, right through the top of your head.

We're all in this together. All of us. Jews and Muslims. Lovers and exes. Family and friends. Strangers. We are all connected, whether we want to be or not.

So take a breath. Get yourself. Open your eyes. Know where you are. Know that I love you. Hard moments will pass. Love stays. Relax.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Inglourious Basterds -- did I misspell that correctly?

Sick and gross, first of all. It is a Quentin Tarantino movie. So get ready. I'd like to say you can set that aside and consider the rest of the movie, but the violence, after all is part of the point. Violence we do to each other. Cruelty we inflict, and when do we find it okay. When do we cheer or simply smile smugly? In the end we shoot each other, whether we are already dying or not.

I did smile. I did. Jeff quoted someone else (Mel Brooks?) saying, "it's always funny when a Nazi gets shot." There was a disgusting joy in watching Hitler picked apart in slo mo by bullets. Then, there is the general desire to see some wacky US dudes wreaking terror on the Nazis, tormenting them with the stories of their disgusting rituals.

The winner for best Jeff Toppall quote of the night:

After Brad Pitt gives his wacked-out, violent and non-PC sales pitch to the new recruits, Jeff leans over and says, "Sounds like you at a staff meeting." He would know, but he hasn't seen me in action for over ten years. I have a little more chutzpah now than before. Feel the power.

Honestly, I'll have to see the movie again to stitch it all together. The symbolism is constant, it seems. Time management is amazing. From the old-style credits at the beginning of the movie, QT slows us down to get ready for the lengthy and detailed opening "Chapter." Character development without words, in the faces of the actors, was amazing. The bad guy was really well done. You *knew* him by the end. And you also knew what was coming to him. And it felt good.

Feel the power.