MY URBAN KVETCH

Pre-Blog: Prospective Band Names

Circa 1998 or so, a list of names for my non-existent band, some inspired by real-life events:

External Sources of Confusion
Let Me In: The Locked Door Experience
Alternate Forms of Cancer
Ready When You Are
Social Commentary
Space for Rent
Frank Lee Scarlett and the Damn-Givers
Cajun Living
Flash Cards
Vicarious Pasta
Carbon-Based Life Forms
Save Before You Quit
A Place LIke Home
Princess Looseleaf
Cornish Game Hens
Vegetarian Leather
Brand New Thesaurus
Radical Templates
Five Stoned Beatniks
Flying Yogurt Lids
Suicidal Fish
Lawyers on the Ocean Floor
Intro to Physics
Diplomatic Acts
No Apparent Reason
Marcy and the Pet Peeves
Pedestrian Audacity
Pet Supremacy
Miscellaneous Expenditures
Severed Digits
Dogs With Names
Anonymous Pets
Grammatically Incorrect

What's your favorite?

Impulse: To Fight, or to Surrender?

I think Crocs are ugly. They seem too lightweight to be able to provide much support. They're made of rubber, which doesn't seem like a good idea for breatheability.

And yet, especially when I'm preparing to go to Israel, the urge comes strong and unexpectedly: "Buy Crocs," it says... "You know you want to." I resist, because of all the aforementioned reasons. But when I get there, everyone has them and everyone loves them. "You should get a pair, they're so comfortable."

But they can't be, can they?

Pre-Blogging

Every once in a while I'm cleaning my apartment or stuff at my parents' house, I find a pre-blog. It's a piece of writing that would have been a blog post, but for one fact: I didn't have a blog when I wrote it. These written time capsules sometimes aren't even worth the paper they're typed (or sometimes, handwritten) on. But they usually provide me with some insight into the person I was at a particular time in my life, or occasionally, even make me chuckle. Here's a pre-blog for you, undated, but (based on other references on the same page, not reproduced here because it's private...) likely circa 1999.

People think that working with words all day means a professional life of tedium and drudgery, and a social life inhibited by rules. This is far from the truth; if you check any of my report cards from grammar school, all will tell you that I "get along well with others." Getting along with others just requires submission to the assumption that human beings, by their very nature, are like pendulum swings. They seem to be traveling a set course, but analysis of the situation will yield the discovery. Just because you cannot see the pendulum deviate from its path doesn't mean it isn't moving of its own accord.

Grammar requires rules, sentence structures, a few notable exceptions to the rule. A sentence can be diagrammed, all its vital parts identified and dissected. Not so with people. They don't adhere to rules, they cannot be broken down and categorized with any degree of ease. The god of randomness governs their every movement; just when you think you have them pegged, they go and do something completely out of character.

The Long Lost "Ask the Queen" Responses, Part One

A while ago, I asked for your input, requesting some questions from my regular readers. You responded, and then I dropped the ball. So I'm mea culping all over the place and responding belatedly. Forgive me, and if you'd like, ask follow-up questions...

Judi writes:

How come whenever my clock/radio goes off, I absolutely have to hit "snooze" to sleep an extra 8 minutes? Should I set my alarm for 8 minutes earlier to compensate? Would I have to go to bed 8 minutes earlier? Just wondering...

EDK responds:

Hmm. Not exactly the question I had in mind, but it is nonetheless a question. So here's my answer to this eternal human conundrum. Time is relative, right? I mean, we have different time zones, and no one seems able to accurately predict when they'll be anywhere. Traffic, subway problems, chronic lateness...five minutes isn't five minutes anymore. Ask people who "live 20 minutes away" from everything in Los Angeles and always run into delays. So I compensate for my natural tendency to wake up late by setting every clock to a different time. That way, it's likely that I'll always be on time for something. You're welcome!!

Some Loser writes:

Are you friends with Tina Fey?

EDK responds: Um, if I were, I'd probably be picking out my dress for the premiere of "Baby Mama," and asking Amy Poehler if Will Arnett had a friend for me. I do understand the confusion here, as I've run into Tina a few times in our neighborhood, and as funny women who sport the spectacles, it's an easy enough mistake. We even had a conversation once, which I'm pretty sure branded me as a stalker. But still, I've given her blog-shoutouts here before, and I'll conclude with one more. Tina, if you ever need a Judaism consultant (hello, Curly Oxide?), I'm here for you.

MCAryeh writes:

1) If you had to choose between JDaters Anonymous and My Urban Kvetch, which would you choose and why?
2) IYHO [that's "in your humble opinion," for those of you who don't speak internet shorthand], why do you not yet have your own show?

EDK responds:

MCAryeh, you ask impossible, yet highly provocative questions. I can only assume you are in a graduate school program that is teaching you the intricate workings of philosophy and/or sociology. As to your first query, the choice between JDatersAnonymous and MyUrbanKvetch is a Hobson's choice. Or to put in other words, I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you, and clearly not choose the wine in front of me. (Iocane powder, you know.) Why choose? As long as each has a readership, a mission, a purpose, etc, why not do both?

As to question #2 and MHO, the only reason for explaining why I don't have my own show is that I don't roll on Shabbos. Well, that and that no one is willing to take a risk on creating a show around a blog. Someday...maybe sooner than we all think. I have a feeling about this coming year, like anything is possible: podcast, videocast, etc. So we'll have to see. (Taking suggestions and sponsorship offers now.)

Doctor Bean writes:

If I'm going to get a question answered, I might as well make it something serious, that you'll actually have to think about. Let's see... Can I have two?

1)  What fraction of the time (you can express this as a percentage, if you like) do you believe in God?
2)  What do you think/feel about petitionary prayer?

Oy vey. A fraction of the time I believe in God? I was told there'd be no math...Best I can muster is sometimes, often, but not always. It's complicated to explain, because I believe that people are always defining God in their own terms, but the hearer hears "belief in God" and translates it according to his own prejudices, circumstances and environment. Does believing in God mean that I feel obligated to assume the mantle of every one of the mitzvot in its most literal, fundamentalist definition? While I don't feel so obligated, to some people, belief in God mandates that kind of completely adherent behavior. To others, who view the entire Torah and associated rabbinic literature as outdated, anyone who observes any of it is a fundamentalist. Who is God? Goodness? Justice? A white man with a white beard? A woman? An entity? A quality, in the voice of every child? Here, there and everywhere? Chakras? The Force? Can I believe in God and still believe the theory of evolution? God is relative, belief is relative, therefore belief in God is relative. No, I don't think I can answer this question, because it's still something I'm asking myself every day.

Petitionary prayer is very much tied in, but also separate, to faith in God. I feel like on the whole, petitionary prayer is more a personal coping mechanism that is about controlling a situation that one has no control over. The belief that prayer works, for me, ranges in "password strength" from "not very strong" to "strong" (I guess, depending on whether I've included numbers in my petition). It's not that I actually actively believe with perfect faith that the Kotel is a direct line to God, but I still write my notes, pray for the people in my life and the world to find healing, and put in a good word for myself. When I'm in synagogue, I try to pray with a full understanding of the Hebrew words and associated concepts, but often the concept of one judge determining my destiny by checking my innards for signs of weakness is my undoing. Depending on the day, I get distracted by the gravity or the possibility of a destiny beyond my control.

In all honesty, if I needed something, and I couldn't get it myself, I would likely drop to my knees (at least figuratively), and pray. But I can't guarantee it would be out of belief, but out of desperation. I do know that, if petitionary prayer works, it's not about sticking to the liturgical texts. Petitionary is personal--liturgy may provide a framework, but the injection of the personal connection to the act of prayer and the admission that not everything is in our control is what makes prayer personal. If I were God, that would be the kind of prayer I'd respond to.

There were more questions, but I'll save them for Part Two, coming soon. Besides, the meaning of prayer is a good way to transition into another Jewish holiday. Here's to finding meaning in what we do, and feeling how lucky we are to be living in an age of liberation.

חג פסח שמח!

 

Random Thought of the Day: Radio Gaga

It's Friday, so I'm doing my weekly brain dump--I've just never done it here before. But I find myself wanting to have a radio show. I just want to figure out what my focus is, what it's called and then pick up a microphone to enable mellifluous voice tones to be recorded and played back...mellifluously. I figure if David Silver could do it, so can I.

But what to talk about? Pop culture? Jewish life (really, again?)? Life of a Freelancer? Singles stories? Broadcasting live from the Holy Land?

All ideas. Going back into the hopper. Shabbat shalom!

Engaged for a Day: The April Fool's Facebook Experiment

Did you ever wonder how much technology was taking over your life, and if your online persona was capable of doing things that your offline persona would never do? The one-step-removed aspect of online interaction is one that I find endlessly fascinating, as is the culture of Facebook, which allows people to follow my moves with as much information as I give them (and as much time/inclination as they have to do so).

I've mused before about the numbers of "friends" we all have on Facebook. The likelihood that most of them are actually friends of the sort you'd invite to your birthday dinner or to seder with the family is very low. I mean, people have hundreds of them. I tried to keep my list down, but it was fruitless. Even the restriction of "only accept friend requests from people you know in real life" doesn't help: I meet 120 people each summer. I went on tour with Coolooloosh and Subliminal/the TACT Family. I go to conferences with hundreds or thousands of people in attendance. I live on the Upper West Side. I think I just met five new "friends" while writing this post drinking my coffee in my apartment. Keeping my magic number down is not an option. And I realize that's a blessing.

But the question remains. How much do those people really know me? And how finely tuned in to my status update are they? If I suddenly became the opposite of my public persona, on April 1, no less, would people realize it was a joke, or assume that because they read it online it must be true? Or would people think it was a technical error? Or am I just suffering from blazing egomania in even thinking that people stay tuned to as silly a mechanism as the status feed?

Facebook Fools' Day Experiment: Change "Relationship Status" from "Single" to "Engaged"

Duration: 18 hours: 12:30am-6:30pm April 1

Findings: 35 respondents=15 email messages, 20 wall posts in a 18-hour period. About 70% of responses understood that the status change was a joke. About 25% of responses wished me mazal tov and wanted to know who the lucky guy was or why they were first hearing about this now. And 5% were threatened marriage proposals. From guys who are already in relationships. (Just to give you an idea of what's out there.) Most of my regular posse of New Yorkers knew better than to even respond. Or maybe they're too busy.

Analysis/Conclusions: I was expecting a few people to fall for it, and for most to understand that it was a joke because it was April 1. That my expectations were met proves that people (even my non dinner party friends) actually know me a bit better than perhaps I might have thought. I did think that someone might think it was a technical glitch, like when the JDate site redesign reset all women's profiles to read "I do not plan on having any children."

It did teach me that with over a thousand friends, I can't stay in close contact with all of them, and as a consequence, so much of the public perception of me is based on the information I share online. That's a power I need to continue to wield responsibly and accurately.

Still, some people need to get out more.

I have to admit that being engaged for a day was pretty fun--I'd like to do it for real someday, maybe with someone else to share the joy with.

Other resources: today's Urban Dictionary definition.

Any great April Fool's jokes to share? If you fell for it, admit it here and feel all better. (UPDATED: Here's one I fell for. Those darned Googlers are so funny...)

Some Notes About Technospeak

Haven't had a good grammar/semantics rant in a while. So here are two things that have been bugging me, technoverbally speaking. And maybe it's me; maybe I'm just too picky in a way that renders me unfit for human interaction. But before I buy that deserted ranch in Montana to isolate myself from humanity, I thought I'd try venting here first.

As a blogger, I write posts in my blog. I do not say things like, "today, I wrote a blog about Madonna and Kabbalah." I do say things like," today, I wrote a blog post about how Seth Rogen should go on birthright." So, as I understand it, you can "blog," you can "write a blog post," but you cannot "write a blog." Unless you're writing a whole blog. But you cannot use it to mean "individual entry." That's a "post." Isn't it?

While I'm here venting about technospeak, allow me to address the concept of a "viral video." While most appropriately used to indicate a video that started small and become so popular that it's almost an epidemic (hence the medical viral image), some people have begun to use this to refer to any video that they themselves create. "I'm doing a viral video of my son singing the alphabet; it's so cute."  It may be cute. More likely, it's kind of boring to everyone outside the kid's immediate family. But one thing it is not is "viral."

Companies trying to be hip or programs trying to appeal to a youth demographic have begun to create short videos for upload to sites like YouTube, and proclaim them "viral videos." This is akin to me assembling some petri dishes in my apartment and cultivating substances from basic ingredients in my house and then proclaiming them "communicable germs." They might become communicable, or airborne, or viral or whatever, but they aren't currently in that state.

Plus, an insider's note to all of you who are proud of yourselves for using such an advanced term as "Web 2.0" or "social networking"...I know you must think you sound very 21st Century for using these terms that the rest of the world is just now beginning to adopt. You might think that you're so ahead of the game  that you are now tempted to move out to Silicon Valley to see if your familiarity with Facebook can translate into big bucks. But the sad truth is that by the time you and I are using those terms, they're frigates of technoverbiage that have already sailed; people in Silicon Valley don't use the term "Web 2.0" anymore, and "social networking" has become "social media." I know this, but only because I have "people."

So, in closing, please continue to "post to your blog," or "write blog posts," but not to "write blogs." Don't declare a video "viral" until you see it's been passed along to hundreds or thousands of others like the flu-bearing sneeze it aspires to be. And if you're going to use terms like "Web 2.0" and "social networking" to impress your less-tech-savvy friends, say it quietly: because any louder, and Silicon Valley is likely laughing at you and too much laughter on a faultline leads to earthquakes. Just saying.

Marking the Moments

Everyone seems to find a way to mark the moments that create impact in their lives. Whether it's a national holiday, a family celebration, or the publication of a magazine, it's something that means something to you inside, so you mark it. You send flowers, or a card. Or you give a gift certificate, if you're really not sure what to get for someone else. Or maybe you do little things for yourself--smaller indulgences, mani-pedi, shopping spree, frozen yogurt. Or perhaps, if you're low on cash and high on thoughts running laps around your brain, you might just mark it to yourself.

Today, October 3, is one of those days, an anniversary of an event that changed the course of my life. Some people have said that I should let the memory go, already, but that's only because they think my marking the date is a slide back into the bleak past, that I'm reliving the moment and dragging myself through the dirt for no reason. But I'm not. There's no dirt anymore. And there is a reason. The reason is as it is in any commemoration: to remember what was, where  you were, and where you are now in relation to that.

And where I am is, by any and all accounts, much better off. I've had opportunities to travel to cool places and meet great people, crossing paths with projects, programs, initiatives and technologies that have altered me, I believe for the better. And this coming year is even more full of travel, speaking engagements, publications and creative endeavors, as the circle of friends and creative companions expands.

Anniversaries are markers. Of course it doesn't matter, really, whether I commemorate the passing of time or not. Time passes with or without my purchase of a Hallmark card. But there's definitely something to assigning meaning to a date or location, even if it seems arbitrary to an outsider. Anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, all provide an opportunity to reflect, assess, and move forward into the future, fortified by experience and with the benefit of hindsight's clear vision.

You can do what you want. But I'll be marking my moments with meaning.

Enjoying the Larger Story in the Summer of Ted

Daily, there's this thing that lives with you, whether you invited it in or not. It's called tedium, and sometimes it goes by a nickname, like "Ted" or "lease renewal," or "blind dating." But whatever you call it, it's like a cloud, obfuscating all else, making things inexorably hazier and robbing you of your Precious, whether it is something as complicated as happiness or as simple a pleasure as clarity.

And believe me, this summer, though full of wonderful things, was also the summer of Ted. Everything good that emerged from the last three months has had its own process of painful, sleep-depriving birth--none of it coming with a lovely and dreamlike injection of painkillers and muscle relaxers. It's not like I labored and no one believes me. People know. People acknowledge. I hold magazines and newsletters in my hands, and have expanded my Rolodex and Facebook friends list. But I think--and this is a hard thing to admit--that the minimal sleep and intense creativity might be having an adverse effect, and my recovery time is not what it once was.

Which is why moments of Tedlessness, in which the fog doesn't so much lift dramatically as dissipate molecularly, in small, barely perceptible minutes, are so precious. These times provide reinvigoration, and spiritual renewal, or other new agey sounding patchouliness. It's why I'm glad that I've come to realize that the people and endeavors that inspire me, and who are present in my life aren't just there randomly--they and I both are part of a larger story.

Gone are the days of "we all met in college and have been friends ever since." Gone are the days of "we've been friends ever since we met at camp when we were twelve." Or, at least, those days are gone to me. These days, when I look at a person, I remember our story. I sift through perceived and actual memories of our meeting, our first encounter, which, more often than not, was through the internet, or through something that I'd written. A reader put us in touch, hoping it would provide more work. (It did, repeatedly.) A colleague put us in touch, thinking we'd get along. (We did, incredibly well.) An Israel program showed us the relativity of age and the importance of finding creative people to partner with. (And we did, intensely and with great success.) In one case, although it certainly gives me no pleasure or ad revenue to admit it, I might have even met one of the members of my creative posse through JDate.

I enjoy these larger stories because it makes me feel like life is less random, like there's definitely a karma-like aspect to putting out creativity and having it boomerang back at you in an incredibly inspiring and non-violent fashion. It creates within a cynical heart the possibility of redemption, and provides a chamber for the echoes of optimism that escape, pinging about a cavernous mind, and bouncing off its walls. It makes me believe, even if foolishly and naively, that we're more in control of what happens in our lives than we might ever estimate on a given day.

Which is why on those most normal of everyday days, it's important to see a larger picture, and enjoy the larger story. Especially if the day in question happens to be a day of Ted.

New Reality Show Idea: How to Solve "the Singles Crisis"

No really, just hear me out...it seems like everyone has an answer to this singles crisis thing (which all stems from the fact that Jews -- and let's face it, almost everyone else too -- are marrying and procreating later. So let's start an open application process. Apply with your idea, then we take seven winners and present them to Shmuley Boteach, who puts them through a series of challenges. The losers are dismissed with the show's tagline: "You have failed the Jewish people. But not as much as the single women in their 30s who 'chose' to stay single and could have had seven babies by now."

Too depressing? Maybe. But that's why you have the sympathetic, comforting presence of singles columnist Esther Kustanowitz to guide contestants through the process. And the top five receive guest posting gigs at JDaters Anonymous.

Crazy? Don't you call me crazy. Every morning I wake up and Bravo has a new reality show, including the latest one, "Flipping Out," which (until I saw a preview) I was pretty sure was about guys who go off to Israel to study for a year, come back home, and only eat Pas and Cholov Yisrael. So it's pretty possible.

Want to read about two more ideas for solving the singles crisis? Check out YU's latest endeavor and the Jewish Journal's suggestion, both as delivered by the JDaters Anonymous blogger.