Twas Brillig

When I was 15, I found myself back in Jerusalem. I knew I’d be going back. I’d prepared myself. Jerusalem held a huge chunk of my heart, but it also held my worst memories–the stuff that nightmares are made of. Real nightmares, not just dreams.

But I was strong. I could be okay. I could smell the spices and hear the prayers and see the towers out my window. I was strong. Everyone had already decided that I was, so I must have been.

One night, as I slept in my bed, an explosion went off nearby. I leapt out of the soft realm of sleep into the harsh world. One explosion. Then another. And then the sounds of shattering glass.

I knew these sounds already. But these were close, much too close.

But where were the alarms? Where was the air raid siren? And why was I the only one who seemed to be aware that we were under attack?

My heart was racing, my ears were throbbing to the point that I could no longer hear anything but my own pulse. It was all up to me. It was all on my frail shoulders. This building housed nearly 200 people but no one seemed to be hearing what I was hearing. That realization was terrifyingly lonely and too overwhelming. But they had to be saved, and apparently they had to be saved by me.

I ran to the living room but from there the fear or the responsibility or both paralized me. I just stood there shaking and gasping for air, for time, for clarity.

And then another explosion.

Except that there was lightning with it.

And with a wave of relief, as though someone were pouring warm water over me, I suddenly understood that there was no bomb, no fire, no shattered glass. Just thunder and lightning and hail hitting the windows. I giggled, I guess, because maybe it was funny. But the giggles quickly turned into sobs of despair as I collapsed into a pathetic heap on the floor. I had just learned something about myself, something too unbearable: I wasn’t over it yet. For all my preparation, all my rationalization, all my suppression, I just simply wasn’t over it yet!

How could I not be over it? It had been years by now. And I was so strong! I cried and cried and prayed for forgiveness for my weakness. I was so sorry–so incredibly sorry. I was letting everyone down. It was unacceptable to act like this. I wasn’t allowed to feel fear or despair, and here I was breaking all the rules. And I was so ashamed.

And I knew that I could never tell them that I wasn’t over it. It was hard enough admitting it to myself, and then to God. And besides, to them, there wasn’t ever really anything to get over. And it would be terribly, terribly inconvenient to them for me to suddenly let them know. They were all counting on me to be okay. And if I wasn’t, then they’d have to deal with me, and what did they know about that?

So I resolved never to let them know. They would never know about the fool I’d made of myself that night in the living room. I would go on acting as though it had all just been an interesting history lesson. Emotionless, for emotion was weakness. And by now, I was so good at the role I had cast myself in and I had the whole script memorized. It wasn’t going to be so hard.

And so I willed my pulse to stop racing and the tears to stop falling. I pulled myself up off the floor and walked slowly and deliberately back to my bed, back to being strong.

I had been awakened to my own frailty that night. But when daylight arrived, they would never know the difference.

(Yeah, right. As if anyone could humble me now!)

Just as soon as I pushed “publish” on my last post, I discovered that Jenny at Absolutely Bananas has also awarded me today. In her case, though, it wasn’t actually because she knows anything about me (perhaps she would have held off if she did…) but rather because I answered a trivia question correctly on her site. (See, gentle readers? You never know when my head full of useless facts is going to win me an award…)

So now I have a SILVER to go with my GOLD. And yes, they will BOTH be proudly displayed in my sidebar, because heaven knows I’m not likely to receive any other awards any time soon!

Wow. Uh… not sure what to say. As I do everyday, though I’m getting around to it a bit later than normal today due to fabulous shopping trip which will undoubtedly get a whole post of its own somewhere in here, I was scrolling through all my favorite blogs, one of which is Am I going mad… or am I just a mommy (with a name like that, shouldn’t it be on everyone’s favorite list?). And lo and behold, MoodSwingingMommy had nominated me for:

And if that wasn’t enough, look at what she said:

Brillig seems to have lived all over the globe, and recounts her experiences with a great sense of wit and passion for life.

Could I be ANY more flattered? Seriously. How very kind.

And now the torch has been passed on to me. Here are the instructions:
1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think.
>2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of this award.

3. Optional: Proudly display the “Thinking Blogger Award” (and for all of you whiners and perfectionistic types, here is an alternative silver version if gold doesn’t fit your blog. Snob.)

The hard part for me is going to be deciding upon just 5. See, all of those blogs there in my sidebar are there because I love them. And I love them because they make me think. (Cuz if they made me stupider, I probably wouldnt love them, now would I?) But because I’m so obnoxious in my obedience, I will try to follow the rules. And so here they are, in random order…

1. Butrfly Garden. Butrfly is a smart and sassy woman with a great big heart. Her sidebar is full of links to charities and other worthwhile organizations and every Tuesday she issues us a “green challenge” to encourage us all to protect our precious planet. She seems to really believe that one person can make a difference and she’s determined to be that person.

2. Walking Kateastrophe. Kate is a funny girl who comes across as very poised, but is apparently a big ol’ clutz. She keeps a ticker on her blog telling you how many days it’s been since her last “Kateastrophe”–always hilarious. But there’s often more depth here than first meets the eye– she’ll have you in stitches one minute and in tears the next.

3. The View From Here. Gunfighter of The View From Here is extremely eloquent. He has a lot to say about race, fatherhood, kindness, and society in general. And, well, he just makes sense. I know he’s gotten this nom before, but he definitely deserves it again. He’s a daily “MUST READ.”

4. Melissavina. Melissavina is the kind of girl you just wanna hang out with. She makes me laugh, but she also causes me to pause and evaluate the world around me. She has a way of saying things that makes you wish you’d come up with them, because they’re so stinking clever!

5. Because I Must Blog. Worker Mommy, as she calls herself, is a delightful mother of 3-year-old twins and step-mother of two teens and she always has hilarious stories to tell. But she’s also clever and insightful, and she asserts that she’s “preserving her sanity one post at a time.” She’s relatively new and, from what I can see, relatively unknown. But I think she’s one of the best kept secrets on the internet! You’re missing out if you’re not checking in with her every day.

All right, now. Ready, set, GO! Go read these awesome blogs! Increase your circle of friends! You never know who you’ll meet, who might teach you something, and who will make your life a better place.

By the way, some of my dearest e-friends weren’t nominated here, and it’s kinda making me sad, because they’re awesome too… so once you’ve exhausted my 5 nominations here, go check out the rest of the bloglist in the sidebar. You’ll be so glad you did!

Hubby sent me this in an email a few days ago:

Why did you get married? I got married for love…. Others marry for more practical reasons:

And so I thought to myself, self, why did you get married. And I found the answer on Dancing Through yesterday.

How many people have your same name? These were my results with my maiden name.

HowManyOfMe.com

There are 1,069 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

YIKES!!!

But THESE are my results with my married name:

HowManyOfMe.com

There are 5 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

See? Before I met him, I was one of well-over-a-thousand. And then, I married him and now I’m only one in five! How cool is that?

(And somewhere in here, I need to take issue with my parents who, despite our painfully boring last name, gave us all painfully boring FIRST names. Mine wasn’t even the worst! Two of my sisters have well over 2000 and another is more than 4000. And one of my brothers has almost FIVE THOUSAND!!! Seriously, Mom. Dad. A LITTLE ingenuity when it comes to naming your offspring goes a LONG WAY.)

Anyway, I KNEW there was a reason I married him.

Though, in all fairness, perhaps it also has something to do with the fact that he looks like this (though, typically WITHOUT the bright red nose) :

Woah. Get away from the computer. SERIOUSLY. Stop licking the computer! He’s taken, ladies!!

And perhaps, just perhaps it has something to do with the fact that he’s the kindest, sweetest, most responsible, most attentive, most amazing man in the whole wide world…

And perhaps it’s because I’m so insanely in love with him.

Fine! Before you puke, I’ll save the rest for some future Soap Opera Sunday. But just let it be known, that apparently I had a few good reasons.

There used to be a different post here. It was a post about my indignation at some of the horrendously inappropriate responses to today’s tragedy at Virginia Tech. I think that perhaps my indignation at those responses led me to… well… respond inappropriately. So, while I stand by what I said in my original post here, I’m removing it for now and tucking it away somewhere safe for future–and more appropriate–times. This wasn’t the moment to bring some of that stuff up.

For tonight, let us mourn with those who mourn and comfort those who stand in need of comfort.

I’m keeping the comments from those of you who already commented here, because what you had to say was absolutely appropriate. Thanks. I have the greatest e-friends.

This blog will come to a screeching halt today. I have nothing funny to say and I can’t find it in my soul to be insightful. I’m horrified by the news and I pray for the victims and their families. Thanks to Jessabean for letting me know. In this bubble I’ve created for myself, who knows how long it would have taken for me to hear.

Welcome, all, to our first ever installment of Soap Opera Sunday!!! Someday, I think I’ll understand what it is about the internet that makes us want to take our embarrassments and proclaim them to the world…

Today’s soap opera comes directly from a letter written to Matt–yes, the same aforementioned Matt from my last post. (Matt was the recipient of lots of soap opera-y stories from me, poor thing. But before you feel TOO bad for him, please realize that HIS life was the biggest soap opera known to mankind. And WHO does you suppose sat patiently and listened as he figured out girls, boys, girls AND boys, and finally, just boys? That’s right. ME.)

A little background. I was a ridiculously boy-obsessed 19 year old girl and I was in middle-of-no-where-Argentina–something that had happened quite suddenly. There was a lot of chaos upon my sudden departure from the US and I left a wake of confused (and perhaps indignant) loved ones behind–including a boyfriend that I was “supposed to marry”. But eternally boy crazy, my first serious matter of business was to find a group of guys to flirt with and have adore me. And there were plenty who adored me, poor saps, but I rarely adored back. Until the day I met Cristian…

(And now we join our letter to Matt, already in progress.)

I was in my institute class when HE walked in. I couldn’t help but just stare at him, and he stared right back. When the class ended, everyone headed to the bus stop and I walked with them all, even though from there I just usually walked home rather take a bus. When Cristian realized that I wasn’t gonna take a bus, he announced that he’d walk me home. Cute, right? And, by the way, it’s a flippin’ long walk! But I have no where else to be, and I enjoy the solitude of a nice long walk. And on that day, I didn’t mind the company of a nice long walk. Haha.

Needless to say, the boy is gorgeous. But it wasn’t just his look. He has actual personality. He’s funny and flirty and charming, and he doesn’t come across as so totally innocent and naive, like everyone else I’ve met here. And I find his lack of naivete incedibly attractive. And, by the way, there was no question in my mind that he was totally into me too.

I ran into him again at a seminar a few days later. This seminar was apparently a huge deal–it seemed like everyone in Mendoza was there. My parents were the speakers, of course, so rather than sit by myself, I looked for someone to sit with. I saw Cristian with an open seat next to him and asked if I could sit down. “Sorry,” he said, with total ice in his voice. “It’s taken.” Weird. So I went, and sat down by myself. Hundreds of people in this room were there to adore my parents, and I was sitting by myself. And sure enough, the seat next to Cristian was occupied soon… by an incredibly beautiful girl.

So the next day, I decided to audition for the prestigious (okay, prestigious for these parts) Coro Del Instituto choir. And, fine. I admit that I knew that Cristian was in this choir, but I promise that it wasn’t my only reason for auditioning. I also knew that I would simply DIE if I didn’t make it in. The audition was public–held in front of the whole choir and staff. Yikes! But mercy smiled upon me and I think it was probably the best audition I’ve ever had and I landed the seat of Lead Alto with flying colors. Phew!

Anyway, Cristian looked amazing, as usual, and I caught him staring at me and smiling my way for seriously the whole 2 hour rehearsal. Apparently he hadn’t forgotten about my existence. However, the chica from the other night was there too (a soprano of course. Gag.) and she was, shall we say, less than fond of me. In fact, ALL the girls here seem to hate me. But she seems to outdo the rest in their blatant hatred. Wow. Aren’t I gonna have a blast in this choir! Well, choir practice ended, and everyone was just hanging out, but i watched Cristian and chica slip out. Hmmmm. Naturally, I followed. It didn’t seem weird, or anything, because they were walking the direction that we all had to walk to get home or to the bus stop. The path goes right through the Plaza de Indepedencia, which is not only a pretty park, but a notorious make out spot. Shoulda tipped me off. But no. I was still determined that he was into ME. As I was walking, a few of the guys from the choir came up behind me and walked with me. And sure enough, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cristian and chica gazing “meaningfully” at each other and then… yeah… making out.

I was totally crushed, but couldn’t let on because of the guys I was walking with. But I took the bus home, for once, because all I wanted to do was get home fast so I could bury my face in a pillow and sob for about an hour.

*sniff* Doesn’t it make you wanna bawl, gentle readers? (And by “bawl” I of course mean PUKE.) Sigh. I suppose it just wasn’t meant to be. Hahaha. Anyway, this story had to be told first because, while it’s not the soapiest of my operas, it lays the groundwork for some very soapy ones indeed. So stay tuned for next week’s episode! And with that, I bid you all farewell.

Special announcement, gentle readers!

As I’ve been going through all these boxes of old junk for the last few days (years? It so feels like years) I discovered boxes of old photos and piles and piles of old love letters. So.Stinking.Embarrassing. And because I wouldn’t want to waste such treasures, we here at ‘Twas Brillig (okay, there’s no “we” here. It’s just me) have decided to implement Flashback Friday (featuring stories with pictures) and Soap Opera Sunday featuring true and hilarious stories from all the boy drama of my high school and college years. And, oh goodness, there’s a LOT of material there. I chose Sunday, even though I know that actually most of my blogger friends do their blogging while at work and therefore aren’t around much on Sundays, but Sundays are slower days for me around here AND it will give you all something to snicker at (hopefully!) when you tune in on Monday mornings.

And so, let the Friday Flashback begin.

Once upon a time I was in college and my bestest friend was my dear Matt. Matt adored me. He thought I was so beautiful (he’s gay…) and he loved to dress me up and show me off. We had been friends almost our whole lives, minus a couple of awkward years in high school. But when college came, we couldn’t bear to be parted for more than a few hours at a time. Hahaha.

Matt also had some strange power over me. He would come up with these absolutely ridiculous plans and somehow I would always go along with them.

Which brings us to today’s Friday Flashback.

One night, in the middle of the night, Matt came to my dorm to get me. I was in my pajamas, and could I please change first? No. There was no time for that. Sigh. So I threw on some flip-flops and followed him out the door.

He had a very important mission for us, but he would explain it when we got there.

And, where was “there”? Our local grocery store. And the mission? To buy crackers and cheez whiz, sit down at the handy table right there in the grocery store, and invite strangers to come and join us for cheese and crackers and get their pictures taken with us.

Look at me. Don’t I look like a nice girl? NOT like the kind of girl that would be sitting in the grocery store in her pajamas, inviting strangers to come and eat cheez whiz with me? Do you see the pain etched on my face? The pain screaming out to you, begging you to find a way to make the crazy gay man let me go back to my dorm and go to bed?

But really. The craziest part about this whole thing is that people actually sat down to eat cheez whiz and get their pictures taken with us!!!!

Here’s to you, Matt, and all the crazy things you made me do. Matt-stories are bound to become a regular here on Flashback Fridays.
***********
Oh, and one more bit of news. I was apparently nominated for:

If you like what you see here, like, at all, then click on the logo to vote for me! Yeah, we all know I’m not gonna win the thing, but it sure would be fun not to come in last place!

Could it really be as simple as this?

I lived in Israel/Palestine/the Holy Land–whatever the heck you wanna call it–twice, both times for a significant period of time. I saw more hate, more anger, more terror… Oh, I can’t even begin to describe it. Suffice it to say that I lived right in the middle of two groups of people who hate each other and, as far as I can predict, will never, ever find any sort of reconciliation.

And the first time I lived there, it was in 1991, during the great Cola Wars. You know, Coke vs. Pepsi.

Nowadays, I’m in the middle of “moving” which means that I’m going through millions of old boxes and finding old things I’d entirely forgotten about. Last night I stumbled across these soda cans. The red one is a Coke, in Hebrew. The other is a Pepsi, in Arabic. And this was back in the day where once a cola company got their foot in the door, they had the cola monopoly in that country. But Israel/Palestine/the Holy Land was a very complicated place because it wasn’t really a “country” to many and to others it was virtually TWO countries, so the cola wars had an interesting task on their hands. In the end, in one half of Jerusalem (the Jewish half) you could buy Coke, and in the other half (the Palestinian half) you could buy Pepsi. And often, it seemed like the side you were “rooting” for (as though all these people’s lives were some kind of trivial sport’s event) was the side who sold your cola of choice.

Pepsi and Coke seem to have made up somewhere along the way, since you can now buy either product in either section of Jerusalem. Maybe the cola wars really will change the world– one caffeinated, kidney-shriveling sip at a time.

I wasn’t going to do this until tomorrow, but seeing as how I am holding a VERY WIDE AWAKE baby right this moment, I guess I might as well take advantage of the time, right?

So, I was “tagged” by Life As I Know It for this lovely Meme. And so, without further ado…

Three Things That Scare Me:
1.The dark
2.when it’s too quiet
3.This.

Three People Who Make Me Laugh:
1. That gorgeous guy I married
2. Those crazy kids he gave me
3. Basically that whole bloglist in my sidebar there which, granted, needs to be updated but is still full of real gems.

Three Things I Love:
1. Blogging–reading my old standby’s and gathering new friends
2. The recent sunshine
3. Chocolate. WAIT!!! I MEAN CARROTS!!! I PROMISE!

Three Things I Hate:
1. hospitals
2. wars
3. idiot presidents who get us into wars that we have no business being in

Three Things I Don’t Understand:
1.unkindness
2.how hubby can eat three times as much as I do, and it can all be deep fried, and I’m the one who gains weight.
3.How my baby’s nose is so tiny, but can produce infinite amounts of mucous.

Three Things On My Desk:
1. my digital camera
2. A copy of The Book of Mormon
3. dinner (i.e A Tomato)

Three Things I’m Doing Right Now:
1. Holding Lil’ Dude
2. shivering because it’s frickin’ cold in this office
3. typing one-handed

Three Things I Want To Do Before I Die:
1. Run a marathon
2. Take my children all over the world, the way my parents took me all over the world
3. Write the Great American Novel

Three Things I Can Do:
1. Speak four languages (English, Spanish, German, Italian)
2. Become pregnant just by looking at Hubby for too long (no, that’s not an announcement, just commentary on my fertility in general)
3. Write up-side-down flawlessly. It’s a gift. Jealous?

Three Things I Can’t Do:
1. Eat red meat (I’m missing the enzyme to digest it)
2. Vote for a Republican
3. get the stupid “word verification” thingies right on the first try

Three Things I Think You Should Listen To:
1. your mom
2. your kids
3. your sweetheart

Three Things You Should Never Listen To:
1. Rush Limbaugh
2. That little voice inside your head that says you’re not good enough
3. Most of the music that my husband listens to

Three Things I’d Like To Learn:
1. At least three more languages (French, Russian, Chinese)
2. How to make millions of dollars without lifting a finger
3. To develop an efficient, abundant, affordable, and eco-friendly fuel source

Three Favorite Foods:
1. cheese
2. baked potato
3. avacado

Three Shows I Watched as a Kid:
1.Silver Spoons
2.Who’s the Boss
3.Growing Pains

Three Things I Regret:
1. Not changing Lil’ Dude’s diaper before he made us both icky just now
2. Not getting into the blogging world sooner–it’s good for my soul, somehow. I wish I’d been doing this for years.
3. Not exercising during all those pregnancies, because it is making this whole weightloss thing very tricky.

Three People I’m Tagging
1. My Sister Laduwa, not because I think she’ll actually do it, but because she’s brand spankin’ new at this bloggin’ thing and it may just be the jump-start she needs.
2. My dear friend Kateastrophe because I know she will do it, and because pretty much everything she writes is awesome.
3. Anyone who joined my blog circle recently who hasn’t done this Meme–it’s a great way for me to get to know you better! Leave a comment here with a link to your blog so that we can all find you!

And with that, dear ones, I bid you all goodnight. I hope. Lil’ Dude’s still awake. Doesn’t he know it’s 2:30 a.m.? Doesn’t he know that Bubba will be up in about four hours, jumping on my bed, reciting his long list of urgent needs to me? Sigh. Oh well. A girl can dream, right?