And now I have to sing
It would have been better off if I'd never gone to Reston, VA/Baltimore, MD in the first place and just made last minute Shabbat plans in Highland Park.
Instead, Kendra texted me the news about Laura's death a half hour before we were supposed to leave for the swing dancing conference in Virginia. We wound up leaving two hours later than planned, but it didn't help. Ari was so excited for the swing dancing and I couldn't even make conversation in the car I was in such a low place. He really tried to be understanding and I really tried to compartmentalize and have a good time when we finally arrived at dancing, but it just wasn't working.
The truth is, I think I hate swing dancing conferences even if I didn't have the cloud of tragic news hanging over my head. I thought I had a terrible time at Liberty because I was PMS-ing badly, but the more I think about it, I think I just hate these events. I like swing dancing socials in small settings where I didn't spend hundreds of dollars to go and where its low-key enough for me to improve my dance skills. These conferences with a zillion pros mostly just make me feel bad about myself and annoyed that I spent so much money in order to feel that low. Ari finds them inspiring. I find them depressing.
The music selection Thursday night was good, but it was still the worst dancing I'd ever done. Ari, Jenny, and I split a hotel room. We stopped dancing at 3 am. Ari put his arms around me, settling into cuddle-sleep mode and I just started sobbing. I was so alive. Ari was so alive. It didn't seem fair. I don't remember what time I finally fell asleep, but it was pretty dreadful sleep. Neither Jenny nor I remembered to turn off our cell phone alarms before going to bed and no one remember to put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door so we all woke up multiple times.
Shabbat in Baltimore had its good moments, but it was still difficult. We got there way later than anticipated due to leaving late and getting stuck in traffic. I'd had intentions of going grocery shopping and preparing an elaborate dish for the lunch meal, but I had no time to make anything other than frozen broccoli sauteed with olive oil and garlic. It came out okay though. Friday night services were very spirited, which was pleasant. This Baltimore community is quite religious. Our crew snagged seats quickly before the organizers could split up the guys and girls.
The Dvar Torah Friday night was given by a guy who miraculously survived a horrific car accident. It happened right before Yom Kippur and he was a spiritual guy who credited his survival and recovery to the community of people praying and doing mitzvot on his behalf and he used the story to drive home the message about doing mitzvot as a community. I'm not opposed to the message and I am genuinely glad that he survived. But it wasn't the Dvar Torah I needed to hear that night. I started crying at the table, humiliating myself and becoming the target of well-intentioned, but extremely uncomforting sentiments.
I feel bizarrely guilty about being this upset in the first place. Like everyone kept asking if we'd been close friends and the answer is no. We were friendly, I knew her, we were in RJs together, but I hadn't been in touch in years and my day-to-day life isn't going to be impacted. Lack of proximity doesn't make Laura's death less sad for me though. I started lying and implying that we'd been closer friends than we really were because people were looking at me like I was a freak for being so upset.
Shabbat morning services were pleasant. Fallon's roommate took me to a conservative minyan that met at an old age home, which I thought was sweet because seniors love attending religious services and it's difficult for them to do so. It was also nice to be in a congregation that wasn't obsessed with attracting young people. I am a young person and I find the amount of attention devoted to the young people irritating, More about that in another post.
The afternoon was nice. Meal was pretty good and Valerie stopped by. Post Shabbat, I just felt exhausted, spiritually, emotionally, and physically. I didn't have it in me to go back to Reston Saturday night for more dancing. Ari was disappointed, but understood. I told Ari the others could bill me whatever for the hotel room and the dance ticket, which really meant "I'm having a difficult weekend and it would be nice if you covered some of my costs because I've been too miserable to enjoy any of it" but Ari is a man and I have to say exactly what I mean, so I will still wind up having to pay like a hundred bucks anyway. Whatever. Money is replaceable. I made arrangements to get a ride back to Highland Park with Brian, who was stopping at a party first.
The party was sort of fun and mostly depressing. It was a party of Ph.D. candidates and med students talking about academia and research. They were all terrifically talented outside their fields too. I was being social on the outside, but inside, I was comparing myself to them and sinking into a deep pit of self-loathing. We left the party about an hour and a half later than I would have liked.
The only good part of Saturday night was the drive back. Brian is an amazing listener. (To be fair, Ari is also a good listener when he isn’t hyped up about a swing dance event. In that instance, Ari is like a puppy. You cannot pour your heart out to a puppy because the puppy is bouncing up and down) Brian and I talked about everything. Our faith and religious struggles, our academic struggles, etc. I offered to switch and drive some of the trip, but wound up dozing off. We got back at 2:30 AM.
Now, after this mess of a weekend, I have to sing. My choir is performing at the interfaith Thanksgiving service. My parents and sister are coming to the concert and want to go out for dinner with Ari and me afterwards. Not feeling it…
UPDATE
The Thanksgiving service was really nice. I love the pastors who organize it. They are so unshy about offering random blessings for everything and everyone. Jews are so cautious about this, but the pastors were just blessing so freely, you couldn’t not feel uplifted.
We sang well. I like our overall repertoire this year better than last year, but I liked our song selection for this particular event better last year. Last year, the directors really thought about which pieces would express a message of giving thanks in an interfaith way. This year, they selected really Jew-centric pieces which featured solos for themselves and one humorous piece about food. Ari and I both thought we performed better this year than last year, but Dad and I both agreed we liked the pieces from last year better. I missed so many rehearsals due to midterms so I kept screwing up and singing the Soprano 1 part, but no one really noticed, so that was good.
My uplifted mood didn’t last due to obnoxious fellow choir members and my annoying family. It was nice seeing them I suppose, and Stephanie was in a good mood, which is infinitely better than Stephanie being in a pissy mood. But they were planning a super-materialistic Thanksgiving and I just couldn’t deal. I even told them why I was feeling down and it still didn’t change the mood. Mom and Stephanie just couldn’t get over the fact that I forgot to tell them I was going down to Reston/Baltimore for the weekend in the first place.
Instead, Kendra texted me the news about Laura's death a half hour before we were supposed to leave for the swing dancing conference in Virginia. We wound up leaving two hours later than planned, but it didn't help. Ari was so excited for the swing dancing and I couldn't even make conversation in the car I was in such a low place. He really tried to be understanding and I really tried to compartmentalize and have a good time when we finally arrived at dancing, but it just wasn't working.
The truth is, I think I hate swing dancing conferences even if I didn't have the cloud of tragic news hanging over my head. I thought I had a terrible time at Liberty because I was PMS-ing badly, but the more I think about it, I think I just hate these events. I like swing dancing socials in small settings where I didn't spend hundreds of dollars to go and where its low-key enough for me to improve my dance skills. These conferences with a zillion pros mostly just make me feel bad about myself and annoyed that I spent so much money in order to feel that low. Ari finds them inspiring. I find them depressing.
The music selection Thursday night was good, but it was still the worst dancing I'd ever done. Ari, Jenny, and I split a hotel room. We stopped dancing at 3 am. Ari put his arms around me, settling into cuddle-sleep mode and I just started sobbing. I was so alive. Ari was so alive. It didn't seem fair. I don't remember what time I finally fell asleep, but it was pretty dreadful sleep. Neither Jenny nor I remembered to turn off our cell phone alarms before going to bed and no one remember to put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door so we all woke up multiple times.
Shabbat in Baltimore had its good moments, but it was still difficult. We got there way later than anticipated due to leaving late and getting stuck in traffic. I'd had intentions of going grocery shopping and preparing an elaborate dish for the lunch meal, but I had no time to make anything other than frozen broccoli sauteed with olive oil and garlic. It came out okay though. Friday night services were very spirited, which was pleasant. This Baltimore community is quite religious. Our crew snagged seats quickly before the organizers could split up the guys and girls.
The Dvar Torah Friday night was given by a guy who miraculously survived a horrific car accident. It happened right before Yom Kippur and he was a spiritual guy who credited his survival and recovery to the community of people praying and doing mitzvot on his behalf and he used the story to drive home the message about doing mitzvot as a community. I'm not opposed to the message and I am genuinely glad that he survived. But it wasn't the Dvar Torah I needed to hear that night. I started crying at the table, humiliating myself and becoming the target of well-intentioned, but extremely uncomforting sentiments.
I feel bizarrely guilty about being this upset in the first place. Like everyone kept asking if we'd been close friends and the answer is no. We were friendly, I knew her, we were in RJs together, but I hadn't been in touch in years and my day-to-day life isn't going to be impacted. Lack of proximity doesn't make Laura's death less sad for me though. I started lying and implying that we'd been closer friends than we really were because people were looking at me like I was a freak for being so upset.
Shabbat morning services were pleasant. Fallon's roommate took me to a conservative minyan that met at an old age home, which I thought was sweet because seniors love attending religious services and it's difficult for them to do so. It was also nice to be in a congregation that wasn't obsessed with attracting young people. I am a young person and I find the amount of attention devoted to the young people irritating, More about that in another post.
The afternoon was nice. Meal was pretty good and Valerie stopped by. Post Shabbat, I just felt exhausted, spiritually, emotionally, and physically. I didn't have it in me to go back to Reston Saturday night for more dancing. Ari was disappointed, but understood. I told Ari the others could bill me whatever for the hotel room and the dance ticket, which really meant "I'm having a difficult weekend and it would be nice if you covered some of my costs because I've been too miserable to enjoy any of it" but Ari is a man and I have to say exactly what I mean, so I will still wind up having to pay like a hundred bucks anyway. Whatever. Money is replaceable. I made arrangements to get a ride back to Highland Park with Brian, who was stopping at a party first.
The party was sort of fun and mostly depressing. It was a party of Ph.D. candidates and med students talking about academia and research. They were all terrifically talented outside their fields too. I was being social on the outside, but inside, I was comparing myself to them and sinking into a deep pit of self-loathing. We left the party about an hour and a half later than I would have liked.
The only good part of Saturday night was the drive back. Brian is an amazing listener. (To be fair, Ari is also a good listener when he isn’t hyped up about a swing dance event. In that instance, Ari is like a puppy. You cannot pour your heart out to a puppy because the puppy is bouncing up and down) Brian and I talked about everything. Our faith and religious struggles, our academic struggles, etc. I offered to switch and drive some of the trip, but wound up dozing off. We got back at 2:30 AM.
Now, after this mess of a weekend, I have to sing. My choir is performing at the interfaith Thanksgiving service. My parents and sister are coming to the concert and want to go out for dinner with Ari and me afterwards. Not feeling it…
UPDATE
The Thanksgiving service was really nice. I love the pastors who organize it. They are so unshy about offering random blessings for everything and everyone. Jews are so cautious about this, but the pastors were just blessing so freely, you couldn’t not feel uplifted.
We sang well. I like our overall repertoire this year better than last year, but I liked our song selection for this particular event better last year. Last year, the directors really thought about which pieces would express a message of giving thanks in an interfaith way. This year, they selected really Jew-centric pieces which featured solos for themselves and one humorous piece about food. Ari and I both thought we performed better this year than last year, but Dad and I both agreed we liked the pieces from last year better. I missed so many rehearsals due to midterms so I kept screwing up and singing the Soprano 1 part, but no one really noticed, so that was good.
My uplifted mood didn’t last due to obnoxious fellow choir members and my annoying family. It was nice seeing them I suppose, and Stephanie was in a good mood, which is infinitely better than Stephanie being in a pissy mood. But they were planning a super-materialistic Thanksgiving and I just couldn’t deal. I even told them why I was feeling down and it still didn’t change the mood. Mom and Stephanie just couldn’t get over the fact that I forgot to tell them I was going down to Reston/Baltimore for the weekend in the first place.