marching on

 When failing to sleep, as per usual this week, I realized that the only way I will write is if I write. I know. A strange concept. Writing has become different in my life. I have become different in the last year or so. And writing isn’t the necessity it used to be. Maybe its not that i have changed but that everything else changed. I used to call this place my therapist. A conjoined group of strangers that would listen and voice their opinions. Maybe this group isn’t what it used to be. Maybe I dont need to depend on a group. 

Either way. I need to fix this. I need to write. Because. If anything, the 10 year old Elina would have slapped the 27 year old for not having the time to write about the amazingly awesome things that are happening. One doesn’t need to be sad and emo to express emotions and stories.

So here are some stories. 

I just spent the evening at Kyle’s new house. Yes he is my professor. And this is the thing that is okay to do around here in such small programs. It was a small get together where everyone talked about neuroscience or sports or frogs. Kyle and his wife built this new house over what used to be just the woods. "Your place looks like something out of a science fiction movie!" They had a tree weaving through their living room. Solar panels. And even an electrical car in the garage that was charging its power. Yeah. And I went in with my brave social armor. And yeah, there was an awkward moment here or there, but it’s not the end of the world. I asked questions, I nodded and smiled. Heck, I even made some people laugh. But I did have the most uncomfortable moment in the kitchen with Thalia, whom I hadnt seen in weeks. She is probably the only "friend" I have here and it saddened me that now we dont have classes and crazy busy schedules and we dont see each other. But it makes sense she was on vacation. Which brings me to what I was talking to her about in the kitchen. I casually asked why her sister was living at her parent’s house, since her sister is a Vermont hippy and not one to go back to the parent’s nest. "My mom is sick" Thalia said with laughter but tears in her eyes. "Oh I hope she will be ok" and then Thalia really laughed and said "no, she’s dying." I had no idea how to react because this is fucking huge. And she was laughing. And was she wanting me to smile? I stared back in seriousness. But before I could ask how she was doing and that I was here for her, she ran back to the socializing outside. "Everyone grieves in their own way" my mom told me when I related the story to her. Yes. Yes, I know. And all I could do is offer my support and give her space. 

Picking out a wedding venue is one of the toughest things I have ever had to do. I want to be a hippy girl that I am deep inside and get married in a beautiful green hilly valley with flowers in my hair and summer breezes flowing through my hair. My mom on the other hand believes that nature is for other events; not meant for weddings. Weddings are meant to be elegant and sophisticated. And how do I combine these two things? Natasha told me to figure out what I want and that it will be easy after that. On the contrary…all my wants are impossibles. Everything is expensive. And I cant have the catering that I want with the venue that I want. I want Russian catering. Eloping would be so easy. And then there is also the whole ordeal with how Brian has 30+ friends and I have 10. I could invite more people, but 1-I dont want to pay for them 2-I think a wedding is super private event. Discussion about how I think Brian should cut down his friends list are the least fun. And then there is whole Jewish thing. No rabbi will marry us. The rabbi who knows me from when I was little may remember me and wants to meet with me, but will not marry us because Brian is not Jewish. I feel so rejected. And scared. Am i making a fucking huge mistake? He has been so accepting of my Jewish culture, rituals, etc. He agrees to raise our family Jewish. But when it comes to Christmas or Easter, we have arguments. Because Im inflexible. If I want my kids to think of themselves as Jewish, I can’t have them color and looking for eggs. For Brian, the atheist, all religions are just rituals and he has no real attachment to them except that he did some as a kid. But Judaism means so much to me. I am completely inflexible about it. I was born Jewish, I will raise my kids Jewish, I will die Jewish. And then there is whole "Elina, your guests at the wedding will half be goys and you plan on having jewish wedding?" Yes, yes i am. And I know it wont mean much to the "goys" as much as it will to me. But how much do the Jews in my family know about Jewish customs? How much do they know? oh god, I could write pages and pages about all the arguments I have been having in my head about all this jewish and "goy" stuff. I feel the need to talk to someone. Im scared and excited to meet with the rabbi in a couple weeks. Maybe I should write out all my thoughts so I know what to ask/talk about. In the end, I think about how Brian is kind and caring, and wants to do good deeds in this world…and isn’t that what matters? Not what religion may have brought him to be the good person that he is? Right?

I should get to sleep. I have to wake up early tomorrow. 

But one more thing. Our parents met. We survived. It went well, even. They’re both good people. Theresa talked too much and my dad talked too much but in broken English that even I had trouble understanding him. But it all worked out because they loved my dad’s cooking. Maybe I should write this out more in detail too. 

Brian would be so proud of me for writing something. He has been on my case for writing. Did I mention how much I love him? I hope I never forget how much I love him and how he is good for me. I think one of the best signals that you’re in a good relationship is when your partner pushes you to be a better person. We both push and push and push. Sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesnt. But for all that we lack in ourselves, we want the other to be even better.