Pass Over
<<2003-04-16 - 7:38 p.m.>>

Talking to Claire last night, even as briefly as I did, made me realize that I'd been being honest-to-God irrational. Like, seriously. Crazy irrational. Irrational like whoa. Even the part of me that I thought was being rational was being irrational. That's the tricky part. I think I'm having a dialogue with myself, rational versus irrational, and I'm not. I'm actually just yammering hysterically away in my head. No rational voice in sight.

After the Sonia Sanchez reading, I sat around with Tim and drank tea. Then Kara came, and we laughed and walked on the benches and the counters, and things are, fundamentally, fine.

You see?

Except I missed my father's birthday.

Except I ran into my advisor on the way to class today and she was all "We should talk," and I was all, "I've had an eventful semester," and she responded with "So I've heard," and how much am I not looking forward to telling this story all over again? Unbearable thought. Perish it.

Except it is darkening into Passover, which is my favorite holiday and which I don't really plan to celebrate in any coherent way.

I remember when I discovered Pesach. Crying surreptitiously at the seder as someone read from the haggadah about devoting ourselves to the suffering of all oppressed peoples.

So, proactively, I called home. Just got off the phone. Love those entries with time gaps. Call went fine—except my father's only living sister-in-law has a rather advanced cancer. When she dies, he will be the only living member of his generation in his family. This on his sixty-eighth birthday.

A colleague of my father's asked if they were having a seder, and he said "The rabbi's gone to Portland."

Another drop in the religion-confusion bucket.

I can't decide if I'd rather go to the Chaverim second-night seder or to see "The Mirror" with Eddie tomorrow night, and I can't decide what my indecision means.

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