Where I am when it is Now
Okay. Random thoughts and feeling happier than I have in some time.
Some background into my life, for the one lone reader who may stumble across this page:
I am doing my last pre-requisite classes before graduate school; going back for psychology with an emphasis in art therapy. My undergrad was in creative writing. That just led to a crappy high-tech PR job for 3 years.
Today, after a long lecture on the current version of the DSM, I started to wonder whether all this new biopsych research coming out will totally disband creative therapies. I mean, I'm no new-agey type. Windchimes freak me out. But are we moving so fast towards science that we're forgetting how important art, writing, all that stuff, is? Creativity is self-forgiveness, is the unconscious, is so lovely. Drugs are fine. Science is cool. But it's all too generalized, too quickly prescribed. And a biopsych perspective alone can lend to the scary notion that we're powerless to ourselves -- our brains just leading us along a bumpy road of emotion via random synapses firing.
Like we're all our own brain-in-a-vat theory.
I mean, yes, that's exactly what's happening, sort of. But we're still active in our choices. We're still the ones scarfing down McDonalds on our way to work and wondering why we're all depressed. You know?
Anyway. There's grad school on the horizon. There's the current non-profit job in addition to my psych and painting classes. All of this keeps me quite busy.
And then there's the fact that Madonna has chosen the Kaballah name Esther.
Now, I am a little possessive about my name. You have to be, when your childhood is continually tainted by the fact that ALL of your classmates have a grandmother (usually the crabby one who smells like cats) with the same moniker. I learned to accept it, even think it was pretty cool, by about age 14. And now Madonna wants it. Fine. But let me just give my quick opinion on the matter:
Dear Madonna,
Okay, so Kaballah is hip, mostly because of your name being attached to it. And I will say that I'm happier that you, not Demi, adopted Esther. Because I, like most, worshipped you throughout my formative years. Oh, my god. I still love La Isla Bonita. And that was a TERRIBLE song.
But here's the thing. You're not Jewish. You didn't have to go through Hebrew school for, like, 82 years. And even if it was kind of awesome because mostly we just flirted and ate a lot, we still had to recite prayers and learn Hebrew and listen to an archaic Rabbi and feel a lot of guilt and visit distant relatives in New York who talked really loudly about people by their full names in crowded restaurants and were really pissed that we didn't want a Bar Mitzvah because we were twelve years old and didn't even believe in God. We believed in you, Madonna.
And maybe you're way into this Kaballah stuff. Cool. But I still had to endure years of ridicule about being the Jewish kid. So, here's what I propose. You convert, not just to the red bracelet, but to the whole Jew bit, including Hebrew school, the relatives, and the thick hair that will never, ever, be blond enough, straight enough or fine enough to do one of those cute pop-40 haircuts, and you get the name with my blessings. Thanks.
Love,
Ester
Some background into my life, for the one lone reader who may stumble across this page:
I am doing my last pre-requisite classes before graduate school; going back for psychology with an emphasis in art therapy. My undergrad was in creative writing. That just led to a crappy high-tech PR job for 3 years.
Today, after a long lecture on the current version of the DSM, I started to wonder whether all this new biopsych research coming out will totally disband creative therapies. I mean, I'm no new-agey type. Windchimes freak me out. But are we moving so fast towards science that we're forgetting how important art, writing, all that stuff, is? Creativity is self-forgiveness, is the unconscious, is so lovely. Drugs are fine. Science is cool. But it's all too generalized, too quickly prescribed. And a biopsych perspective alone can lend to the scary notion that we're powerless to ourselves -- our brains just leading us along a bumpy road of emotion via random synapses firing.
Like we're all our own brain-in-a-vat theory.
I mean, yes, that's exactly what's happening, sort of. But we're still active in our choices. We're still the ones scarfing down McDonalds on our way to work and wondering why we're all depressed. You know?
Anyway. There's grad school on the horizon. There's the current non-profit job in addition to my psych and painting classes. All of this keeps me quite busy.
And then there's the fact that Madonna has chosen the Kaballah name Esther.
Now, I am a little possessive about my name. You have to be, when your childhood is continually tainted by the fact that ALL of your classmates have a grandmother (usually the crabby one who smells like cats) with the same moniker. I learned to accept it, even think it was pretty cool, by about age 14. And now Madonna wants it. Fine. But let me just give my quick opinion on the matter:
Dear Madonna,
Okay, so Kaballah is hip, mostly because of your name being attached to it. And I will say that I'm happier that you, not Demi, adopted Esther. Because I, like most, worshipped you throughout my formative years. Oh, my god. I still love La Isla Bonita. And that was a TERRIBLE song.
But here's the thing. You're not Jewish. You didn't have to go through Hebrew school for, like, 82 years. And even if it was kind of awesome because mostly we just flirted and ate a lot, we still had to recite prayers and learn Hebrew and listen to an archaic Rabbi and feel a lot of guilt and visit distant relatives in New York who talked really loudly about people by their full names in crowded restaurants and were really pissed that we didn't want a Bar Mitzvah because we were twelve years old and didn't even believe in God. We believed in you, Madonna.
And maybe you're way into this Kaballah stuff. Cool. But I still had to endure years of ridicule about being the Jewish kid. So, here's what I propose. You convert, not just to the red bracelet, but to the whole Jew bit, including Hebrew school, the relatives, and the thick hair that will never, ever, be blond enough, straight enough or fine enough to do one of those cute pop-40 haircuts, and you get the name with my blessings. Thanks.
Love,
Ester
posted by Ester at 2:44 PM
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