Happy Pesach

Holy Crap, I haven't written here since October.

That's a really long time for me and I hope most of you follow me on other social media or something? I hope I follow most of you. I'm mainly on twitter (@the_eumelia) these days, tumblr is a hell hole of despair.

Long form writing for me has gone by the wayside in a big way, I have much less time to meander on the text, I am really good at condensing my thoughts into 140 characters, who knew, what with the way I ramble on off line and here as well, historically.

Too many commas.

The thing is I always have DW and LJ tabs open on my browser. I feel secure in the knowledge that I still have these spaces that mean so much to me, that I hold so much of my history.

I'm an entirely different person now than I was ten years ago when I first opened an LJ. I was 20. Twenty fucking years old. I'm turning 30 in May. Thirty years. I'm so much less of an adult that I thought I was when I was 20 and fresh out of the IDF.

Thinking about what I've been through and actually done and accomplished over the past decade is actually extraordinary now that I think about it. But I'm looking forward to the next decade a whole lot more.

I'm financially independent, I'm living alone, I've recently adopted a cat (he is a beautiful tuxedo short hair who needed a home and whom, at 7 years, would have had a hard time of it) and I feel like I'm finally living the way I want.

A single, queer, crazy cat lady.

There's liberty in that and that's my message for this Passover.

I hope to write more here in the first year of my 30s.

Bless you friends and readers.

I am thinking of Passover...

I am thinking of Passover. What it means to be passed over. I don’t want to go biblical or theological, because that isn’t what matters to me. That isn’t what I want to talk about.

I will not be talking politics at the Seder tonight, I will be passing over the opportunity to make this Holiday about the present and the future, and our collusion with the persecution of the Strangers among us, as opposed to trudging our history of persecution and being Strangers in strange lands.

I will not be talking social justice at the Seder tonight. America loves its oranges and olives on the Seder plate, but I am the orange on the Seder plate, my life is passed over for I am single and have a cat for company; we are surrounded by olive groves, pulled out and burnt by those who are supposed to be members of my tribe, but who are so far removed from me and my sense of humanity I can barely consider them members of my species.

I will not be inserting any speech or letter at the Seder tonight, it will be straight forward and on until morning, I will eat the bitter herbs and sip the salty water and drink the sweet wine, keeping my mouth occupied, occupied against talking about the fact that we are not free.

I am not at liberty to speak.

Cross-post: Tumblr