Happy New Year?

It's coming upon us again, a new year. A day in which, like a birthday, we put our hopes and wishes toward a better time, a better day, a happier moment. Something to remove us out of the day to day insipidity of life, if only for a moment, a countdown, a toast. I feel like it's a bit silly at times, to celebrate, to try to fool ourselves into building a construct out of life that does not really exist within us, a facade that carries us through that day as many other facades do for many others.


So this is the new year /And I don't feel any different /The clanking of crystal /Explosions off in the distance.
So this is the new year /And I have no resolutions /For self assigned penance /For problems with easy solutions.
So everybody put your best suit or dress on /Let's make believe that we are wealthy for just this once /Lighting firecrackers off on the front lawn /As thirty dialogs bleed into one.
I wish the world was flat like the old days /Then I could travel just by folding a map /No more airplanes, or speed trains, or freeways /There'd be no distance that could hold us back.
So this is the New Year...
(DCFC)

The message of the artist is clear. The song depicts a disdain of life, of these celebrations. He wants to break free and go away from it all, perhaps forever. But to me, a celebration can be just the opposite of what he describes. Let is think for a moment what it is that drives us to celebrate. Is it the desire to be around people? The desire to break free for a moment? What pushes us to live for the day, to live for the future, while all other days we live drowning in monotony as the wave pushes us along?

It may be the same reason we search for love. We look for someone to complete us, someone to come along and tell us that it'll all be alright, that there is nothing to fear, that life is pure, and good, and sweet, even when the world can be so cruel and bitter, when every day we encounter hundreds or thousands of people and ignore them, people with their own problems and questions, people who, like you, are looking for a friend or a shoulder to lean on, bound by society to block any expression of that fear and longing within, or perhaps blocked of even that desire entirely.

Even as we get older, those that we have loved in years past become distant, like brothers who talk once a month when they once used to stick up for one another in school years ago, or friends who only talk occasionally when they once spent every afternoon together in the time of their youth. We build up walls between ourselves and others, out of fear. A five-year-old is not afraid to run around naked in front of everyone. A seven-year-old already realizes that society deems this uncouth, and becomes bashful. Even from our youth we feel the straightjacket beginning to push us away from ourselves. And we soon forget that that jacket was even placed upon us at all.

And then, as death and sickness approach, as time all of a sudden becomes of the essence, only then do those relationships manifest themselves once more in all of their glory. Why is that? Why did it take for the grand tragedy of 9/11 in America and 3/11 in Japan for the people to come together, to help, to feel a little closer? And why have we since grown apart? Why is it that, when a country is attacked, do the people then turn inward and focus on their own safety and security instead of that of others? The reason is not terribly complicated. It is those moments, like a birthday or a new year, that mark our living in the present, stamping us in the passage of time. In those moments, precious and few and costly as though they may be, do we truly find ourselves as bearing intrinsic value. We become in touch with our corporeality and our instincts, things that are eschewed by society. And all of a sudden, the depression lifts, the barriers break, and we celebrate, or cry, or emote to levels so rarely expressed in life, akin to the highest passions of a religious experience. And then, we recede as quickly as we expressed.

For some reason, and this I do not know, we have chosen being shelled in as the status quo. You can certainly bet that the driving force of someone jumping off of the Brooklyn Bridge is not coming from the happiest or most passionate moments in life. It is not even coming during a moment of loss. It comes from the emptiness, from a lack of true communication between that person and others around, between that person and the world. The rational mind has taken over the individual; that is the scariest part of all of it, the part that society cannot cope with. Despite the fact that we frown upon the notion of suicide, calling it utterly "irrational," the philosophers often hailed it as man's greatest achievement over nature, since no other being we know of would do such a thing, to comprehend the meaninglessness of life in our society and to cut it short. It seems to me to be irrational to think otherwise. The emotional expressions that so many seek to give and receive is forbidden at most times. It is actually within our externally emotional state that we can find commonality with others. In this case, a celebration, when apropos, is not something to be frowned upon for its wanton and fleeting nature. It is the moment when we are most in touch with the world, the moment when we realize there is actually a bigger picture than just the monotony of the self and the hidden face of the world.

So is the life of a party animal the most valuable of them all? It would seem to be the case. But I would also argue that if that person is partying not to live it up, but to instead drink and smoke and forget it all, then that person is neglecting an essential duty in bettering the world, in creating a greater community, in working to break down barriers among people instead of simply continuously breaking down one's own. To celebrate and live for the moment is one important part of life. To make it so that others can celebrate that much more, instead of living in the dust and sadness of poverty and abuse, is far greater a cause.

To be at the jumping point, to desire more than anything else in the world the cool neck of a pistol in your throat or the noose around your neck, means that society has utterly failed you. To take the lives of others is an abomination that comes from some deep-seated wrong in one's inner being (I discuss the cases in which mental instability issues are not the primary cause). I would honestly hope that a vast majority of people in this world would rather work for a collective betterment, for communal harmony, and not for more barriers. For the barriers only lead to isolation, while expressions of love and support, of grief and harmony, are lasting gifts to the human race and preventions of neglecting others by the sidelines.

May the New Year and the festivities therein be toward those better days ahead.

From New York to Chicago to Japan to China to Beersheva

I have so much to be thankful for, and even though Thanksgiving is 341 days away, I couldn't resist sharing a little bit of it. I am thankful for my family, for their unwavering support despite my wavering attitudes and my crazy thoughts (such as this vacation!). I am thankful for such wonderful friends who have hosted me, toasted with me, and roasted me with love. I am thankful for all of those kind faces and passerby who have been such help to me, like the lady who helped me with my bags in Tokyo or the couple who guided me to the Temple of Heaven in Beijing, despite their extreme lack of English. And I am thankful for American Airlines and the Oneworld Alliance who, along with two other flights, allowed me to fly a grand total of sixteen (yes, that's right) flights between November 7th and December 24th, taking me everywhere I both needed to be and did not need to be, at very reasonable prices and point values.

Now then, let's get into the meat of the trip. After spending some needed time at home to recuperate from all of the flying between Israel, New York, and Chicago, I took off for Tokyo via Boston, in order to fly Japan Airlines' new Boeing 787 Dreamliner. While it did not seem like much at first, it really was a much more comfortable ride than the average airplane. Moreover, I sat next to a Japanese woman who is a certified doctor in Japan and is taking the USMLEs (and learning all of the foreign terminology) in order to be able to practice in the United States. What a challenge! But I at least could somewhat relate, even though I am learning the diseases in Engbrew and they are not as far off from the original. We wished each other luck as we left the plane and I stumbled along with all of my bags (in total, two overweight checked bags, a backpack, a guitar, and another carried bag). I took the two hour kaisoku train to my host family and made it to their house in time to light candles for the fourth night of Chanukkah (I flew over the third) and eat a fried everything dinner. I traveled around their town, to Hakone to see Fujisan, and to the Tokyo Tower before spending Shabbat with them at yet a second host family in Tokyo. It was an amazing first week!

I then hopped on an AirAsia flight (my first of two big mistakes on the trip--I should've used points and flown ANA) to Okinawa, arriving an hour late at a makeshift bus-transported terminal (not that it was totally terrible; I mean, I am alive writing this, but it would've been nice if they had provided some water at least aboard). My good friend from home was waiting for me, an Air Force E3, and it had been too long since I saw him last. It was like a mini-America on a Japanese island--even the Japanese people there were much more pushy. But the fish was still fresh, the accommodations were nice, and I got to see some cool military functions aside from walking around Naha, seeing the American Village, and zip-lining. It really is a beautiful island with a culture all its own.

On Friday, I hopped on a ANA flight from Okinawa to Kobe (what a random route) to make it in time for a Shabbat down memory lane. It was super enjoyable and great to see all of my Israeli friends there. I then took a flight back to Tokyo on Saturday night, with the goal of playing pachinko with the hosts. While all of the pachinko places were closed, I did pass by a woman, noted her, then looked forward (while I was waiting for the light to change), which prompted her to ask, "sekusu?" While I decided not to take her up on that, it was a fantastically hilarious way to end my trip in Japan.

The next morning, I flew (in business class, waddup!?) to China on JAL, with a 9.5 hour connection in Beijing en route to Tel Aviv. Since it was a Jewish fast day, I took my kosher box lunch (a product of Antwerp--go figure!) with me, much to the flight attendants' confusion. I first went to the airport lounge in Beijing to drop my things off once I had arrived, then decided to leave the airport (having already checked in, passed through security and customs, and without a Chinese visa), working my incredible charm in order to do so. My father warned me it would be cold (it was, after all, in the 40's and 50's in Japan), so I took a light jacket, a hat, and gloves with me, having overdressed in Japan. A gust of cold air greeted me upon my exit--little did I know it was -15C that day in Beijing. Still, I trotted on, seeing the forbidden palace, museums, and sculptures from the outside, and going into the garden beside the Forbidden Palace. Beijing was a place of raw power, with soldiers in formation marching to and fro and cameras in every nook and cranny (not to mention the president's portrait overseeing it all from the gate of the Palace). Still, the architecture was pristine and beautiful. Upon finding out that the museums were closed for the day, two friends from school in the south approached me, wishing to practice their English. They were friendly and kind and showed me around a bit, and then we walked into a tea house with a private room. I was served delicious tea, beer, and fruits, all for the low cost of about 630 Yuan (to clarify, that was a bit above $100). I was sincerely shanghaied in Beijing. But it was still a grand time, and if my credit card cooperates (which seems to be the case so far), the day will have actually been quite cheap. They suggested that I go see the Temple of Heaven, but by the time I got there, it was too dark to see anything. Cold and hungry, I boarded the train back to the airport, and ate my quite delicious fish, potato salad, pudding, and snacks from the plane. I returned to check in, was questioned by a total of three El Al agents for the "suspicious goods" in my checked baggage (and received compliments for my Hebrew), stopped into the lounge to grab my things, was questioned again for the lack of security tags on those, and then boarded the plane for my super-relaxing 12 hour journey back to Israel in El Al business class, which was an amazing (and quite delectable) flight. I arrived home at around 6:30 this morning to a lovely presentation of balloons and posters by a great friend, which made me feel just that much more happy to return. And here I am, uncertain if I'm well-rested, taking care of things that need taking care of (such as replenishing my food and cage supplies for my bunnies), and attempting to study for exams that are looming just ahead, like Shelob and Mount Doom waiting for their poor, unfortunate souls to come wandering in. Wish me luck!!!

Marry Christmas to those reading for whom it is relevant, and have a wonderful day!!!

From New York to Beersheva to Chicago and back and forth

Wow, where to start? I guess I should begin where I last left off. My parents came to visit me from the 11th thru the 21st...it was great to have them over in my apartment. We also had the little surprise of seeing that my gray fat male bunny was not fat, nor was he male. He was, in fact, a she, and gave birth. Just as I feared, I came home to 7 bunnies, not 2. I called the pet store, and they reassured me that they had no clue, and had they, they would've held on to the bunnies for profit. Either way, they came and picked up the babies after weaning, and I even got 25 shekel per bunny.

The weekend of the 18th-20th, we celebrated my parents' 25th "silver" anniversary, with 2 nights at the luxurious Carlton (there went my loan money...well, that and the flying), the second night of which I crashed in the adjoining guess room and enjoyed the amazing Shabbat dinner buffet and the lounge access. I got a little sick that Saturday night and didn't feel much like dinner, but we said our goodbyes, convinced that we wouldn't see one another for a while (I was planning to come home for a bar mitzvah and surprise them, but we'll get to that!).

School went on for a little while, and I was feeling confused, misguided, and unsure of my path (like others in my program). Plus, my grandfather was feeling kind of sick as well and fainted in synagogue (he forgot to eat breakfast with his medication), all of this prompting me to use up a little more of that saved cash and book a flight home from the 7th-13rd, leaving an afternoon each way to tutor the bar mitzvah boy in person (I had been tutoring him since the spring, and then via Skype/phone). There was a huge storm on the 7th in New York, delaying my connection to Chicago by a day, but NBD, I got home safe and sound.

While I was home, things began to escalate in Israel, with rumors of an operation, later named Pillar of Defense, to take place. By the time I arrived in Israel on Thursday morning (thanks to a joint AA-El Al flight change to let me spend a little more time with my family in Chicago due to the delay in arrival), every single friend I called told me that there would be no purpose to return to my home in the south because of the rocket-fire. Instead, I went north (wrong train ticket, same fare) and spent the day on an hour of sleep with my friend at the Technion, asking for another hour nap in between. By evening, I decided that I needed to return to Beersheva to grab some things. I also called to see how much it would cost to bump up my Thanksgiving travel to the next day, since nothing would be happening in Israel. I made a new routing after an agent found me a low fare, from TLV-ZRH-JFK (NYC) on the 16th (yes, I was in Israel for only a day), to Chicago on the 18th, and then Chicago to NYC on the 21st, and NYC back to Israel via London on the 22nd. I flew the entire routing (the flights weren't super from Israel to NYC, but after spending two seconds criticizing my seat on that Swiss flight, being in a row of 3 with a row of 4 ahead of me, leaving me a split seat and a thing in between the bottom of the seats ahead to inconvenience my legs, I immediately fell asleep. I then bought myself some chocolates (and a hat and shot glass) that some guy bought off of me because he didn't have time (there was extra security for the US flight), but then ended up in the seat next to me and shared some with me. No kosher food, but no problem--slept through most of that flight as well. A good friend hosted me over that Shabbat, promising me that Wednesday before that if I were to find myself in NYC again and wanted to come over for a Shabbat, to contact him (little did he know how relevant those words would turn out to be). I then flew back to Chicago for a couple of days of R&R--pretty sure I slept 12 hours that first night home.

By the time I was ready to leave back to New York on Wednesday, I had a clearer picture of my path. I was going to continue down this road, seeing what medicine would have in store for me. That morning, despite a cease-fire later that day, we received an email that school would be out until the end of December. Frantically, I checked AA and noticed that they had a Tel Aviv travel policy, that if you had a flight leaving until the 26th, you could change it to a later date for free! I changed it to a random date in August, then flew to NYC as planned for the bar mitzvah, staying with some amazing people on both Park Avenue and in the Heights. The bar mitzvah was amazing--I was so proud of my student and wouldn't have missed it for the world. I also got to spend Shabbat with a friend studying in Boston, and the next few days staying in the Heights and seeing with friends all over, including one from MSIH!

I booked a round-trip NYC-Chicago fare, leaving the 28th of November back to Chicago, where I am right now, and returning on that same arbitrary August date, to in theory connect with the flight to Israel for the start of my second year. Who knows what even tomorrow will bring? In the meantime, here's to good friends, good family, and a very strange winter break! I can't wait until I fly to visit friends all over Japan using some of these many miles (including two JAL flights on the new dreamliners), and then flying from there back to Israel (in business class!!!) for some intense studying, difficult exams, and, most importantly, solid ground for a little while. Well, at least let's hope so!

It's time for a new post!

Hey all,

I hope everyone is doing well! Please keep me updated on how life is going by you. Here in Beer Sheva, we finally passed through the wonderful holiday season, with bits and pieces of class in between. Last week, I went north with a couple of my friends on a midnight bus to the Golan Heights, hiking in the Banias, traveling around Tiberias (including a visit to the Sea of Galilee, Hammat Tiberias, and some graves of important rabbis), and a night and day in Tel Aviv. What an awesome trip, and much more affordable and relaxing than a trip alone to Europe.

The holiday season was also pleasant because of, well, the holidays! Rosh Hashanah was spent at a friend's in Moshav Otzem. Yom Kippur was here in Beer Sheva, at Kehillat Beerot, a progressive partnership minyan new to the city--I even got to daven minchah from the amud! And Sukkot, of course, was great. I waved the lulav, ate in multiple Sukkot, hosted Shabbat dinner and frantically ran around trying to find a sukkah for kiddush and hamotzi, and a good friend from home came from up north to spend Simchat Torah with me here as well. Hopefully next year will be in Jerusalem.

Most of my recent days have been spent doing one of two things: daf yomi and studying for the GRE. Mostly daf yomi. As stands, I am in the middle of daf samech, with only a couple pages left to go. Tomorrow's a busy day--GRE in the morning, parents coming in in the afternoon, and a siyyum in the evening. Crazy stuff! It's my first tractate to finish, and hopefully far from my last. I can't wait to continue my studies and celebrate with my family and friends.

I hope everyone else had a great chag, and to all of my student friends, chug through it...midterms season is here, but it, too, will pass. You'll do it!

Please get in touch with me--skype, facebook, or even give me a call. I hope to see you all soon!!!

The Oath

Wow all, I guess it's been a while since my last post, and a lot has happened. First off, of course, I started real med school classes (and passed my emergency medicine course), set up my new apartment (with serving for 12--I already broke a glass and still don't have a table), bought 2 matresses (waddup guestroom), bought the two cutest bunnies in the whole world, and so much more. My kitchen is still unstocked and my desk table still unbuilt (they gave me assembly directions for a different table altogether), but things are otherwise shaping up. I hosted a Japanese themed dinner on the rug, complete with chopsticks and Marzipan rugelach for dessert, for my good new friends in Shchunah Gimmel, one of which even gave me a haircut the following week! I hope to host more dinners to follow with my other friends and family. There is so much going on.
I'm also still working away at daf yomi, a few pages behind and more after the chag, but I'm doing okay. I even had the cool experience of praying like the vatikin in the early pages of the masechta, linking geulah to tefillah while still doing shema before netz--we literally hit the amidah as the sun came up. What an experience--complete with 4:45 selichot and a rousing hatarat nedarim to boot. I'm still asking lots of questions about my Jewish practice as we speak, but I hope to go into these High Holy Days in faith, supplication, and awe.
This past Thursday night, our class was gathered to recite our Physician's Oath, a ceremony to mark our path into the medical profession in an ethical and honest way. The oath was filled with things difficult and easy, the hardest part in knowing what exactly is best for the patient vis-a-vis the doctor. We'll see what lies ahead, but it's set to be along, arduous, and confusing journey, especially with the quality of the English of some of my professors here. But I'm excited...and nervous, and still considering my paths of choice. Still, I cannot wait to see what's next.
In the spirit of the times, I want to wish everyone a sweet new year, filled with friendship, love, happiness, justice, health, and well-being, and I hope we can all appreciate the blessings that surround us constantly, even when times are confusing and dark. If I have offended anyone, I ask your forgiveness and welcome your grievances to become a better person.
To one and all, 
שנה טובה ומתוקה!!!
David

Last week of orientation

After having poked (or "stabbed," as our Israeli instructors tell us) my fellow classmate with needles in our emergency medicine course, as well as wrapping each other with cloths to deal with burn victims, I can honestly say that I'm about ready to get focused and back to business with schooling.  Don't get me wrong--orientation has been a blast, from hikes to wonderful Shabbatot both here and in other cities to making new friends. But I signed up to take on medical school, to learn new skills and try to take them to heart, learning in the process if it was for me. And I'm ready to find out. It's a week of tests and study, but that's okay. We begin on Sunday and go from there. No schedule yet (classic Israel), but I can't wait to see what we have ahead of us. Whatever lies ahead, I am excited to discover what lies ahead on my path, but I am sure that it will be exciting and filled with all sorts of new adventures. Here goes nothing!

Cause I've still got miles to go...

I recently listened to Death Cab's song "Bixby Canyon Bridge," an amazing work whose music really invokes a sense of wonder, mystery, and a mist that seems to cast itself over life entire. And then I found an essay from Ben Gibbard himself (the lead singer of the band), writing about the song and the band and the perpetual loneliness and power within life. The lyrics of the entire album "Narrow Stairs" give voice to those sentiments in all sorts of different melodies and methods, gently, yet assertively, demeaning the continuum of life, giving room to the imagination. Songs like "No Sunlight" and "Your New Twin Sized Bed" invoke sadness, even as the music video of the former casts a simple and youthful picture of life, and even songs that seem to not be so incredibly depressing (such as "I Will Possess Your Heart") turn out to be filled with such sadness and longing.

Why should I care? Fair question. I suppose that thinking about all of these things could easily be construed as a waste of time, but then again, living life without thinking about these things seems to be the biggest waste of all. For, if not for the meaning behind it, or at least the search thereof, what's the purpose of living it through? It's a gift box without a clear gift inside the wrapping paper--it screams deciphering. And I'm trying to do just that. That's part of my journey out here. And now, without further ado, just wanted to share:

First, the lyrics of Bixby (http://www.metrolyrics.com/bixby-canyon-bridge-lyrics-death-cab-for-cutie.html):

I descended a dusty gravel ridge 
Beneath the Bixby Canyon Bridge  
Until I eventually arrived  
At the place where your soul had died
And barefoot in the shallow creek 
I grabbed some stones from underneath  
And waited for you to speak to me
And the silence, it became so very clear 
That you had long ago disappeared 

I cursed myself for being surprised  
That this didn't play like it did in my mind
All the way from San Francisco  
As I chased the end of your road 

'Cause I've still got miles to go
And I want to know my fate 
If I keep up this way 
And it's hard to want to stay awake
When everyone you meet  
They all seem to be asleep  

And you wonder if you're missing your dream  
You can't see your dream  
You can't see your dream 
You just can't see your dream
 
Dream, dream, dream  
Dream, dream, dream  
Dream, dream, dream 
Dream, dream, dream
 
And then it started getting dark  
And I trudged back to where the car was parked 
No closer to any kind of truth  
As I must assume was the case with you

Now, his thoughts, courtesy of http://www.pastemagazine.com/articles/2008/04/the-meaning-of-life.html:

Why did I think I was going to come here and have this place change my life? I wanted it so badly, as I’m sure Kerouac did. I wanted to cleanse myself with this place. I’d spent years wondering what it looked like, wondering what it would be like to be here. And now here I am, sleeping in the same room Kerouac slept in. I’m walking the same path he walked when he came to the beach and wrote. Jack Kerouac sat here and wrote poems about the sound of the ocean. He sat right here.
There’s something ominous about venturing into this canyon. The first line of the first song I wrote here is, “I descended a dusty gravel ridge”—it’s like the whole album is a descent. Being here for two weeks was productive, but it was also very reflective in a not-so-comfortable way. I realized some things about myself that I don’t really like, and to come back here and be reminded of all that made me feel really anxious from the moment I first turned down the driveway. The epiphany never came. I’m just as confused now as I was when I got here six months ago. And when I returned to start thinking about this essay, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to be back.
I’d totally idealized what I’d be able to accomplish down here. I thought I needed to go somewhere to finish this record, figuring it wasn’t something I could do from the comfort of my own home, like the other 30 songs I wrote. I wanted isolation, which in a way is odd. It’s not like I have a drug problem, or I have a hard time concentrating, or I’m lazy. I idealized coming here for sentimental reasons.
I read On The Road in college. I was 18 or 19, and I had a particular quarter where I was taking biology, calculus and physics. Those were my three classes. It wasn’t a well-rounded schedule at all. It was hard, hard work, all the time-—hours and hours and hours of homework. My brain was just full of all these specific equations; there was no fun whatsoever. But I pulled On The Road off the shelf and found myself reading it between classes, and at that time in my life it was exactly what I craved, exactly what I needed to hear. I thought, “That’s the way, that’s the ideal life, that’s great. You get in a car and you drive and you see your friends and you end up in a city for a night and you go out drinking and you catch up and you share these really intense experiences. And then you’re on the road and you’re doing it again.” The romance of the road, particularly from Kerouac’s work, encapsulated how I wanted to live. I found a way to do it by being a musician, which is what I always wanted to be. The traveling and the being on tour and being away from home set a precedent for me where I thought, “Oh yeah, this is how it works.”
But then in reading Big Sur, it’s the end of the road. You end up with a series of failed relationships and you end up being an alcoholic and in your late 30s, and not having any kind of real grip on the lives of the people around you. That’s the potential other end of the spectrum when you’re never tied to anybody or anything. I run the risk of losing touch with the people in my life that mean the most to me because I have made the decision to live like this.
If you tell certain people that you like Kerouac, they assume that’s all you read, like you don’t know anything else about literature. I recognize all the things that people dislike about the way he writes—his tone and the sentimentality of it all. But those books were there for me at a very important point in my life.
And moments in Big Sur are starting to become very analogous to my life, where I show up in a town and call up my friends, and I’m like, “Guys, we gotta go out. Let’s hang out, I haven’t seen you in forever.” And their response is “Yeah, well, our baby needs to be going to sleep and I can’t be out all hours of the night anymore. It’s time to move on in our lives into another phase; we can’t live in this perpetual adolescence forever.”
Because of my age and what I do for a living and the amount of time that I’ve spent away from my family and loved ones, I’m starting to relate more to the late-period Kerouac stuff in the way that I once related to the fun and excitement of the early material. There’s a darkness inside of me that I’m only now starting to come to grips with and accept. And it’s starting to scare me.
II At some point I thought that, as I got older, I’d come to terms with a lot of things. I’d solve some big problems, and eventually I’d become content. It’s almost more depressing to think that the older you get, the more your problems multiply. When I’m old, I’d like to wake up in the morning and not really do anything—just be happy to exist. I’d like to look at my accomplishments and sit back and revel in my own achievement. But I don’t think that’ll ever happen.
Before I made a living playing music, I used to work shitty job after shitty job and think “Man, as soon as I’m able to make a living in music, it’s really going to come together then, it’s really going be amazing.” I remember hoping there’d be 10 people at a show in 1998 when there was an incredible write-up in the local weekly. I don’t want to go back to that period of being obscure and having nobody know who I am, let alone have to struggle to get people to come to the show. I remember what it was like, and it was shitty.
Since then, Death Cab has become one of those weird cultural fenceposts—people align their tastes on one side or the other. It’s weird when people come up to me, music people, snobby, critical kind of people. It’s almost like they’re confessing to me that they like my band: “I gotta tell ya, I really, really like that new record. I heard the first record, and I kinda thought that was OK, and I kinda tuned out. But your band is really a lot better than people give it credit for.”
Sean Nelson said it best: “No one likes what I like, that’s how I like it.” It’s as though people think, “I’m such an individual that I like things that nobody’s even heard of before. I went out of my way to find music and books and movies that are so obscure that I am an individual, and I am interesting because I like interesting things.” But that’s not true. Liking interesting things doesn’t make you interesting.
You can’t have it both ways. You can’t be successful and critically acclaimed by everybody who likes the cool things you like. Would I want to go back to our first album? I remember what it was like to have one record out and have there be 10 journalists at these alt-weeklies around the country being like, “This is the greatest band that nobody’s heard of. You have to hear this Death Cab for Cutie record, Something About Airplanes, it is mind-blowing, it’s so good.” And the reality is, no, it’s not. It’s a decent record, but it’s by no means our best record. It’s our first record.
I’d like to think I’m a far better writer now than I was 10 years ago. When I first started the band, and I began writing in the way that has marked the trajectory of how I go about making music now, I was convinced that my writing was wildly descriptive and very dense and interesting, and people were really going to have to chew on this stuff. But now I’ll play a song like “Bend To Squares” and it’s like, “What the fuck am I talking about here? This song makes absolutely no sense.” I would just write what I thought were very profound, dense lyrics. They may be about something in my head, but they don’t translate to being about anything that anybody could understand just listening.
I decided a handful of years ago that I just want to write songs that you can understand as soon as you put the record on. There’s no need to veil what’s happening in the song the way I used to.
My goal as a songwriter now is to simply write some memorable turns of phrase. The reaction I’d like from every song I write is, “Wow, I listen to this song, and it’s about such-and-such, and there’s this lyric in there that’s just awesome.” At the end of the day, that’s what I want.
That’s what I’d like the reaction to be when people hear Narrow Stairs, our new record. The first song, “Bixby Canyon Bridge,” is about something very specific: The first time I came here to Big Sur, I was waiting, I was sitting here waiting for something to happen, to have this epiphany about my life and how it relates to Kerouac, one of my idols, who I have the utmost respect for and who changed my life.
Whenever I finish writing a song, I get that satisfaction of finishing something that nobody’s read or heard yet. And that moment of self-satisfaction is the most valuable type of satisfaction for one’s own work. It’s amazing to have people singing a song back to you on a stage. It’s great to finish recording a song and play it for your friend, and they love it. That feels good. But nothing feels better than when you’ve finished something and you know it’s good, and you know that those other responses will come in time.
I feel that songwriters are held to a different standard than almost any other type of writer—some fans get genuinely upset if I admit that a song that they held close to their heart was not based on actual events in my life. Like “What Sarah Said”: I was never in a waiting room in a hospital waiting for news that somebody was going to die. I’ve been in hospital waiting rooms before, waiting for a doctor’s appointment, and I got a sense of the general vibe of the room—not a joyous place—and I decided to set a song there.
With this record, if I didn’t have something to write about that I’ve experienced, if I couldn’t visualize myself in that scenario and really put myself in the shoes of the narrator, then I felt I shouldn’t be writing it. I’m having my own experience here, and I’m writing about it. I’m not writing a song about Kerouac at Big Sur; I’m writing about myself at Big Sur.
The single on our record is a work of fiction that was inspired by things that happened to some people close to me. It’s called “I Will Possess Your Heart,” and it’s eight-and-a-half minutes long. It’s five minutes of build and then a three-minute song. The song is basically about a stalker. It’s about this nice guy who wants this girl he can’t have, and he believes they’ll be together once she realizes how great he is—he just has to wait it out. That’s the part that makes the song really creepy, the delusion of thinking that they were meant to be together. It’s a really dark song. A lot of the material is about the inevitable disappointment people feel as they move through life, and things don’t feel the way they expect. No experience will ever match up to the idealized version in your mind.
III I played a solo show in New York in May, and there was a really nice review in The New York Times. The writer said something that I’ve even co-opted to refer to myself: The thing that some people dislike about my music is the exact thing that other people like about it. The subject matter, the words I choose, the way my voice sounds, the specifics in my writing—those are the kind of things that make some people think, “Oh, I fuckin’ hate that guy.”
Our band is very polarizing. There are people who absolutely can’t stand us, and people who absolutely can’t live without us. I’d rather spark those kind of polar-opposite feelings than have people be indifferent.
Because of this approach, I feel this is a more honest record than anything I’ve made in a long time. Elements of it are kind of embarrassing, but I’m proud of that. I don’t spend my time perusing message boards to find out what people think about me or if people think my songs are good or if people love that lyric or this or that. I just want to be happy with it myself—and if other people like it, that’s great.
I can unequivocally say that I’m so glad we were one of the last bands to break before the Internet got crazy. We actually had some time to develop. I hate hearing people say, “I went and saw this band—everybody’s saying they’re really great—but I went and saw them last night and they weren’t any good live.” You know why they weren’t good? Because they’ve never done more than five shows in a row, and now they’re two weeks into a tour—their first national tour. They don’t know how to get to the shows, they don’t know how to sleep right, they don’t know where to find food. They don’t understand how to make a set list somebody cares about. You can’t blame these bands for not being great yet. We were terrible when we first started playing. Our shows were so fucking boring.
I feel very fortunate that we were able to get in before the Web really took off. But I don’t want to go back to that period where we were literally eating mustard sandwiches in West Texas because we didn’t have money. There was nowhere to get anything vegetarian. And even if there was, we didn’t have any money anyway. I remember being hungry and skinny.
At this point in my life, I find myself obsessed with alternate paths I could’ve taken. I don’t think about this with a sense of regret, but with a sense of wonder—I wonder if I made the right decision by going to the college that I went to, where I met Nick and Chris and we started this band and my life has become what it’s become. What would’ve happened if I would’ve gone to a different college? What would my life be like?
My first serious adult girlfriend got married three years ago. She and her husband have a child now. I went to the wedding, and I was thinking how great it was, how happy I was to be here. I was happy that she was where she was in her life, and that I was where I was—maybe things do happen for a reason. But for every one of those scenarios where I think things happen for a reason, I find myself regretting decisions that I never really had.
I find it very hard to accept the wonderful things in my life. My life really is great: I do exactly what I want to do for a living, I have a wonderful person to share my life with, I have a great family, I have great friends. But somehow there’s a void. I’m the last person who should be complaining or wondering why I’m perpetually unhappy. I would like to think that my lack of contentment is part of what makes my work the way it is, and for the better.
I would rather make great records than make great relationships. When I’m at odds with myself, I would rather fuck up every relationship I’ve ever been in and write great records. And not because I need a breakup to provide me with material. Not like that.
It’s hard enough having a relationship with one person, but to have a relationship with three other bandmates that you are so intimately tied to and you spend so much time with—and to have that actually work and function—is just astounding. I have been in a band for more than 10 years now. I never thought I’d be doing anything for 10 years straight, let alone a band, and I feel so fortunate for that. I have been allowed for some reason to do that. But it’s even more amazing that we get along better now than we did 10 years ago.
An ex-girlfriend once got upset when I told her that music is the most important thing in my life. It’s more important than anyone else could ever be. I don’t want to be overly dramatic and say it’s the only thing that gets me up and keeps me going. But people in your life come and go. As you go through your life, you make friendships, you break friendships, you have relationships. Music is the one thing I’ve always been able to rely on. So why wouldn’t it be the most important thing in my life?

Per aspera ad astra

Why should it sadden us so that an individual may never see what is right in your eyes as right? Do we not each have the ability to think, decipher, research, and come to our own conclusions about what is good and right in the world, about where we come from and our purpose here? Who are you to assert your superiority and knowledge over me, just because you read a textbook or saw a life-changing movie or had the most insightful discussion you’ve ever had? That doesn’t mean that the other person listening to you would be convinced of your point, even if you recreated everything up to that point that made your stance so meaningful to you. There is no one hardwiring that makes all humanity equal. We will never all see eye to eye, for that would take out the spirit of difference and of pursuit that we treasure so dearly. Without that spirit, there would have been no Moses, no Jesus, no Muhammad, no Buddha. There would have been no Van Gogh, no Einstein, no Newton, no Descartes. No Elizabeth Cady Stanton, no Rosa Parks, no Martin Luther, no Paul McCartney. No force for change.

But the realm of the individual is cold and lonely, left to live out his last breath alone, without a friend or family. For that reason, humankind has engaged in a massive, inextricably linked social contract, in which we live together in societies in order to provide one another with goods and services in exchange for an increase in productivity, social welfare, and security of body and mind. However, with the social contract comes the added bonus of community, of a world of dialogue and reciprocity. The human being is an egoistic creature by nature, but society can help quell that nature and show the benefits of the sphere of communal dialogue and action. Each individual is faced with a great chasm, a void immeasurably large, which stands between the actual—who an individual is at that moment—and the potential for what the individual can become. Just because we may laud the actual does not mean it is truly the better path. And yet, by pondering the gap, it itself will not become any smaller, just as the distinction between thinking of the final destination when compared to taking a step towards it. But how to decide what is worth fighting for? How can we know what is the good that we seek? Does it lie within the opinion of the majority? These are indeed justifiable questions, as perhaps it does not benefit us to take the banner up and fight for a cause that others see as detrimental to society and to the world at large. The distinctions set out in Hammurabi’s code between the slave and master and the punishments for damages and deaths was revolutionary then for their sense of justice and, while appreciated for its great contribution to the world, would be reviled now if enacted. And yet, not everyone today would revile it. There are places in the world that still cast different judgments upon people based on their status, rank, or societal privileges. Who am I to speak my mind and say that my opinions are right and theirs are wrong? The answer to that is simple: an egoistic human being. Who is to say that my views are fundamentally correct and true? This is the more difficult question. I could pursue my views throughout my meager existence on this planet, act and judge based on them, and lessen the gap between my perceived actual and potential. Yet who is to say that my deeds are right or wrong? In the 1930’s, thousands saluted and hailed a man who ardently pursued the beliefs of his mind, and with that swayed an entire populace and allowed them to help follow him to these dreams that they shared. Others, however, defied his will and rule of law by hiding families designated for ethnic cleansing, a purification of the land and its inhabitants. I have been taught that these rebels were actually the good guys, while the vast majority, including this man that rose to power from nothing and managed to hold a nation together in a time of financial crisis, were the bad guys. Who am I to say that this is the ultimate truth? No one. And yet, I can say just that, for I am someone—a human being, a defender of this earth and a participant thereof, a person with a claim to this planet and opinions entirely my own. I may share the notion that the actions of this man were wrong and disgusting with many of my colleagues and peers, but that does not necessarily mean that it is right. And yet, without      formulating standards and pushing them through, the world as a whole will not develop. You may ask: why would we even want the world to develop? Why not let it stay the same as it is? And I can simply point to the natural course of events, the history of rock, plant, animal, and human, and show that the nature of the world is to change, and that fighting entropy simply cannot be done, try as we might. Could someone prove me wrong? Absolutely, and I would welcome their criticism! But at the moment, until we can undo the passing of time, we must not only pass with it—we must embrace it! And I am grateful for this natural propensity to change. We must not be like the animals that have become extinct. We must thrive, challenge, and change, for that is linked closely with our natural instinct—to survive. And with the power of the human will, had we not chosen to survive and procreate, we would no longer be here anymore.

Could I have added the question, “But is this good,” after every idea in this piece? Undoubtedly. And I have done so multiple times. But at the end of the day, it is not so much what is good as it is what is right, what is sound, what allows for a creative and productive world, and that is the real pursuit of this piece. All the rest is periphery, for with foundations of truth comes both happiness in that security and love of humanity it its ability to challenge it. This may seem a paradox, but it is not so, for no single truth that a human could comprehend is the ultimate truth, for if it were, there would be no possible way to disagree with it through both rhetoric and fact. Instead, the challenging of truth allows for a recreation of an individual’s conception thereof, and a stronger foundation on which to stand after that new truth is built. Of course, that moment—or hour, or day, or period of years—may be a hard one to be in, but with diligence and study, that new level is attainable and that much more desirable. So pursue truth! And while you act on it, listen to the critiques of those around you, question your actions, and be ready to stop if your actions are not in society’s best interest. Don’t let pride interfere, since it may have some value in motivation but can easily seal one’s doom. So goes anything of the sort; we must appreciate these traits, but realize that a trait can be a strength as well as a weakness. This, too, is the case with the willingness to listen to others. Ponder your path too long, and you may have waited until that path was buried without hope of retrieval, leaving you isolated and without any new option to pursue.

I can certainly imagine the entire world living in peace—what a beautiful notion of agreement and willing to transfer the space of opinion and thought to the sphere of public discourse and debate instead of to arms. But I could not imagine a world without religion, without countries, and without possessions. For without those, we could not express our uniqueness. There is a beauty in living together as one while still not seeing all eye to eye. We thrive on the debate of the day to day—how boring life would become without it! An increase in social well being, in fiscal well being, in unity, and in happiness are things we all ought to strive for, if we do not do so already. To reach beyond our bubble, to ask important questions, to strive for the truth that means the most to us without rejecting outright the opinions of others before giving a listen—these are the tools given to humanity to use, to build upon, and to live by. I hope for the day when we are finally able to see these things through, to come together and to remain an individual. To remain a core, valued member of society while still being able to stand apart and say, unabashedly, “This is who I am.” And we, the generation of global communication, of access to a myriad of databases, of ability to defeat global poverty, disease, and oppression, we, the generation that can stand up for what we believe is right but remain sensitive to the thoughts and viewpoints of others, we are the true fighters. So take up this cause with me. Fight with more than weapons. Fight with the desire to be free, to take in the opinions of others and merge them with your own, to stand tall and yet to take one for the team, without hope of compensation. For in that way, we will all be able to move forward as one, each unique and yet unequivocally united, an undeniable voice for change and for pursuit of good, whatever we deem that to be, so long as it for the betterment of the world, in love of our world, each other, and the dream of peace.

 "When you find peace within yourself, you become the kind of person who can live at peace with others."

--Peace Pilgrim

A weekend in Jerusalem

Hey all,


After a really hectic week, things are starting to fall into place. I finally got my last suitcase on Friday (they left it outside the wrong apartment, classic), decided last night on where to live ('שכונה ג), and got everything settled with the bank and mail (have a new number, so give me a call or email at any time!). I'm also looking forward to setting up some Arabic classes, so hopefully that'll work out too.

Now then, I decided this past weekend to go to Jerusalem for the weekend, having always wanted to be there on Tisha B'av (warning: here comes the Jewish part of the post). First off, thanks so much to my friend Daniel for hosting me! Shabbat was really wonderful. Tisha B'av, I suppose, had my hopes up for being uber-meaningful. I mean, the organizers for the reading of Eichah on the promenade overlooking the Old City were clearly American and had been to JTS for at least one service, because it was styled just like it, except that the songs were rushed through and were not super-inspiring, as I have found them to be at JTS in years past. Nevertheless, it was so interesting to juxtapose the living, breathing Jerusalem with the dead, burning Jerusalem of Eichah, that same Jerusalem in which the most merciful and compassionate mothers ate their own children out of hunger (Lam. 4:10). The cry of Jeremiah to his God, ראה ה' והביטה למי עוללת כה, "Look, O Lord and see, who [else] have you treated like this!?" did not awaken the same feelings here in Israel as it did in years past. I think there is a reason for that. Seeing Israel alive and well, with businesses open, with people going about doing their daily jobs, feeding the hungry, tending to the widow and orphan, and making space for all sorts of people and opinions within this tiny country, is really inspiring. It's quite the opposite of Lamentations' portrayal. And I would go so far as to say that Tisha B'av is thankfully partly a thing of the past. That's what struck home the most. We really are building on the lessons of our ancestors to make this land filled with life and holiness, one of justice and peace, one in which these days of mourning become days of happiness and joy, just as the prophet Zechariah once foretold (8:19).

And I hope we continue to do just that! Shavua tov, have a great week!

My first few days

Wow, what a long and tiring first few days. After the safety lecture, the pedagogy lecture, the health insurance lecture, and all the welcome lectures, I'm about ready for a break. I may have just placed out of ulpan after the fact (hello again year one of JTS). Instead, I am learning some basic writing and phrases in Arabic, hopefully to be used in a program I am coordinating to learn Arabic with local Bedouin community members who want to learn English. But more of that later.
I have been apartment hunting like crazy--er, rather, other people have been, and I've found myself in a bit of a hole that I will hopefully get myself out of. There are some nice places (and some not so nice) around here, and I can't wait to figure out where my place will be. There is still so much to see and do in this city, but I've just been caught up with everything school and living related and haven't really had the chance.
Foibles: I'm waiting on a new credit card coming via UPS...the delivery guy can't find my place, so hopefully my speaking to them will aleviate it some tomorrow.
My sim card for my phone was delivered today, but I missed the delivery. Hopefully I'll be around when they come by tomorrow, along with the UPS guy.
I went to the bank today to pick up my bank card. After looking, they could not find my pass code. That's okay, they said--come again in another 4 business days. Great. At least I got the checks.
My second of three suitcases arrived today--this despite the fact that I told them not to deliver it separately from the third bag. So of course they did anyways.

I love this place, I really do. For all of that, it is still an amazing place to live. From davening arvit at a moshichist Chabad shtiebel in which they concluded their davening by repeating the "yechi rabbeinu" line three times to getting lost multiple times in the terribly-laid-out streets of this city, it has been a ridiculously hectic almost week here, and I cannot wait to see what's next!!!

I've arrived

After a busy day in France, seeing all the sites I had wanted to see and meeting up with a new friend who is also a friend's friend, I left tired and groggy for Israel. I arrived in Beer Sheva, and, just as I had feared due to all my connections (my routing was originally with miles from ORD-BWI-JFK-CDG [but was changed to ORD-JFK-CDG after check-in took so long on my bags] and then paid for CDG-VIE-TLV), they lost my baggage somewhere. I flew AirBerlin/Niki from CDG-TLV, and while nicer than more AA or United planes, the customer service here in Israel is a nightmare, simply because I can't get in contact with them. So, as stands, I am borrowing my temporary roommate's things, and will go from there. Hopefully my things will arrive eventually.

Beer Sheva is quite a nice city, and while I'm still dazed, I did accomplish opening a new bank account with Bank Hapoalim, the bank of the campus, which took a lot of Hebrew (I was good except for the words for checks [I switched המחאות with מחמאות] and scholarships [or at least that's what she said it was, but I don't think she said מלגה]). Anyways, I also ordered a new SIM card from the new Golan Telecom, so my Israel number will be posted to Facebook soon.

Time for bed! I look forward to updating again soon.

Shabbat Shalom,
David

Here we go! A new adventure awaits.

I can't believe it...I'm actually off to medical school tomorrow. In Israel. For those of you who don't quite know my plans, I am doing a unique program between Ben-Gurion University and Columbia University, the Medical School for International Health. The next three years will be in Israel, followed by a semester at Columbia, and then two months working in an impoverished community somewhere in this world. I'm already doing some of my preparatory reading on global health, readying myself for this new world and new experience. We begin with a session on global health and an ulpan (Hebrew language class); that much I know. Beyond that, I suppose I'll see and go from there. Like many of my classmates, I'm coming into this program filled with uncertainty and excitement. I truly hope that medicine is my calling, that I can make a tangible difference in this world through it, in whatever field I choose. I decided to go to school over taking a job, fully realizing that either choice would have shaped my life in a very different way, but that medical school may be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I pray and trust that this path choice was the best one, and I will move forward with the good wishes of friends and family behind me. Your support has been really, really amazing, and I can't wait to show you what I can achieve. I hope that each of you finds your path as well, and that we can meet up soon in the Holy Land. As we always say, 'next year in Jerusalem,' but this year in Beer Sheva!!!