I’m sitting here listening to a 311 song that I’d never heard before. Husband is in the next room playing bass along with another 311 song, so I have to have my music loud enough to be able to hear over his.

I can still hear his, but mine is louder to me in here.

I have this thing about hearing two things at the same time. It can make me extremely angry really quickly. In the self-checkout when they’re all speaking instructions at the same time, I have to speak really loudly myself to not focus on it and end up getting angry or freaked out. It’s not my only auditory issue, but that’s for another post.

When husband and I bought our first house, he and I had our own designated spaces for the first time. They were essentially on opposite parts of the house, so our respective loud sounds weren’t overly overlapping.

Overly overlapping. Say that shit three times fast. Hell type it three times fast.

Anyway, when we moved to our current house (For the record, we are no longer living in the house I posted as the last gallery lol. I’m just bad about updating here.), our spaces were suddenly separated only by a door. I actually have to walk through husband’s music area to get to my office. We have both lowered volumes fairly significantly, but are both still loud.

Somehow, just for this instance, I’m OK with it. I don’t know it if was survival instinct or what, but I’m really glad it’s happened this way.

A new friend on Twitter inspired me to get down my feelings on my heritage and blood and faith. It’s complicated.

When I was born, Mom was Jewish (blood & high-holy-days practice) & Dad was agnostic. Growing up, I chose the Jewish faith. By tradition, it is passed on by your mother. From what we can follow of our family tree, it was also passed along by DNA. I made it up until I was about 12 before the whole thing just seemed silly and overdone to me, and I didn’t want to play anymore. Mom asked me to stick with it through my Bat Mitzvah, which I did, probably extremely begrudgingly. Then I was allowed to bow out. Because it was then up to me, I did still go to temple. It wasn’t that often, and I was much more interested in spending time with the family that I had gathered there than I was in participating in the rituals. I’d spent most weekends with the same kids who were my age from when we were about six until we were all teenagers. It’s no different than how you feel about classmates you spend all of your childhood with. I’m still dear friends with one of them. His birthday is the day before mine, and I consider him my twin brother. I love him and his family like they were blood.

So where does that leave me as an “adult?” Here’s how I feel and what I believe.

I don’t know if there’s a God. I don’t know if there isn’t a God. I have no way of knowing either way. I am a logic, hands-on, experience type of person. I think that there is some sort of power keeping all of life itself going. Could that be God? Sure. Like I said, I have no way of knowing, nor do I pretend to. That being said, I’m not going to continue on with the rituals if I don’t believe in what they stand for.

Except that’s not completely true. There are certain things that for one reason or another have just stuck with me despite my lack of “faith” in the old testament. I will not live in a house without a Hand of Miriam. I have two now, actually. I will light the candles and sing the prayer at Hanukkah. On Yum Kippur I will typically eat apples and honey, and on Passover I will typically make myself a batch of Charoset (then eat the whole thing by myself and then regret that so very, very, VERY much). But to me, these things are not faith ritual. To me they are tradition. They are things that I have done my whole life. They are good, happy, positive memories for me, and I like continuing them in my life.

There’s still that other part of it, though. Like I said, Mom is Jewish by blood. Regardless of either of us practicing, we are both Jews. That’s something that I can never get rid of, and I consider it an extremely important part of my life. It’s weird to a lot of people, but it is what it is.

How do I feel about the Jewish Religion now? I respect it. I understand it like an outsider can’t. I do NOT respect a lot of the misogyny of most of the conservative Jews. The religion, by the book, is just as fucking horrible as any other religion that’s taken word for word by a text written thousands of years old by old men who were probably on drugs. The congregations I am more drawn to are the ones who are able to see the intended morality lesson from the myths and just do the right things. They don’t treat it as gospel (Sorry for the pun. No, I’m really not sorry at all.).

So there you have it. Nix is a Jew but not a Jew. Like every other part of my life, it’s like a slightly inappropriate riddle.

So this one time, husband and I went to one of our two favorite dive bars. I was still on medication that (unbeknownst to me) reacted harshly with alcohol. Worse, it did this completely unpredictably.

Back to the story. We were hanging out and I’d had a few. Or a lot. I’d made a friend with another cute small woman who was even more drunk than I was. While we were sitting there we added one another on facebook and took selfies. Eventually she had to pee and got up to find the bathroom. That’s when it happened. I thought I was being cute. I thought I was being clever. I wrote a note along the lines of “Nix was here!”

I put the note inside of her purse.

I did NOTHING ELSE to her purse. Nothing. I took nothing out, and the note was the only thing I put in.

It was still a completely horrible idea. She’d unfriended me by the next morning.

I’m still totally mortified and it’s been like a year.

Today I found out that the neuropathy and pain I’ve been experiencing since last year is not Carpal Tunnel. For those who will wonder: this was the second round of painful testing. We’re sure. So…

Dear Body:

While I’m not willing to publicly admit how long we’ve been together, make no mistake about it. We will be together for a long long time, and we will be fucking active and mobile and interesting and fun. I’ve had about enough of your fucking bullshit, body. You’ve fought me this entire goddamned time. Well you’ve been put on notice. I’m done. Stop trying to put me out. It won’t work.

p.s. That whole being allergic to the good drugs thing? They make drugs even better than that you fuck. Don’t make me go there.

So, after five years in our first house, we moved to Silver Spring! We’ve been here for a bit over a month now. It took me forever to get the photos even taken, then my website took a big shit on itself…so, yeah.

I’ve redone all of this, so I’m not sure what it will do in an RSS reader. If things look wonky, just come to the post itself.

I’ve missed it here!

Oh, for fuck sake, what the hell am I doing now??

Well, I tried to make a post. I’ve been trying to make a post about our new house for over a month now. I made the post itself, but everything was fucking slow, and my gallery wasn’t working right, and I realized that it was time to just start over.

So here we are. Give me a few days to get my bearings back together.