Wow, where to begin? (I know that was a fragment but it's colloquial, so it's okay.) It felt really weird coming back from Jerusalem. My soul and mind (but thankfully not my baggage this time) seemed to remain in Jerusalem even though I corporally returned to New York City. In fact, there is a humorous account of this occuring my first day back. I landed at around four o'clock in the morning last wednesday. My first destination besides dropping off my bags in Goldsmith? Butler (especially look at the poem penned by Rolfe Humphries toward the end of the article) . Why? So I could finally use the website boredatbutler.com, which I was unable to post to from Jerusalem (it gave me the message "sorry... you're not on Columbia's network. now scram!", a message I am now currently receiving in the Jewish Theological Seminary Library). Anyway, following a meeting at Hillel (second place I went) and lunch at Cafe Nana (good, but not as good as Israel). I then returned to Butler to practice my Sofrut. My plan, by the way, was to stay up until 9-ish so as to avoid jetlag (I didn't want to go to sleep too early or I would be screwed up for a while, like the last two times I went to Israel, and not too late as I thought I wouldn't be able to do it)
I went with Elena to Zen Palate , where I got something completely random. It was good. I don't know if I could go vegan (seeing as I like meat and dairy -- but never together nor dairy within 3 hours after meat -- too much), but it was very good. As I was going back the jet-lag madness set in. We were on the 104 bus going uptown and I suddenly asked Elena if she wanted to stop at Ben Yehuda street. Ben Yehuda street, it should be pointed out, is in Jerusalem and not in New York City, and you take the Egged 18, not the MTA x104. To prove that this was not an isolated incident, in her room at Sulzberger at Barnard I groggily asked if she though the Shuq was still open. I don't feel I need to comment on the location of the Shuq, but it was slightly out of the way, by about 5,000 miles.
The next day I blacked out of my mind, probably for good reason. Celebrating the end of finals and the end of the school year (though technically mine ended 5 months ago) should not always be remembered. Neither should Absinthe al-flambé. It tastes like licorice but more disgusting
Alright, more later, but I need to graduate now (again). I wanted to leave you with the fact that I met President Clinton in Times Square yesterday. This would be the third time that I met him, the first being as we were kicked out of the Oval Office by a member of the Secret Service (long story, if you want it, come find me in person) because the President needed to get his golf clubs to play on his course in the Rose Garden) the second being at Hillcrest (and a Dvar Torah by Rabbi Feinstein that mentions it), where we spoke from 10 feet away. He was quite friendly. I did a double-take as I was walking with my dad and said "Hey, President Clinton" to which he responded "Hi". Wow. Anyway, I decided to try to get a picture with him (I don't usually get star-struck, but President Clinton is the most powerful person in the free world (Don't give me that "Dubya" crap, Clinton's still President!) He was very gracious as were his four Secret Service agents, and I see why he was and still is so beloved. Come back to the White House, President Clinton! We need you!
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