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Author Archives: Tal
Tal’s Army Service טל בצבא
Homesick
Who knows when this letter will find you…
Dear Imma
Yeela told me to write you a speech. Then Yeela told me to write you a speech again. Then again. Then she got mad at me for not writing a speech, because I should have written a speech. When I could hear the intensity rising over the phone (she got that ability from you), I knew I definitely didn’t want to mess with that voice (a sixth sense that I got from Bushi). So, I forced myself to sit down, and think about why it is that I cannot write a little something for my own mother.
It was an extremely frustrating thought. It is not as if we come from a family of no-talkers or god forbid, in the words of jerry Seinfeld, low-talkers. As a member of the Porat household I can say that the table at Friday night dinner is dangerous and all outsiders should be aware of the verbal crossfire. And it certainly is not like we come from a family who didn’t INVENT Qualie the one (or several) time(s) of the day in which we tickle Tin Tin, in attempts to get information out of him. Essentially, Qualie is nothing but another medium through which we openly share the events of our lives and the thoughts running through our heads with you.
Then what the hell?
And then I realized that for my entire life, all I did was hear how wonderful I am from YOU. So, here is my opportunity to attempt to start, even though I am sure that what I can get across in words is only a mere, tiny fraction of what I truly feel.
Thank you-
Thank you for your spontaneity- Remember the time we wanted to visit NYU and I wanted to leave on a random Thursday night? Then we couldn’t because you had a Stanford event? The only reason we couldn’t leave was that you had a Stanford event. It didn’t even occur to you that it was last minute, or that it’s a hassle to go and find a hotel in NY, or that WE WERE GOING TO FLY TO NEW YORK. I feel this quality mostly now, when I am on my own, and I seem to be one of the few people who can take surprises with a grain of salt. Even a trip to Akko that we are given half an hour to eat lunch and prepare for, I find that I am of the rare few who seem excited by the event as apposed to annoyed by it. I think that this attitude to face life with is within the top 5 of most important things that you’ve taught me. One of the things you say that sticks out in my mind every day is, hadvarim etzlaynu dinamim. Every time something changes last minute, I think about you, every time we invite 20 people to dinner, or every time you invite someone to live in our house from one day to another and your answer is always, hadvarim etzlaynu dinamim. It has become my answer to people every time someone seems thrown off when something changes or when someone is strictly opposed to a change of plans. I learned that life is unpredictable and there is no point in attempting to predict it. The best way to keep myself sane and to enjoy the moment is by knowing that the next moment is likely to change, for better or for worse, and even if I don’t like what is happening, the moment after that is also likely to change.
Thank you for being a person who everyone loves. Not only because they have to but because it is impossible not to. Thank you for making the video such a pleasure to make. Yeela and I were looking forward to meeting your old friends and it was a pleasure hearing all the amazing things they had to say about you (which you never said about yourself.) Thank you for being a person who my friends love and actually lead me to suspect that they are my friends solely for the fact that they can talk to you. Lauren, for instance, sits and talks to me only because there is a slight chance I will ask her to call you and tell you to go online.
Thank you for DEMANDING that I always follow my heart and always supporting me on everything I do. Throughout my life, all I got was positive feedback and impenetrable support from you. Whether is was when I first hated elementary school and you volunteered in the classroom almost every day to be there with me. Whether is was when Ms. Bassett was being a bitch and you basically told her that she’s dumb and to allow me to be creative. All the mess with the Tzofim; which you spent unfathomably long hours calling, writing, and protecting me under your wing. Or all my difficulties deciding between NYU and UCIDF, not to mention the difficulties of actually moving to those places and living there. Every day you had as long as I needed to talk on the phone. You allow me to vent, help me with my problems (even homework, because no distance is too great for you), and you guide me to make sure, no matter how tough times get and how many people I seem to be fighting, I always follow my gut and keep my morals in order. If you didn’t have the faith in me and expect me to be so strong throughout my life, I don’t think that I would have been to stand up for myself and for all those people along the way who I was able to stand up for.
And thank you for loving me so much that I cant help but learn to love myself. Every day, I hear how great I am and how confident you are in everything I do and so every day I walk a little straighter and trust myself a little bit more. The amount that I’ve grown, no one can see but you, because it is thanks to you that I’m at this point today.
Even when you are not here, I get strength from you and from all of the people who love you. Every time I hear Nadav say how he changed just from a few months from living in our house I feel stronger. Thank you for believing that no mistake is too bad, nothing is permanent and everything can be fixed; and that there is no such thing as taking no for an answer, unless I’m being offered drugs.
Thank you for literally, no exaggeration, being the best Ima in the world.
Happy birthday, ve ad 220
Your favorite youngest daughter,
Tal
Second Aliyah העליה השניה
Tal at NYU
NYU Visits California
Three Things I would Keep
Would it not be simple to have a Cheshire cat that listens, a white rabbit that has all the answers and be busy and careless trapped in perpetual teatime? Louise Carroll creates a wonderland and fills it with simple characters. In his ingenious way Carroll critiques unbalanced simplicity: the hatter is useless; the cat disguises itself as being mad in order to be able to listen and the rabbit critiques but never lends a hand. Those who communicate dare not participate and those who participate are practically useless. This “wonderland” gives us a deceiving impression of how our world should appear. Though it is full of flaws, with a few minor tweaks it can be regarded in an entirely new light. We do not need a lot in order to simplify our lives. I would keep three belongings that would allow me to maintain a balance between my inner self and the world around me which in turn would help me lead a complete and fulfilling life.
For the mind, I would keep a multi-language dictionary that contains a dozen languages. Languages are keys to our ability to develop into what we are as thinking, creative, rational, social and emotional beings. Each new language opens up doors to a wealth of cultures of spectacular richness. In today’s society too many of us are trying to be rabbits that know instead of cats that listen. How much time and effort do we spend in the tea party of technology? Is it really worth the time and effort? Many times we are lost in the realm of technology and lose sight of our cultures. Growing up in Silicon Valley, I have come to realize the strength of knowing multiple languages. There is so much more to gain from the endless assortment of different beliefs than from mastering the mundane complexities of technology. It would be m uch more gratifying if I were able to read more literature and poetry from all over the world, grasping tightly to the plethora of diversity at my disposal. Think of how simple it would be if we could only understand the people next to us because we can communicate freely with them.
With the treasures of language strapped to my back I would need to be able to go places, mingle with the people, hear, listen, smell and feel the world around me. I want to move like the rabbit. A car will not do. A car would lock me out of my surroundings. All that is needed is a pair of roller blades. On roller blades I can travel, exercise and have fun while staying in touch and without being intrusive. If I get tired I simply carry them with me; if they squeak I oil them, and when they are beyond repair I replace them. Roller skates would give me the opportunity to be independent while still having contact with the world.
My third possession would give me the power to be myself in any dimension real or imaginary, to soar with dreams and burn with emotion – my piano. Like the dictionary nourishing the mind with millions of keys to culture in the forms of literature and poetry, the piano is a dictionary to the world of music. Unlike a language, music speaks its riches in an abstract form which jovially toys with the rational mind, and warmly sooths the unbound soul. Music paints on a canvas of silence taking thoughts, emotions, and passions and reviving them in the air. Words fall short of describing the powers of the piano. When I play it, we laugh, fight, cry and struggle together, intertwined at our very core. The piano’s welcoming keys beckon warmly to share my experiences with them. When I am angry, they quiver under my roaring fingers and when I am relaxed, they bounce tenderly, swimming through my body, and enlightening my soul. I c an create my tea party whenever I want without being trapped in it; with the piano I will forever be able to escape “wonderland” and return as I please.
Wonderland is a failed system which was created by Louise Carroll to critique our own. Like all good criticism it sends a constructive message which we can learn from if we read between the lines. With a dictionary linking me with many cultures I can be the cat without being mad. With the skates, giving me mobility, strength, and independence and can move like the rabbit, but stop to listen and lend a hand to those in need. With the piano picking up where words leave I can soar into imaginary wonderlands and come back by simply letting go of its keys. With these three possessions I have the means to rearrange wonderland into a working system. I can lead a simple, happy and fulfilling life. I have what I need to maintain my identity, the powers to enrich my inner being and the ability to apprecia te the world around me.
Thank You Mary
Ten years ago, a little girl (I think) walked into Mrs. Huang’s studio draped in a baggy green shirt and baggy pants to go with it. After being told to spit out her gum, she sat down to play, nothing too memorable.
This little girl was me. A girl, whose previous piano experience consisted of an entire year of ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’. I must say that after months of practicing this extremely challenging composition, I had created quite a theory for myself. I honestly believed, that with enough time, I could play any song starting on any given note. As you can imagine, I had absolutely no clue, as to how demanding the piano really was. So it is needless to say, that THIS Mary had a little challenge. To tell you the truth, I don’t exactly remember what I first played for Mary, but I remember coming out of her house with an entire book which I was told to practice for the next lesson. Oooh, the fights that went on at home every day. Every day consisted of a routine of whining, complaining, and unbearably annoying tears. This however, did not help me any. Somehow, my mother found the patience to sit with me and make sure I played, and somehow, Mary had the faith in me, to continue pushing my potential until this very day.
Every Tuesday, from then on, I would approach her house, open the unlocked, welcoming door, and make my way up her stairs. Each time I went up I was greeted by an ornate Bach invention, or a Beethoven sonata, or some Chopin waltz, dancing jovially through her halls. The more I went, the more stories I suddenly had to share, and the more I felt part of this indescribable musical bubble. Despite the fact that I still drove my mother crazy at home, it was as if some transformation came over me as I stepped through the door and sat in front of the black and white keys. Although my stubborn and mischievous self could never let my mom see a glimpse of the joy that these Tuesdays brought me, I shared this secret light with Mrs. Huang.
To call Mrs. Huang a teacher, a friend, a second parent are all understatements. There are no words to describe how amazing she truly is. She is the one who told me what I was wearing my first lesson. I don’t remember what I wore to prom two weeks ago, yet she, somehow, remembers what rags my tomboyish self decided to throw on that morning. When Mrs. Huang sees me, she sees an entire me. From the little girl until the person you see standing before you today. She knows every scar and every story, all of my strengths and also my weaknesses. She can tell from my voice when I’m stressed, or when I haven’t gotten enough sleep because I stayed up late working on a project. And it is with this care and attention that she treats each and everyone of her students. A warm, compassionate, tender understanding that not even the richest Chopin Etude could express.
There are things in life that you think will always happen to somebody else. For me, that was growing up. For me, that was today. I look at you, with this entire journey still ahead of you, and today I am your somebody. But at some point in time, believe it or not, it will be you. So embrace it now, every single note you are able to play, because someday, you will be standing where I am, and you wont believe how quickly it passed by. You won’t believe that your name is printed on the back of the program. Suddenly your Tuesdays will seem empty because you aren’t climbing the beckoning staircase; instead, you are working on a procrastinated term paper. But you will also be leaving with two best friends with a lifetime guarantee – the piano, and always and forever, Mrs. Huang. I will never forget what you have done for me. Thank you for everything.
Farewell to FUF
Moses Koses
White
White can be empty,
and lifeless, and still,
there’s no white in a rainbow,
or white on a hill
Yet white is a swan
glowing with beauty and grace
as it drifts across the lake
in a slow peaceful pace
White is a vortex
pulling me in,
white is a friend
through all thick and thin
White is a blanket
a blanket of snow,
engulfs a green field
so the flowers wont grow.
White is the sheet
that covers the dead
white’s what is left
when all’s done and said
White is the beard,
of a dieing old man;
white are the memories
that can’t be stored in a can.
White is a dove
pleading for peace
an endless pure prayer
that will never decrease
White is the noise
a monotonous hum
screaming, yelling, and weeping
to which we shall never succumb
White is a lie,
so close to the truth,
white can enrich,
or spoil a youth.
Assignment: Write a poem about a color (Freshman year)
Revised November 2005
Rain
Rain is the power of cool fire. Fierce yet gentle, flows but creates its own path, and cries not only for itself, but for the dwindling and decaying world around. These tears that have fallen seeped into my skin and spread through my body like worm, rich caramel. I am the rain. The constant tapping of the gentle water engraves memories of its existence not by force, but by persistence. The brilliant integrity that accomplishes so much. I am the rain. I too set goals and dreams that can only be accomplished over time with patience and consistency. I did not learn to play piano in one quick week; rather, it took many painful years to build a strong foundation, technique, and understanding of the piano.
When the rain hits the ground it does not shatter or break; it either is the first among many drops creating a new puddle, or flows easily with a river or lake. When I fall, I do not let myself shatter. I am the rain. I flow easily with the people around, but I know when to stand up for my own beliefs.
Each drop of water is like a different personality. Some are pure, some are weeping, and some are angry. I am the rain. My personality is built up of many drops. I am a pool of laugher, a sea of passion, a river of hope, and a puddle of anger and frustration. Each different drop moves in a different direction into my soul.
The rain is powerful, loving, and exciting. The rain is heavy tears of smiles and compassion. The rain is a force. I am the rain.
Assignment: In the ‘Joy Luck Club’, Lindo constantly refers to herself as Wind. Compare yourself to a force of nature.
Colors of Courage
Red is deep passion,
The love that stays bold,
Red is the hatred,
the will never unfold.
White is the silence,
That tore through the clouds.
White is the smoke,
That drank up the crowds.
Blue is the sky,
Endless and free,
Blue is the sadness,
That swept over glee.
White is the noise,
That swallowed the city,
The red violent screams,
Yearning for pity.
White is the arrow
that pierced through the heart
Blue is the sorrow
that ripped it apart.
Red is the seed,
That blooms to a rose,
Strong and everlasting
A bond that forever grows
Blue are the ashes
Drowned in warm tears
blue is the braveness
that hid all the fears
White are the ages
That increase with time
And white are the memories
That will remember the crime
Red, White, and Blue
Are the colors of strength
The eternal power
That goes to great lengths
White is the canvass,
For the Red and the Blue
The immeasurable courage,
That will always stay true.
Reflections program: Signs of Courage.
Color of My Life
Yellow shines cool passion; an unspeakable calm. Yellow is the light breeze, caressing the world gently and comfortingly. Yellow is full, and warm, and lustrous; yellow is a smile, vibrant and tender. Yellow is bold heat, yet soft and sensitive. Yellow can be a cool summer sun, a gold medal sinking heavily into the palm of a tired hand, or blazing fire flames, lapping fiercely like five-hundred tongues of starved dogs. When I look at my life, through a life color spectrum, my life is not sorted into a rainbow of colors, but rather, many different shades of the color yellow. Yellow portrays many as pects of my personality and my emotions. Yellow stands as a strong wall in my mind, always reminding me, even in the worst of times, that there is a bright corner that can always cheer me up. For me, in times of grief, in times of pain, times of confusion, or times of misery, the thought of yellow transforms those moments into times of comfort, relief, and understanding.
The sun is a bright and heartwarming shade of yellow. The sun is bold, and seemingly timeless. The yellow sun pours light and happiness into an empty soul. One of my life long philosophies is ‘Make people happy’; just as when yellow rays of sunlight filter thro ugh dark gray clouds and bring a smile onto one’s face. Yet the sun is also stubborn and strong. On a hot summer day, there is no way to bring the sun down from its boiling peak, until it goes down at it’s own pace. From this perspective, my life is yellow because, I too, enjoy parting the clouds from a person’s day, even if only for a mere second. However, I can be stubborn, about an idea or a belief. There are a few things that I believe in that not even the best argument in the world can change, just as an argument cannot convince the sun to cool down.
Yellow summons happiness from the soul. The thought of yellow lif ts heavy weights of black and brown off of my chest. This helps me be more optimistic when I find myself trapped in a deep hole, and it helps me aide others become more optimistic. Sometimes people lose sight of their ‘yellow’. If I keep mine as a vivid block in my mind, I could help others see the rich and blissful color. The color of light, the color of summer, the color of graceful dandelions, the color of gold, and the color of delight; yellow is the color of my life.
Assignment: Gene Forrester from ‘A Separate Peace’ compares his life to olive green; the color of the army. Compare your life to a color.
Blue Night
The dress of a shadow, draped in eerie black,
Swings by back and forth, like an empty sack.
The world’s in deep slumber and the air is quite still,
But the moon is awake, vibrant aloft the hill.
Despite the shadows, and the gloom in the air,
Some laughter is heard, from some being up there.
Laughter from the moon to the stars,
Where no tears are shed over blood or scars.
A night such as this said the stars to the moon,
What a shame such a night will be over soon,
And the moon smiled a smile, of glory and grace,
To calm down the stars, from the evil sun race.
A faint whisper followed, like a warm lullaby,
Words so gentle, like a cool autumn sigh.
My dear dazzling friends, it is time to be gone,
Time to go rest, and bring on the dawn
As the sun came up, from it’s cool watery bed,
The stars gave a look of horror and dread.
And as the moon slowly sank out of sight,
The wind blew the words Don’t forget this blue night.
Assignment: From the list of poem titles that we listed in class, create your own poem using the title. (Sophomore Year)
Animals
Like animals we attack, and like animals we think,
The blood and the tears of others we drink.
With bursts of rage, and wars of beasts,
That will later be celebrated over delightful feasts.
The paths that we take, and the way we treat others,
Makes us all ashamed to be brothers.
Living to kill, and hunting our prey,
While our lives and our hearts on a limp thread sway.
In the eyes there is yearning, a cry to break free,
Escape to a place of sunshine and glee.
If the heavens above and the hells below can all get along
Why can’t we be so?
We were all put on earth equal and pure,
What happened to us? Is there a cure?
We came to a state, where ha te reigns supreme,
A nightmare that developed from merely a dream.
Let us hope there’s a day, where the rainbow of brown,
Will turn right side up, no longer a frown.
Await the day until we animals burst,
Humans again, what we were first.
Assignment: From the list of poem titles that we listed in class, create your own poem using the title. (Sophomore Year)
