Exercises I Love: Zumba

Today's special shoutout goes to Stephanie J. for sharing in my grad school paranoia. My life has been beyond hectic as I'm sure many of you who are reading this know. If anyone asks me one question about my graduate school application process, I will give them the whole overview, icluding my philosophical outlook on why this process is ridiculous and unnecessary. We are two months into the new year and so far nothing has changed except my stress level (increased) and my motivation level (decreased). The winter is upon us. There is nothing better than getting out of a warm bed every morning, bundling up, and schlepping to a bus stop every morning. It's a miracle I have managed not to fall...I've also promised myself to fall on my stomach since I carry my computer in my backpack on a regular basis. It would be my nightmare if I fell backwards and sent my laptop to P.C. heaven, where it can watch over me with the non-flat screen computers and bygone software, like Number Crunchers or whatever that game was called. It was enough of a workout to trudge up a hill in a foot of snow. My body is not adapted to this! Do I look like an Eskimo? When I start having to hunt seal in the Arctic, then I can appropriately adapt to the snow, but as of now my caucasian, assimilated American self would greatly appreciate plowed sidewalks, upon which I can run and skip and not have to worry about falling on my tuchus and sending my laptop to the great Geek Squad in the sky.

Speaking of exercise and my tuchus, I have been doing a great workout class called Zumba. It's really popular so I am sure many of you have heard of it. It's a workout that blends traditional exercise techniques and latin dance. It is set to popular music and also music that is provided through the exercise program. I've been doing it for a long time, on and off. By long time I mean I did the DVDs when I was a sophomore in high school or something like that , then kinda staved off, and picked it back up sophomore year of college. It was started by a guy named Beto (who has a lisp). Anyway, Beto gets us ready to THUMBA! I like it a lot better as a class at the rec. The instructor is amazing and somehow moves her body in a way that I could never do myself ( I do not possess the gene that allows me to detach my butt from my body). I look like an uncoordinated baby giraffe doing the moves (I don't know where I got baby giraffe from). If I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror while doing Zumba I cringe for a second becuase I look like a So You Think You Can Dance reject....the kind they make fun of on The Soup. Regardless, I love it. It's high energy and fun. I'm gonna be honest and say there are no boys in the class, but there is no harm in the men doing Zumba in the comfort of their own rooms...don't ask, don't tell. It really is for everyone if you like that sort of thing. No one has to be an expert in dance to do this. TRUST ME. If that were the case they would've told me to leave a long time ago. Anyway, go out find the closest Zumba class near you and take it. Just make sure the instructor is good or else you will be following orders from a So You Think You Can Dance reject who took one day of ballet when he or she was 5 years old and you would be better off teaching the class yourself (unless of course you are a dancer, then all the more power to you).

Here is a special they did on it on Good Morning America:


Basically, spring break is barrelling upon us and I don't want to look like a beached whale...I guess I shouldn't get a gray swimsuit so people don't stand around me and start taking pictures and then attempt to roll me back in the water. I am glad to be getting out of this snowy hell for just one week. Good riddance gloves and scarves and long bag lady coats! Hello sun, sand, and sunburn! For those of you not going anywhere for spring break...don't fall.

Love,
Diana

Authors I Love: David Sedaris

Oh man has it been a while. The past couple of months have been absolute insanity! There's nothing like the holiday seasons to bring about a sense of calm...or for some, fear may come to mind. I hear there is this hoopla surrounding Christmas and the dreaded "CHRISTMAS SHOPPING." This is why I am Jewish (the only reason why I am Jewish) and I only buy gifts for my friends. Another common theme of the Holidayz (yes, I used a 'Z' to be hip and with the timez) is family. Now, I've already given you all a glimpse into my family with my Europop post, but there is so much more. There is nothing more like a slap in the face about how weird you are, than when your entire family is sitting in one room. In this case, it's me, my mom, and my dad, and my two cats. We're all sitting in the living room, my mom is curled up on the couch and I have planted myself as uncomfortably close to her as possible. My dad, is in the stereotypical recliner watching a football game yelling about how the heat is up too high and how my mom and I never turn the lights off after ourselves. My cats are curled up at the foot of the couch, together, occasionally looking up to figure out why they are so close to each other and to throw up. I look around, my mom is singing some sort of song she heard on Kiis FM with the wrong lyrics and completely out of tune, my dad has managed to create a burp that has rattled the ceiling, and I'm pretty sure one of the cats has farted...wait until a catchy Christmas commercial comes on and my dad begins to whistle. This would be embarrassing if there was someone else in the room, but with my family its a typical Sunday afternoon.



One author who has the weird family down to a science is David Sedaris. Here's a quote:

"For as long as I can remember, my father saved. He saves money, he saves disfigured sticks that resemble disfigured celebrities, and most of all he saves food. Cherry tomatoes, sausage biscuits, the olives plucked from other people's martinis--he hides these things in strange places until they're rotten. And then he eats them."

--David Sedaris (Me Talk Pretty One Day)

Talk about a weird family. I love David Sedaris for the mere fact that he is so honest. He talks about every aspect of his life. Your thoughts may be "What do I have in common with a middle-aged former drug addict?" A lot. You would be suprised. He writes about the human condition. His insecurities are the same as my insecurities and your insecurities. His awkward moments are our awkward moments. His crazy family is an outline of everyone's crazy family. I find it better to listen to his audiobooks because his "matter of fact" tone of voice and mild reactions to outrageous events, make the stories even more hilarious. I want to meet David Sedaris and tell hime that it is ok that he sounds like an "evil man-baby" when he speaks French. As lame as listening to audiobooks may seem (I thought so too), his books are definitely worth the download. My absolute favorite is Me Talk Pretty One Day. I suppose I have a bias since the first story in that book is about his speech pathologist. From his guitar instructor who was a little person, to his adventures in France. Every last story is worth it. "When You are Engulfed in Flames" is also beyond hilarious. I can recommend these books until I'm blue in the face! THEY ARE GREAT! EVERYONE SHOULD READ/LISTEN TO THEM!!!! Really. Do it. Here's a link to the Amazon site, where you can buy them....do it.

http://www.amazon.com/Me-Talk-Pretty-One-Day/dp/0316776963

"On my fifth trip to France I limited myself to the words and phrases that people actually use. From the dog owners I learned "Lie down," "Shut up," and "Who shit on this carpet?" The couple across the road taught me to ask questions correctly, and the grocer taught me to count. Things began to come together, and I went from speaking like an evil baby to speaking like a hillbilly. "Is thems the thoughts of cows?" I'd ask the butcher, pointing to the calves' brains displayed in the front window. "I want me some lamb chop with handles on 'em."
— David Sedaris (Me Talk Pretty One Day)


I tell you, you will be a happier person once you read his memoirs. I know I am.

Love,
Diana

The Things I Like to Do: Daydreaming

Ok now I know this is a repeat but my special shout-out today goes to Kelly M. for her brilliant idea for today's blog. As usual Kelly, you never fail me with a little bit of honesty!



I have no clever, humorous thoughts with which to preface my topic because, in general, the idea of daydreaming has humorous roots in my life. The first step is admitting you have a problem. I am a daydreamer. The kind of daydreamer where I start talking to myself in public and stare off into space with the a look that is a mix between constipation and worry (sometimes those go hand in hand depending on what Mexican restaraunt you eat at the night before). My daydreams include incessant rehashing of embarrassing moments. I play them over and over in my head until my breath catches, I call myself an idiot (outloud), and then focus on another task. In elementary school, my report cards would come with accompanying notes from frustrated teachers who would tell my parents that I was usually staring off into space and not paying attention (excuse me for not wanting to focus on whatever the hell 2x2 equals). "Daydreaming" was a familiar term that was later replaced in my teen years with my dad saying, "Get your head out of your ass." Getting my head out of my ass is easier said than done. My overactive imagination and neurotic nature leave me lost in my own thoughts to the point of no return...and you know what? I like it.





Everyone loves a good daydream. When you're sitting in your class and the professor is droning on about some topic that will only be relevant if you make it to the 6th round of Jeopardy, it is nice to zone out for a second and think about what it would be like if you lived in a Chateau in the countryside of France...with your Italian lover Alejandro...and multiple cats. Is that just me? Sometimes I think about food, specifically, Cheeze-Its or pastries. Sometimes I think about my future. Am I going to be rich? Am I going to have to go on the Biggest Loser because I ate one too many Cheeze-Its? Am I going to have a family of my own? Will I be good at my job? Most recently, I envisioned rejection letters arriving from all of my graduate schools. I was sitting in my Gerontology class and all of a sudden I got this horrid vision of all of these rejection letters coming in the mail. This created the perfect conditions for a public, speak aloud situation, where all of a sudden "Shut-up Diana," escapes my mouth. Not too loud, but audible enough for the girl next to me to hear...whoops. Now, my daydreaming has made me schizophrenic. In my daydreams I find myself fighting with my thoughts, giving myself advice, thinking about Nick Carter from the Backstreet Boys. When I snap back to reality, which usually involves the physical action of me smacking my hand against my head, I want to retreat back into my mind, but at this point some poor soul has probably been asking me the same question sixteen times and I'm still thinking about the kind of cake I want at my non-existent wedding to Alejandro. Sometimes, if I am going down a flight of stairs and I "have my head in my ass" I have to stop and refocus. Had it been a few years later when my teachers sent those infamous notes, I would have been drugged up on Adderall and Ritalin so quick that I would have become an attention machine with the ablility to attend to any task for hours on end (knowing me I would stare at the wall for 5 hours at a time...I do that anyway).



I recommend everyone puts a little effort into daydreaming. Get lost in your thoughts (even if you do miss the important information for exams) because you might learn a lot about yourself. Next time you see me with that look of constipation and worry, looking out a window, don't interrupt me because I'm either thinking of my future...or Cheeze-Its.

Love,
Diana

Activities I Love: Crosswords

I have made a resurrection of my blog. Today's special shout-out goes to Bethany T. for always being a good listener and my mormon.

I know that this blog is supposed to be all about the things I like or love but I just wanted to go on a little tangent about something that I don't like or love: dating. I think dating is an assault on a person in the worst kind of way. If it doesn't work out with someone it's because of a whole slew of issues. You're not pretty enough, you're not smart enough, you're not funny enough...so on and so forth. This is a morbid way of looking at it, I know. But what else could it be? What else could constitute a failed relationship? Even if it is a marriage of 20 years and it dissolves, if you break it down through the complexities it boils down to the fact that these two people are not interested anymore. So back to dating. Dating leads to a relationship. A relationship usually involves a man and a woman (man and man, woman and woman, woman who used to be a man and a hermaphrodite...whatever your fancy). Regardless it is usually two people who make a commitment to eachother whether through marriage or otherwise. How? How does that happen? How can one person wake up and look at the same person for the rest of eternity?! The first year is nice, you're still learning about each other, no one farts, everyone shaves, it's grand. Second year, fights start but it's ok...you still love eachother. Third year, you better hope you make it because this is where the little problems become big problems and the man/woman/hermaphrodite gets bored and now the woman is a nagger and the man is a lazy asshole. I know they have all those articles in Cosmo about how to spice up your sex life with candle wax and doughnuts but how do you feel the exhiliration of that first kiss again and again? I may not know much but I know what's in my own head and I know I get bored easily. Many of you are probably thinking that I just haven't met the right guy yet and that once it happens it will be more clear but I assume most of you reading this are young so if you are dating someone, how do you know you have met the right guy? Sorry to play Diana Downer but I feel as though my cynicism is warranted. I guess the person who tolerates your flaws the best and appreciates your assets the most is the the one that deserves to be by your side. I would never leave you all on such a sappy note so I'm going to say that love is a chemical reaction that helps pair-bonding for breeding. So please everyone, breed.

I'll tell you what I do love. Crosswords. This could be a reason for my trouble with dating. The list of qualities that men want don't usually include crossword lover. Hot, sexy, good cook, likes sports, crossword doer. I have none of the aforementioned qualities except for the last one. I use crossowrds to calm myself. Bad day? Do a crossword. Procrastinating? Do a crossword. Bored? Do a crossword. I highly enjoy the ones in the New York Times. Luckily Miami Universtity provides a NYT everyday fo' free so that I can get a newspaper and not read a single word of it except for the clues on the crossword. Also, I can only do Monday's and Tuesday's without employing the use of such tools like Google or an encyclopedia (even then, if I'm tired then I need the Smithsonian archives). To this day the best gift I have recieved is a tear-away calendar with a NYT crossword for everyday (granted I did all of the Mondays through January a month after I recieved it). If I look like I'm hard at work at the library then usually I'm googling some obscure Greek god or a bygone fad of the 1950s, just so I can get 57 down or 42 across. I highly suggest picking up a crossword hobby because it expands your general knowledge and I have learned some interesting things by doing them. Honestly, I can't wait until I'm older and the hard questions will be from our generation and I will be able to answer the questions about the various political events or old actors because they will be events that we have been through. Woah, I think I out-lamed myself on that one. Also, there is a guy named Rex Parker, whose blog I follow and he has the answers to all the NYT crosswords and sometimes if I get really frusterated I cheat and look at his blog. So you could always use that blog as a resource if you decide to pick up a NYT crossword. Really out-laming myself.

Anyway, crosswords could be a metaphor for dating. If you can find 1 across but not 1 down then your crossword puzzle will never be finished. Ok, now I really outlamed myself.

Love,

Diana

Music I Love: Old school Russian/ Europop

I know it's been a while but I was inspired and decided to do another buhlog. Today's special shout-out goes to Jessica M. aka Tumor for listening to my incessant, jukebox-like, singing in subsequent classes.

For those of you who don't know me, I was born in the former Soviet Union in a small country called Moldova. That means that I was susceptible to the European cultural practices. I would say that every culture has its own way of expression and customs but Russian speaking individuals take it to a new level. Yes, I eat red caviar that my dad and his friends drive for 40 minutes to get. Yes, I had to wear woolen tights instead of socks. Yes, I wore bows in my hair that were larger than my body. No, I was not allowed to sit on cold surfaces due to a superstition that it would make me sterile (ptu, ptu, ptu...spit on the devil). Yes, my mom and her friends enjoy pleather, sequins, and clothes that 18 year old girls would shy away from. Yes, my dad has a mustache, is anatomically connected to his bluetooth, wears the occasional addidas sweat suit, and sounds like Borat. My culture is like the Lochness monster--elusive, interesting, and all around strange. As David Sedaris said in his book (to be discussed in a later blog) if your family is "weird" you are doomed to be "weird." I believe that this idea is true and observable. In elementary school I felt like an immigrant child. In middle school I still felt like somewhat of an outsider but my assimilation was in full swing (except for my Bat Mitzvah party being at a Russian restaurant) and I swooned over the Backstreet Boys with the best of them. By high school I was ready to abandon all remanants of my "Russianess" and pretend that I was born in Cleveland and that my family hailed from Iowa. By the time college rolled around I realized that I could not abandon my Russian roots and that, in fact, I will embrace all the things that I tried so hard to extract from my background. I began taking Russian language and film classes and eventually taught a Russian language lesson (as unqualified as I seem to be). Now, I am an advocate of animal print (although in small amounts) and I try hold on to my culture.

That leads me to the one part of my background that I never wanted to abandon. I don't know what kind of music you all listened to as children. I assume some classic rock Country? Showtunes? Not me. I was raised on trashy Europop. Does Modern talking ring a bell? What about Boney M? No? That's what I thought. I want to set-up a scene for you all. Imagine 15 drunk women and men in a living room with an extremely laquered table. It is covered with caviar, shish kabob, meat salads, fish salads, sardines, potatoes, and 13 other kinds of salads. Two bottles of Stolichnaya vodka and Hennesey have been finished and now it's time to dance. A song starts playing and the women and men start to gyrate and bounce around the living room, pretending to sing the lyrics of the song that just come out as incoherent made-up words.

These women and men are my parents and their friends. The song "One Way Ticket" by Boney M. comes on and in unison the women and men sing "Vun vey teekeet, vun vey teeket." The children sit there in shock and are pulled into the throng of dancing, intoxicated, loud speaking adults. The music is too catchy to ignore and one can't help but to gravitate to the fast, steady beat. If I am to be honest I would say that I never hated the music and, to this day, feel a pang of nostalgia anytime I here these old Europop songs. They are a staple of any Russian speaking household and bring about feelings of joy when they are heard. Another popular way to relay this music is through the use of cheesy Russian coverbands who are commonplace in every good Russian restaurant. These coverbands usually consist of a greasy lead singer who looks like old-school Michael Bolton, two girls who are probably fresh-off-the-boat from Ukraine or Belarus, and some sad little keyboardist. This motley crew of a band provide hours of fun and dancing as they play songs that only someone who is from a former Socialist nation can remember and appreciate. I can't say that I hated it and when I hear one of these songs I am reminded of the fun, carefree times of dancing and revelry.

Here are a few examples:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Y7c1_gK8Os --- Cheri Cheri Lady by Modern Talking

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zx7fFnxNH4U--- One Way Ticket by Boney M.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5i8WgY-P25o --- I Saw You Dancing by Yaki Da

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=77N5F4WUtJ0--- Malchik Hochet V Tombov by Murat Nasyrov

I would recommend you listen to these if nothing more than for the pure comedy of the videos (Definitely the first one)

So there you have it, a large part of my life in a nutshell. As much as I tried to escape the fur coats, the bright pink lipstick, and the purpulish/red hair, I feel as if it is my fate and I'm okay with that. My kids will probably not hear these songs and will more than likely listen to Lil' Wayne, but I will hold on to the songs and remember them as part of my childhood.

Love,

Diana

ты отказала мне два раза не хачу сказала ты/ вот какая ты зараза девочка мои мечты (Academia duet)

T.V. Shows I Love: Nip/Tuck

Time for a new blog I suppose. The exam I have tomorrow will kill me orrrr...kill me. Today's special shout-out goes to Nicole O. for being a very accomodating and helpful roomie! It is completely necessary for me to write a new blog because if I didn't I would have to face the inevitibility that I have other, more important things to do.

There is a small, elderly Israeli woman sitting next to me at the library. I know she's Israeli because she's teaching the man sitting with her some Hebrew words. All I know is "Aifo ha shirutim?" This means, "where are the bathrooms." For me this is a very important question and I am proud of my knowledge. This man has now jumped into the world of theology and philosophy, saying that he wants to see what is on the other side....hmmmm. Interesting. I am not a great believer in Heaven or anything to that effect but if there is some mystical utopian place to go I hope it's full of m & m's and salmon...and maybe some asparagus. I don't know what it says about me that my ideal universe would contain various foods. In additon to food, I would also really like unlimited This American Life podcasts and a library full of books that I like and an infinite amount of time to read them. Also, in this "perfect" place I want a good singing voice and I'll have collaborations with Michael Jackson. I would be the superstar of heaven! Either way, no matter what awaits all of us I'm no rush and I hope none of you are either. Update on the Israeli woman: she's is teaching Arabic cuss words...yessss.

You know what else my Heaven would contain...unlimited episodes of NIP/TUCK! BEST SHOW EVER. The intensity and storylines are unbelievable. I've been watching since I was 16 or 17, quitely, so my parents wouldn't see that I was watching Christain Troy be a womanizer (in more ways than one). Tonight marks the start of the very last season and it's bringing the DRAMA. Okay, update on the Israeli old woman: she is now yelling at this grown man for including a letter that is not contained in the word she is showing him.."WHERE IS THE 'R?' WHY ARE YOU SAYING 'R?' STOP IT!" Sounds like my grandma. Anyway, back to Nip/Tuck. The storylines are so complex and intriguing. I can't even begin to explain the plots. It's not too late to stop watching but beware it's violent, graphic, overtly sexual. Viewer Discretion is Advised. So tune in on FX and if you so choose get all of the seasons on DVD and watch them!

Okay, I must be studious now. I have a world of knowledge to acquire and less than 24 hours to do it but really, if I took a philosophical approach (Aristotle, Socrates), I would say that what we learn here is not the real world and that there is some parallel universe. I wonder if my grades matter there? Either way, I'll be missing Nip/Tuck and that's not a perfect place for anyone.

Love,

Diana

People I Love: Adrien Brody

As much as I love studying for grad school entrance exams I decided it was time for a new blog. Special shoutout goes to Jessica F. for seeing me on my way to the rec and for being a special roomie.

As I sit at the library and look at everyone "dilligently" studying I realize that I am so screwed for these next coming months. How do people do it? How is possible to fit in all the work that one must do between exams, applications, and resume writing? I do not know how it's possible but I guess I will find out. Maybe if I wasn't sitting here blogging I would be more efficient with my time. Nonetheless, college is the devil's work and if it wasn't our need to be productive, contributory members of society none of us would be sitting in libraries becoming machines that work for the Man. Sorry, I started ranting and the obligatory "Fight the Power" nonsense began to spew from my brain and into my fingertips. I do have to say that these standardized test that are pushed upon students are unnerving and unhealthy. There is no reason that I should be panicking over the inablitiy to create a bridge from the analogy "Coax: Blandishments." What the hell are "blandishments?" Ah, it seems as though my second attempt at conquering the GRE may be in vain. I do not think there is any way to imbue my brain with the knowledge necessary to get an acceptable, let alone, respectable score. C'EST LA VIE.

They should have a section on the GRE about Adrien Brody. I would ACE it. I have made it a personal goal to see every movie in which he has acted or appeared or been to. I'm failing miserably but eventually I will watch King Kong all the way through and the Brothers Bloom are next on my list. I know a lot of you are thinking, "Ew Diana, his nose is too big!" Wrong. You know that they say about big noses.......better resonance in the pharynx. I know that's what you all were thinking. Others may say, "Ew Diana, he's ugly and skinny." Wrong! He's not.

--->Look, you cannot tell me that he is so unattractive you wouldn't want him to be the father of your children...or gay lover (if you happen to be male).

---->In this picture he got confused and kissed Halle Berry instead of me. Alas, Adrien Brody and I will never start a family and I will continue to adore him through films. I want to say that he was incredible in The Pianist and that is regardless of Roman Polanski's misbehavior and love of pedophilia (sicko).

It is time for me to continue studying and daydreaming about the day that Adrien Brody comes knocking on my door, telling me, "Diana, you don't have to take the GRE."

Love,

Diana