Negative Body Image and Greek Life

So many of you know that I am the Chapter Advisor for my sorority at University of Colorado - Boulder.

I really love:

  1. My girls (even though they aren't always nice to me)
  2. My volunteer role (even though it isn't always easy)
  3. My sorority & our international team of volunteers (no even though here...)


For me, joining Gamma Phi Beta was an incredible experience. I had gone through almost 2 years of university being a GDI (g-d damn independent) and hanging only with the theatre people before I realized... I needed a broader social circle. I am by no means a "stereotypical" sorority girl but I don't think anyone at my school was. The women who are now and will always be my closest friends are the women I graduated with and were in my Gamma Phi chapter (go Epsilon Zeta at JU!).

Becoming the advisor at CU was definitely a culture shock. My chapter had 30 girls, this one has 180... It's a big school with a big football team, and when I got here, a big drinking problem. Not our chapter necessarily but the school as a whole. We had so many barriers to success over the past four years but I am SO proud of where we stand today with the university. Now I know what it took to get here and I know that a lot of my women think I forgot what it was like to be a college student (HA! That's funny... I remember it all and I remember saying the same things about my advisors) but the reality is that I've grown up and seen the affects of that lifestyle on women and I want to help every woman I come in contact with.

So I was fairly disturbed when I read this article - Sororities and Negative Body Image - what struck me the most was that the women more attracted to Greek life were women with a lower self esteem and body image to begin with. AND that instead of empowering these women, this study found that they actually perceived themselves worse. That's not what we are here for.

Sorority women are empowered. We are creating our own networking opportunities. We are making a family where none existed. Our founders were strong women, pioneers and our ritual and ideals have changed little since our founding (in GPhi's case - in 1874). So why does this study show the opposite affect?

I don't know. Don't have a clue. Wish I had an answer. I just know that I love and truly care for all 180 of my women and would do anything for them (that would promote the highest type of womanhood).

What does G-d mean?

A friend just posted on her Facebook a conversation with her almost 3 year old daughter. It went like this -

Kid: What does god mean?
Mom: Love.
Kid: If I wear my purple tights will I look like a dancer?
… I guess I passed lesson one on spirituality 101.

I love this exchange. It really gets to the heart of kids. They have ideas, they want to share ideas, and they want simple answers.

In the Passover seder we talk about the four children and how we respond to their questions. Within the responses we say, “It is because of what G-d did for me when I left Egypt.” We tell the children what our connection is, what G-d did for me. This opens the door to let the child’s beautiful imagination construct the image that they need of G-d. This is why my friend’s answer worked. To her, G-d = love. Love is a concept the little girl understands in her little girl mind. She could think it means hugs or bedtime stories or pancakes on Sunday but every time she thinks of these things, she will think about G-d… until the next distraction… like her purple tights and looking like a dancer.

Another friend, with several little girls under the age of 10 was telling me the other day that #4, the 2 1/2 year old, often comes up to her and says, “Now mommy, don’t laugh” or she will walk up to mom, look at her, look over her own shoulder, sigh and walk away. As if it would be too difficult to explain to an adult her thoughts. Kids want the answers, they want you to take them seriously but don’t get too caught up in the details. Tell them it’s because of how you perceive it and let them explore it.

And sometimes, we have to realize that they are just so much smarter than us in their simplicity and respect that.

I think this quote sums it up so well -
“Grown-ups never understand anything for themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them.” - Antoine de Saint-Exupery, “The Little Prince”, 1943

Originally posted at Patheos.com - AshkanOrthoNewalForm-ish

Idiocy… even in the best of circles…

So I found this blog post MoVinG oN and was just shocked... but then I remembered that every community has their own crazies...

I really hope that my generation and the next can convince the oldies that the world truly has changed.

I had this idea, and I was chatting it out with a co-worker, that we get a bunch of rabbis (or make it interfaith) to sit down and "re-write" the Torah for a modern day audience. What would it say? Would Noah's flood be Hurricane Katrina? Would G!d have written something about cell phones on shabbis? What about the common abuse of the shabbis goy?

At some point we have to realize it isn't the middle ages anymore...

Anyway, just one woman's thoughts.

(FYI - I am not an official representative of anything or anyone except for myself. And I don't have a mechitza on my comment wall.)
______________________________
UPDATE! 2.26.10
Hi all my loyal readers! I am sure you have been watching this saga with baited breath... ;) I have just found out that this was an elaborate Purim prank. Nice work guys... You had me fooled (and indignant)! Here is Altie's post about the prank - It Was All A Joke

And here are the pranksters... Va'ad Shmiras Hadas V'hatarah "official" blog and this is TRS and Yossi ... This is TRS ... and this is Yossi!

And so begins the rest

And I mean that both in this is the "rest" of my blog and on Shabbis, we "rest." Before I get started, since I tend to explain why certain things are while in the context of the experience, I will indent these informative sections, to make it easier to read.

So we left off with the sirens going off and Shabbis starting. What is done, is done at that point and you can't start cooking anything or put on makeup or clean the house. A sense of calm falls over this small section of Brooklyn.

We went to shul at 770 Eastern Parkway... known as just 770. This was the Rebbe's home and shul. The weekend that I happened to be there was Chof Beis Shvat.

Chof Beis Shvat is the yartzeit of the Rebbe's wife - the Rebbetzin. On her yartzeit, all the rabbi's wives, the rebbetzins from around the world, come to Crown Heights for a convention. There are literally thousands of women in town for that weekend. It's called the Kinus for short. So when these women, who come from places like India, China, Russia, Key West, Alaska, etc, come to town, they all want to davven in the Rebbe's shul. The last time I was in CH for Chof Beis Shvat, I was literally jostled out the door of the women's section. I was still a "newbie" to the CH seen and wasn't so confident... and well... I grew up in a non-pushing house... so I let myself be jostled out the door.

This year was different.

I was staying with a (new but very dear) friend whom we shall call RL and her sister CB. We went to shul and we pushed our way right in. We smushed into the small women's area, above where the men were praying.

Why were the men and women separated, you ask? Well there are lots of laws and reasoning behind using a mechitza and many different ways they can look. Essentially, it is a separation of men and women but don't get the wrong idea, it isn't because there is a fault in the women. The fact is, women are not required to do any time-bound commandments. Why? Because they are the primary caretakers of the home and children. (Don't balk, you know it's true! Husband and wife both work, both come home tired, 9 times out of 10 who makes dinner and gives the kids a bath? It's in our nature, ladies! Embrace it!) So women shouldn't feel rushed or pushed to do the mitzvot or commandments that have a certain time frame. Now there is the issue with men being distracted. You know it's true. A pretty lady walks in, the men look up... well they HAVE TO do the time-bound mitzvot so we let them focus. Frankly, it's more a statement that men are easily distracted than that women are lesser. So mechitza's come in different fashions... pretty (and tall) flowers, a movable wall, etched glass, or the separate section completely. In 770, the main hall is where the men davven and there is a gallery upstairs where the women sit and there is a separate entrance. I borrowed this pic from crownheights.info - on the left side of the image, in the back where the Hebrew writing is one of the women's sections. There are windows down to the floor.

SO, we found a couple of seats, sorta, and a couple of siddurs, sorta, and began to davven. One thing I love about Chabad davvening is you can catch up if you need to and sorta go at your own pace. When we finished davvening, we chatted for a bit but we were getting pushed to and fro by people leaving and new people coming to get in their evening shabbis prayers. We fought our way out (it was like being a sardine!) and heading to our host for shabbis dinner. I didn't know the couple who we were eating by (yes, in CH you say "Who are you eating BY?" Who are you staying BY?" instead of with) but they were friends of my friends. One thing you will notice is that everyone is very friendly and welcoming. Their homes are very open to you. We arrived at S & T's home for shabbis dinner and began the climb. Just like you can't cook or clean on shabbis, you also can't use an elevator. So their apartment becomes a 6th floor walk-up on shabbis. 6 flights of stairs (with banisters with wet paint on them, thanks Super!) later, we walked in to a beautiful NYC apartment and wonderful hosts. We made the blessings over the wine, washing our hands, and the bread and then we dug in.

Now you should understand that there are courses here. First comes the fish and salads. Oh you could fill up on that alone! Gefilte fish, two kinds of salad, babganush, and challah. Then we move on to soup. Next, is the main course, usually meat and sides. And finally tea and desert.

It was such good company and delicious food. We chatted and ate until 1am! Some people falling asleep for a few minutes on the couch here and there. Finally, we went home and fell into bed. We work up on shabbis morning after letting ourselves sleep in a bit. We drank some tea (from water that was kept hot all night) and had breakfast. RL and I walked to another shul to find a woman she wanted to chat with. When the woman wasn't there, we stopped by another friend's house and chatted. It was all so easy going. No purse, no phone, nothin! Then we made our way to our shabbis lunch. The hosts were a very kind couple and their children. Their row house was incredibly beautiful (it's amazing what people do with little space and less yard in NYC!) and the meal was delicious. We had just an incredible chat with our host and hostess and then headed home for our shabbis shluff (Yiddish for nap).

We we woke up, it was time for havdallah, which marks the end of the sabbath. We went to the girls' landlord's apartment to hear him do havdallah. Such a sweet, older couple. When it was finished we headed down to change and get ready for the evening events. You know how in the secular world we go out on Friday and Saturday nights? Well, Saturday night or motzi shabbis, is party time!

There were a million things going on in the neighborhood that night! Whispers of Moshe Hecht doing a concert somewhere nearby, someone saw Matisyahu and his wife going out to something else... such a buzz on the street where just minutes before, there was silence!

We ended up at a program that Nightlife was throwing. Nightlife is a great initiative in Crown Heights for single women. They host programs every week to get the women together and just have a place to hang out. That night Rebbetzin Nechama Eilfort was speaking. She and her husband are the leaders of the Chabad of La Costa California. She gave a great talk about going on Shlichus and how even the most unsuspecting woman could find her own way while giving back to other Jews. She was a great speaker. BUT now it was time for the whole reason I went to Crown Heights... My friend's l'chaim!

So let's explain the connection. I went to Bais Chana and met my dear friend E. I went to Bais Chana because a dear friend in Denver, DL, suggested it. Shortly after we got home, E got engaged to DL's brother! So fun when you know both sides involved! :) So I trek over to the l'chaim from Nightlife.

Technically, L'chaim means "to life" in Hebrew. Since there is a lot of celebrating and drinking of L'chaims at an engagement party, they have come to be called "a L'chaim."A L'chaim and a Vort are pretty much the same thing. A L'chaim tends to be more informal and a Vort, more formal but that word isn't used in all circles. (Vort means 'word' in Yiddish, referring to the words of Torah the groom shares.) At the formal engagement celebration, some communities have the groom sign a tenaim document which literally means conditions and is like his acceptance of his obligations to his future wife. Once the document is signed, the mothers of the bride and groom with smash a plate, reminding us that even in the happy times, we mourn the destruction of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. Since the tenaim is a serious halachic document (Jewish law), some groups won't sign it until the wedding day to avoid having to break the agreement.

It is crazy and packed! E has tons of friends and for the first time, that I have witnessed, the women's side is bigger than the men's! :) We hug and laugh, dance and eat. We stayed until after 1am! It was such a joyous event!

One more note about Jewish engagements... well, especially in this Chassidic community. It is Chabad custom to NOT present the bride with a diamond engagement ring. I know this is very different than mainstream society. The reason is that a Jewish marriage can be established in a number of ways and presenting a ring of value to a women, in front of witnesses can constitute a marriage. To avoid concerns about when and if the marriage actually took place, the groom (in this community) will often present his kallah (bride) with a necklace or watch. There are also progressive gifts given. A bride might receive an engagement watch, then a necklace before the party, a plain gold band at the wedding and then earrings and a diamond ring to complete her jewelry set. Additionally, during the wedding, it is never (within the context of this group) a double ring ceremony. Not only do men not wear jewelry but there is a bigger concern here. The ring is a gift to the bride from the groom and the brides acceptance of the ring is an acceptance of the marriage proposal and terms in the Ketubah. If the rings are exchanged, the transaction is as if it did not occur or that the bride is returning the groom's gift.
In the marriage ceremony, they say "behold, you become holy unto me with this ring." The ring must be clear as to what it is... the diamond could be fake, the etching could have lessened the value and if that is the case, the marriage's legal status could be called into question. Better to not have a question. The groom must OWN the ring he gives his bride. Therefore, he has to finish paying on it or if it is an heirloom, it must be given as a gift to him to them pass on. Anyway, I know I have gone on a tangent here but I find these customs so facinating!

After a few short hours of sleep, I head to the airport on Sunday. My mom, a former New Yorker, called on mozti shabbis (after shabbis) to request that I bring her back some bialys. Turns out that NY Jewish tradition hadn't hit the Crown Heights neighborhood yet but I brought her a half dozen of the best NY bagels I could find.

Traveling to NY and Crown Heights is like stepping into another world. I enjoy myself every single time. This particular trip, I met so many wonderful people and made some great Jewish connections. I can't wait to go back for the wedding... which is March 7, by the way. Maybe you will get a blog (or 3) about the Chabad Jewish wedding! :)

Originally posted at Patheos.com - AshkanOrthoNewalForm-ish

Shabbis in Crown Heights

I attended a Chabad l'chaim a couple weekends ago in Crown Heights.

For those of you who don't know, Crown Heights is the World-Wide Headquarters of the Lubavitcher movement. It is as close as you will get to a shtetl in modern day America. With the main arteries of Kingston and Eastern Parkway, Judaism springs from either side. Most of the row houses shooting off these main roads are adorned with a mezuzah. If not, then they house neighbors who are generally of African-American or Afro-Caribbean decent. If you have never experienced a shabbat in Crown Heights, you must. I am serious. Email me at Patheos (tdavis at Patheos dot com) and I will help you find a place to stay. It is a must!

For those of you who have not or could not stay in CH, let me paint the scene of my weekend in Brooklyn.

Friday morning, 6am - my red-eye flight from Denver lands at JFK in NYC. I am with the mother and two sisters of the groom and a very awesome woman who is heading to CH to teach Chabad women how to fundraise. [Background - I am very close with the sister of the groom (the chasson) and the bride (the kallah). We spent a week studying in FL together.] After we gather our luggage, we go to catch a cab. It's about 6:30/6:45am at this point. We have to wait for a cab large enough to fit luggage + people. We make the squeeze and we are off. We tell our VERY Russian cab driver that we are going to Brooklyn but must detour to Queens first to go to The Ohel, which is at a cemetery. It is the grave-site of The Lubavitcher Rebbe and his father-in-law, The Previous Rebbe or Frediker Rebbe.  Within Chabad, anytime you are in NY, you must visit. Not because you are forced to but because it can be centering and uplifting and is an important thing to do.

We tell the guy that we are going to a cemetery in Queens and he pulls out a picture of The Rebbe and says, "For this guy?" Well we were shocked! He knew exactly where to go. Turns out, the guy is Jewish, brings people to the cemetery all the time but had never gone in. Well we get to The Ohel and the cab driver wants to leave us. I know in the movies it always looks like there is always a cab when you need one but that is SO not the case. We convinced him that he should wait 20 min and come in with us. SO meter still running, we go in and start the process.

We wash our hand in the ritual manner (netilat yadayim) then sit down to write a letter to the Rebbes. You put your Hebrew name, bat (daughter of) or bar (son of), then your mother's Hebrew name. Then you just write. You can ask for a better job, a husband or wife, health, anything you want or need or need guidance on. Once you have completed your letter, you slip off your shoes (if they have leather on them) and slip on the oh-so-convenient Crocs they have provided in every size and color imaginable. (P.S. I think Chosids are the biggest consumer of Crocs... not kidding.)

Once you have done all this you trek out into the cemetery and enter the stone building (no roof) where the two graves are. You light a candle, grab a prayer book and head in. There are separate doors for men and women but it gets cramped really fast. Once inside there are a handful of prayers and psalms to read but then you read your letter, quietly outloud to the Rebbes. Once you have competed that, you tear it to little bits (see the pic). As you leave, you must be careful not to turn your back on the Rebbes, just like the Torah, and so people will back out of the area. I like to take a minute to touch each gravestone and say S'hma with each Rebbe.


Once you have completed all this, you head back to the tent that is set up and wash your hands again and head out. We wrangled all 5 of us AND we picked up another woman heading to CH so our cab was VERY full.

We got to Eastern Parkway and Kingston and all went our separate ways. Now here comes Shabbis in Crown Heights. It's still early, not quite 9am yet. I put my bags down in my friend's tiny basement apartment and I start walking Kingston, marveling at the shops we don't have in Denver (but they don't have a Target... so it might be an even trade... :)).

I had priorities. There were things I can't get in Denver that I had to get before Shabbis shuts the stores down. I hit the Jewish Children's Museum because they were open before 9am. Got some books and a set of Aleph Bet cookie cutters (VERY excited) and then I headed to Khan's Kosher Market. There are a few markets on the street but I KNOW Khan's has my Kosher gummy bears. Seriously. I can't find them ANYWHERE (see my post here about that). And finally Judaica World opened. I spent forever in there, breathing in the books, looking for new titles, I got a cd, AND (I feel very triumphant about this) a pink, soft leather siddur with the Hebrew AND the English!!! :) Very exciting! (I will write more about that later.) Kingston was full of hustle and bustle. Women getting last minute supplies, car horns, construction, men running to study or get home. Just like you imagine NYC. I headed back to my friend's apartment and took a bit of a shluff (nap). We woke up in time to prepare her place for Shabbis. You have to decide what lights to leave on and what to leave off, prep water for tea if you want it in the next 26 hours, etc... otherwise that all will become Muktza. Once that is done and about 18 minutes before Shabbis comes in, you will hear a loud siren. This is to warn you that it is nearly time. Everyone keeps running and rushing and trying to finish until... BAM candles are lit and there is silence. Significantly less cars on the road, no radios, just quiet. And Shabbis has begun.

And since this post is getting lengthy, I will break it up. Tomorrow - the start of a beautiful 26 hours.

Originally posted at Patheos.com - AshkanOrthoNewalForm-ish

WOW! Plane crash in Austin…

WOW! I really am at a loss of words. Wow... There was a plane crash in Austin this morning. A man flew a small, single engine plane into a building. But then I learned more.

The "man" was a human being who was much maligned and the victim of our country. He was a throw away person to our tax system. And the building was an IRS building. His name was Andrew Joseph Stack. 53 years old, I believe.

Now, please don't get me wrong, I don't approve of his methods. He has probably cost the life of many innocent people, however, I feel for this man. How could he continue to live when the greedy government attacked him. Honestly? He was small potatoes but that is what they seem to go after. Now, I know how I sound but believe me I am a Democrat and I believe in social services and everyone pitching in to support those among us who cannot support themselves. But in this situation, he followed the rules. He made more of an effort than I ever did to learn the rules...

More than anything I feel for his loved ones, because I know he had to have been loved. How sad that he was driven to this. I think our whole country needs an overhaul.

I also want to preserve his final words for all to see because undoubtedly his website will be ripped down when they get wind of it. The website is www.embeddedart.com ... oh and as I write this... it has been removed by the FBI. Here is what it says now -

"This website has been taken offline due to the sensitive nature of the events that transpired in Texas this morning and in compliance with a request from the FBI.  Regards,
T35 Hosting"

Here is the text of his manifesto after the jump.

If you’re reading this, you’re no doubt asking yourself, “Why did this have to happen?”  The simple truth is that it is complicated and has been coming for a long time.  The writing process, started many months ago, was intended to be therapy in the face of the looming realization that there isn’t enough therapy in the world that can fix what is really broken.  Needless to say, this rant could fill volumes with example after example if I would let it.  I find the process of writing it frustrating, tedious, and probably pointless… especially given my gross inability to gracefully articulate my thoughts in light of the storm raging in my head.  Exactly what is therapeutic about that I’m not sure, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

We are all taught as children that without laws there would be no society, only anarchy.  Sadly, starting at early ages we in this country have been brainwashed to believe that, in return for our dedication and service, our government stands for justice for all.  We are further brainwashed to believe that there is freedom in this place, and that we should be ready to lay our lives down for the noble principals represented by its founding fathers.  Remember? One of these was “no taxation without representation”.  I have spent the total years of my adulthood unlearning that crap from only a few years of my childhood.  These days anyone who really stands up for that principal is promptly labeled a “crackpot”, traitor and worse.
While very few working people would say they haven’t had their fair share of taxes (as can I), in my lifetime I can say with a great degree of certainty that there has never been a politician cast a vote on any matter with the likes of me or my interests in mind.  Nor, for that matter, are they the least bit interested in me or anything I have to say.

Why is it that a handful of thugs and plunderers can commit unthinkable atrocities (and in the case of the GM executives, for scores of years) and when it’s time for their gravy train to crash under the weight of their gluttony and overwhelming stupidity, the force of the full federal government has no difficulty coming to their aid within days if not hours?  Yet at the same time, the joke we call the American medical system, including the drug and insurance companies, are murdering tens of thousands of people a year and stealing from the corpses and victims they cripple, and this country’s leaders don’t see this as important as bailing out a few of their vile, rich cronies.  Yet, the political “representatives” (thieves, liars, and self-serving scumbags is far more accurate) have endless time to sit around for year after year and debate the state of the “terrible health care problem”.  It’s clear they see no crisis as long as the dead people don’t get in the way of their corporate profits rolling in.

And justice? You’ve got to be kidding!

How can any rational individual explain that white elephant conundrum in the middle of our tax system and, indeed, our entire legal system?  Here we have a system that is, by far, too complicated for the brightest of the master scholars to understand.  Yet, it mercilessly “holds accountable” its victims, claiming that they’re responsible for fully complying with laws not even the experts understand.  The law “requires” a signature on the bottom of a tax filing; yet no one can say truthfully that they understand what they are signing; if that’s not “duress” than what is.  If this is not the measure of a totalitarian regime, nothing is.

How did I get here? 

My introduction to the real American nightmare starts back in the early ‘80s.  Unfortunately after more than 16 years of school, somewhere along the line I picked up the absurd, pompous notion that I could read and understand plain English.  Some friends introduced me to a group of people who were having ‘tax code’ readings and discussions.  In particular, zeroed in on a section relating to the wonderful “exemptions” that make institutions like the vulgar, corrupt Catholic Church so incredibly wealthy.  We carefully studied the law (with the help of some of the “best”, high-paid, experienced tax lawyers in the business), and then began to do exactly what the “big boys” were doing (except that we weren’t steeling from our congregation or lying to the government about our massive profits in the name of God).  We took a great deal of care to make it all visible, following all of the rules, exactly the way the law said it was to be done.

The intent of this exercise and our efforts was to bring about a much-needed re-evaluation of the laws that allow the monsters of organized religion to make such a mockery of people who earn an honest living.  However, this is where I learned that there are two “interpretations” for every law; one for the very rich, and one for the rest of us… Oh, and the monsters are the very ones making and enforcing the laws; the inquisition is still alive and well today in this country.

That little lesson in patriotism cost me $40,000+, 10 years of my life, and set my retirement plans back to 0.  It made me realize for the first time that I live in a country with an ideology that is based on a total and complete lie.  It also made me realize, not only how naive I had been, but also the incredible stupidity of the American public; that they buy, hook, line, and sinker, the crap about their “freedom”… and that they continue to do so with eyes closed in the face of overwhelming evidence and all that keeps happening in front of them.

Before even having to make a shaky recovery from the sting of the first lesson on what justice really means in this country (around 1984 after making my way through engineering school and still another five years of “paying my dues”), I felt I finally had to take a chance of launching my dream of becoming an independent engineer.
On the subjects of engineers and dreams of independence, I should digress somewhat to say that I’m sure that I inherited the fascination for creative problem solving from my father.  I realized this at a very young age.

The significance of independence, however, came much later during my early years of college; at the age of 18 or 19 when I was living on my own as student in an apartment in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.  My neighbor was an elderly retired woman (80+ seemed ancient to me at that age) who was the widowed wife of a retired steel worker.  Her husband had worked all his life in the steel mills of central Pennsylvania with promises from big business and the union that, for his 30 years of service, he would have a pension and medical care to look forward to in his retirement.  Instead he was one of the thousands who got nothing because the incompetent mill management and corrupt union (not to mention the government) raided their pension funds and stole their retirement.  All she had was social security to live on.
In retrospect, the situation was laughable because here I was living on peanut butter and bread (or Ritz crackers when I could afford to splurge) for months at a time.  When I got to know this poor figure and heard her story I felt worse for her plight than for my own (I, after all, I thought I had everything to in front of me).  I was genuinely appalled at one point, as we exchanged stories and commiserated with each other over our situations, when she in her grandmotherly fashion tried to convince me that I would be “healthier” eating cat food (like her) rather than trying to get all my substance from peanut butter and bread.  I couldn’t quite go there, but the impression was made.  I decided that I didn’t trust big business to take care of me, and that I would take responsibility for my own future and myself.

Return to the early ‘80s, and here I was off to a terrifying start as a ‘wet-behind-the-ears’ contract software engineer... and two years later, thanks to the fine backroom, midnight effort by the sleazy executives of Arthur Andersen (the very same folks who later brought us Enron and other such calamities) and an equally sleazy New York Senator (Patrick Moynihan), we saw the passage of 1986 tax reform act with its section 1706.

For you who are unfamiliar, here is the core text of the IRS Section 1706, defining the treatment of workers (such as contract engineers) for tax purposes.

Visit this link for a conference committee report (http://www.synergistech.com/1706.shtml#ConferenceCommitteeReport) regarding the intended interpretation of Section 1706 and the relevant parts of Section 530, as amended.

For information on how these laws affect technical services workers and their clients, read our discussion here (http://www.synergistech.com/ic-taxlaw.shtml).

SEC. 1706. TREATMENT OF CERTAIN TECHNICAL PERSONNEL.

(a) IN GENERAL - Section 530 of the Revenue Act of 1978 is amended by adding at the end thereof the following new subsection:

(d) EXCEPTION. - This section shall not apply in the case of an individual who pursuant to an arrangement between the taxpayer and another person, provides services for such other person as an engineer, designer, drafter, computer programmer, systems analyst, or other similarly skilled worker engaged in a similar line of work.

(b) EFFECTIVE DATE. - The amendment made by this section shall apply to remuneration paid and services rendered after December 31, 1986.

Note:
·      "another person" is the client in the traditional job-shop relationship.
·      "taxpayer" is the recruiter, broker, agency, or job shop.
·      "individual", "employee", or "worker" is you.
 
Admittedly, you need to read the treatment to understand what it is saying but it’s not very complicated.  The bottom line is that they may as well have put my name right in the text of section (d).  Moreover, they could only have been more blunt if they would have came out and directly declared me a criminal and non-citizen slave.  Twenty years later, I still can’t believe my eyes.

During 1987, I spent close to $5000 of my ‘pocket change’, and at least 1000 hours of my time writing, printing, and mailing to any senator, congressman, governor, or slug that might listen; none did, and they universally treated me as if I was wasting their time.  I spent countless hours on the L.A. freeways driving to meetings and any and all of the disorganized professional groups who were attempting to mount a campaign against this atrocity.  This, only to discover that our efforts were being easily derailed by a few moles from the brokers who were just beginning to enjoy the windfall from the new declaration of their “freedom”.  Oh, and don’t forget, for all of the time I was spending on this, I was loosing income that I couldn’t bill clients.

After months of struggling it had clearly gotten to be a futile exercise.  The best we could get for all of our trouble is a pronouncement from an IRS mouthpiece that they weren’t going to enforce that provision (read harass engineers and scientists).  This immediately proved to be a lie, and the mere existence of the regulation began to have its impact on my bottom line; this, of course, was the intended effect.

Again, rewind my retirement plans back to 0 and shift them into idle.  If I had any sense, I clearly should have left abandoned engineering and never looked back.
Instead I got busy working 100-hour workweeks.  Then came the L.A. depression of the early 1990s.  Our leaders decided that they didn’t need the all of those extra Air Force bases they had in Southern California, so they were closed; just like that.  The result was economic devastation in the region that rivaled the widely publicized Texas S&L fiasco.  However, because the government caused it, no one gave a shit about all of the young families who lost their homes or street after street of boarded up houses abandoned to the wealthy loan companies who received government funds to “shore up” their windfall.  Again, I lost my retirement.

Years later, after weathering a divorce and the constant struggle trying to build some momentum with my business, I find myself once again beginning to finally pick up some speed.  Then came the .COM bust and the 911 nightmare.  Our leaders decided that all aircraft were grounded for what seemed like an eternity; and long after that, ‘special’ facilities like San Francisco were on security alert for months.  This made access to my customers prohibitively expensive.  Ironically, after what they had done the Government came to the aid of the airlines with billions of our tax dollars … as usual they left me to rot and die while they bailed out their rich, incompetent cronies WITH MY MONEY!  After these events, there went my business but not quite yet all of my retirement and savings.

By this time, I’m thinking that it might be good for a change.  Bye to California, I’ll try Austin for a while.  So I moved, only to find out that this is a place with a highly inflated sense of self-importance and where damn little real engineering work is done.  I’ve never experienced such a hard time finding work.  The rates are 1/3 of what I was earning before the crash, because pay rates here are fixed by the three or four large companies in the area who are in collusion to drive down prices and wages… and this happens because the justice department is all on the take and doesn’t give a fuck about serving anyone or anything but themselves and their rich buddies.

To survive, I was forced to cannibalize my savings and retirement, the last of which was a small IRA.  This came in a year with mammoth expenses and not a single dollar of income.  I filed no return that year thinking that because I didn’t have any income there was no need.  The sleazy government decided that they disagreed.  But they didn’t notify me in time for me to launch a legal objection so when I attempted to get a protest filed with the court I was told I was no longer entitled to due process because the time to file ran out.  Bend over for another $10,000 helping of justice.
So now we come to the present.  After my experience with the CPA world, following the business crash I swore that I’d never enter another accountant’s office again.  But here I am with a new marriage and a boatload of undocumented income, not to mention an expensive new business asset, a piano, which I had no idea how to handle.  After considerable thought I decided that it would be irresponsible NOT to get professional help; a very big mistake.

When we received the forms back I was very optimistic that they were in order.  I had taken all of the years information to Bill Ross, and he came back with results very similar to what I was expecting.  Except that he had neglected to include the contents of Sheryl’s unreported income; $12,700 worth of it. To make matters worse, Ross knew all along this was missing and I didn’t have a clue until he pointed it out in the middle of the audit.  By that time it had become brutally evident that he was representing himself and not me.

This left me stuck in the middle of this disaster trying to defend transactions that have no relationship to anything tax-related (at least the tax-related transactions were poorly documented).  Things I never knew anything about and things my wife had no clue would ever matter to anyone.  The end result is… well, just look around.

I remember reading about the stock market crash before the “great” depression and how there were wealthy bankers and businessmen jumping out of windows when they realized they screwed up and lost everything.  Isn’t it ironic how far we’ve come in 60 years in this country that they now know how to fix that little economic problem; they just steal from the middle class (who doesn’t have any say in it, elections are a joke) to cover their asses and it’s “business-as-usual”.  Now when the wealthy fuck up, the poor get to die for the mistakes… isn’t that a clever, tidy solution.

As government agencies go, the FAA is often justifiably referred to as a tombstone agency, though they are hardly alone.  The recent presidential puppet GW Bush and his cronies in their eight years certainly reinforced for all of us that this criticism rings equally true for all of the government.  Nothing changes unless there is a body count (unless it is in the interest of the wealthy sows at the government trough).  In a government full of hypocrites from top to bottom, life is as cheap as their lies and their self-serving laws.

I know I’m hardly the first one to decide I have had all I can stand.  It has always been a myth that people have stopped dying for their freedom in this country, and it isn’t limited to the blacks, and poor immigrants.  I know there have been countless before me and there are sure to be as many after.  But I also know that by not adding my body to the count, I insure nothing will change.  I choose to not keep looking over my shoulder at “big brother” while he strips my carcass, I choose not to ignore what is going on all around me, I choose not to pretend that business as usual won’t continue; I have just had enough.

I can only hope that the numbers quickly get too big to be white washed and ignored that the American zombies wake up and revolt; it will take nothing less.  I would only hope that by striking a nerve that stimulates the inevitable double standard, knee-jerk government reaction that results in more stupid draconian restrictions people wake up and begin to see the pompous political thugs and their mindless minions for what they are.  Sadly, though I spent my entire life trying to believe it wasn’t so, but violence not only is the answer, it is the only answer.  The cruel joke is that the really big chunks of shit at the top have known this all along and have been laughing, at and using this awareness against, fools like me all along.
I saw it written once that the definition of insanity is repeating the same process over and over and expecting the outcome to suddenly be different.  I am finally ready to stop this insanity.  Well, Mr. Big Brother IRS man, let’s try something different; take my pound of flesh and sleep well.

The communist creed: From each according to his ability, to each according to his need.

The capitalist creed: From each according to his gullibility, to each according to his greed.

Joe Stack (1956-2010)
02/18/2010

Who knew blue denim could throw your life into such turmoil!?

No, it's nothing major... just... well... how do I say...

I feel guilty when I wear jeans.

Yup. I said it.

So here's the story. About 10 years ago I started my transition from hippie, Indigo Girls lovin', free-form Friday night services followed by going out for ice cream Judaism that was mainly focused on social action (aka Reform) to a skirt wearing, long sleeves in the summer, Baruch Hashem sayin', Kosher keepin',  shomer negiah, shomer shabbis, "Flipping Out" "Baal Teshuvah." (Though I slightly object to being called a Baal Teshuvah. I have always been a religious Jew but my observance has just been different... like wearing tzitzit and a kippah and laying teffilin... In fact, I started a group called Frum From Nifty because there are so many former Reform kids goin' Ortho these days!)

So I went from one end to the other... then I found my way to a middle ground where I felt comfortable with a foot in both worlds. I understand the WHY of why we do certain things and make (Torah) educated decisions in how I live my life.

<--- To the left = tznius               To the right = not tznius --->

What does that mean? Well, it kinda means that I have my own Talia sect of Judaism. I am fairly sure no one else out there is just like me in my observance and that makes life hard. I am just as comfortable on the streets of Crown Heights as Denver. I'll drive on Saturdays but I try not to spend money. I (try to) davven every morning and evening and say my brachot over food and drink... okay, I'll admit there have been many shehakols tossed in over the last bite as I kick myself for forgetting. Clearly, I am far too "religious" (really, I prefer the word observant) for the Reformies and not quite there yet for my Chabad family of friends. Anyway... this is starting to get long winded for a blog. :)

So here is my dilemma... I found the ideas and ideals of tzniut fascinating. I did the full on long sleeves, long (not so fashionable) skirts, high necks, etc for about two years until I realized that while it had helped me rediscover my femininity, break the jeans cycle (you know what I am talking about... nothin' but jeans because they are comfy and easy), and realize that I can dress for myself and not for anyone else... the severely restricted nature of the 'uniform' I adopted was certainly not me. SO, I decided to keep the skirts in the wardrobe but not deny myself the joy of jeans. However, I would still dress in a modest fashion even while wearing pants. Not kidding, folks, this took me years to figure out...

So, fast forward through the awkward parts, today I wear skirts (modest skirts - knee length or longer) at least five days a week. Allowing for the need to feel a good fitting pair of jeans on myself once or twice. The added impetus for this is that I live in Colorado. Don't know if you know this but... uhm... it snows here... and gets cold... a breeze up a skirt (even with tights) ain't fun in 3 degree weather. Today is one of those days. I mean it isn't 3 degrees but it is forecast to snow and be kinda crummy and I am just going to the gym, work, home, and doctor's appointment... damn you rationalization!!! Point is, sometimes it feels more high maintenance to wear a skirt. I have shoes that look great under pants that I can't wear with a skirt. Even a long jean one. Anywho... I've noticed, increasingly, as I wear my pants the few days a month that I do, I have more and more quilt about it.

I mean, I have friends in Crown Heights (aka the worldwide headquarters of Chabad) that wear skirts rain or shine, snow, sleet, hurricane, blizzard... why do I have such an issue? Well clearly, they were raised that this was the thing to do and pants aren't really an option. Not me... my mom STILL to this day remarks when I wear a skirt, "Oh, you're wearing a long skirt, huh?" or "You look so Frummy." And I used to get defensive... like I didn't want anyone to notice that THAT was exactly what I was going for. But now, now I just say, "Yup, I do. Thanks." :)

Another point of contention with my mom (who was raised in the Conservative movement) is that I want to cover my hair when I get married. We haven't had the convo outright but I know she doesn't love the idea BUT she is happy when I am happy. On one hand it gets to be an outward sign of your Judaism but on the other hand, it truly is something you do for yourself... like the laws of taharat mishpacha which I find essential.

I think it is through education and really understanding the laws and traditions and making up your own mind that helps you stick to your choices. And this jeans thing, I think I'm just being a wuss... either throw out the jeans or suck it up and embrace my decision... yes, I know, I answered my own question.

Check out my blog at Patheos.com - AshkanOrthoNewalForm-ish

Brotherhood Postponed

“About 10:15 in the morning the Reverend Martin Luther King, and his assistants, Reverend Young and Reverend Abernathy, climbed the steps of the church. Beyond the steps the entrance to the church was cleared except for dignitaries. Rabbi Raiskin of California asked if I would represent the UAHC (Union of American Hebrew Congregations). When I agreed, two men lifted me up by my arms above the lectern with its many microphones, and literally pulled me up to the platform. I chatted briefly with Reverend King, and the service began.”

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