cellio | interviewed by jeannegrrl

1. What is one website (that's not LJ) that you would absolutely not want to live without and why?

Gee. I don't know whether to say Aish HaTorah, because of all the useful information and insightful commentaries (including those by one of my favorite authors, Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky), or United Media Comics, because everyone needs a daily dose of humor. "Not live without" is pretty strong, though, and I don't think anything really fits that specification.

Edit: Actually, there's an obvious utilitarian answer that I was just blanking on when I wrote the above, even though I use it all the time: Google.

2. Either share a fear you have faced and how you handled it, or a fear you have not yet faced and why.

I have something of a fear of public speaking. I'm fine with anything that's scripted (by others), even in front of thousands of people. So leading services at my synagogue, for example, is not a problem (and is something I enjoy). But as soon as I have to deliver my own words (e.g. a sermon), or worse yet speak extemporaneously (answering questions at a lecture), I get jittery.

I've faced but not conquered this. One thing that helps is manipulating the circumstances; it's easier to do this in front of small, friendly audiences, so I use those to work up to the bigger ones. In the case of my own words (where my fear is that I'll say stuff that's either stupid or obvious), I'll sometimes try to run drafts by other people. Beyond that, practice and baby steps.

One weirdness: that thing with my own words? Doesn't really apply to print or other written media: it's the fact that I'm delivering the words orally that gets me. I don't know why. It's not in the least rational.

3. How do you think high-school aged Monica would get along with today Monica?

(What a great question!)

She'd probably be baffled but respectful. High-school Monica was an introverted geek who was picked on by her classmates (so she didn't really bother with trying to socialize with them, prefering instead to spend time exchanging letters with penpals she'd never met). She was pretty sure that religion was a crock and that her parents were being way too over-protective. She didn't know what she wanted to do with her life, but it involved something analytical, probably science. (She didn't encounter her first computer until tenth grade.)

So she'd enjoy geeking with me, and she'd be glad that some things (like disinterest in having kids) had remained, but she'd be completely baffled by the religion thing and would be surprised to learn that you can be analytical while being a writer. She thought writing meant either creative writing or journalism, while suspecting that the latter was often a subset of the former.

Oh, and she would be absolutely astonished to find out that I could sing. (That discovery came well into adulthood.)

4. If money was no object, what would you be doing with your life?

In no particular order -- there's no need to overload and do everyting all at once:

Obtain formal religious education. (Not at the expense of informal study with my wonderful rabbi.)
Compose more music. Write synagogue choral music and try to get it performed. Explore composition styles I know nothing about, like film or computer-game soundtracks. (Try to find ameteur producers looking for music and willing to tolerate ameteur efforts.)
Help raise the decadence level of my group's Pennsic encampment even higher. :-) (Hey, it fills the role of "vacation home".)
Write a book on my specific area of technical writing (API documentation). I envision a collection of short, targetted essays a la Jon Bentley's Programming Pearls.
Find ways to be more involved in worship services, ideally at my own synagogue. Help train others.
Do some travelling with like-minded friends (I hate travelling alone). I haven't been off this continent yet.
Read more. Write more. Watch all the backlogged TV and DVDs.

There's probably lots more, but I'm running out of steam.

5. Share a treasured memory.

Let me tell you about something from my wedding that makes me laugh. The rabbi had met with us beforehand and had gone over the service in detail. We talked about our "lines" (the man has to declare the woman his wife and she is supposed to verbally accept). He told us that all we'd have to do is repeat what he told us at the appopriate times. Clergy are used to dealing with flustered people; they have to make it easy.

So we're under the chupah at my synagogue in front of about 80 or 90 people. The rabbi has done most of the service and has addressed us with individual remarks (which I really wish I had a copy of). It's now time for the ring.

Dani pulls out the ring. The rabbi turns to him and says "repeat after me". He then says the first few words of the betrothal formula. Dani repeats them quietly. The rabbi says "louder". Dani repeats the word "louder". Everyone laughs. Dani then says something like "they can hear me just fine".

Oh, to have that on videotape! My rabbi was so flustered that he had to pause a moment before continuing, and later said something about not being used to being upstaged by the groom.

interviewed by jeannegrrl

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