About Celeste


I aspire to one day change the world. Currently, I strive daily to understand it. I invite you to come with me on this journey. Let's start in Israel.

bound

/baʊnd/ 1. fastened together 2. to move by leaps 3. intending to go

Kishi Bashi and Plume Giant

A post I wrote for MNMusicjunkie

mnmusicjunkie:

image

The line was out the door of the Triple Rock when I arrived. Walking down the sidewalk, I was asked for extra tickets three times. The young crowd flooded the floor as the doors opened and the anticipation swelled. As the young twenty somethings around me recounted their fondest Kishi Bashi…

1 year ago - 3 -

More Guest Posts

Check out the other articles I wrote on MN Music Junkie!

On The Daredevil Christopher Wright/ Plume Giant/ John Mark Nelson

and

On the Greycoats Release show feat. All Eyes, Ben Rosenbush, and John Mark Nelson

I will be posting lots over there… be sure to follow us!

MN Music Junkie: Best New Bands 2012

mnmusicjunkie:

First Avenue’s Best New Bands concert on January 11th certainly lived up to its name. From starting gate to finish line, the marathon of a concert, featuring seven 40 minute sets, was filled with intriguing local talent.

image

Bomba de Luz set the pace with compelling vocals and driving…

1 year ago - 3 -

Check it Out!

I wrote a guest post for my friends blog here.  It’s all about some awesome new local MN bands (whom you should also check out).

I will hopefully be posting with her more often, so be sure to follow!

I also really intend to post some of my own stuff soon (I actually mean it this time).  So- keep your eyes peeled!

"There is no god but God…."

"There is no god but God…."

My Deepest Apologies.

It has been almost a month since I promised you I would post something.  I had everything planned out— Really, I did!  Look- proof:

A six part series…  all written in my head, at least.  And yet, here we are.  A boring tumblr with nothing to show for it.

I know I will regret this when I get home.  In fact, the possibility terrifies me.  I might completely forget what happened here.  Time is flying by…  I don’t have much chance left.  

That being said, change needs to happen.  I am going to use this blog productively: procrastination.

Get ready.  For real this time.  (I hope).

Coming Soon….

Hello internet. 

I regret my silence this past week and offer my sincerest apologies.  I promise, I have a great reason.

This past week I had the amazing blessing of living with a family in Bethlehem.  Due to the nature of a home stay (and a crammed academic schedule), I could not blog.

Fear not!  I will begin a series tomorrow about my experiences this past week.  

Keep your eyes open for The International House (of pancakes)  !!

Here’s a taste of what’s to come:

Wet your appetites!  It’s going to be delicious.


And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.
                                                                                      John 1:14

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.

                                                                                      John 1:14

Tourism, Entitlement and Other Ugly Things

I am often not proud to be an American.  One of my goals for my semester here was to not embody a single American stereotype.  

This goal is not easily accomplished.  While my recent viewership of Doctor Who has dispelled thoughts held by my English counterparts, I am clearly a Yankee through and through.  

Just this morning, while writing this post, I embarrassed myself with an “al-Hamdullah” that may as well come out of the mouth of a three-year-old.  Broken Arabic (and non-existant Hebrew) aside, my entire being screams “FOREIGNER.” 

My inability to haggle, my completely aloof gaze while I wander the old city, taking pictures like this:

All of these quirks make it quite clear that I am an outsider.

Sometimes the locals respond with a giggle.  Other times they scoff at my status as yet “another loose American woman.”  Less frequently, taxi drivers and merchants take advantage of my terrible language skills. 

At the same time, there is a privilege that accompanies the eagle stamped on the front of my passport, both actualized and assumed.  Sometimes this is as small as me responding to Arabic in English with the presumption that I will be (and should be) understood.  At least 3 times a week, however, I see American privilege rear a much uglier head.

Every time I pass through the check point on my return from the West Bank, I understand just what it is to be an American.  While the Palestinian natives must stand in long lines- often left waiting much longer than necessary for the amusement of the guards- I slide right on through.  I have seen my American cohorts sent to the front of the line and processed immediately while other men and women have waited for a significant chunk of time.  I have seen many an American set off the metal detector and walk on without the need to look back.  I have, myself, been winked at by an Israeli guard after flashing my American passport.

I have no setback.  I have no worries.  I have no consequences.  I am an American.  The world is at my fingertips.  I am not proud of that.

Unfortunately, this is what it means to be an American:

It means I am free to do whatever the heck I want.  It means I have no one dictating what I must do.  It means I am given opportunity upon opportunity. 

Don’t get me wrong- I love being from the land of the free.  I deeply appreciate my country’s desire to be just.  I don’t have to live with walls, suffocating laws, or fear.

Yes, I am glad to be American, but I am certainly not proud of it.

The Israel Syndrome

Yesterday, I went on a tour yet another holy city with even more disputed sites and extravagant churches.

I saw yet another ruin indistinguishable from the countless others I’ve seen.

I took countless more photos of a mostly brown plane meeting a large expanse of blue.

It was another day as a tourist.  Another day of “life changing moments.”  Another day full of experiences that blended together with all of my other adventures here thus far.

My entire journey to Israel has come to be defined by this inability to distinguish realities.  The more I see, the more everything looks the same.  The more I learn, the more confused I become.  The more I grow, the more uncertainty about myself and my future arise.

 It has become impossible for me to think, make decisions, have opinions.  It has become my biggest burden to even attempt to write.

I have dubbed this “the Israel Syndrome.”

Our tour guide explained this concept to me:

If you are here for two weeks, you write a book;

two months, an article;

any longer and you cannot write anything at all.

Well, I am ahead of the game.  I have been here 3 weeks and it has already become impossible for me to write.  

I have 6 drafts of blogs in my queue.  I have two unfinished essays on my desktop.  

My writing is an absolute mess- no thesis, no flow, no purpose.  My brain is even more of a disaster.  

Please bear with me.  I am striving to make sense of this all.  I am trying to find clarity.  I am bumbling around the Holy Land in search of so much.  Inspiration.  Understanding.  Enlightenment.

Right now, I would settle for finding one thing: a cure to the Israel Syndrome.