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January 5, 2005
Among the song lyrics and homework assignments in my planner lay strains of Hebrew. Those who can read my slanty right-to-left pen scratchings have access to all my teenage crushes and darkest secrets. A jumble of misconjugated verbs and horrible transliterations, it's a language that rests in the palm of my hand. My perpetual fear is that one of the orthodox Jews at my school (such as the sullen goth in my photo class whose tzitzit mingle with the chains hanging from his studded belt) will take a glance at a November entry and say, "So, who's this Matt kid?-