I don't know. And still I don't know.
And you ask me if I know, and the answer is, no. Cuz how can I decide, really?
Decisions, they bother me. I can't decide. This way, or that. Who knows. Who cares? Will it really matter in the end?
'In the end, everything will be alright. If it's not alright, it's not the end.'
Really. And are things ever really right? Is it ever the end?
When do we get to close the book, after the final chapter, and say, 'and they lived happily ever after. The End.'
Is there really a happily ever after? Or is it all just a fluke?
Friday, July 31, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Where did you come from?
Where do you come from? Where are you headed? How did you get here?
Do you have any memories at all? Do you remember being in a pink bundle, or maybe blue? Do you recall strong arms holding you, loving you, caring for you? Do you remember the scent of your mother's favorite shampoo, the way her hair smelled when she kissed you good night? Do you remember her soft voice as she sang to you a lullaby, and rocked you gently to sleep?
Can you taste the cherry flavored lolly pop that you sucked, while riding your bike? Can you still see the shiny red paint of your first one, with training wheels? Does it still hurt where you fell, and skinned your knee time and time again?
If you close your eyes, do you still see your favorite book in front of you? Can you recite it word for word, as you did back then? Do you still laugh, when you remember the words to your favorite TV show? And when you see snow flakes, do you still smile, and recall the snowmen you used to build, and the snow ball fights you had?
Do you remember squabbling with siblings, fighting over toys? Can you feel the soft fleece of your favorite blanky, which you dragged with you everywhere? Does your belly still ache from all the cookies you ate, which Mama warned you about? Can you still hear her voice echoing, as she called you in for supper, after a long day playing outside?
Or have you since forgotten it all. Has the cold become too bitter, and the heat, unbearable, that you forget from where you came. Do you wake up every day, in this hell hole, and feel like you just appeared there? With no past at all? Are your memories long gone, replaced with bitter ones of your new reality? Or worse, do you have no memories at all?
Were you born here? Did you never even get a chance? Did your belly never know fullness? Were your lips never touched by a smile, and your heart, never lifted in happiness? Did you never know the feel of a loving embrace? Did you ever sleep in one place for more than a night at a time? When you feel the cold snow flakes on your skin, does it only bring to mind winter, cold, and the need to seek cover? When you walk barefoot in the summer grass, does it remind you that you have no shoes?
Do you have any happy memories at all?
Where did you come from? Where are you headed? How did you get here? Do you even know the answers?
Do you have any memories at all? Do you remember being in a pink bundle, or maybe blue? Do you recall strong arms holding you, loving you, caring for you? Do you remember the scent of your mother's favorite shampoo, the way her hair smelled when she kissed you good night? Do you remember her soft voice as she sang to you a lullaby, and rocked you gently to sleep?
Can you taste the cherry flavored lolly pop that you sucked, while riding your bike? Can you still see the shiny red paint of your first one, with training wheels? Does it still hurt where you fell, and skinned your knee time and time again?
If you close your eyes, do you still see your favorite book in front of you? Can you recite it word for word, as you did back then? Do you still laugh, when you remember the words to your favorite TV show? And when you see snow flakes, do you still smile, and recall the snowmen you used to build, and the snow ball fights you had?
Do you remember squabbling with siblings, fighting over toys? Can you feel the soft fleece of your favorite blanky, which you dragged with you everywhere? Does your belly still ache from all the cookies you ate, which Mama warned you about? Can you still hear her voice echoing, as she called you in for supper, after a long day playing outside?
Or have you since forgotten it all. Has the cold become too bitter, and the heat, unbearable, that you forget from where you came. Do you wake up every day, in this hell hole, and feel like you just appeared there? With no past at all? Are your memories long gone, replaced with bitter ones of your new reality? Or worse, do you have no memories at all?
Were you born here? Did you never even get a chance? Did your belly never know fullness? Were your lips never touched by a smile, and your heart, never lifted in happiness? Did you never know the feel of a loving embrace? Did you ever sleep in one place for more than a night at a time? When you feel the cold snow flakes on your skin, does it only bring to mind winter, cold, and the need to seek cover? When you walk barefoot in the summer grass, does it remind you that you have no shoes?
Do you have any happy memories at all?
Where did you come from? Where are you headed? How did you get here? Do you even know the answers?
Friday, July 24, 2009
A bissel Dvar Torah
New Blog in the house! Check it out here http://yeshiva-togo.blogspot.com/
And now for the dvar torah...
(From Rabbi Akiva Wagner)
The following true story is related about more than one chosid, with minor variations, this is what I remember (additional details welcome:)
The three Chassidim were traveling together, pursuing an urgent matter of askonus haklal. One of them was the celebrated chossid R’ Itche der masmid, who was renown for his refinement.
During there travels, they had to meet in a hotel. In this hotel, one wall of the lobby was adorned with a large and beautiful floor to ceiling mirror. In the middle of their meeting, R’ Itche suddenly jumped up, and ran towards the mirror. Then, as he was about to reach it, he – just as abruptly – turned around, and returned abashedly to his place.
When his colleagues asked him for an explanation, R’ Itche, who had never had reason or inclination to observe his own reflection, and thus had no way of knowing what he looked like, clarified as follows: “Ich hob gezehn a Yid mit a hadras ponim, bin ich gleich tzugegangen geben em sholom: [I saw a dignified-looking Jew, so I immediately went to greet him].
The fact of the matter is, in most cases, the biggest obstacle to our own self-betterment is our self-doubt. Many of us will say or think:
‘Of course it would be wonderful to be a chassidisher Yid; I admire them and I respect them, but it’s not gonna happen anyways. I’m just not cut out for it. I’m a lost case, I’ll never know how to learn, I’ll never be able to daven. It’s too late for me.
I can’t be a chassidisher Yid any more. I’m too much of a shin-vov-vov. I made as well at least enjoy olam hazeh (and not remain a “kireach mikan umikan)’
If we truly believed that we have the ability to achieve the same levels of davening and chassidishkeit as those who we look up to, then most of us would have no question about it being worth any amount of effort or sacrifice. But it seems unrealistic and out of reach.
[Once, during a meeting with parents, I had to defend the policy of the Yeshiva of limiting the opportunities the bochurim have to go home for Shabbos. I related the story with R’ Akiva, how after 12 years he didn’t even go into his house to greet his family, but returned for an additional 12 years. I observed, as the meforshim point out, that he not spent 24 uninterrupted years in Yeshiva, it would not have been the same experience, and the achievement would have been lost.
At this point, one mother stage-whispered to the mother sitting next to her: ‘If at least I could expect to see a R’ Akiva at the end, then the hardships would be easier to bear . . .’
It was a very revealing moment for me, and a very painful one. This mother had written off her child before even giving him a chance. She had already decided that he wouldn’t amount to anything special (whether it’s a R’ Akiva or R’ Itche der masmid or etc.),
and while she has to put him through the “system” of Yeshiva, there was no expected benefit from it that would justify giving up the opportunity to personally serve him cholent every Shabbos.
Unfortunately, this is the outlook of many bochurim as well. They perceive Yeshiva as the unavoidable part of the “system” that bridges that gap between cheder and when they can go on shlichus and actually do something constructive with their lives. If the bochur felt that through learning in Yeshiva he can become a genuine Tomim, just like all of the T’mimim that h read about or heard about, then he would view the time spent in Yeshiva as the most important investment he could ever make].
The Rebbe, year after year, emphasized and elaborated on the vort and moshol of the Bertichever that on Shabbos Chazon we are shown the 3rd Beis Hamikdosh. The Beis Hamikdosh (as mentioned earlier) is not merely a geographical location or a physical structure.The Beis Hamikdosh is the experience of perceiving G-dliness, The state of every individual’s Beis Hamikdosh being built is living a life of G-dliness, of holiness, of spirituality, of a genuine chossid.It’s the way every individual is meant to live.
But when we gaze at our reflection in the mirror, chances are that we see a churban. We see destruction and chaos, with no trace of the beauty and splendor and holiness that the Beis Hamikdosh represents to us.We see ourselves as being as distant as can be from a rebuilt beis HaMikdosh (as did R’ Itche der masmid as well, who complained the Rebbe Rashab about the fact that he has a guf megusham).
It appears out of reach, an unrealistic goal.But on Shabbos Chazon, the Eibishter shows us the 3rd Beis Hamikdash in all of its’ glory.This is surely true in a personal level as well. On Shabbos Chazon we look into the mirror, and we see a fdignified chossid gazing back at us. And we’re told: “this is you, the way you really are”.
It’s not ch”v out of reach. It’s there already, you can see it, you can almost touch it. And this vision convinces that it is practical and realistic, that it is worth putting in any necessary effort to rebuild and reveal our personal Beis haMikdosh. We can and we will change our lives, and increase our awareness of and connection to the Eibishter.
Any one of us strives for this and yearns for this. When we perceive that it’s within our reach, that is the best motivation to get back on track and redouble our efforts to realize it.
If Torah tells that on Shabbos Chazon we’re shown the Bais haMikdosh, then we can be certain that this is true. It is a time when we have the ability to see ourselves for who we really are.
But even when being shown something, it is up to us to decide whether to look at what we’re being shown, or ch”v look away. We have to take advantage of this opportunity of Shabbos Chazon to actually see and focus on the BHMK in its’ rebuilt state, both in the collective sense and in the personal sense.
And this will be sufficient motivation for us to do the last bit of work, to be able to actually see the BHMK in its’ physical and tangible state – MAMOSH!L’chaim! May we all take advantage of the vision of Shabbos Chazon to better our conduct, and may Hashem in turn provide with the true and ultimate showing of the 3rd BHMK, with the hisgalus of Moshiach Tzidkeinu TUMYM!!!
Hatzlocho Rabo!! Rabbi Akiva Wagner
And now for the dvar torah...
(From Rabbi Akiva Wagner)
The following true story is related about more than one chosid, with minor variations, this is what I remember (additional details welcome:)
The three Chassidim were traveling together, pursuing an urgent matter of askonus haklal. One of them was the celebrated chossid R’ Itche der masmid, who was renown for his refinement.
During there travels, they had to meet in a hotel. In this hotel, one wall of the lobby was adorned with a large and beautiful floor to ceiling mirror. In the middle of their meeting, R’ Itche suddenly jumped up, and ran towards the mirror. Then, as he was about to reach it, he – just as abruptly – turned around, and returned abashedly to his place.
When his colleagues asked him for an explanation, R’ Itche, who had never had reason or inclination to observe his own reflection, and thus had no way of knowing what he looked like, clarified as follows: “Ich hob gezehn a Yid mit a hadras ponim, bin ich gleich tzugegangen geben em sholom: [I saw a dignified-looking Jew, so I immediately went to greet him].
The fact of the matter is, in most cases, the biggest obstacle to our own self-betterment is our self-doubt. Many of us will say or think:
‘Of course it would be wonderful to be a chassidisher Yid; I admire them and I respect them, but it’s not gonna happen anyways. I’m just not cut out for it. I’m a lost case, I’ll never know how to learn, I’ll never be able to daven. It’s too late for me.
I can’t be a chassidisher Yid any more. I’m too much of a shin-vov-vov. I made as well at least enjoy olam hazeh (and not remain a “kireach mikan umikan)’
If we truly believed that we have the ability to achieve the same levels of davening and chassidishkeit as those who we look up to, then most of us would have no question about it being worth any amount of effort or sacrifice. But it seems unrealistic and out of reach.
[Once, during a meeting with parents, I had to defend the policy of the Yeshiva of limiting the opportunities the bochurim have to go home for Shabbos. I related the story with R’ Akiva, how after 12 years he didn’t even go into his house to greet his family, but returned for an additional 12 years. I observed, as the meforshim point out, that he not spent 24 uninterrupted years in Yeshiva, it would not have been the same experience, and the achievement would have been lost.
At this point, one mother stage-whispered to the mother sitting next to her: ‘If at least I could expect to see a R’ Akiva at the end, then the hardships would be easier to bear . . .’
It was a very revealing moment for me, and a very painful one. This mother had written off her child before even giving him a chance. She had already decided that he wouldn’t amount to anything special (whether it’s a R’ Akiva or R’ Itche der masmid or etc.),
and while she has to put him through the “system” of Yeshiva, there was no expected benefit from it that would justify giving up the opportunity to personally serve him cholent every Shabbos.
Unfortunately, this is the outlook of many bochurim as well. They perceive Yeshiva as the unavoidable part of the “system” that bridges that gap between cheder and when they can go on shlichus and actually do something constructive with their lives. If the bochur felt that through learning in Yeshiva he can become a genuine Tomim, just like all of the T’mimim that h read about or heard about, then he would view the time spent in Yeshiva as the most important investment he could ever make].
The Rebbe, year after year, emphasized and elaborated on the vort and moshol of the Bertichever that on Shabbos Chazon we are shown the 3rd Beis Hamikdosh. The Beis Hamikdosh (as mentioned earlier) is not merely a geographical location or a physical structure.The Beis Hamikdosh is the experience of perceiving G-dliness, The state of every individual’s Beis Hamikdosh being built is living a life of G-dliness, of holiness, of spirituality, of a genuine chossid.It’s the way every individual is meant to live.
But when we gaze at our reflection in the mirror, chances are that we see a churban. We see destruction and chaos, with no trace of the beauty and splendor and holiness that the Beis Hamikdosh represents to us.We see ourselves as being as distant as can be from a rebuilt beis HaMikdosh (as did R’ Itche der masmid as well, who complained the Rebbe Rashab about the fact that he has a guf megusham).
It appears out of reach, an unrealistic goal.But on Shabbos Chazon, the Eibishter shows us the 3rd Beis Hamikdash in all of its’ glory.This is surely true in a personal level as well. On Shabbos Chazon we look into the mirror, and we see a fdignified chossid gazing back at us. And we’re told: “this is you, the way you really are”.
It’s not ch”v out of reach. It’s there already, you can see it, you can almost touch it. And this vision convinces that it is practical and realistic, that it is worth putting in any necessary effort to rebuild and reveal our personal Beis haMikdosh. We can and we will change our lives, and increase our awareness of and connection to the Eibishter.
Any one of us strives for this and yearns for this. When we perceive that it’s within our reach, that is the best motivation to get back on track and redouble our efforts to realize it.
If Torah tells that on Shabbos Chazon we’re shown the Bais haMikdosh, then we can be certain that this is true. It is a time when we have the ability to see ourselves for who we really are.
But even when being shown something, it is up to us to decide whether to look at what we’re being shown, or ch”v look away. We have to take advantage of this opportunity of Shabbos Chazon to actually see and focus on the BHMK in its’ rebuilt state, both in the collective sense and in the personal sense.
And this will be sufficient motivation for us to do the last bit of work, to be able to actually see the BHMK in its’ physical and tangible state – MAMOSH!L’chaim! May we all take advantage of the vision of Shabbos Chazon to better our conduct, and may Hashem in turn provide with the true and ultimate showing of the 3rd BHMK, with the hisgalus of Moshiach Tzidkeinu TUMYM!!!
Hatzlocho Rabo!! Rabbi Akiva Wagner
A shout out to PETA!!
Can anyone say maggots?
Wait, here's a trick question. Let's see who can answer it: what happens when you neglect to take out the garbage for quite a few days? (I did not read this on the back of a laffy taffy wrapper, though we have plenty of those lying around.)
DING DING DING!!! That man with the funny nose has got it correct!! You get maggots! Tons of them! Creepy, crawly, blood sucking maggots! (Ok, the blood sucking part was added for effect, I believe they don't eat humans, but for all I care, they just might.)
Does Lysol kill them? Does deodorant kill them? Does ammonia kill them? NO! Cuz they are indestructible. Just a tip: after putting down ammonia, wait awhile before putting down anything else, unless you want an explosion.
So what do you do? You sweep them up, step on them, hear them crunch, as all the other girls cower in fear, staring from the window of their apartment. Chicken.
In other news- there's a flu going around camp, and apparently I caught it. What do you do? Nothing. Carry on with daily activities, as is expected of you. If campers comment on how sick you look? You force a smile and say, no, that's just an act.
4 words for y'all: Thank G-d For Shabbat!!!!!!!
Wait, here's a trick question. Let's see who can answer it: what happens when you neglect to take out the garbage for quite a few days? (I did not read this on the back of a laffy taffy wrapper, though we have plenty of those lying around.)
DING DING DING!!! That man with the funny nose has got it correct!! You get maggots! Tons of them! Creepy, crawly, blood sucking maggots! (Ok, the blood sucking part was added for effect, I believe they don't eat humans, but for all I care, they just might.)
Does Lysol kill them? Does deodorant kill them? Does ammonia kill them? NO! Cuz they are indestructible. Just a tip: after putting down ammonia, wait awhile before putting down anything else, unless you want an explosion.
So what do you do? You sweep them up, step on them, hear them crunch, as all the other girls cower in fear, staring from the window of their apartment. Chicken.
In other news- there's a flu going around camp, and apparently I caught it. What do you do? Nothing. Carry on with daily activities, as is expected of you. If campers comment on how sick you look? You force a smile and say, no, that's just an act.
4 words for y'all: Thank G-d For Shabbat!!!!!!!
Thursday, July 23, 2009
The little (important) things
I recieved a candy gram at the carnival today. It said: "I love you Altie, so much! Love, Rivka."
This is from a camper, who's 6 years old. She is a difficult camper. i.e. she hardly ever listens, she does what she wants when she wants to, she doesnt join her bunk for line up, or any activity that she doesn't like. She complains every day about a 'stomach ache' when she doesn't want to participate. But when it comes to swimming, or a fun trip, she's instantly all better. Know who I'm talking about? I'm sure all counselors have encountered a camper like this at least once.
I had a camper like this last summer. He never listened. He made my day heck. And then at the end of the day, he's throw his small arms around me, and tell me he had a great day. And I would almost cry, at the irony of it.
It got me thinking. I can't remember most of my campers names from last summer. Their faces are blurry. I'm sure I have the pictures stored somewhere, if I bothered to look for them. But I don't bother. It was a good summer, you say goodbye, and it's over. I was never good with keeping in touch, and it's all the more harder when your camper is 6, and forgets who you are when you're not there.
So what have I really accomplished? After the summers over, and the kids are back in school, and the memories from summer slowly begin to fade, what will be left from this summer? I always wonder if they will remember my name next summer. If they will tell the new head counselor, 'Altie did it differently. We liked her way better.' Or will they tell her, 'You are so much prettier and nicer than our head counselor from last summer." (Like they told me.) Does it matter, though? I think not.
I don't care if they remember me, just like I won't necessarily remember them. Is that bad? No. Imagine if you went through life shlepping around all the contacts that you've ever met. That would be quite a load. So I try to keep up with the closest ones.
But that- 'I love you Altie." That will stay with me, long after this summer. Whether or not she'll remember me, it meant a lot to me to hear after a long day in camp. They will remember the important things, just like I will.
And thats what makes all the difference.
This is from a camper, who's 6 years old. She is a difficult camper. i.e. she hardly ever listens, she does what she wants when she wants to, she doesnt join her bunk for line up, or any activity that she doesn't like. She complains every day about a 'stomach ache' when she doesn't want to participate. But when it comes to swimming, or a fun trip, she's instantly all better. Know who I'm talking about? I'm sure all counselors have encountered a camper like this at least once.
I had a camper like this last summer. He never listened. He made my day heck. And then at the end of the day, he's throw his small arms around me, and tell me he had a great day. And I would almost cry, at the irony of it.
It got me thinking. I can't remember most of my campers names from last summer. Their faces are blurry. I'm sure I have the pictures stored somewhere, if I bothered to look for them. But I don't bother. It was a good summer, you say goodbye, and it's over. I was never good with keeping in touch, and it's all the more harder when your camper is 6, and forgets who you are when you're not there.
So what have I really accomplished? After the summers over, and the kids are back in school, and the memories from summer slowly begin to fade, what will be left from this summer? I always wonder if they will remember my name next summer. If they will tell the new head counselor, 'Altie did it differently. We liked her way better.' Or will they tell her, 'You are so much prettier and nicer than our head counselor from last summer." (Like they told me.) Does it matter, though? I think not.
I don't care if they remember me, just like I won't necessarily remember them. Is that bad? No. Imagine if you went through life shlepping around all the contacts that you've ever met. That would be quite a load. So I try to keep up with the closest ones.
But that- 'I love you Altie." That will stay with me, long after this summer. Whether or not she'll remember me, it meant a lot to me to hear after a long day in camp. They will remember the important things, just like I will.
And thats what makes all the difference.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Chabad cars are just so... normal!
Ever saw a Chinese fire drill? The Nachman guys do it all the time. Us counselors tried it a few times too. It's fun. You stop at a traffic light, get out of the car, run around a few times, and jump back in. Voila! That's all there is too it. Fun, no?
How bout this? You drive to camp in the morning, all bleary eyed and half asleep, late getting into the car cuz people decide to make lunch in the morning instead of the night before. So the car stops. You are NOT at a traffic light, you are NOT at the side of the road. You are in the middle of the street, with traffic streaming by around you. Fun, no? NO! Car stalled again. Oh don't worry, we know what to do, we've done it many times before.
Jump out of the car, open the hood, press some thingamajigs (a real word!), get back into the car, and voila! Engine as good as new! And drive off, and hey, we are even at camp on time!! Just a typical day in Chabad. So... normal.
What do you do when the replacement van, which you got cuz the other car isn't working, stalls again and again? Well, you sit on the side of the road, awaiting help, trying to act like this is so normal. People stop and ask if you need help. Na, we're good, we know what we're doing.
Then you stand up and pray REAL hard. It's just so NORMAL. It's just so TYPICAL. But a little help is always welcome.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
A trip down memory lane
I used to know the smell of markers very well. I used to try so hard to color in the lines. I used to love cutting and pasting, drawing, and stapling. And then I grew up. And I forgot.
Now I'm forced to remember. But it's one of those things you never actually forget. This week, so far, I've made a Rosh Hashana card, I drew a Chanuka Menorah, made a mask for purim, and an edible sukka with marsh mellow fluff, paper slippers for yom kippur.
As I lay on the floor, tongue between my teeth, concentrating very hard on my menorah, inhaling the fumes of a permanent marker, and getting on an accidental high, I realized I missed that part of being a kid. That simplicity. It was so much fun, just enjoying it again.
Make sure to do one thing every day that makes you happy. And if that means going to the park, and swinging on the swings, then do it. It's always good to revisit your childhood.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Redefining cool
A place is only as cool as the people in it. So if a cool person is in a place, then that place becomes cool. Or does it?
I used to see only cool places. Then I would get there and realize, the place was boring, I wasn't cool, and I was all alone.
Then I shlepped my friends with me. Now I'm in a really cool place, with super cool friends, and life is all good!
Shabbat Shalom!
I used to see only cool places. Then I would get there and realize, the place was boring, I wasn't cool, and I was all alone.
Then I shlepped my friends with me. Now I'm in a really cool place, with super cool friends, and life is all good!
Shabbat Shalom!
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Midnight Musings
You're walking somewhere, but you are not really going anywhere. Destination in mind? Sort of. Know it when I see it. But do I want to get there? Maybe. Not really. When you get to the end, you must question, is it really the end. And if it is, decision time. And if not, then you made a wrong turn somewhere along the way, and it's time to go back. But you can never really go back. Only forward. So you are stuck. Where to go. Who knows.
Mushrooms like rocket ships. So many hills, up and down. What goes up, must come down. What goes down, must come up. Or it can stay down. Interchangeable.
Twists and turns, backwards and forwards, left and right, all around, till you are dizzy. Till you are ready to drop. Till you are confused as to where you are going, and if you are actually going anywhere at all. Or just chasing your tail. Following a bubble, airless, and light.
Music blasting in your ears. Trying to drown out the sound. Ironic. The sound of the music is louder than the sound you are trying to block. Which makes the music sound on it's own. And what can drown out the music? And what can stop you from thinking so much?
The good news is, it all ends sometimes. The bad news? You don't know when. Or is that so bad. Maybe there's no bad news at all. Is that so hard to believe?
Mushrooms like rocket ships. So many hills, up and down. What goes up, must come down. What goes down, must come up. Or it can stay down. Interchangeable.
Twists and turns, backwards and forwards, left and right, all around, till you are dizzy. Till you are ready to drop. Till you are confused as to where you are going, and if you are actually going anywhere at all. Or just chasing your tail. Following a bubble, airless, and light.
Music blasting in your ears. Trying to drown out the sound. Ironic. The sound of the music is louder than the sound you are trying to block. Which makes the music sound on it's own. And what can drown out the music? And what can stop you from thinking so much?
The good news is, it all ends sometimes. The bad news? You don't know when. Or is that so bad. Maybe there's no bad news at all. Is that so hard to believe?
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Thank G-d for shluchim! (and firemen, and other people)
I got into the car on Friday afternoon, soaking wet, with dough in my hair. A flour fight, AND water fight both on the same day is NOT a good idea. Don't try it.
We were headed to San Diego for Shabbos, all 8 counselors of us, in our little 7 seater van. Don't ask how we fit, it magically expands for all of us. G-d helps.
So there we were, on our way, excited to be going to S. Diego for Shabbos. It was supposed to take about 3 hours, and Shabbos started at 7, so if we got there at 6, there would be plenty of time to shower, and get settled where we were staying. We were fine with time. Or so we thought.
5 minutes into the trip, we were all fast asleep, besides for the driver, B"H, and me, who was happily snapping pictures of all the sleeping girls, out of boredom. Our Rabbi called us like every 5 minutes, to make sure we were ok, and that we were in the carpool lane, and that we were going as fast as we could. He told us to take the toll road, it would go faster. Bad idea.
I finally fell asleep. I woke up, and smelled a bad smell in the car, and immediately checked my cabbage salad which I brought for lunch, but forgot to eat. Maybe it went bad in the heat. But no, it smelled ok. Ok so not that. Then I realized I smelled burning rubber. In my woozy sleepy state, I couldn't figure out what was happening, but I noticed the driver sounded anxious. I thought she was driving off the road, and rolled my eyes in annoyance. But then I saw smoke billowing out of the hood, and thought, nope, we are in much bigger trouble.
We pulled the car over. Everyone was screaming out instructions. We got out of the car, I told them we should walk away from the car as far as we could go, in case it blew up or something. So that's what we did. Imagine 8 girls, in camp t-shirts, standing on the side of the highway, near a car billowing out with smoke. Would you stop for us, and make sure we were ok? Ya, I thought so. Well, funny, cuz no one stopped. One guy honked his horn at us, one guy screamed at us, someone else laughed at us. But they all drove by, and didn't stop. How rude.
(Ok one guy stopped. A frum guy. Asked us if we were ok, and where we were headed. We said we would figure it out, and we were going to S. Diego, but didn't look like we'd actually get there. So, thank you, mystery man. If you are reading this, know that we got home ok.)
So Then a fire truck pulled up. And the fun began. 2 of the girls were going to the car to get their luggage out. Really. I think I'd rather they were whole and safe, then have luggage, and go near a smoking car.
The firemen approached the car, checked under the hood, looked around, then came over to us. So I asked, do you know what's wrong with it? And he said, no, but you can't drive it. I laughed. Really. That much I figured out all by myself!
I called the Rabbi, and for once, he didn't answer! I called the other Rabbi, and told him we have an intsy bintsy problem, that we are stuck on the side of the highway, and what did he think we should do. Oh boy. So my Rabbi called me back, spoke to the fireman, spoke to me, and we still didn't know what we were gonna do about shabbos. By that time, we didn't have enough time to get to S. Diego before shabbos. Rabbi said he'll call around, and let me know.
Meanwhile, a tow truck pulled up. The fireman said they'd tow our car off the highway, to a parking lot, and we could decide from there what to do. Oh, and in middle of all this, we were snapping picture after picture, of us near the car, the firetruck, us near the firetruck, ya you get my drift. When there's trouble... pull out your camera, and document it! The fireman asked us if this was cooler than where we were headed. Definitely! Who else can say they got stuck on the side of a highway, and had a firetruck come help? Wait. It gets better.
So 2 girls went in the tow truck, and the rest of us, (6 girls, if you were counting) squished into the firetruck. My 1st time in a firetruck. It was cool. They drove us to a parking lot, and then let us off, with our car. They made sure we were ok, gave us the number of the fire station just in case, then were gonna drive off.
But they heard we were planning on going to Mexico on Sunday. Ya, that was only if we got to S. Diego, and since we obviously were not gonna get there, Mexico was off too. But they were worried, apparently it's not safe for 8 girls to go alone to Mexico, especially now, theres more violence there. They asked if we were bringing guys with us. Um, no. Not exactly. He said he didn't want it on his conscience if we went, and then he found out later that 8 girls got kidnapped, or worse, in Mexico. So we thanked him for his concern, and assured him we weren't going to go.
Now we were stuck with a car, that we couldn't figure out what to do with, and no place to go for Shabbos. I asked the tow truck driver where we were, he said, 'San Juan Capistrano'. I repeated it 5 times, and even wrote it down, so I'd remember it. Interesting name.
Called the Rabbi, called him back. What do you do in times of crisis? Call in the troops!! Calling all forces, calling all forces. Rabbi called the nearest shluchim, they wanted to have us, but wife was out of town, so not gonna work. Next. He found the nearest shluchim in the next town over, a place called Mission Viejo. Ya, this place is just filled with weird sounding names. They were happy to have us. Now, how to get there.
Tow truck guy said we could drive the car, but be careful, take the side roads, yadayada. Get directions, get into the car, drive to the entrance of parking lot, and... car won't go. Ask driver what's wrong, she says, the lights blinking for accelerator, it doesn't work. Not sure what the accelerator does, but pretty sure it makes the car go. Put it in reverse, try to back into parking lot. Ya, that don't work either. Uh oh. Call the shluchim. B''h, kind people that they are, he gets into 15 passenger van to come and get us.
We get out. Time to push the car!! Yay! 1st time for that too. This shabbos was a lot of firsts. Call Rabbi. What to do with car. He doesn't want to leave it in parking lot, lest it gets towed overnight. Funny, I thought we wanted it to get towed. Ok. Push the car into a parking space, (more pictures!!) ask a person in a car for a number of towing company. No help there. Run to find a phonebook. 1st store doesn't have fun. Who doesn't have a phone book?? Ok. They say liquer store has one. Run to there. No, they say. Oh, but theres one outside, by the pay phone. Ok, we are going somewhere! Get the phone book, find number for tow truck. Call it.
me:Hi, I need a tow truck please.
guy: ok, where are you?
me (give cross streets. Thank G-d I knew THAT much.)
guy: ok, what's the make of the car?
me: (hesitant silence.) Oh, um, I'm not sure.
guy: ok....where do you need to take it to?
me: (more silence.) Um, I don't know.
guy: who's car is it?
me: my bosses. I'm not near the car, and I don't drive it, so I really don't know much about it.
guy: (almost laughing.) Do you know the COLOR of the car?
me: (yay! one thing I DO know!) ya, beige. (friend is frantically whispering, no no, it's gold!) ok, no, don't know that either.
guy: really.
me: ya. so, um, would you be able to give us an estimate of how much it will be?
guy: (laughing for real.) If you can tell me the MAKE of the car, and WHERE you need to take it, then maybe I can give you an estimate!
me: ok, thank you, I'll call you back then.
guy: (laughing.) you do that!
Help full guy.
Ok, now, the shliach is here to pick us up. Call back Rabbi. Almost Shabbos for him. What to do. He says, worry about it after shabbos, just get in the car and go! Ok, what about the car? He says, leave a note saying, 'car broken, be back Saturday night.' Really. You think the car will be here then? Other girls think I'm nuts, but Rabbi always right. We leave the note, get in the car, and drive to Mission Viejo for shabbat. Half hour to go!.
Going to stay in counselors apartment. What a small world. My friends are the head counselors there for camp, but ha, they went away for shabbos. They call us, and say, we heard there were girls coming for shabbos, not too happy about it, but then we found out it was you. So have fun, enjoy, too bad we can't be there! Oh well. Too bad indeed. Definitely picked the wrong shabbos to stay here!
Call Rabbi. He's starting shabbos. B''h we now have a place for shabbos, thanks to the shluchim, Rabbi and Mrs Kantor, and Rabbi and Mrs Marcus. Thank G-d for Shluchim!
After all that, Shabbos was uneventful. A meal with the shluchim. A walk to shul in the hot sun. A bar miztva with a lime green color scheme, and good food. No, we didn't get to S. Diego for shabbos, (or to Mexico for that matter) but G-d had other plans for us. And hopefully, we fulfilled whatever we needed to, in a little town called, Mission Viejo.
After shabbos, Rabbi came to pick us up. Went to the parking lot, hesitantly, not sure if we would see the car there, or if anyone stole it, to sell for parts, or maybe we'd just find the note there, minus the car, with a thank you for the car. But low and behold!! The car was there, in one piece! Yay!
Call triple A. Towed the car. Drive back to LA. Now, counselors have no car. Drive the 15 passenger to camp? We can try. Or take the bus to camp. Or walk. We shall see. When the car will be repaired is unknown, as of now. And we are STILL not sure what's wrong with it. But it all started when we took the toll road, which was all up hill, and our little car, with all 8 girls in it, couldn't manage the load. oh well. Now we shall pray.
Moral of the story: a mentch tracht, un gut lacht. Man plans, and G-d laughs. Our story was way more fun then if we ended up in S. Diego. And of course, SHLUCHIM ARE THE BEST!!! Thank you, we can always count on you.
So that was our fun for the summer. And what did I do the whole time? I laughed. Really, what else can you do?
We were headed to San Diego for Shabbos, all 8 counselors of us, in our little 7 seater van. Don't ask how we fit, it magically expands for all of us. G-d helps.
So there we were, on our way, excited to be going to S. Diego for Shabbos. It was supposed to take about 3 hours, and Shabbos started at 7, so if we got there at 6, there would be plenty of time to shower, and get settled where we were staying. We were fine with time. Or so we thought.
5 minutes into the trip, we were all fast asleep, besides for the driver, B"H, and me, who was happily snapping pictures of all the sleeping girls, out of boredom. Our Rabbi called us like every 5 minutes, to make sure we were ok, and that we were in the carpool lane, and that we were going as fast as we could. He told us to take the toll road, it would go faster. Bad idea.
I finally fell asleep. I woke up, and smelled a bad smell in the car, and immediately checked my cabbage salad which I brought for lunch, but forgot to eat. Maybe it went bad in the heat. But no, it smelled ok. Ok so not that. Then I realized I smelled burning rubber. In my woozy sleepy state, I couldn't figure out what was happening, but I noticed the driver sounded anxious. I thought she was driving off the road, and rolled my eyes in annoyance. But then I saw smoke billowing out of the hood, and thought, nope, we are in much bigger trouble.
We pulled the car over. Everyone was screaming out instructions. We got out of the car, I told them we should walk away from the car as far as we could go, in case it blew up or something. So that's what we did. Imagine 8 girls, in camp t-shirts, standing on the side of the highway, near a car billowing out with smoke. Would you stop for us, and make sure we were ok? Ya, I thought so. Well, funny, cuz no one stopped. One guy honked his horn at us, one guy screamed at us, someone else laughed at us. But they all drove by, and didn't stop. How rude.
(Ok one guy stopped. A frum guy. Asked us if we were ok, and where we were headed. We said we would figure it out, and we were going to S. Diego, but didn't look like we'd actually get there. So, thank you, mystery man. If you are reading this, know that we got home ok.)
So Then a fire truck pulled up. And the fun began. 2 of the girls were going to the car to get their luggage out. Really. I think I'd rather they were whole and safe, then have luggage, and go near a smoking car.
The firemen approached the car, checked under the hood, looked around, then came over to us. So I asked, do you know what's wrong with it? And he said, no, but you can't drive it. I laughed. Really. That much I figured out all by myself!
I called the Rabbi, and for once, he didn't answer! I called the other Rabbi, and told him we have an intsy bintsy problem, that we are stuck on the side of the highway, and what did he think we should do. Oh boy. So my Rabbi called me back, spoke to the fireman, spoke to me, and we still didn't know what we were gonna do about shabbos. By that time, we didn't have enough time to get to S. Diego before shabbos. Rabbi said he'll call around, and let me know.
Meanwhile, a tow truck pulled up. The fireman said they'd tow our car off the highway, to a parking lot, and we could decide from there what to do. Oh, and in middle of all this, we were snapping picture after picture, of us near the car, the firetruck, us near the firetruck, ya you get my drift. When there's trouble... pull out your camera, and document it! The fireman asked us if this was cooler than where we were headed. Definitely! Who else can say they got stuck on the side of a highway, and had a firetruck come help? Wait. It gets better.
So 2 girls went in the tow truck, and the rest of us, (6 girls, if you were counting) squished into the firetruck. My 1st time in a firetruck. It was cool. They drove us to a parking lot, and then let us off, with our car. They made sure we were ok, gave us the number of the fire station just in case, then were gonna drive off.
But they heard we were planning on going to Mexico on Sunday. Ya, that was only if we got to S. Diego, and since we obviously were not gonna get there, Mexico was off too. But they were worried, apparently it's not safe for 8 girls to go alone to Mexico, especially now, theres more violence there. They asked if we were bringing guys with us. Um, no. Not exactly. He said he didn't want it on his conscience if we went, and then he found out later that 8 girls got kidnapped, or worse, in Mexico. So we thanked him for his concern, and assured him we weren't going to go.
Now we were stuck with a car, that we couldn't figure out what to do with, and no place to go for Shabbos. I asked the tow truck driver where we were, he said, 'San Juan Capistrano'. I repeated it 5 times, and even wrote it down, so I'd remember it. Interesting name.
Called the Rabbi, called him back. What do you do in times of crisis? Call in the troops!! Calling all forces, calling all forces. Rabbi called the nearest shluchim, they wanted to have us, but wife was out of town, so not gonna work. Next. He found the nearest shluchim in the next town over, a place called Mission Viejo. Ya, this place is just filled with weird sounding names. They were happy to have us. Now, how to get there.
Tow truck guy said we could drive the car, but be careful, take the side roads, yadayada. Get directions, get into the car, drive to the entrance of parking lot, and... car won't go. Ask driver what's wrong, she says, the lights blinking for accelerator, it doesn't work. Not sure what the accelerator does, but pretty sure it makes the car go. Put it in reverse, try to back into parking lot. Ya, that don't work either. Uh oh. Call the shluchim. B''h, kind people that they are, he gets into 15 passenger van to come and get us.
We get out. Time to push the car!! Yay! 1st time for that too. This shabbos was a lot of firsts. Call Rabbi. What to do with car. He doesn't want to leave it in parking lot, lest it gets towed overnight. Funny, I thought we wanted it to get towed. Ok. Push the car into a parking space, (more pictures!!) ask a person in a car for a number of towing company. No help there. Run to find a phonebook. 1st store doesn't have fun. Who doesn't have a phone book?? Ok. They say liquer store has one. Run to there. No, they say. Oh, but theres one outside, by the pay phone. Ok, we are going somewhere! Get the phone book, find number for tow truck. Call it.
me:Hi, I need a tow truck please.
guy: ok, where are you?
me (give cross streets. Thank G-d I knew THAT much.)
guy: ok, what's the make of the car?
me: (hesitant silence.) Oh, um, I'm not sure.
guy: ok....where do you need to take it to?
me: (more silence.) Um, I don't know.
guy: who's car is it?
me: my bosses. I'm not near the car, and I don't drive it, so I really don't know much about it.
guy: (almost laughing.) Do you know the COLOR of the car?
me: (yay! one thing I DO know!) ya, beige. (friend is frantically whispering, no no, it's gold!) ok, no, don't know that either.
guy: really.
me: ya. so, um, would you be able to give us an estimate of how much it will be?
guy: (laughing for real.) If you can tell me the MAKE of the car, and WHERE you need to take it, then maybe I can give you an estimate!
me: ok, thank you, I'll call you back then.
guy: (laughing.) you do that!
Help full guy.
Ok, now, the shliach is here to pick us up. Call back Rabbi. Almost Shabbos for him. What to do. He says, worry about it after shabbos, just get in the car and go! Ok, what about the car? He says, leave a note saying, 'car broken, be back Saturday night.' Really. You think the car will be here then? Other girls think I'm nuts, but Rabbi always right. We leave the note, get in the car, and drive to Mission Viejo for shabbat. Half hour to go!.
Going to stay in counselors apartment. What a small world. My friends are the head counselors there for camp, but ha, they went away for shabbos. They call us, and say, we heard there were girls coming for shabbos, not too happy about it, but then we found out it was you. So have fun, enjoy, too bad we can't be there! Oh well. Too bad indeed. Definitely picked the wrong shabbos to stay here!
Call Rabbi. He's starting shabbos. B''h we now have a place for shabbos, thanks to the shluchim, Rabbi and Mrs Kantor, and Rabbi and Mrs Marcus. Thank G-d for Shluchim!
After all that, Shabbos was uneventful. A meal with the shluchim. A walk to shul in the hot sun. A bar miztva with a lime green color scheme, and good food. No, we didn't get to S. Diego for shabbos, (or to Mexico for that matter) but G-d had other plans for us. And hopefully, we fulfilled whatever we needed to, in a little town called, Mission Viejo.
After shabbos, Rabbi came to pick us up. Went to the parking lot, hesitantly, not sure if we would see the car there, or if anyone stole it, to sell for parts, or maybe we'd just find the note there, minus the car, with a thank you for the car. But low and behold!! The car was there, in one piece! Yay!
Call triple A. Towed the car. Drive back to LA. Now, counselors have no car. Drive the 15 passenger to camp? We can try. Or take the bus to camp. Or walk. We shall see. When the car will be repaired is unknown, as of now. And we are STILL not sure what's wrong with it. But it all started when we took the toll road, which was all up hill, and our little car, with all 8 girls in it, couldn't manage the load. oh well. Now we shall pray.
Moral of the story: a mentch tracht, un gut lacht. Man plans, and G-d laughs. Our story was way more fun then if we ended up in S. Diego. And of course, SHLUCHIM ARE THE BEST!!! Thank you, we can always count on you.
So that was our fun for the summer. And what did I do the whole time? I laughed. Really, what else can you do?
Thursday, July 9, 2009
When I see you
When I see you, I don't know what to say.
When I think about you, I want this ache to go away.
Your smile makes me warm inside,
but it also makes me want to hide.
To run away from the things I do,
to run, and never return to you.
Does it hurt you to see me this way?
Will things ever again be the same?
Where is that point of no return?
How do I silence my heart, that yearns?
Can you fix something which has broke?
Can you take back the words you spoke?
I want for you to hold my hand,
And walk with me in the sand.
I want to go back, but can't find the way.
Don't want to be stuck in this place I stay.
Is it too much too ask of you?
To come get me, and show me the way through?
Do I even deserve it?
Or must I earn it?
When I see you, I don't know what to say.
Maybe, just maybe, I never really went away.
When I think about you, I want this ache to go away.
Your smile makes me warm inside,
but it also makes me want to hide.
To run away from the things I do,
to run, and never return to you.
Does it hurt you to see me this way?
Will things ever again be the same?
Where is that point of no return?
How do I silence my heart, that yearns?
Can you fix something which has broke?
Can you take back the words you spoke?
I want for you to hold my hand,
And walk with me in the sand.
I want to go back, but can't find the way.
Don't want to be stuck in this place I stay.
Is it too much too ask of you?
To come get me, and show me the way through?
Do I even deserve it?
Or must I earn it?
When I see you, I don't know what to say.
Maybe, just maybe, I never really went away.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Summer, smiles, and other stuff
Blogger is slow these days. Everything is slow these days. Summer just slows things down, makes you want to be lazy, and not do work. But what can you do when you have lots of work to do, and no one but you can get it done? That's right, you do it anyway.
Every time I open my gmail inbox, I have tons of mail. And before I start to feel liked, and popular, I skim down and all I see is, facebook facebook facebook. I kind of regret getting facebook again, if only because I get my hopes up about getting mail, and then there's really nothing there.
It is all a waiting game. I hate games, and I hate waiting even more. I hate miscommunication, and I hate long, drawn out conversations, that go no where. If you have something to say, then say it. If not, then keep quiet, and let me get on with life.
I just realized it is a fast day on Thursday. I should have known, but I didn't. Or I forgot. Either way. Fast days are hungry, melancholy, sad, confusing. I try to mourn, to feel something, but I never really do.
On the subject of death and dying. I think it is healthy to think about it. Speculate. Write down the things that scare you, your questions. Why not? Did you ever try to take an emotion, and put yourself into it? Take a charecter from a story, and try to feel like them, to be that charecter? It's called role play, and its healthy and helpful. Try it.
P.S. I wrote a short story. Some of you may have already read it. But I am hesitant to post it here, because people are so harsh with comments. If you would like to read it, (and you should, cuz if it gets published, or when I become famous someday, believe me, you'll want to say that you knew me, and you saw it first.) Email me, or leave a comment here _______________.
Wishing everyone a happy, healthy, fun fulfilling summer. With lots of clarity, chassidishkeit, good stuff, and success. And don't forget to smile, because a smile makes everything 10 times brighter.
P.S. I wrote a short story. Some of you may have already read it. But I am hesitant to post it here, because people are so harsh with comments. If you would like to read it, (and you should, cuz if it gets published, or when I become famous someday, believe me, you'll want to say that you knew me, and you saw it first.) Email me, or leave a comment here _______________.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Nothing lasts forever
Life is a funny thing. It comes, and then it goes. You can't control it. No one knows when it will come, and no one knows when it will end. And that is the beauty of it. The element of surprise.
If a teacher gives you an assignment, and tells you that it's due in two weeks, then you know that from now until then, you can space it out, give yourself time, be organized, and you will get it done.
If you are on a debate team, and they do not tell you about what you are debating, or even when, then you are unprepared. You must be ready at any second to jump up and go, to get the topic, and just start debating on that subject. It is harder, but more thrilling. More fulfilling, knowing that you could accomplish so much, on such short notice.
There is a saying, 'live your life as if each day is your last'. This does not mean to mourn and be sad all the time. This means to do as much as you can, to be all you want to be, to make the most impact on people, and the world, because you never know if you will get a second chance.
Death is a funny thing too. For some reason, some people are scared of dying. A lot of non Jews live with myths about the after life, about heaven and hell. They are scared to face what is to come. We know that the more you are prepared for something, the easier it is to do, and the calmer you will feel about it. But how can you really know about death? I've never experienced it, at least not in this lifetime. So how can we know that it isn't a terrible thing, that we should be afraid of?
We don't know. You can't know, until you are there. Until you go through it. But we hope that all we learned about death is true. That your soul goes to a better place, that there is heaven, and rewards after death. That there is something, and not just a huge abyss, where your soul sits and waits.
I am not scared of dying. I've thought about it. Not in a suicidal way, just out of curiosity. How will it feel? How will I die? Will I miss being alive? Will I remember it at all?
It is just something that happens. Just like birth. The only difference is, birth is a happy occasion, it is celebrated. Whereas death is sad, mournful, regretful. But why is it so? They are both an ending of sorts, and a new beginning.
We as humans miss the dead, when they leave us. Is it a selfish emotion? Perhaps. Why are we so sad, when they are in a better place now? Why do we miss them, when they are not suffering anymore? Why do we wish them to come back, when they don't want to return?
I've never had a close encounter with death, thank G-d for that. I've read books in which people die. I know a fictional character dying is not the same as a realistic one. And in a book, you can always flip back the pages, and there they are again, still alive. In life, there is no going back. There is no 'undo' button. You can't make them reappear.
It's not easy, but it's just something that happens. It's natural. When you are no longer living, you are dead. It is not sad, or happy, or anything. It just is.
And you know what? It is just a stage, until the next one. Cuz nothing lasts forever.
If a teacher gives you an assignment, and tells you that it's due in two weeks, then you know that from now until then, you can space it out, give yourself time, be organized, and you will get it done.
If you are on a debate team, and they do not tell you about what you are debating, or even when, then you are unprepared. You must be ready at any second to jump up and go, to get the topic, and just start debating on that subject. It is harder, but more thrilling. More fulfilling, knowing that you could accomplish so much, on such short notice.
There is a saying, 'live your life as if each day is your last'. This does not mean to mourn and be sad all the time. This means to do as much as you can, to be all you want to be, to make the most impact on people, and the world, because you never know if you will get a second chance.
Death is a funny thing too. For some reason, some people are scared of dying. A lot of non Jews live with myths about the after life, about heaven and hell. They are scared to face what is to come. We know that the more you are prepared for something, the easier it is to do, and the calmer you will feel about it. But how can you really know about death? I've never experienced it, at least not in this lifetime. So how can we know that it isn't a terrible thing, that we should be afraid of?
We don't know. You can't know, until you are there. Until you go through it. But we hope that all we learned about death is true. That your soul goes to a better place, that there is heaven, and rewards after death. That there is something, and not just a huge abyss, where your soul sits and waits.
I am not scared of dying. I've thought about it. Not in a suicidal way, just out of curiosity. How will it feel? How will I die? Will I miss being alive? Will I remember it at all?
It is just something that happens. Just like birth. The only difference is, birth is a happy occasion, it is celebrated. Whereas death is sad, mournful, regretful. But why is it so? They are both an ending of sorts, and a new beginning.
We as humans miss the dead, when they leave us. Is it a selfish emotion? Perhaps. Why are we so sad, when they are in a better place now? Why do we miss them, when they are not suffering anymore? Why do we wish them to come back, when they don't want to return?
I've never had a close encounter with death, thank G-d for that. I've read books in which people die. I know a fictional character dying is not the same as a realistic one. And in a book, you can always flip back the pages, and there they are again, still alive. In life, there is no going back. There is no 'undo' button. You can't make them reappear.
It's not easy, but it's just something that happens. It's natural. When you are no longer living, you are dead. It is not sad, or happy, or anything. It just is.
And you know what? It is just a stage, until the next one. Cuz nothing lasts forever.
Random stuff
I went to Rodeo drive today. And before you all go thinking, oh wow, you are so lucky! let me tell you, it was not that cool. There were a bunch of tourists, just like me and you, walking around, trying to look cool, wanting to be famous, but just not having it right. There were tons of stores, all posh, and upper class. I would never go in there. They are meant for the rich and famous, and tourists who want to be rich and famous, but don't really have a lot of money.
My friends and I joked about how one of us should make believe she was a famous person, and we would all run up to her and squeal, and ask for her autograph. But we decided against that idea. You never know who might see, and things do get back to the Rabbi. (No, that's not the reason we decided not to, but you have to check all your exits.)
On Shabbos I finished reading the book, 'my sisters keeper'. If you haven't read it, I recommend it. It is a very intense book, with a lot of good lessons. And it has very strong arguments about family dynamics. I really liked it, and I even cried by the end. Ya, I do cry sometimes.
On a different note, I was flipping through a magazine, and came across an ad that said, 'which would you rather?' It had two pictures. One of a regular mattress, with the springs and coils and everything. And the other picture was their mattress, the one they were selling. It's some sort of foam contraption, where you lay on it, and it molds your form, and even remembers your shape! How cool is that?
I thought, hmmm, which one would I rather? Which one is even better, or is this one 'better' only because they are trying to sell it? And above all, which one can I afford?
It bothers me how people use that for advertisement purposes. Don't buy the regular brands, buy Tide. Don't get the cheap one, spend a whole lot of money, and buy ours. Really. you only tell me yours is better because you want me to buy it. Why don't you just lay all your cards on the table, be honest, and if I want to buy it because I like it, then we both walk away happy.
I always go by, honesty is the best policy. And no matter what, you will not get anywhere in life by stepping on the little guys. If you want to raise yourself up, if you want people to buy your product, if you want people to like you as a person, be yourself, and that should count for something. And if it doesn't, then it wouldn't be worth it in the long run.
My friends and I joked about how one of us should make believe she was a famous person, and we would all run up to her and squeal, and ask for her autograph. But we decided against that idea. You never know who might see, and things do get back to the Rabbi. (No, that's not the reason we decided not to, but you have to check all your exits.)
On Shabbos I finished reading the book, 'my sisters keeper'. If you haven't read it, I recommend it. It is a very intense book, with a lot of good lessons. And it has very strong arguments about family dynamics. I really liked it, and I even cried by the end. Ya, I do cry sometimes.
On a different note, I was flipping through a magazine, and came across an ad that said, 'which would you rather?' It had two pictures. One of a regular mattress, with the springs and coils and everything. And the other picture was their mattress, the one they were selling. It's some sort of foam contraption, where you lay on it, and it molds your form, and even remembers your shape! How cool is that?
I thought, hmmm, which one would I rather? Which one is even better, or is this one 'better' only because they are trying to sell it? And above all, which one can I afford?
It bothers me how people use that for advertisement purposes. Don't buy the regular brands, buy Tide. Don't get the cheap one, spend a whole lot of money, and buy ours. Really. you only tell me yours is better because you want me to buy it. Why don't you just lay all your cards on the table, be honest, and if I want to buy it because I like it, then we both walk away happy.
I always go by, honesty is the best policy. And no matter what, you will not get anywhere in life by stepping on the little guys. If you want to raise yourself up, if you want people to buy your product, if you want people to like you as a person, be yourself, and that should count for something. And if it doesn't, then it wouldn't be worth it in the long run.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Success
It's like setting off a pistol. Pulling the trigger, and letting it go. Like launching a rocket. Or shooting a rubber band. You give instructions, watch their excited faces, say the magic words... and they are off, to carry out their mission. So happy. So trusting. So little. So eager to please.
It's like a zebra. One stripe across the nose. Bright red. No tan.
It's like opening your mouth, and no sound emerging. Voice is just gone.
It's like being burried alive. Correction: it IS being burried alive. Watching those eager faces, laughing, as they push you onto the sand. As they shovel and dig, burrying you beneath layers and layers of the fine, grainy stuff. Feeling it seep into places it really shouldn't be. Closing your eyes, and mouth, wishing it is over, but being a good sport nontheless, for their sake.
Now its in my ears. Now my hair is stuck. I can't move. I don't know why, but they love it. The torture your head counselor activities. They thrive on it.
Multiple pictures, and videos later, they are finally done. I'm burried. Getting up is the hard part. Shake out my hair, brush off my clothes, try not to think of what I look like. Coming home, washing my hair 3 times, brushing it out to find more sand lodged in. Trying to feel annoyed, but remembering the campers joyous shouts of glee. I laugh, cuz it's so funny. I would do it again in a second, if it made them happy.
This summer is about them. Not me. If someone were to ask me, do you enjoy being a head counselor, I would laugh. Or smile. How do you answer that? If they are happy, then so am I.
It's like a zebra. One stripe across the nose. Bright red. No tan.
It's like opening your mouth, and no sound emerging. Voice is just gone.
It's like being burried alive. Correction: it IS being burried alive. Watching those eager faces, laughing, as they push you onto the sand. As they shovel and dig, burrying you beneath layers and layers of the fine, grainy stuff. Feeling it seep into places it really shouldn't be. Closing your eyes, and mouth, wishing it is over, but being a good sport nontheless, for their sake.
Now its in my ears. Now my hair is stuck. I can't move. I don't know why, but they love it. The torture your head counselor activities. They thrive on it.
Multiple pictures, and videos later, they are finally done. I'm burried. Getting up is the hard part. Shake out my hair, brush off my clothes, try not to think of what I look like. Coming home, washing my hair 3 times, brushing it out to find more sand lodged in. Trying to feel annoyed, but remembering the campers joyous shouts of glee. I laugh, cuz it's so funny. I would do it again in a second, if it made them happy.
This summer is about them. Not me. If someone were to ask me, do you enjoy being a head counselor, I would laugh. Or smile. How do you answer that? If they are happy, then so am I.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Quotes I did not think up. Too bad, I couldve been famous
Dream as if you'll live forever; live as if you'll die today.
Laugh as much as you breath, and love as long as you live.
Love doesn't make the world go 'round; love is what makes the ride worthwhile.
If my doctor told me I had only six minutes to live, I wouldn't brood. I'd type a little faster.
Life's not always fair. Sometimes you can get a splinter even sliding down a rainbow.
I hope life isn't a big joke, because I don't get it.
Avoid hangovers: stay drunk.
I’m knot a blonde! I’m knot, I’m knot, I’m knot!
Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again ?
All people have the right to stupidity but some abuse the privilege.
Untitled
What if you don't get what you bargained for? What if things just don't work out as you expected?
Kids love to ask 'what if'. There's a stage they go through, where they contemplate the world, and everything in it. They love asking questions. The problem is when you don't have the answers.
What if you really really want to write, but you don't have much to say? Or you have too much to say, but no way to put it into words?
What if your voice is so hoarse you can't talk properly, and yet you still need to get up tomorrow and do lineup, and scream for all you are worth?
What if you are not sure what you got yourself into, and despite the many times you are told you are doing a great job, somehow you still doubt?
What if you are scared of failure, of not living up to expectations?
What if you can remain silent, and yet the world would still know what you are trying to say?
Kids love to ask 'what if'. There's a stage they go through, where they contemplate the world, and everything in it. They love asking questions. The problem is when you don't have the answers.
What if you really really want to write, but you don't have much to say? Or you have too much to say, but no way to put it into words?
What if your voice is so hoarse you can't talk properly, and yet you still need to get up tomorrow and do lineup, and scream for all you are worth?
What if you are not sure what you got yourself into, and despite the many times you are told you are doing a great job, somehow you still doubt?
What if you are scared of failure, of not living up to expectations?
What if you can remain silent, and yet the world would still know what you are trying to say?
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