Live it up

Imagine waking up and having no idea who you are. No memory whatsoever. Usually when we meet a new person we say, 'Hi, my name is Altie' (or whatever your name is.) What if you had to say to a stranger, 'Hi, what's my name?' because you just can't remember?

It happens. Maybe rarely. I've probably heard about it way more in fictitious novels than in reality, but it exists.

Your whole life is gone. You need a stranger (who could very well be your best friend, husband, or sister, and you wouldn't even know it) to tell you all about yourself, and how you led your life until this point. You may have been a Docter, a lawyer, royalty, and none of it would matter. It's hard to do your job, and act like a powerful person who commands respect, if you can't even recall being that person.

It's scary. You lose your identity, you lose You. It's like starting life anew. You know how to talk, how to walk, and do all the normal functions, because your body has those natural reactions imprinted in it. But you have to recreate your life, a life you don't even remember living.

It's also thrilling, exciting, exhilerating. You can be anyone you want to be. You have a fresh start. You can say what you want to say, think what you want to think, have no opinions about the world and everyone in it. If you were a pessimist your whole life, you can now be an optimist, without much hassle to change your habits. Refreshing.

It's like that question, after 80 or 90 years on this earth, will you look back with regrets, and wish you lived your alloted years differently. For each person this answer will vary. Some will wish they had a family instead of focusing on their career. Some will wish they made a name for themself, instead of being a stay at home mom. Very few people will have no regrests at all.

But most people, if given the chance, will not actually go back and change anything. Every single mistake and wrong turn you made in your life helped to bring you to this point, and made you who you are today. If you change even one small thing, you may be a very different person, either good, or bad. Why take that chance?

Life is about living in the moment, and doing all you can now, so you won't have regrets later on. It's about learning to be happy being YOU, and not wishing you were someone else. It's about making mistakes, and learning from them, so you can be a smarter wiser person from it.

I wouldn't want to start over. I wouldn't want to lose all I lived until now, even if it meant a fresh start. And I don't wish I was someone else. Most of the time I'm happy being me.

Live in the moment. Not in the past, and not in the future.

The chicken ritual

Rain pouring down on me, just as I like it, drenching my recently washed hair, curls cascading in a mess down my back, face upturned to catch the spray. Ear buds in, music blasting in my ears, looking for the world to see cool, calm, and collected. Leaning against a van, taking in the scene, eyebrows raised slightly, confidently.

Girls shrieking in mock fright, or perhaps they are really scared, it's hard to tell. Snapping pictures, wanting to remember this moment, though I see no reason to. Just a part of the rituals to me, as it is.

Standing slightly apart from everyone, waiting my turn. The smell that lingers in the air, I imagine it'll take days for it to go away. So many people collecting charity, and regretfully, I left my wallet at home. With a shrug, and an apologetic smile, I indicate that I have nothing to give.

My turn. Bird swinging on top of me, crouching so as not to get feathers in my hair. My brother's voice saying, 'c'mon chicken, poop in her hair, poop in her hair' and me mentally warning the chicken against that course of action. If you want to live... I think. But of course, it's not going to live, it'll die, on my account.

Remembering the PETA signs I saw, 'Gelt not guilt' and not really caring either way. I stop my mind from going down that road, I don't want to argue an issue that I don't care about.

I say the prayers, like I do every year, trying to put some feeling into it. Remembering just a year ago, waking up at 4 am for this, half asleep, feeling slightly drunk, and caffeine deprived. Swinging a chicken over my head, friends shrieking, picture taking, the same thing, year after year. And of course, girls will be girls.

There is an ice cream truck there this time, which I find slightly amusing. Who wants to think about food at a time like this? Supposed to be solemn, at least. And at most, there are chickens being slaughtered and blood being sprayed, a few feet away. But that didn't seem to bother people, as there were plenty of customers lined up to buy, and the guy tending the counter seemed pleased and amused to be this close to shrieking members of the opposite sex. You'd think he never heard a girl scream before.

Glad it's over with, and hoping I'll be forgiven, I trudge home, my shoes now soaked through.

Just a little rain, a few feathers, and the awful smell of chickens to welcome in a new day, the holiest day of the year, the holier of the two High Holidays.

May it be an easy fast, and may all of our sins be atoned for.

A response

In response to my last post: My grandfather is not religious, and in fact, dislikes very much that we are. He doesn't 'agree' with religioun, and thinks my mother shouldn't have raised us this way. But it is a side point. I don't try to argue with him on it.

He was trying to convince me to go to college, because in his opinion, if you don't, you are undeduacted, and basically worthless. But he knew since we are all religious, he might not be able to convince us. So of course he was happy to hear that I started in college this year, and that I want to get a degree in psychology. This is what he told me:

"You are to be commended if your desire is to be a professional psychologist since it is of my opinion that most religious Jews need consoling because their religious training often conflicts with the secular world and they react, sometimes to the detriment of themselves as well as their families.  And that is where a psychologist can assist them and do family consoling."  

 He thinks I should become a psychologist so I can help religious people with conflict, seemingly meaning, if they go otd, I can help them and their family work things out.

I think I just confused myself. But sadly, my grandfather has a point. We don't have control. You can't tell a person what to do, even if you disagree with his decision. You can't prevent someone from going off the derech, no matter how much it may hurt you to see it.
 
So maybe dealing with the situation after is happens is the only real option? After the fact: do something about it. Ignoring the problem is never a good thing. Believe me. My grandfather tells us often enough what he thinks of us, and he didn't come to my sister's wedding because he doesn't like being around religious people. Don't try to step on eggshells, because that's not what is needed. But don't be hateful either.

Find a middle path. Somewhere that you can both walk on together. I think some of these people who go otd have more hate in them then the religious people have against their actions. But that doesn't mean you should hate them back, or shun them, or spite them, or pity them. 
 
Just be cool. Love them like they are your brother. And stay away from topics of religion.

OTD, OTDed, OTD'S.....

I won't claim to be smart, I won't try to prove anything, because I know I can't. I am a person, as simple as that. I have logic, I have emotions, I have some brains, but that's pretty much it. I wish I could be like those people who are brilliant, and can argue any point, bring refferences, proofs, disputes, and the like. But I can't. And I figured, even if I could, what would be the point? These people are set in their ways, they don't want to listen.

They don't keep quiet. They want to rant. They want to be known. They want to show off, prove a point, 'come out of the closet.' These days, it is 'cool' and 'hip' to be otd. Even calling it by an abbreviation makes it cooler. And what's the point? There is none.

I don't believe. There is no G-d. The Torah is false. Nice, very nice. And Jesus wasn't hung on a cross, he wasn't killed, he is the messiah. There is no messiah, we are all going to hell. Atheist. What's the definition? 'One who disbelieves or denies the existence of God or gods.' Even the definition has the word god in it. How can you talk about a god you don't believe in, and say He doesn't exist?

I make a point of not reading OTD blogs. They bother me, and I'd rather not get into arguements that go nowhere. But I found this, and I don't think the blogger would mind if I used it. She says: 'It’s so great to know that there was a strong generation of OTDers before us.  We are a less organized and probably much smaller group of people than they were, but we can benefit from what they left behind.'

It's like a society. A club. Like being gay. I don't believe in that either. Everyone wants to belong somewhere. But as I've heard from a few people who have gone otd, it alienates them even more. They are different, they don't realy fit anywhere.

I don't believe the Torah is false. I don't think I'm qualified to say, because I haven't learned enough of it to doubt the truth of it. And to prove that G-d doesn't exist- it's already agreed that that's impossible to do. Most of these people who claim to be otd are not smart enough to prove anything. They are just trying to make a point.

Well I'm gonna make a point too. I think they are pathetic. They are Jews like me, and I have to love them. But to love their actions? I don't see where it says that anywhere.

If you have a problem with one person, the best thing to do is to go straight to them, and work it out. Someone once disliked my 'mode of conduct'. She couldn't convince me to do something she thought I should do. So she told me to 'take it up with G-d' and stormed away. And you know what? I did.

Does it sound stupid to tell G-d that you don't believe in Him? Maybe. But guess what? He'll listen anyway. And in my opinion, it's better to tell the big Guy what you think, then to spew it all over the internet, and to anyone who will listen, and wear it proudly as a badge. It is nothing to be proud of.

I am not cynical, I am not hateful, and I am not stupid. I am simply upset about it. Someone once asked me, what would you do if a child of yours went down that path. Honestly, I have no idea. I pray to G-d it doesn't happen to me, cuz I don't think I'd be able to deal with it.

Lechaim, and may it all become clear this year.

What lies beneath the mask...

By a raise of hands, how many of you know my last name? How many of you have ever seen me? Or think they know me just by reading my blog? How many people think Altie is not my real name? Okay, now how many people who know me in real life think they know the real me? Ya, put your hands down.

What is an online identity but a facade, a mask? You can't really know a person by reading their blog, chatting with them, etc. But truthfully, is 'real' life any different? Who is to say that the life we live is even 'real'? Are you really you? Am I really me? Has Big N8t stolen my identity for all eternity?

There is an entry in the English dictionary, for the word Persona. It is the origin of the word person, and it means: the mask or façade presented to satisfy the demands of the situation or the environment and not representing the inner personality of the individual; the public personality.

So in essence, the 'you' that you show the world is not the real you. How many masks do we have? People wear so many masks, that sometimes they look in the mirror and say, 'who is that stranger staring back at me'. We show our family one side, friends a totally different one, society yet a third. We laugh when we want to cry, smile, when we are burning up inside. We clench our fists and walk away from a fight, because we want to be a 'peacemaker.' We wear beards and kippas (well, not me) cuz that's what G-d wants of us. But what do WE really want? Or is that not supposed to matter?

We show the world only what we want them to see. But what about ourselves? Do we have masks for us too? Is it possible that no one really knows who the 'real' them is? It says, 'fake it till you make it.' So if you pretend to be someone long enough, do you actually become that person?

Very few human beings are able to see their deep, inner self, and still live with themselves afterward. I once kept a journal. I tried to write in it every day. I didn't even write deep stuff, just my general feelings. One time I reread what I wrote, and I felt like destroying it. Coming face to face with yourself is scarier then finding out who someone else is.

That's the truth of human's, though I find it sad. We are never true to our self, because even to our own selves, we don't want to appear weak and needy. If people in your lives have called you a loser and told you to 'suck it up' when you cried, eventually you will force yourself to stop crying, and you will ridicule yourself when you do show emotions.

Who are you, really? Is there anything underneath the mask? Or is it just like skin, layers, and layers, that never end? Maybe, just maybe, there's nothing really there, besides for a black hole, of emptiness. Or maybe it's the 'real' you, just waiting to be discovered.

In a way, I think masks are necessary. Imagine talking to a complete stranger, and telling them your life story, all your problems, and about how you are depressed. (It's called a therapist.) They will think very differently of you then they would have, had you just pasted a smile on your face and made believe everything was fine. Not everyone has to know what you are feeling inside. Some things are meant to be kept to yourself, and if that means putting on a face, then so be it.

But on the other hand, sometimes it is better to be yourself, rather than hide behind a mask, and try to be someone you are not.

I keep thinking of a movie I saw, in which a person used magic to make them self attractive. But when the magic went away, they turned back into an ugly creature, which was who they really were. They thought by looking pretty, people would like them more. But in the end, they were liked just fine without the mask.

So are masks really necessary, or are they an indisputable fact of life? Yes, it's easier to put on a mask, and hide behind it, even from yourself. But is it worth it in the long run?

The upside down world we live in

I never really understood politics. But I realized that not always do you have to understand something to 'get' it. I get it. People take different sides over controversial issues. That's fine. We all agree that the fire truck in front of us is red, right? Okay. The issue is, you believe it should be yellow instead, and site various sources in which a yellow firetruck is actually more visible. I believe red is the ideal color. Red is flashy, red represents danger. Etc. So why can't issues be discussed in a civilized manner? Why must people fight?

It always upset me when I saw adults fighting and screaming over issues that seemed petty to me. Parking spaces. Honestly? Man A cut off Man B and got the parking space first. Man B then proceeds to curse out A with every curse in the book, and childishly scratches his car.

Shluchim disputing over territorial issues bothers me immensely. You are all working towards the same goal, right? (I hope.) Everyone wants to help bring Jews closer to G-d and Torah. So why should it matter if you have a nicer event than me, if you attract more people than I do? Aren't we all trying to do the same thing?

Shomrim. Shmira. Those two names that no one likes to see next to each other. If you are from Crown Heights, I hope you don't know what I'm talking about. I am an outsider, so I don't even understand it fully. All I see are people, adults, bad mouthing each other. I discovered a website that slanders other Jews. This is my reasoning: whether or not whatever accusations that are made are true, it is no one's place to bring about 'justice'. Only g-d is the true judge, and only He can say who is guilty of sin. Man has no say in it.

Sometimes I look around and wonder at how the world became so corrupt. And am I the only one who notices that a lot of adults act like children?

We are now in aseres yemai teshuva- the 10 days of Awe. Grow up, people. Do a little teshuva.

Rosh Hashana in a nutshell

I was by shluchim in New Jersey for Rosh Hashana. When the shlucha, Goldie Azimov, found out that I'm a 'journalist', she made a joke about how she would've been on her best behavior if she knew that I was gonna write about her. I wasn't even planning on it, but now that she mentioned it...

I had a very nice yom tov, thank G-d. I watched some kids, thankfully there weren't too many. I even had time to go into shul and daven. Now here is the part where I would lie to you and say, 'Wow, I had such a spiritual Rosh Hashana, I felt like I really connected to G-d, and I'm so refreshed and ready for a new year!' But I was never a good liar.

I didn't feel that spiritual. I actually felt quite sick. My allergies kicked in pretty bad, maybe from all that clear country air that I am not used to, being polluted with city air all the time. With each sneeze and blow of my nose, I felt like I was dying a little more. May that be all the punishment that G-d gives me this year.

I davened as much as I was able, said the tehillim twice, heard the shofer, did  tashlich, oh, and ya, we ate some.

Here's where my 'journalism' skills come in. Goldie was amazing. The first night we had a big meal, all the people that came to shul were invited to stay for the seudah. And both days there was a kiddush. The food just kept on appearing. I seriously peeked into the fridge to see where there was space for all that food, and it remained a mystery to me until I heard the magic words: bring this to the garage please. Aaah, the secret stash. A good lesson for home makers: always have a secret stash ready, whether in your basement, or garage. It'll keep food hidden that you want to remain hidden, and keep guests marveling at your organizational talents.

Goldie's kids are of course, gorgeous. I now have 6 new best friends. One of the little girls, Mussie, was confused when I said I was leaving after yom tov, as if she expected me to stay forever. I had a great time, and I was invited back for Shabbos. I just might make good on that offer.

I can't say that I'm looking forward to Yom Kipper. I wish we could skip it and go straight to the festivities of Sukkos. I wish I could invoke in myself more spiritual feelings then I have at the moment. Right now, I'm just thinking about the fast tomorrow, and what I'm gonna do to keep busy.

Well that's all for now folks. So, how was your Rosh Hashana?

On friendship

 Disclaimer: I did not write this poem, but I really like it, and find that the words are so true. The author is unknown. But the poem is great. And to my friends, you know who you are, I just want to say, thanks for being such great friends. Enjoy it.   Friendship  The old man turned to me and asked,
“How many friends have you?”
'Why 10 or 20 friends have I',
And named off just a few…
He rose quite slow with effort,
And sadly shook his head.
“A lucky child you are
To have so many friends,” he said.
"But think of what you’re saying,
There is so much you do not know.
A friend is just not someone
To whom you say “hello”.
A friend’s a tender shoulder,
On which to softly cry.
A well to pour your troubles down
And raise your spirits high.
A friend is a hand to pull you up
From darkness and despair…
When all your other “so called” friends
Have helped to put you there.
A true friend is an ally,
Who can’t be moved or bought.
A voice to keep your name alive
When others have forgot.
But most of all a friend is a heart
A strong and sturdy wall.
For from the hearts of friends
There comes the greatest love of all.
So think of what I’ve spoken
For every word is true
And answer once again my child
How many friends have you?"
And then he stood and faced me
Awaiting my reply.
Softly I answered him, “If lucky, one have I”

The jokes on them

As we approach the year 5770, I was just thinking about the irony of it. It's almost funny, if you think about it. The number 770 represents Chabad Lubavitch. It stands for Bais Moshiach. The building itself is the central headquarters of all Chabad activity worldwide. And now, we are going to begin a full year with that number. It sounds, ominous, if you wish.

All religious Jews go by the Jewish calendar. I saw an ad for a yeshivish organization, and it said something about this coming year, 5770. I almost laughed. That number seems so out of place in that world. And yes, there are worlds. As much as we are all the same, we are so very different. Chabad, Misnagdish, Modern Orthadox, Chassidish, we are all Jews, with many titles.

And yet, out of all these groups, it is a number widely known as belonging to Chabad that will be on everyone's minds and lips this whole next year. I'd like to think that 'kulam chabadnikim, aval heim kvar lo yodim et zeh achshav'. 'All Jews are Chabad, they just don't know it yet.' Of course, there are many people who will disagree with me on this.

I think there is something going on in the hearts of many Jews now, as we approach Rosh Hashana. Some probably expect us to pull out our magic wands, do some hocus pocus, and bring about techias hameisim. Of course, we know better than that. Magic won't bring Moshiach. We will, and we've been trying hard enough as it is.

So the question is: will this be the year? No one can answer that. I don't want it to be this year, I say it's better that Moshiach come today, before 5770, and save all Jews the embarrassment of having to say, Chabad did it after all.

Is that so

Sometimes I know what I'm gonna say before I say it. And sometimes I have no idea at all. Maybe I'll just start with a thought, and branch out from there. I used to think that I had to know everything. I felt like I couldn't speak, or write, if I didn't know what I was talking about. What ever happened to opinions? Well, they seemed to have gotten lost somewhere in the scheme of things.

But I'll tell you a little secret: I miss it. The freedom to just write whatever I'm thinking, on any topic. To be free to be myself, and not care what others think. I seemed to have lost that somewhere along the way. But I'm trying to get it back now. I haven't written in three days, and if any of you miss my posts and want to read more, please nudge me.

I had my first college English writing class today. The teacher is British, which I find amusing. She walked into class, and the first thing she said was: girls, you're gonna write an essay now. I want to see what level you are on. She gave us four topics to choose from, and said start.

The other girls sat there looking lost, or dazed, not sure what to write. And I just launched right into it. I chose the topic, 'It is said that first impressions are accurate. Do you agree, or disagree?'
Of course I disagreed, cuz what's the point of an essay if you just agree with the subject line? There's not much to say then.

So I wrote five paragraphs, and to the shock of all the other girls, announced that I was done. The teacher told me I couldn't possibly be done, I had to write 350 words. So I counted them all up, and alas, I had only 150. She also announced that we had an hour to write it. I almost laughed. I don't need an hour to write a 5 paragraph essay. Me. I'm a good writer, this will be easy.

45 minutes, 1 outline, 150 more words, and 3 drafts later, my hand was aching, and I was done. I handed it in, and I have no idea what she will think of it. Personally, I think it deserves a good mark, but that's just me.

Lesson taken: don't be so cocky, even though many people tell you all the time that you are a great writer. Because someday, you will come across a British English college writing teacher, who will challenge all of your skills and beliefs.

Wish me luck, gentleman, I'm gonna need it.

Meme: my superpower

Rule number 1: Read the rules.
Rule number 2: Write one superpower you would like to have and what you would do with it.
Rule number 3: Write why you chose that super power over everything else.
Rule number 4: Tag and link 7 people, and write why you think they will have an interesting meme.
Rule number 5: fix your broken links.

First, thank you Material maidel for tagging me. I was shocked, but happy nonetheless. Secondly, I wouldn't usually do this kind of thing, cuz it's hard to come up with something refreshingly different than everyone else's. But as MM said on her blog: 'Altie - because she's a Lubie, and I love Lubies. I'm thinking her superpower will either mikarev everyone, bring Moshiach, or let her see through boy's beards.'

Okay, so here goes:

If I had to choose one superpower, it would be Time Fast-forward. The ability to speed up the clock. Sometimes my life is going too slow, or I'm going through a hard time, and I wish I could just fast-forward 10 years or so, be happily married, with kids, and a job, and just know where I'm going in life.

And of course, it'll help bring Moshiach that much faster, if we could just project ourselves into the future, and a new era. 

If I could have a secondary power, it would be a Problem solver. The ability to solve anyone's problems, in any arguments or situations. When I see people going through hard times, it hurts me, so I wish I could make it all better.

Blogger's I've tagged:

Yossi, because his posts are always witty and interesting, and I'm sure his super power will make me laugh.

Big N8t, because I love his posts, which are always deep and thoughtful, and his super power will probably have something to do with women, and how they are superior.

Chanie, because she has a crazy way of thinking, and I know she'll do great things with her new-found power.

Faivel, because he's a great guy with a head on his shoulders, and his super power will no doubt make this world a better place.

TRS- because his blog is cool, if slightly whacky, and his super power will definitly be something to read about.

Chanalia, because I know her super power will have something to do with food, probably the ability to create as much of whatever you want with no effort.

E, because it will be something complex, and having to do with math, and I most probably won't understand it.

I get to do one more than 7, cuz TRS just got married (mazal tov!) and won't be blogging for a while. So lastly,

Cheerio, because she has a refreshing take on everything, and I have no idea what super power she will choose.

Follow the links. Enjoy!

Forgive a little

It's that word that scares me, that brings on a headache, and makes me nauseous all at the same time. Teshuva. Elul. I keep saying, 'I hate this time of year', but unfortunately, in this world we live, you must say what you mean and mean what you say, and that just doesn't 'fly' with the 'people'. So what do I really mean when I say that?

That I dread it. It's hard to face your problems, admit to wrongdoings, and own up to it. But hardest of all is to fix it. 'Admitting that you have a problem is half of the solution.' Yes, but it's the easier half by far.

I went to a farbrengin last night, for the girls in my seminary. A mini reunion of sorts. The Rabbi who farbrenged was a teacher of ours, who was in town for a bit. The topic of discussion was that: Teshuva. What is it, how do you do it, etc.

The gist of it was like this: we are humans, we sin naturally. We don't want to, because if we knew the effect it had on our relationship to G-d, we wouldn't even think about it. But of course, while we are sinning, our minds are a bit preoccupied. But then afterward, we regret it. G-d gave us a numbing technique, called forget. Something happens, it hurts, you don't want to remember it, so your mind forgets it, to numb the pain. Does that mean it's gone? Maybe, maybe not. But with a sin, if you regret it, you promise not to do it again, then that's pretty much all you can do.

There were once two bochurim walking by the banks of a river. One was a Chossid, one was a Misnagid. They heard screams, and saw that a lady was drowning in the river. The problem was, she was fully naked. They hesitated a second, these pure bochurim contemplating what to do, then the chossid took off his jacket, and jumped in to save her. He had to grab hold of her, her unclothed body in his arms. And once they were on the banks of the river, he had to administer cpr, and maker sure she was ok. Then they continued on their way, in silence.

They walked for two hours straight, and both bochurim were clearly dazed after what happened. Suddenly, the misnaged turned to the chossid and said, 'how did you do it? How were you able to touch her in that way?' And the chossid answered him, 'the difference between me and you is, I forgot about that girl the second we left her behind by the river. But you, you are still thinking about it, and she was walking beside you the whole time.'

This is essentially what teshuva is. We regret, we feel bad, we do what we have to, and then we move on. We forget. Because that's all we can do.

Kesiva Vachasima Tova, may we all merit a fulfilling Rosh Hashana, with lots of prayers and tears. And may we be zoche to see the coming of Moshiach right now, before Rosh Hashana!

They're coming....

As the sound of rain makes pitter patter noises at my window, and it conjures up an image of little feet in padded slippers, pajama bottoms, steaming cups of hot cocoa, wind, howling outside, thunder so loud it makes you bolt upright in the middle of the night, while you were having a sweet sweet dream, lighting that strikes so fast and so bright, for a second you are not sure if it is day or night.

Fingers tapping at the keys so fast they are getting ahead of themselves and tripping over the words. Excitement building inside of you, this bubble that grows and grows and feels like its gonna burst. Shivering with excitement, shivering with cold, shivering with lack of sleep. So many things collide together to form one great picture.

Walking down Kingston with friends, so happy to be in their company once again. Hearing a language that is foreign, yet so so familiar. The scent in the air, that feeling, that knowledge that something is about to happen. The human mechanism that tries to prepare for a blow, and yet can never duck quick enough. It is coming, oh yes, and we can't stop it. These times, they are almost upon us. You know of what I speak. You know, because you think about it too.

These people that are a part of us, our brothers and sisters. Bodies pressed up against each other. Your space and my space becomes our space, there is no I in celebrate. We. We will do this together.

They are coming. It is coming. Soon this place will be swamped with them. And as much as I try to groan and be annoyed, I find myself excited, and looking forward to it. Cuz really, what is Tishrei without the Israeli's?

This time of year, so new, and special, so old, and ancient. Mental preparation, prayers, and forgiveness. Repentance. A G-d that forgives, a people that always return. Let it come, don't stop it. This demon inside of us, pushing away our natural desire to cleave to G-d. Go against your nature. Fight it. Don't give in.

As the storm rages, and inside it is nice and warm, I think about the next few weeks. I think of the sukkos we will be sitting in. I shiver with cold.

But we have Rosh Hashana to get through before then. It's coming...

THEY are coming. Let's get ready.

First day. Here goes nothing

The little bro says, 'Altie, you're going to school?' And I mumble from the computer, 'No, what are you talking about?'
'Ma says shes taking you to school.'
Thinking, thinking, my brain is moving so slow... 'OH! Yes! I'm going to school tonight...'

Then it hit me. Ouch. I have to sit in a classroom?? My experience with that in the past hasn't been that great. Me and classrooms, we don't mix too well.

Bright white walls, they almost blind me. Fluorescent lighting, tables in a semi-circle, a blackboard, teacher's desk. Ya, this looks like a classroom to me. New faces, girls I've never met. Married women, with shaitels. All here for the same purpose; to learn something. Nervous gulp.

Teacher comes in, seems sweet enough. Math class. Okay, I'm good at that. Tells us we are starting with the basics. Addition. Subtraction. I almost laugh. Really? That far back? (Lesson learned: NEVER laugh before you know what is to come.)

An hour and a half later, eyes drooping, head hammering, basic knowledge in math restored. Rusty brain not so rusty anymore. Thinking I might need to switch to higher level, thinking I should give it some more time, thinking I need to stop thinking so much.

Go home on the subway, falling asleep, notebook and folder in hand, feeling all grown up and important. Want to scream to the world: I'm old now!! I'm in the big world of college!!' Realizing that no one really gives a hoot. So I keep quit.

The possibilities, the opportunities, the potential, well, there's a lot of all that. And it's just beginning....

Will it work? We shall have to wait and see.

The search

I saw him from a distance. He was wandering, clearly lost, searching for something.
I approached him and asked, can I help you? What are you looking for?
Her. He responded.
Her who? Asked I, still wishing to be of assistance.
I don't know, really. Just her.
Okay. I hope you find her.

He looked in shop windows, he look around corners. He looked in alley ways, and on roof tops. He went into the ice cream store, and the pizza shop. He stood in the street and glanced at every car that passed by. But he didn't seem to find her.

Who are you looking for? I asked him again.
Her, he replied, quite frustrated and dejected now.
So what's the matter?
I can't find her! He answered in frustration.

I shook my head sadly, and said to him: dear boy, you can't find her, because you are looking for the wrong person. Don't look for her. Look for yourself, and then you will find her. Because she owns the other half of your soul.

His face cleared in understanding, and he turned and slowly walked away.

I hope he finds himself. I hope he finds her. I hope they find each other.

Happy Labor day

I feel something... in the air... can't explain it exactly.

The noise... the people... the metal barriers.

Something's happening... something big... not sure what.

Sitting there... my favorite bench... my favorite friend... (one of them.)

The floats... the flags... the costumes.

Once a year... celebration... a remembrance of freedom.

We watch... we smile... we enjoy the music.

Complain... about the invasion... while secretly wishing we could join in.

The smells... bbq's... the traffic, no spaces.

Wondering when... we will have our own celebration... for what exactly? Not sure.

Labor day... 16 years ago... my journey here began.

When... it'll end... is anyone's guess.

We wish for... we hope for... something.

To all New Yorkers... and to everyone else... wishing you a happy Labor day.

And may our journey... end very soon... in celebration.

Little brother o' mine

He came home from camp, lil brother o' mine, was there for two months, more or less.

The songs he was singing, the chayus he radiated, made me wonder what exactly went on there. He loved it, had a great time. The niggunim and camp songs he is constantly singing are proof of that.

I started singing a snippet of a song. 'You can't sing that,' he said to me, quite indignantly for such a young boy. (He's 12.)

'Why not?', asked me, annoyed at having my song cut short.

'Cuz it's not Jewish'. He rolled his eyes at me, annoyed to have to state the obvious to ME, his older sister.

'Oh right. I forgot.' These things just don't sit right with him. It's wrong, I can't do that.

Today I asked him if he went to Shul. His response was, 'Of course I did.' Again, like, how could you even ask me such a question??

I smile, when I think about it. So young, so pure, so not touched by conflicts, problems, decisions. It doesn't effect him. He goes to school, listens to his Rabbis, sings Jewish songs, goes to Shul, and it never even crosses his mind to change any of that.

I think I used to be like that, once upon a time. It's quite possible, actually. So what happened? I guess I just grew up.

But lil brother of mine, I hope he goes the way I didn't. I hope he stays on the straight path, I hope he becomes a great Rabbi someday, or a chazzan, with his belowing voice. I hope he remains pure, and that the 'goyishe velt' won't touch him, and taint him.

I hope so many things for you, lil brother o' mine. Make me proud.

Blast to the past

Oh my G-d! I just had a vision of myself 4 years ago. I was 15? I don't even remember. I had an account on chabadtalk.com but then I abandoned it, cuz I decided it was a waste of time. I just checked it out to see if it was still there. It is!

I was reading through all my old posts and comments. It's like meeting a younger version of myself. I was cringing! Man, did I use the smiley emoticon way too often. And trying to please everyone? Ugh. I'm happy to say I've done a lot of maturing since then.

If you were to meet yourself from 4 years ago, what would you think?

A girl out there

This is response to the previous post, and this comment:

Big N8t said...

Seriously though what should guys look for?

So I composed a list of what a guy should look for in a girl. But if you are a guy, feel free to make your own list, or add to mine.

Find a girl who asks about your day, and listens to your response.

Find a girl who let's you hang out with 'the guys' and doesn't ask about what you did. 

Find a girl who doesn't mind your mess, and gives you your space. 

Find a girl who can drink as much as you can, and laugh with you when you're both drunk.

Find a girl who keeps your secrets, but respects your privacy.

Find a girl who at the end of the day, you want to hug her, and protect her, but she in turn makes you feel safe. 

Find a girl who makes you smile just thinking about her.

Find a girl who makes you laugh.

Find a girl who you feel comfortable crying in front of, and makes you feel like you can lean on her, and she will hold you up.

Find a girl who has confidence in you, and stands behind you even when the world does not.

Find a girl who will pack you lunches, and include a note with a smiley on it.

Find a girl who would declare you innocent, even when you are guilty as sin.

Find a girl who sees not your faults, but your strengths.

Find a girl who will push you to your limits, because she believes that you can go far.

Find a girl who won't say a word when all her friends are swapping 'my husband' stories.

Find a girl who will come to your ball games, and cheer the loudest of all.

Find a girl who owns the other half of your soul.

Find that girl. She's out there.

A borrowed quote

I borrowed this quote from Shorty's blog (thanks!) who borrowed it from someone anonymous. Hey, if he wanted to be famous, he should've wrote his name! (Everyone knows that 'anon' is NOT  a name.) Well here it is, cuz I thought it was deep and meaningful.

"Find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot,

who calls you back when you hang up on him, 

who will stay awake just to watch you sleep. 

Wait for the guy who kisses your forehead, 

who wants to show you off to the world when you are in your sweats, 

who holds your hand in front of his friends.

Wait for the one who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares about you,

and how lucky he is to have you. 

Wait for the one who turns to his friends and says, '...that's her.'"
-Anonymous

Where are the brakes??

I finally changed my blog URL. The old one was just getting old. Right after I came back from Israel people were trying to convince me to change it, move on, (my new title) etc. But change and me don't go so well. So I put it off. But now it's done.

The funny thing is, people are STILL asking me about Israel. My mind is worlds away from there. It's like a chapter that I'm over an done with, and would rather not think about. Not that I didn't have a good time there. I did. Just check out my old blog posts. But some things can only be dragged out for so long.

I have friends who still miss it, and don't want to move on. But there's no point living in the past.

I had a job interview today. Yes, the guy that thought I was aggressive. He was analizing me during the interview, and from the looks of things, he liked what he saw. I'll keep you posted on that.

Did you ever go rollerskating? The first time I learned how to rollerblade, I didn't know how to brake. So any time I wanted to stop, I just headed towards a fence, and put out my hands until I crashed into it, and it prevented me from falling. And hurt my hands.

Well I still skate like that. I never learned how to stop. I guess it's just not one of those things that can be taught. And I never trusted the brakes on the skates. I assumed that if you tried to use the brake, you would fly head over heels and crack open your skull. That is a scary possibility.

I feel like I'm in a race car, speeding towards nothingness. And again, I don't know how to use the brakes. So my hands are out, palms up, and I'm just waiting till I crash into the fence. I hope someone will brake my fall.