Coming out of the closet

I wish it were still so simple, like when I was seven, and it was a non isssue. Back then, it wasn't something you thought about. It never became a group discussion, I didn't even know what the word 'opinion' meant until I was maybe 9.

We used to sing this song. It was in yidish, and it went something like 'Moshiach is already here, just 'efen oyf di egelach' open up your eyes. And then something about polishing your buttons. It always brought to mind an image of a row of soldiers standing pin straight, not moving an inch, with gleaming buttons in maybe gold or silver. It was a feeling, a good feeling. If we did just one more good deed, Moshoach would be here. We were taught a love for Chabad, a love for the Rebbe, a love for yidishkeit.

Then I grew up. Then I became confused. Then they tried to brainwash me, whoever 'they' may be.

I used to sing yechi. But then someone explained to me what it meant, and then I stopped singing it. (I'm not discussing that.)

I never really understood the arguments between the group that called themselves 'meshichist', and the opposite one, called the 'anti-meshichist.' For all intents and purposes, my family is 'neutral', and that's how I wished to remain.

I didn't even realize how bad it was until I visited another high school. I was in the kitchen in the dorm, and this girl says to me, as she's making her scrambled eggs, 'so are you like, a mish, or an anti?' all casual like that. I gave her a strange look and answered, 'I'm neutral.' Which seemed to please her.

I'm confused. Why do people talk about it, as if it's an article of clothing, or as if we are discussing the weather outside? 'Oh ya, it's a sunny day out. And uhu, I heard it's gonna snow.' The same way they say, 'I think the Rebbe is Moshiach, so what do you think? And does your family say yechi?'

What does it really mean?

I don't know. I honestly have no idea. I think this very issue in chabad is what may push people away, make a lot of people confused, and form half or more of all the disputes among us. And why? Because you have different beliefs then your neighbors? Is that a reason not to talk to them, or better yet, not allow your daughter to marry their son?

Last night I was in Manhattan, hanging out with my friends. One of them said 'look!', and there they were. The 'Yellow Flaggers'. You may have heard of them. Or maybe not. They are they chabadnikim, mostly Israelis, who wear yellow flag pins on their lapels, and try to get everyone else to do the same; who wave the yellow flag for all they are worth, in 770, by simchat bais hashueva, in public places, such as Manhattan, on mivtzoyim. You get my drift.

On the one hand, I thought, there are those crazy Israelis. That thought was closely followed by 'they are mine. Those are my people, my brothers, my bocherim!' So we went over to watch them dance.

There was a guy standing next to me, and he said, 'they suck. These guys come here every week, and all they want is money.' But he added, 'and they are the best street performers ever.' Then he gave them money. That made me feel better, but what he said still upset me. Little did he know, I am one of 'them'. He just insulted me, how rude!

Don't ak me what I believe, because sometimes I'm not sure.

I am first and foremost a Jew. I love G-d. Despite what you may think, that is not interdependant on whether or not I follow all his rules.

Next: I am Chabad. I am proud of it. I love the Rebbe. I believe Gimmel Tamuz happened. I hurts me to think about it, and to talk about it. It is confusing, like how can a Rebbe, my Rebbe, leave us? Okay, I know he didn't leave, he is still here, but then, why can't I see him? That is the childish way in which I think. And I refuse to accept it.

I hesitate to say this, because I may very well be stoned for it (I'm only half joking.) I believe the Rebbe is Moshiach. I don't have to explain it. A belief is intrinsic.

You know how you have the right to insult your own family as much as you want, but the second someone else starts saying the very insults you said, you get mad and want to punch them? (Or is that just me?) That is how I feel. I will not say that I know everything for certain. I know I am confused and unsure about some stuff. I know I disagree with some stuff, and with the way that some Lubavitchers go about it.

But watch it buster, because the second you try to insult them, you are insulting ME, and that is a very fine line to cross.

Ok wow. Did I ever say that I hate politics? I hate arguments. Maybe I should just keep my head in the sand, instead of trying to discuss it. Cuz honestly, I don't care to hear what some people have to say. But if you really want to, then go for it.

Kids

There's something about little kids that makes you smile. That makes you forgiving of every sin. That makes your heart melt.

Think about it. You are coming home from a tiring day at work, and you see a little girl walking with her mother. She has an angelic pretty face, and two pigtails in her gorgeous hair. You can't help but smile, and for those few minutes, you feel at peace.

Maybe it's because they remind you of a time of innocence, of naivete, of no worries or stress. Maybe it is because they bring you back to a time when you were happy, and just enjoyed life.

But whatever it is, kids can turn even the biggest sour grouch into a besotted fool with a silly grin on their face.

They make you laugh at the silly antics they get up to. We oooh and aaah over how cute they are. We want to cuddle with them, hold them, and 'eat them up.'

At other times, kids can make you wish you were never born. You want to slap them (G-d forbid!) and tell them to 'grow up' and act their age. Except that's exactly what they are doing.

We do stupid stuff, and tell them 'don't do what I did' and then get mad when they do. We don't understand why they don't just listen to us, why they have to cry so much, and why they can't just behave.

And this is all when they are little. Then they grow up and turn into angsty teenagers, and make you wish to G-d you never had kids.

Kids. You can't live with them, you can't live without them. I can only imagine what my parents are going through.

Happy thanksgiving, tes kislev, you know

You know how they say that the things that are hardest for you to do are usually the right decisions to make?

Well, they forgot to mention one small part: it hurts.

Why do I find myself alone in the car at 1 am, cruising the now silent streets? As the last party-goers are leaving, drunk, from their thanksgiving dinners, and the last of the homeless are finding places to sleep for the night, I'm roaming the city. Because I did something that was hard for me to do.

You know what? It felt good. Yes. But the after part is always hard, and leaves me thinking, now what?

Today I had a thanksgiving dinner with my friends. Ya ya, I know it's not our holiday, as little brother pointed out. 'Why are you celebrating a goyish holiday?' So I told him, we are not really celebrating, we are just eating turkey. What's wrong with that?

Okay, we cheated. The turkey was expensive, so instead we had sliced turkey breast, the deli kind. We had sweet potatoes, and regular potatoes, and salad and green beans and cranberry sauce, and compote, and pumpkin pie, and I brought the chips. Ya, kind of a stupid thing to bring, but my friend told me to, and I can take orders if I have to.

It was fun. So much fun. Just chilling with friends, drinking Smirnoff ice, which tastes exactly like soda, except if you have a few of them you get a happy light feeling. Which I never get from diet coke, no.

Which got me thinking: today was Tes kislev. Okay, DON'T ask me what special thing happened today, cuz I'd have to get up and check the calendar. (Okay just checked it. It's the Mitiler Rebbe's birthday and yartzeit, and tomorrow is his celebration of release from prison. I thought it had something to do with him. Not bad)

So why am I having a thanksgiving meal when I should be having a farbrengin? Even though our get together could have passed as a farbrengin, and we even said a lechaim. But am I that out of touch with my Jewish side that I forget the days in chabad?

I had an interview today for a job in Manhattan, great location. But the job itself is even greater. It is working for a Rabbi, being his assistant. In a Chabad house, called Chabad loft. It is an awesome place, really big and airy, with couches, and paintings on the walls. And a big picture of the Rebbe. I want the job, I think I would be good for it, and it will be good for me.

As I told my mother, maybe Chabad will mikarev me. (That was a joke.)

And yes, I made a decision, a good decision, that I hope with all my heart that I will stick to, and not break my resolve like I usually do. And I hope that G-d sees my efforts, and helps me out a bit, cuz not to place the blame or anything, but He put the stumbling blocks in front of me in the first place.

Oh ya, in 10 years from now, I will look back on this and laugh. And I will be grateful that I went through everything I did, because it will have made me a stronger person.

But right now, I'm not laughing, and I need to take my contacts out cuz my eyes are dry.

As Charley always says, 'Merry Shabbos!!'

The death penalty

This is a speech I gave for class. I think it was quite good. So did some other people. Read it, enjoy, feel free to comment.

Death penalty- con

I think the death penalty should be abolished. Whether it's a firing squad, electric chair, gas chamber, lethal injection, or hanging, it's barbaric to allow state-sanctioned murder before a crowd of people. We condemn people like Saddam Hussein when they murder their own people while we continue to do the same. The 8th Amendment of the U.S. Constitution prevents the use of "cruel and unusual punishment". Many would interpret the death penalty as violating this restriction.

What exactly do we mean when we say “death penalty“? Capital punishment, also dubbed the "death penalty," is the pre-meditated and planned taking of a human life by a government in response to a crime committed by that legally convicted person. In simple English, we are killing a killer.

Hence, there are many moral complexities of the death penalty.

Catholic Cardinal McCarrick, Archbishop of Washington, writes "...the death penalty diminishes all of us, increases disrespect for human life, and offers the tragic illusion that we can teach that killing is wrong by killing."

How can we use death as a lesson to others, to teach criminals not to kill? We teach young children that killing is bad. How then, can we condone the act of murder, even if we use it on someone who has committed murder himself?

As Catholic Sister Camille D’arienzo said, ‘all life, not only innocent life, is sacred.’ In addition, some people believe that to judge a man and put him to death is an attempt to play God. And since when is it our place to act as God? God grants us a certain amount of free choice, free will, and the power of judgment. We need to use it wisely and carefully. I don’t think it is man’s place to decide things such as life or death. That should be left entirely up to God.

In the Mishnah it states, “A Sanhedrin that puts a man to death once in seventy years is called destructive” (Mishnah, Makkoth 1:10).

In Jewish law it is permissible to use death as a form of punishment. But it was a very rare occurrence that they actually implemented it. And a beth din that did use the death penalty was considered to be corrupt.

Now we must ask: what purpose does the death penalty serve?

Is the purpose to remove from society someone who is incapable of rehabilitation? Is the purpose of the death penalty to deter others from committing murder? Is the purpose of the death penalty to punish the criminal? Is the purpose of the death penalty to take retribution on behalf of the victim?

These are all valid questions. The purpose may very well be the removal from society of someone who is incapable of changing his behavior. We cannot let a criminal loose, and let him kill again, can we? But what if this criminal repents, and he is no longer a threat? Where then, is our need to eliminate him?

The case of Stanley "Tookie" Williams illustrates this.

Mr. Williams, an author and Nobel Peace and Literature Prizes nominee who was put to death on December 13, 2005 by lethal injection by the state of California, brought capital punishment back into prominent public debate.

Mr. Williams was convicted of four murders committed in 1979, and sentenced to death.
Williams was the leader of a gang called the Crips. They were responsible for hundreds of murders. Circumstantial evidence against Williams left little doubt that he committed the four murders.

About five years after incarceration, Mr. Williams underwent a religious conversion and, as a result, authored many books and programs to promote peace and to fight gangs and gang violence. He was nominated five times for the Nobel Peace Prize and four times for the Nobel Literature Prize.

Mr. Williams' was a self-admitted life of crime and violence, followed by genuine redemption and a life of uniquely and unusually good works.
There also existed no doubt that Mr. Williams posed no further threat to society, and would contribute considerable good.

Therefore, carrying out the death penalty as his punishment seems detriment to our purpose. If the death penalty is used as a preventative method, to ensure that the defendant doesn’t commit anymore crime, we must bring the defense in Mr. William’s case, that he repented. He turned his life around in prison, and became a good person. Is that not what we want? And yet, he was needlessly killed.

Is the purpose to deter others from committing murder? To that we must answer: capital punishment causes contrary results. There is proof that in the days following an execution of a criminal on death row, there has been a raise in violent acts, not a drop. Because of the publicity of the death, criminals who are inclined to kill find more opportunity to do so. A public execution only serves to rile up society, and causes more deaths, not less. It does not, then, deter others from committing murder.

Some see death as the ultimate form of punishment. But this is not true. To a criminal who is facing a sentence of life in prison, death looks mightily good to him. Some inmates in prison try to kill themselves, as a form of escape from the hellish life they are living. Therefore, to make the criminal suffer to the utmost, we keep him alive, and make him live out the rest of his days locked in a cell. Physical bondage is not life at all. Death is an escape, whereas, a life sentence is punishment.

And what of our last argument, avenging the death of the victim? In Deuteronomy 32:43 it says, "Rejoice, O nations, with His people; For He will avenge the blood of His servants, And will render vengeance on His adversaries, And will atone for His land and His people." God will be the avenger. It is not up to man to avenge blood.

And to those who argue for the death penalty, seeing it as a form of closure to the families of the victim who was murdered, we answer him, by killing the killer, it does not bring the victim back, and all we are doing is eliminating another human being from this earth, whether or not he was a bad person.

There are lesser arguments that can be brought to argue for or against the death penalty, such as, the financial cost. One might think that an execution is costly. And although in the face of death, a discussion of money seems petty and irrelevant, here we have proof that it is cheaper to house a prisoner in jail for life, rather than kill him. One death sentence costs 2-5 times more than keeping that same criminal in prison for the rest of his life. Some prisoners sit on death row for 15-20 years, plus the cost of lawyers, and appeals, and legal procedures. Death is more costly.

And lastly, what about error? Is it not possible that we might come to kill an innocent person? Sure, we can never completely eliminate all uncertainty, but nowadays, it's about as close as you can get. DNA testing is over 99 percent effective. When a jury and a judge rule to put someone to death, they are almost 100% certain that he deserves to die for the crimes he committed. But while that is true, it should not be up to a jury of 12, and a human judge of flesh and blood, to decide the fate of a human life.

In the united states, this is a widely discussed topic. There are many people who are for the death penalty, and an equally great amount rallying against it, and to abolish it.

After all is said and done, I don’t think that the United States of America should use death as a form of punishment. We are a country that stands in front of the world, and everyone watches us to see what we will do. We should not send the message that to kill a killer is okay.

No more violence. No more death. Let’s end it now.

What do you think

If a tree falls in a forest, and no one is around to hear it, does it make a noise?

Is a success truly a success if no one was around to see it? When a child learns how to walk, or do a new task for the first time, they run to show their parents. 'Look at me! Look what I can do!' right before they fall.

It's so important to a human to receive validation for their actions, or state of being. Yes, your smart. Yes, your pretty. If your confidence is shot to hell, it is good to hear these things. Some people like to hear them regardless, because they have a big ego.

I gave a speech today, for class. But I came early, and said it for the 1st class that the teacher gives, not  my usual class with the familiar girls. Because my teacher thought we would be short on time. So no one in my class got to hear my speech, besides for the teacher.

I felt cheated, in a way. I wanted them to applaud me, tell me what a good job I did. The girls in the other class did that, but I don't even know them, so it didn't mean much.

We were finished all the speeches, and had 10 minutes to spare, so I asked the teacher if I could say mine again, so my classmates could hear it. Of course the answer was no.

My speech was great. Perhaps I'll put it up as a post. But it would have been nice to hear other people say good things about it.

So what is it about humans that makes them need compliments? Really, why?

Gift horses

I wonder where the expression "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth" comes from. I know what it means. Don't question a good thing, appreciate it, etc. But who started it, and really, why not?? If I got a gift, I see nothing wrong with looking it in the mouth. Okay if it had a mouth. And not every gift, only the ones I am skeptical about.

When G-d gives me 'gifts', sometimes I find myself saying, okay thanks, but what's the catch? If I accept this from you, what bad thing will happen to me instead?

There's a new movie that just came out. It's called, The box. It is about a young couple who have the chance of making a million dollars, and all they have to do is open the box. Simple. But the downside is (if you can call it that) that someone they don't know, somewhere in the world, will die.

Ya, I think I would look the horse in the mouth then, and I don't think I would accept it. But that is a question of morals, a discussion I'll leave for another time.

I was talking to a friend. I told her something that happened. She was skeptical about it, while I was happy, and accepting. It is a question of perspectives, and how you look at it. I saw it as a good thing, and she saw 'stay away. Beware. Caution.'

Which got me thinking. Is it genuinely a good thing, like I originally thought? Or am I so naive, that I need an outsider to point out to me that it is not indeed as good as I thought it to be?

I want G-d to hand me life on a silver platter. I want a big wrapped box with a bow on top, and a roast with all the trimmings.

But that ain't never gonna happen. Even I'm not too stupid to think that.

So at the very least, I want to be able to accept it as a gift, and not be constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting for the other foot to drop. Waiting for lightning to strike. Waiting for G-d to say, 'Haha, child, you thought I was gonna give you something good? Oh no, that was an illusion. I take it back."

So I say, look the gift horse in the mouth. If you like what you see, keep it. And if you don't, well what the heck, you are stuck with it, cuz I don't think G-d takes any refunds. And at the very least, you can use the horse as a rocking chair. Or something equally as usefull.

Lechaim! Here's to life, liberty, and the persuit of happiness. Friendship, clean horses mouths, and most importantly, clarity, to recognize a good thing when you see it.

*P.S. Just looked up gift horses. It has to do with the age of the teeth. Petty people, I should have known. A horse is a horse of course of course. Is it not?

The City

I turn on the music and just sit in the car. It is late at night and I can't find a space. I park by a hydrant, hoping I won't get a ticket. But there is a cop on my block, so I wait for him to leave. It is after midnight. I want to go inside, I want to go to sleep, I want to eat something. But I am stuck here in my car, waiting for the cop to leave.

I chill. Put my seat back, enjoy the music. Wonder who else is up at this hour. I text my friend, she texts me back, I'm sick of that so I call her. But she is busy. Bummer.

Chillin. That's what they say. It's nice. But I wish I had someone to chill with, instead of just me and the music.

My song comes on, the one I like. I have a few of those. I sing along, as I am wont to do when I'm the only one in the car. It's calming.

Escape. People think of it as a bad thing. But I think it's healthy. To get away from everything for a little bit, give yourself space, time to think, or better yet, not think. So I went to The City. And there is only one City, with a capital T and C.

There was a big sign that said, UNTHINK. Ya, it spoke to me, that's what I was trying to do.

I walk through Time Square. The billboards and flashing lights make everything feel alive. There's an awesome vibrating feeling in the air, like you are a part of something big, you are creating history. The best part is, I feel it every time I go to Manhattan.

I call my father to ask him which way is Central park. Ya I'm like a guy in that way. No sense of direction whatsoever, and I hardly ever ask for help. My motto is, figure it out yourself. And if you can't, then you're an idiot. Oh well.

I headed towards the park. It was getting dark, and by the time I got there I decided it was just creepy enough and late enough that I shouldn't go in by myself. So instead I went to the apple store right near there. It is an AWESOME store. You walk in and there is just tooons of laptops and ipods everywhere, for you to try out. I am like salivating, even though I just bought a laptop. (Sorry sweety, I still like you.)

I listen to the music, and dream of buying an itouch. Ya, the one I want for Christmas. Oh well. At least I can check it out here, and enjoy it for a bit.

Next stop, Gap. Then H&M. I bought a hat, cuz I decided I must buy something if I'm in The City.

It's getting late. I had a great time chillin, I love going to The City. But my UNTHINK time is over. It's time to go back, to life, to everything.

It's just a subway ride away. I can go to The City to escape and UNTHINK anytime I want. Great feeling.

I wanna sit on Santa's knee

I wanna sit on Santa's knee.
I wanna tug his white beard to see if it is real,
I wanna say, hey Santa, this year for Christmas I want an itouch. And a new phone. And a car would be cool. You think you can do that for me? And it's okay if it doesn't fit down the chiminey, just leave it in my driveway. Thanks.

But I can't, cuz I'm Jewish.

I wanna believe in wishing wells.
I wanna throw a shiny penny in,
watch it sink to the bottom,
make a wish, and believe it'll come true.

But I can't, cuz I'm Jewish.

I wanna believe in the tooth fairy.
I wanna put all my old teeth under my pillow,
go to sleep, and wake up in the morning with money instead.
I wanna imagine that she builds castles with all the teeth she collects.

But I can't, cuz I'm Jewish.

I wanna dress up on Halloween, like a ghost or a goblin.
I wanna gut a pumpkin and put it in my front yard.
I wanna go trick-or-treating,
and throw eggs at passing cars.

But I can't, cuz I'm Jewish.

I wanna sing Christmas carrolls, and sip eggnog by the fireplace.
I wanna put up a tree in my living room,
and adorn my front lawn with colorful lights.
I wanna sing, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

But I can't, cuz I'm Jewish.

I wanna make a turkey for Thanksgiving.
I wanna make stuffing, and cranberry sauce, and wild rice with craisins.
I wanna eat until I can't eat anymore, and there is no room left even for desert.
I wanna get drunk on wine, and fall asleep without doing the dishes.

But I can't, cuz I'm Jewish.

But Santa will never be Jewish. And boy is he missing out.

I light the Menorah on Chanukah, and get presents and money. And I have my very own Santa. He has a long beard too. He doesn't say 'ho ho ho', but he has a wallet that says, I'm made of money. And he pays my cell phone bill. Dad's are better than Santa any day.

I put a shiny penny in the tzedaka box, instead of letting it sink meaninglessly to the bottom of a well, where someone will no doubt extract it someday, to buy a coffee with it. And hey, I get rewarded for that.

I save my teeth, instead of giving them to the tooth fairy. I think she has enough already, no need to burden her with more. And the concept of getting money for a natural occurance like teeth falling out makes me laugh at the absurdity. She can keep her money, I'll keep my teeth.

I dress up on Purim, give out and recieve baskets filled with all kinds of candy and junkfood, and the good part is, people come to give me, I don't need to go knocking on doors for it. And best of all, we have a commandment to get drunk. What more could a person ask for.

I sing Am yisroal chai, we want Moshiach now, and all kinds of crazy niggunim that make you want to dance. I chop up the tree and put it on top of my sukkah, which gives everything a nice smell. I've never had eggnog, and the thought of drinking raw egg makes me nauseous.

I eat and eat on pesach, and wine and dine, and never stop. I have Turkey whenever I am in the mood, and pumpkin pie too. And Thanksgiving is every day, not just once a year when you are feeling charitable towards G-d, and say grace.

They believe in superstitions like walking under a ladder, seeing a black cat cross the street, and breaking a mirror will bring bad luck. But we have our own bubbe maises, like sit at the corner of  table and you won't get married for seven years, putting out zatar will keep away evil spirits, saying poo poo poo will prevent bad things from happening, and so on.

They will never know the taste of kuggel and gefilte fish, or chollent on Shabbos afternoon. They won't have the sweet taste of learning Torah, or the feeling of satisfaction after breaking a fast. They will never understand all the 613 plus commandments we have, or all the crazy nutty customs we do. They just won't.

I wanna sit on Santa's knee. But I can't, cuz I'm Jewish.

I love being Jewish, it's awesome.

Today's gonna be a good day

It's Rosh kislev. I didn't go to a farbrengin, I didn't do anything special, and I forgot that it is an auspicious day. Maybe I'll go to a farbrengin, maybe I'll even do something special for it, and hey, I just remembered that today is an auspicious day in Chabad! It's a good start!

Lubavitcher Rebbe Returns Home after Heart Attack (1977)
For the first time since suffering a major heart attack five weeks earlier, on the eve of Shemini Atzeret, the Rebbe left his office in 770 Eastern Parkway and returned to his home, signaling his recovery. Chassidim all over rejoiced at the good news.
From that day on, the Rebbe redoubled his efforts on behalf of the Jewish nation and all of humanity, and for the dissemination of Torah and chassidism. From then on, the first of Kislev is celebrated as a day of thanksgiving and rejoicing.


 I davened today. I'm happy about that :)

It's a good feeling.

Please read this

This post on CMBC's blog is amazing. She is a great writer, please read it at her blog, and leave a comment!

No more

There is a red headline among all the regular news. Red means danger, important, pay attention to me. So I do. But I don't like what I see. A sea of red, one after the other. And it doesn't stop, even when I shut my eyes. It doesn't go away.

The page is so normal. Engagements that day, mazal tov, chosson classes, morah music, basement for rent, shoe sale, lost cell phone, scroll down, and down. A typical day on the news site of shmais.com.

But this is wrong. Terrorists? Mumbai? Holtzberg, shluchim I never heard of? Why G-d, why?

November 27 2008. I came home the day before from Israel, for my sister's wedding. I had no idea what was going on. Didn't see any news on the way. Nothing. The first I heard about it was when I got home. And then it started.

All the news said say tehillim. But I don't remember saying tehillim. I don't remember much about that day. Just thinking, please let the news be good.

Hoping to hear good news, thats what it said. Cuz a Jew always lives with hope, even when the sword is on your neck. Keep praying, keep giving tzedaka, a Jew doesn't give up hope.

But then the news came. It was all over. They didn't make it. And it became more real. I'm sorry G-d, I'm sorry I didn't pray harder, I'm sorry I didn't give more charity, I'm sorry for so many things, but why couldn't you have saved them? Is that asking for too much??

So much good came out of it- I know.
It brought Jews closer together- I know.
It made us stronger- I know.
Gavi and Rivka would have been happy to see all the hachlatas that were made- I know.
Everything happens for a reason- I know.

And on and on and on.

But can you tell me why a little boy had to be left without parents? Can you tell me why 2 special people had to die while doing the Rebbe's outreach? Can you tell me why G-d, who is so great, couldn't have saved them, when the world prayed so hard for their safety?

You can't. No one can answer those questions besides for G-d Himself. And I ask, yet He remains silent.

And I continue to stare at the page, and all the articles written, preaching of faith, and courage, and the need to go on. But I don't want to go on. I want to go back. I want to do that day over again. I want to watch a video of the Holtzbergs on shlichus, and know that they are safe in their chabad house. I want to erase that day from history. I want to pray until I can't pray anymore, cry until my eyes are dry, and say tehillim like there is no tomorrow. I want another chance. I want to make it go away.

But G-d has spoken. There is no going back.

I don't have anymore questions. They are useless. I want Moshiach. I want them back. I want a day with no more tzaros. No more deaths, no more prison sentences, no more pain, no more suffering. No more tears, no more broken hearts, no more no more no more!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I want Moshiach, G-d. Is that too much to ask?

In the middle of the night

In the middle of the night is the best time to think. If I lived my whole life early in the AM, I might be farther along then I am now.

5 am, can't sleep. I go upstairs to get a drink, and then the magazines catch my eye. The house is so quiet and peaceful, it's never like that in the day. So I stay, curled up on the couch, ready for a good read.

Some things pull at my heart. Like the article about the lady who lost her baby, how it died because of faulty formula. Or the one about the girl who struggled with shidduchim.

 But that's not all. There are some good articles too. Like the lady who lost weight, and got her life back in order. And the one about the amazing couple on shlichus, who are helping bring Jewish teenagers back to yidishkeit.

Sunrise, or sunset? Is the cup half empty, or is it half full? Good or bad? How can you tell? I don't know.

I sympathize on some of the stories, I cry over others. And then there are the ones that I can relate to, that make me think, that story sounds like mine. She is going through exactly what I am feeling right now, and look, she got through it okay. It gives me strength to go on, to finish my story.

It is good to share your story, so that someday someone who needs to hear it will hear it, and it will change their life. Maybe in years from now I'll share mine, and it will help someone too.

My eyes are closing, it's after 6, and my bed is calling. I say goodnight to the silent house, and as I curl up under my blanket, everything seems so clear. Thinking and planning, making lists, and setting goals. Everything is clear in the middle of the night.

I can't wait until morning, when I can get those plans moving.

Not today

Sometimes, I am ready for whatever God throws at me. I am strong, I have faith, I believe that whatever happens was part of His plan, and that everything is for the best. Sometimes, I see a tragedy, and interpret it as something else. Even though it hurts in my heart, my mind tells me that God knows what He's doing. Sometimes, even when bad things happen, I don't question God. I deal with it. I handle it.

But sometimes I wake up and say, please God, don't let anything bad happen today, because I can't handle it. Today God, please cut me some slack. Let it be a good day, God, because right now I can't deal with anymore pain or suffering.

Please not today.

Fading away

Remember the time we turned on blasting music in our room, and we danced? Yes, even I danced. And we got it on video. And the neighbor came upstairs, and boy did he scream!

Remember those nights we would sit and talk way after midnight? And I would read something I wrote for my blog, and you would tell me in an awed voice, 'someday you are gonna be a famous author, and I'll be able to say, we used to be roommates!'

Remember when I had a stalker, and you helped me? I couldn't deal with it, and you made sure it all turned out okay.

Remember when you were homesick, and I talked you through it?

Remember when we went to the park, and lit candles, and burned stuff? And then we prank called people?

Remember when we sat on our bench and talked for hours? And when we went walking, and tried to go every night? 

Remember when we used to laugh together, like we shared an inside joke?

Do you remember? Do you remember everything like I do?

Then tell me why you see me online and you say 'hi how are you' I smile and say, 'good thank g-d'. And it's the same every day. And you ask me what I'm doing in life, and I tell you what I'm up to. And we exchange news. And that's it. And again the next day. And I think, not much can change in a day, can it?

Tell me why I think of our friendship wistfully, like it happened in the past. And why I forgot your birthday. Tell me why I wish things can go back to how they once were, but I can't make it work in the present. Tell me why I don't have your number, and if I did, I wouldn't call you.

Tell me, please. Tell me why people move on, and leave only memories behind.

Our friendship fades away, and I do nothing to stop it. And I wonder, deep in my heart, is it my fault, or is it something inevitable, that can't be helped?

I will still say hi to you when I see you online, and even make the little smiley face that tells you I am happy to talk to you. And I will still go through the routine of asking how you are, and answering the question back, even if I know that we are leaving a lot unsaid. Things are different now.

I'm learning to let go, let memories be memories, and realize that some friendships were not meant to last.

It hurts when they fade away... but maybe I have to learn to let it be.

Relationships

People come into your life for a reason, a season or
a lifetime.

When you know which one it is, you will know what to
do for that person.

When someone is in your life for a REASON, it is
usually to meet a need you have expressed.

They have come to assist you through a difficulty,
to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you
physically, emotionally or spiritually.

They may seem like a godsend and they are.
They are there for the reason you need them to be.

Then, without any wrongdoing on your part or at an inconvenient time,

this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end.

Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away.
Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand.

What we must realize is that our need has been met,
our desire fulfilled, their work is done.
The prayer you sent up has been answered and now,

it is time to move on.

Some people come into your life for a SEASON,
because your turn has come to share, grow or learn.

They bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh.
They may teach you something you have never done.
They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy.

Believe it, it is real. But only for a season.

LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons,
things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation.

Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person,

and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas
of your life.

It is said that love is blind but
friendship is clairvoyant.

Thank you for being a part of my life, whether you
were a reason, a season or a lifetime.

Cuppa tea at 3

This article has been published in The Jewish Press

It's 3 am. Just going to sleep. Why Altie, you ask me, do you go to sleep so late? Yes, I have a good answer. And it has to do with my Mama, and some hot tea.

1 am, ready for bed. Showered, even brushed my teeth. Doing my last email check for the day. (Don't ask how many times a day I check it, I don't even know.) I hear her coming down the stairs. 'Hey Mama.' She can't sleep, she tells me. So she goes to make herself a cup of tea. That's what she does to calm down. I drink tea strictly when I'm sick, but my mama will have a cup anytime.

I gravitate towards the kitchen. It feels good to have another person up at this time. Makes me feel like I'm not the only one left on earth. I sit near her, in pj's. We talk about everything. Anything. I can tell her whatever I'm thinking, and she doesn't judge me. She always tries to find the good in everything, even if I feel like the choices I make and the things I do make me a bad person.

We solve world problems, my mama and I. The shidduch crisis? What crisis? My mama has too much faith too believe in that. And it rubbed off on me. She tells me that even before a child is born, it is decreed in heaven who they will marry. Does it matter if they have money, what kind of family they come from? They use paper plates on shabbos?? Ch''v! Not for my son! She didn't go to seminary? Then how will she know how to raise kids? Like really.

But mama, she sees through all of that. 'It is all up to Hashem', is what she says. You will marry who you are supposed to marry. He is out there somewhere, waiting for the right time. And when she goes to the ohel, I know to bring something with me to do, cuz she can be there for hours.

We talk about politics. Or rather, my lack of understanding on politics. She tells me why she voted for Obama, despite lots of religious Jews putting him down. She explains things to me, things that I seemingly don't understand. We discuss it, and my opinion is validated.

I tell her how I feel a lack of direction now, being out of high school. Like no on told me what to do next. And she assures me that I will figure it all out soon.

All my fears and worries, my anxiety, we discuss over a hot cup of tea. There is so much going on in the world, in my life. I sometimes blow it out of proportion, and make it harder to deal with. But my mama brushes it off. Everything's fine. Everything will be okay. It's all up to Hashem.

I feel like a little girl again. Just talking to my mama. She makes everything better. I kiss her good night, inhaling the familiar calming smell of her lotion. I go to sleep, at peace with the world.

And everything is going to be okay. It's all up to Hashem, after all.
I know, cuz my mama said so.

Just listen

I want to write, but I can't. I can't, because most of the stuff I want to say shouldn't be shared here.

Someone pointed out to me that my blog is mostly about me. I laughed and thought that was absurd. I said my blog is about how I relate to the world, and other people, my thoughts and feelings on things, etc. Then I noticed how many times I said I, or 'me' in that sentence. But why would anyone want to read about my life? And the answer I got was, 'your life is interesting to read about.'

I'm not sure what that meant, or how I should feel about that, but I'll take it.

I'm writing with my new laptop, and the cursor isn't working properly. It keeps moving postions, and typing in random sentences, places it's not supposed to be. It keeps straying. It's (damn) annoying, and I feel like cursing myself, but I'm not supposed to. (A curse in parenthesis doesn't count. My rule.)

I could tell you about the text I got, the standard one from my friends, showing that they care about me. I could tell you what the text means, and why I shouldn't have gotten it.

I could tell you about how I heard Jewish music playing in the local Jewish supermarket, and I thought, that's weird, I haven't heard this stuff in a long time.

I could tell you about how I heard someone davening, and saying tehillim, and wishing that person was me.

I could tell you a lot of things. But I'm not going to. I'm going to keep quiet, and you are going to make believe you heard all the stuff I'm not telling you. That's how it's gonna work.

And I'm gonna feel better for telling you, and you are gonna nod your heads in understanding, and tell me, 'don't worry, everything will be okay.'

And I will believe you, because I have to believe.

Thanks for listening.

One year

It's been a year since I started this blog. It feels like my birthday, in a way. Reflecting over the year, all that happened. A year is a number, an amount of days. But so much can happen in a year.

I started this blog for a reason. There's a story behind how this blog came to be, as there's a story behind every good thing. But I will not share it with you, because it is personal. What happened, happened, and B"H, cuz a good thing came out of it.

Someone told me to start a blog to 'help people who are in my situation.' To give encouragement, inspiration, etc. Whether or not I accomplished that is not up to me. I tried my best.

Thank you, for giving me the push to start writing. 215 posts later, here I am. So many ups and downs, so many times I wanted to quit and abandon writing altogether. But I didn't, cuz then you would win. And we can't have that, can we.

I hope that through this blog I touched at least one person, inspired someone, changed a life, or just put a smile on a dreary face. Cuz that was my goal.

Here's to another great year of writing. A year of inspiration, of thoughts, ideas, emotions. It should be a year full of simchas, and change, growth and maturation for everyone. Lots of brachos, only revealed good, and may we see Moshiach right now!!

Happy Blogaversary!

I'm happy cuz

I'm happy cuz I'm free. Cuz now I can do whatever I want. I'm happy cuz I'm not tied down. Cuz I can get up whenever I want, buy a ticket, get on a plane. Go to Mexico. Or Cambodia. Wherever. And no one would miss me. No one would call me demanding to know where I am. Free. No strings attached.

I'm happy walking outside, enjoying the pleasant weather. I'm happy sitting on a bench, on the busy street, watching the cars go by. I'm happy with the wind in my hair.

I'm happy even though I'm tired. I'm falling asleep on the subway, and still I find time to laugh at the guy facing the wrong doors, as it pulls to a stop. Only to realize that he wasn't getting off after all, and the joke was on me.

I'm happy when I see a girl with balloons, and I imagine that it is her birthday. I am happy for her.

I am happy despite being sick with a cold, and wishing I can go to sleep for a long time.

I am happy cuz I'm standing there, and the subway rushes towards me really fast, and I love the feeling I get every time, my hair whipping about, and the thrill, that feeling that I am standing so close to the edge, but I know I won't go over. I just know.

I am happy because I am me, and no one else. Because I was born for a reason, even though that reason seems to evade me many a time.

I am happy cuz I have friends, even though they sometimes lock the door when I am still out, and then don't bother to call to see where I am and if I'm safe.

I'm happy cuz I'm driving the car by myself, no pressure in the back seat. And the music is blasting, and I'm singing on the top of my lungs. And I have a bad cold, and I know I sound bad, even to my own ears, but luckily I can't hear it. And what the heck. We only live once.

I'm happy cuz I have family who love me. Cuz they care. Cuz I can call them up on the phone, even when I am living a few blocks away. And it's okay to cry to them. To them, cuz they understand. Cuz even if they can't help, they want to make the ache go away. And they will talk to you, and even make jokes that are not funny, just to make you feel better. Just to hear you laugh. And they always tell you not to worry, that everything will be okay. And even if you know that may not be true, you believe them, you trust them. Cuz they make it all better. And that makes me happy.

I'm happy even if I don't always smile. I'm happy even if I don't show it. I'm happy despite the things that go wrong in my life. Because when I am having a really bad day, and yes, maybe I even feel depressed, I walk outside, and I feel the sunshine. Or I see the full moon shining in the nighttime sky. And it is so beautiful, and so natural. And how can you not be happy?

And I smile, an ironic smile, cuz who am I to be upset. And I remember who I am, and where I have come from, where I am going. I remember.

Yes I'm happy. You may look at me and not see it. But really, am I supposed to care what you think? You don't know what goes on in my head. You don't know my thoughts and feelings. You think you know. You want to know. You try to know. But you don't.

No, I'm not happy all the time. But admit it, neither are you.

And don't try to call my bluff. Because I'll call you on yours.

What's the point?

Some people have a problem with honesty. As in, they don't know how to be honest. I have a problem with honesty. As in, I don't know how to be dishonest. I'm too honest. You get the point. (Here is where you ask me what I'm talking about, and I very politely say, oh no sir, (or maam) I can't tell you that. And if I tell you I'll have to kill you.)

Now I have a question: try this math equation. If a person wakes up at 6:45 am, leaves to work at 7:30, starts work at 8:30, works until 5:30, gets home at 6:15, leaves to school at 7, comes back from school at 10:30- well, where is there space for free time? Like down time. Chillin time. Time to sit on the computer and watch a show, talk to friends, breath. Wasting time. Ya it's called wasting for a reason, but if you didn't waste any time, or you didn't have any time to waste, then what would be the point of living? To go to work and make money? To go to school and get a degree, so later you can make money? Does the answer to the equation always equal money?

Money money, sure is funny, in a rich man's world.

I'd love to have money, at the very least be comfortable. Be able to pay bills, buy food, and still have some left over for boots. But hey, we don't always get what we want in life.

Sometimes I wish that life had a return label, that never expired. And when we get sick of it, we can exchange it for something better, or just give it in altogether. Ask g-d for an exbox insteasd, or a laptop. Say sorry, I don't want it.

And I ask again: what is the point?

The end, the beginning

The memories, all the memories, from years and years of accumulated stuff. I guess it doesn't really matter now. Packed away in boxes and bins, stuffed in closets and under beds. So much stuff to show for all the years. But no place to put it, no shelves to display it, no hooks to hang things on. So it waits in the dark, silently, until someone will pay it some attention.

And in the meantime, I pass by it on my way out the door. No I'm not gonna stop. No I have no time to reminisce. I wish I did. But life is such that I live on the go. Go go go. Only forward, no looking back. No time for memories, no time to cry, or laugh, or sniff, or remember. Just no time at all.

My new apartment awaits. My stuff will stay behind in my family house. Until they move. Until I come to collect it. Until I get married and decide to sort through it, do the job that I dread, throw stuff away, put some in storage for keepsake, put some of it on display, and choose to remember, to go back into my past. Until then.

But for now, it is goodbye. Until later.

I'm moving out tonight.