Naivete

You are so closed minded, living in your little box following all the rules, while I, I am so worldly and open-minded, I live by my own rules. I never understand why you do what you do, and you give me reasons for it and explain it, but you are merely repeating what you were told, it is like you can't even think for yourself to make your own decisions.

Naivete. That word I abhorred when they said it to me, like it was a bad thing. Oh how sad for the poor little girl, how naive she is, how she does not even realize what she is missing out on, because she is just so... naive... and there is that word again.

I wanted to prove them all wrong, and I did. And how did that make me feel.... like I made a mistake. Like I finally got to the other side only to realize that I was not missing out on much...

But now that I was already there, hey I may as well use it to my advantage. So move aside everyone because here I come, I, the enlightened one. The one who knows all, has seen all and done all, and oh what I have done.... oh no you don't want to know... I can't tell you that, because you know, you are just so... naive.... oh you poor little girl, you are missing out on so much.

I hate innocence, I want to crush it and rip it up and throw it out the window, because it will be lost sooner or later so why not sooner than later. Hey, you gotta grow up someday and realize that Santa is not real, that money does not grow on trees, that everything you believed in to be true, that you were TOLD was the truth was really all lies to try and get you to follow the truth, their truths, which may have been only slightly altered versions of G-d's truth to fit their needs and not yours.

But oh, how I mock you, because it is just so cute how you listen to all you are told without questioning it. And don't you wonder about the world out there, and aren't you even a little bit curious about what you are missing out on? Don't you want to try it, get a taste of the forbidden? Must you live in a bubble your whole life and do the right thing, the right that you believe in, as if there is only black and white, wrong and right, and no gray. Oh what a beautifully naive existence you live...

Me, well, ha, my eyes were opened and they can never be closed again. I can never undo what I've done, I can never unseen what I've seen, or unsay what I've said. Oh no, now that I have experienced things, well I am experienced, oh yes. I am informed and enlightened.

They told me that there is no black and white, only gray, that I can't really give my opinion until I've experienced it. Well, I do see the gray area more often now, as the black and white mesh together. Excuses and justifications become the truth, and you start to forget why you ever resisted to begin with. You forget what is right and wrong,  you are flying on autopilot and the sky looks like the sea and you are lost in a fluffy white cloud and you really cannot tell if you are going up or down.

Naivete comes with a price, but so does enlightenment. As I laugh at your innocence, I wish for those days that I cannot retrieve, for that little girl sitting on the steps with everyone laughing at her and how gullible she is for believing their prank. They tell her that the word gullible is not in the dictionary and she vows to prove them all wrong....
You are so innocent and naive, and I, what of I, and my worldly experience?

I lost and I gained and it was not an even exchange.
So maybe I am the naive one after all.

Broken engagements

It's that awkward conversation when you ask someone, "So when's the wedding?" and she says, "oh, the engagement is off."
Awkward pause. "Oy, I'm so sorry to hear that." Her response: "Don't be, it's for the best."

Yes, I'm sure it is. Yes, everything is up to G-d and He has a reason for everything that happens. Yes, you were not meant to spend the rest of your life with this person. The right person is still out there and he/she is waiting for you.

People want to share good news. Websites announce engagements. They are a happy occasion, a time to rejoice with the couple who has just made one of the biggest decisions of their lives. But how must it feel to have to retract that? To say, we made a mistake, we jumped in too fast, we just found stuff out about each other that is a game changer. Some people say that it is easier/better to have a broken engagement than to be married for years and then get divorced due to differences that could not be worked out. I don't know if you could say that unless you have experienced it.

There are no websites for broken engagements, no place to let everyone know that the wedding invitation was not lost in the mail, it is not coming. Returned gifts, returned dress, returned wigs. All that excitement and joy gets put back into a box and shoved under a bed not to be taken out for awhile.

The right decision is definitely not always easy, and it is made harder when it is such a public thing. Some nosy people always try to pry or guess at the reason for the decision, and it makes the people involved that much more uncomfortable.

It must be hard to walk down the street and have people say, "When is the lechaim/wedding?? I'm so sorry I missed it, I was out of town." And you breezily tell them that no, they did not miss it and that the wedding is off, while keeping that perfectly practiced smile glued on your face until it feels like it will crack and you just wish that people would stop giving you that pitying sigh and saying 'oy, G-d willing it will be good.' Of course it will be good, because you made a decision that was right for you. And that should not be a sad thing.

I do not speak from experience, thank G-d, although someone close to me did experience this. I don't even want to imagine what it feels like, and I hope to G-d that the moment I say "YES!" I am 100% absolutely sure that I mean it.

What does it mean to be a mother?

A mother who doesn't want her children (Article). I can think of few things that are worse than that.

I don't speak from experience, but as a child I never felt that I wasn't wanted. Even though I haven't always had the smoothest relationship with either of my parents, I was always secure in the knowledge that they love me and are happy to have me in their lives.

This woman states that after having her first kid she realized that "having a child had been the biggest mistake of my life." Then she went on to have a second child because that is what she agreed upon with her husband. She keeps repeating that she never wanted to have children, but then when she did become a mother she dedicated herself completely to the job, not hiring a nanny or neglecting her children like other mothers. She says that her children encroached upon her free time and she felt that "like parasites, both my children would continue to take from me and give nothing meaningful back in return".

Ironically, her own daughter, who decided not to have children, developed multiple sclerosis. The adult daughter is now living at home with the mother who wished she had never been born, and the woman states "I would cut off my right arm if she or Stuart needed it." She would do anything for the daughter she regrets having.
 
Is a mother obligated to love her children, or just provide the basic necessities in life? Should a woman have a child if she does not want one?

So many times I hear parents say that having children is a huge responsibility and takes a lot of work and energy, but they would never trade it for anything and that their kids are the best thing that ever happened to them.

Understandably, this article received 1839 comments, mostly people who were horrified that a mother could say these things, calling her cold-hearted and selfish. I am sure she expected the backlash.

I can't totally condemn her, because she is honestly stating something that she truly feels, it just happens to be a shock to society. Can I open up my mind enough to try and understand where she is coming from, or will hearing something like this leave me shaking my head sadly saying  "Why? How? I just don't understand how someone could say something like that..."

What is the value of a life?

Killings, shootings, stabbings, bombings, tornadoes, hurricanes. The list goes on and on. Every time I check the news I hear about another death.

Just today:

"9 people killed, 36 wounded in Iraq's violence"

"Chicago man charged in slaying of 6-month-old girl"

"Man shoots daughters with 3 grandkids in home"

And on, and on. Every day.

Death is a part of life. But ultimately a person should die at a ripe old age at home in bed surrounded by family, having accomplished all they could in their lifetime. Not killed because of someone else's act of terror.

Unfortunately, it is so easy to become desensitized when you hear about death tolls every day. It is hard to cry or feel sad every time you hear of someone who was killed.

So it comes down to how much did that person mean to you, if at all, and how much does it affect you? Will you miss them? Did you even know them? Will it make any difference in your life now that they are gone?

If you feel nothing, does that mean you don't value life?

Can you really put a value on a life?

As time goes on you become more and more numb to the pain and emotion. Death becomes another topic of current events to sigh over, and then change the channel. You don't want to hear about it, you don't want it to ruin your day. So you think how sad that is, and maybe somewhere someone is mourning the death of a loved one, but how could it possibly affect you.

Until one day you feel nothing at all.

Or has that already happened? 

Are they really out to get us?

There was an article recently regarding one of the Boston Bombers, Tamerlan Tsarnaev who was killed in a shootout with the police. The FBI were investigating whether his widow was involved, and they stated that they were able to retroactively access telephone conversations between Tsarnaev and his wife from before the bombing. As in, they were not prerecorded, they were not recorded as they were taking place. There was no surveillance set up, but the FBI was able to get ahold of those conversations.

In an interview with Tim Clemente, a former FBI counterterrorism agent, Clemente stated that "welcome to America. All of that stuff is being captured as we speak whether we know it or like it or not."

So it seems that all digital communication, such as emails, phone calls, texts and chat are recorded as they happen, then stored and are accessible to the government at any time.

Naturally, this has many people freaked out. Why should the government be able to track every word we say or write to someone in private? It is a violation of our rights to privacy.

I discussed this with a knowledgeable smart well-informed individual who informed me that privacy is not our right and it is not stated anywhere in the Constitution. We are protected from illegal search and seizure, which means that a warrant and probable cause is needed to enter and search a home without permission. However, if the government is monitoring our communication without our knowledge and never has any need to use it against us, that is not illegal.

It still bothers me. Seemingly, the government can tap into any cell phone GPS and know where a person it at all times.

As my mother put it, "That makes me feel safe because if I ever need them they will be able to find me."

I guess it is all about perspective.

Tomorrow will come soon enough

Against my better judgement, I find myself awake well past 3 am. I tried to sleep, I really did, and the twisted sheets and blankets reflect that. For some reason most of my apartment mates are also awake. I go join my friend on her bed, and watch a cute video hoping to distract myself into sleep. But a part of me is refusing to shut my eyes.

Why does it seem that whenever things are going well I find some sort of way to turn it around? Things are great lately, Baruch Hashem. This is supposed to be my week break in between semesters. I am supposed to relax and wind down and refresh for a new semester. I already got back two final grades and got A+ and another A.

So why do I feel cold and shaky, seemingly out of nerves, but maybe also fear. Why does it seem that every time I see my future opening wide and bright, my past bumps into me from behind, as if to remind me that it can be forgotten but never erased.

No, nothing bad has happened, merely reflections. Sometimes reflections are not healthy. When a chapter is over you turn the page and move on. When a book is done you close the book and put it away and never take it off the shelf again. Yet I find myself feeling sad for a time, a place, a person that is long gone now. Not sad for myself, because I have nothing to be sad about. But sad for someone whom I cannot help, who may not even be able to help themselves. And as much as I feel like being the hero and saving the world and solving everyone's problems, sometimes there's really nothing I can do. Not my place to help, anyway.

Just a bit sad, and bewildered at how things turned out the way they did. Oh, G-d does have His funny funny ways....

I have a carefully wrapped birthday present for my one year old niece whose birthday party I am attending tomorrow. Tomorrow will come soon enough, the sadness will pass the festivities will begin, and G-d willing everything will work out in good revealed ways.

Eating disorders

Mom puts 7 year old on diet


Later in life she becomes anorexic:

"Fat people have better personalities"

Untitled

Mirrors surround me every day

from the second I wake up in the morning.

There is my own face staring back at me. 

Do I like what I see?

They talk about people all the time,

Wondering how they got to be the way they are,

as if there is some method to this 'disgrace',

as if this was done purposely.

People stare at you wherever you go,

and judge you by what they immediately see.

Like they understand it,

like they wouldn't make the same 'mistakes'. 

You may be a smoker,

or you may be dumb,

or you may be sick inside,

but your clothing hide your faults.

But she, whenever she puts food in her mouth,

they all nod their heads sagely and say,

"oh, so that is why she is so big.

If only she could control herself."

Lucky you get to hide your faults,

while my "defects" are glaring and obvious,

and exposed for the world to see

and judge every day.

So you think you can draw?

No, not really. But my professor does:

(Note: this class was an Art History and Appreciation course. We were not taught how to draw. The professor lectured each week, and we were told to do a mandatory sketchbook on our own time and hand it in at the end of the semester.) 

In the beginning of the semester he told us that he was grading the sketchbooks out of 25 points, 25 being the most you can get. But I got a 44. (To be fair, I did hear that some students in the past got 50 if he thought they were really good.) I don't consider myself an artist and don't know if I will ever pursue this "talent", but I did enjoy drawing. I hope you enjoy it too.

(Below is the collage done entirely out of tape which we were assigned to do 

that my professor chose to display.)

Shul down the Street

There's a shul down the street,
In that little hipster house,
With exposed brick that's so 'in style' now,
Bare bulbs hanging from the cealing,
Gives the feeling of a club, not a House of Worship. 

It is the talk of the town,
Oh, everyone has something to say about THAT shul,
"You go there?", "You go there??"
"I hear they wear micro skirts, I mean, shorter than mini skirts".
"The word is that the women dance around the Torah."

I was dragged there, given no choice.
And so there I was on a Friday night
To pass my own judgement.
Oh, how plain I feel next to these runway models,
In mile high heels in their glitz and their glamor.

Oh how uncomfortable I feel,
Like I just don't belong here.
And now everyone will know that I went to that shul
And they will judge me too.
But I am not like them.

Then the singing starts,
The men sing loudly, and louder still,
And they clap their hands and bang the Bima,
Au Contraire to the gossip, the women do not join in,
But stand in prayer and sway with the beat.

And I stand stiffly, so out of place,
Looking around and observing, an outsider,
Watching that woman with a turban on her head,
Eyes closed, body jerking to the singing,
Like the song inside of her is straining to be free.

I admire her free, unreserved spirit,
Like she can burst out dancing at any minute,
Unaware of the people around her,
Because she is immersed in prayer
With G-d.

And the girl beside me is jumping,
Literally, her toes leaving the ground,
And she is clapping furiously, enjoying the song,
The experience, the atmosphere,
And I try not to be embarrassed for her.

There are women wearing shaitels and short sleeves,
An inconsistency in our community,
Another one wearing pants, so out of place in a shul,
But alas, here they are, in shul,
Davening together with a minyan, as one.

There's a shul down the street from me,
It is large, and spacious, with fancy chandeliers,
And the women are upstairs, far away from the men,
I don't belong here, and they can tell,
Because I am not one of them.

They daven with concentration,
There is no chitchat or talking,
Here is a House of Prayer,
And that is what they do,
Reserved and modestly.

I've been to that little shul,
And this foreign shul,
Where the davening is different and the words don't sound the same,
And I may feel out of place,
But at least I am here.

You call yourself a Stoliner,
While I am a Lubavitcher,
Yet we are all Jews,
In the eyes of G-d we are One and the same,
And we are here to pray.

Teach me, Teach Me

Teach me what you know,
because I seem to be lacking,
I'm not quite sure how it happened,
but somewhere along the way
all they taught me was forgotten,
and I am left empty, and wondering why.

Fill the silence,
because I won't dare to speak in your presence,
You, who knows so much more than me,
about life, and people, and places.
The books that you've read can fill libraries all over the world,
while I am grasping to find common ground.

I make up answers that seem hollow even to my own ears,
I listen to your words but they don't register,
I try, I do,
But my answer stays at "I don't know" perpatually.
And it pains me to admit my ignorance,
in the face of your knowledge.

I can spend my whole life trying to fill this empty space inside of me,
And still I will know nothing.
"Know what you know, and what you don't know".
Clever.
I know that I know nothing.
And that's where it stops.

Dichotomy

It's been like this forever, really,
as long as I can remember.
Fun, breezy and sweet
would turn dark and sinister quickly,
like two halves of one crazy whole.

We've tried, oh we've tried,
and it's gotten better lately.
Better as in, I'm hardly ever around,
better as in, we don't talk much anymore,
better as in, love from far far away.

I don't want to understand it.
I don't want to question it
and take it apart
and get to the bottom of it.
Because I fear that I won't be happy with the answer.

So I pack it up
in a neat little box with a label
and file it away in a deep dark place
and try not to think about it,
"Let's pretend this never happened".

And suddenly you want to be my best friend,
You tell me things like "Proud" and "Wonderful",
all the things I've always wanted to hear,
Which you should have told me years ago,
But now I find them hard to believe.

So I put the singing card in the closet,
and try to think about it never,
Why you signed your name differently this time,
as if we could erase all the bad times,
and start over fresh.

But I'm just not sure I have the strength for that anymore.
Cuz every time you smile at me,
inside I'm tense and uneasy,
waiting for the other shoe to drop,
As if I can't really believe you've changed.

Ain't Nobody Got time for that

I'm thinking of starting a new diet, and calling it "Ain't Nobody Got Time For That" (patent pending.) I am very methodical when it comes to my meals. I prepare a lunch every night to take to work the next day, because if I don't then my whole day is thrown off. There are no Kosher restaurants near my office and even if there were, I hate take-out. Even when I'm really tired I force myself to cut up a salad and prepare snacks for my day.

These days I've been so busy that I find myself barely eating any food. I forget to eat lunch and then it is such a bother to stop what I'm doing and eat. I make smoothies for breakfast because besides for tasting good they are much quicker to ingest than eating a bowl of cereal and milk.

There is an episode in How I Met Your Mother where Marshal is training for a big race and he is so busy that he tries to turn all his food into smoothies. He puts eggs and toast and sausages in the blender... I'm sure you can imagine the result.

My mind is moving a mile a minute, and when I remember about something I need to do I must write it down otherwise I will forget about it.

My semester is over in 2 weeks, then I have a week break and then.... dun dun dun, I'm taking Summer semester. Yay. (Sort of.)

It is nice to have Shabbos when I feel like I can get off the treadmill and slow down and just breath. Everything will be waiting for me afterwards but for 25 hours I get some respite.

Have a good Shabbos, and make sure to find the time for the little things in life.

High Five

You know that feeling you get when your presentation went well and everyone loved it and you were so nervous that you were barely paying attention to people's reactions, but some people made a point to come over to you after and tell you how awesome it was and how much they loved it and how well your group worked together and you know it's true and it feels so good and when the professor says that 'one group went above and beyond' and you bashfully know that everyone is looking at your group and you are smiling from ear to ear cuz you know that it is true and you just want to hug your group and 'high five' to your awesomeness....

No? Well, it is a great feeling. And despite the other members of my group saying 'we should totally keep in touch' it probably won't happen, because I am not even majoring in the same thing and we all have different schedules. And that makes me a tad bit sad because I really enjoyed working with them.

And it felt so good to be included, to be a part of something. I don't want that feeling to end but I know it will cuz the semester is over and we all say goodbye and move on...

But it was more than just a group project. It was fun. And when we were told we would need to work in groups I groaned because I hardly ever work well in a group. And yes, maybe I'm not the easiest person to work with, but we all did good.

It's funny how the only thing we had in common was where our last names fell in the alphabet which is why we got lumped together. But little did we know that we had the best group out there.

High Five to us, we were awesome!

Looking forward to our A (+ + + + + +)

The World revolves around Me

 
My mother always said, "The world does not revolve around Altie", when she wanted me to stop acting selfishly. (The next sentence would be that it actually revolves around my sister). Maybe it backfired. I don't consider myself a selfish person, but I do enjoy time dedicated to me alone.

My birthday is always my special day. Someone commented on something I wrote once that I am a "three times a year Jew". While I don't believe that to be true, my spiritual connection does seem to be lacking at times.

But then my birthday comes and I feel this push, this pull, this energy inside of me, a desire to do better, to BE better, to make the day the most it could be, to make resolutions for the coming year (which rarely last). My spiritual awakening.

This year I don't feel the pressure. Maybe that is a good thing and maybe not. I made a list of things I want to accomplish on my birthday and I hope to get through all of them. My family is coming in to take me out for a birthday dinner (which I am sharing with my niece whose birthday is two days later and she is turning one, so it's okay.)

I like my birthday Hayom Yom:

"My father related that he heard from his father quoting his father (the Tzemach Tzedek), who heard the Alter Rebbe refer to himself as the son of the Maggid (his Rebbe), and as the grandson of the Baal Shem Tov."

I like it because my family doesn't have any 'yichus'. And while this never actually mattered to me, there was subconsciously a feeling of who is vouching for me, who do I belong to. My mother would jokingly tell people that we are nothing from nothing. But that's not true. Because we come from someone and something and we are making something of ourselves.

The Alter Rebbe was not related to the Mazritcher Maggid or the Baal Shem Tov. But he considered them to be his father and grandfather. I AM a part of something, and yichus or not, I came from somewhere and I am going somewhere as well.

I believe that I was created for a purpose, and although I may never know what that purpose is, I know that I am special and there are things down here that only I and no one else can accomplish. I feel like on my birthday I come full circle.

It has Baruch Hashem been a good year, and I feel like this is the first year in awhile when I can look back with hardly any regrets or uneasiness. G-d willing this coming year will be good as well.

It is my sincerest wish for all of you that Hashem bestow upon you many brachos in all areas you may need it, be it health, parnasah, Shidduchim, children, shalom bayis. May you all find only happiness in all that you do, and your paths should be clear, free of obstacles and filled with wisdom.  

G-d willing may this be our very last year in Galus, and we should all see Moshiach Now!

Back to the basics

Sometimes you just need to
bring it BACK to the beginning
where your story first started,
and remember why you are doing this
who you are doing this for,
and what THIS really is.

Laying on the grass
under the sun,
I open my eyes just a bit,
and see blue, so much blue
and I wonder if I'm looking at the sky
or if I will see that blue every time I close my eyes.

Smiling, smiling,
standing this way and that
pictures, pictures,
kallah and friends,
and heels and dress
and feeling good.

Happy and radiant she stands,
dimples and blue headband and long flowy dress
and all of us together again,
the COOL ones,
the FAB four,
we rock the party,
we ARE the party.

And I miss those days,
the ones we left behind,
but I also feel a contentment,
a peace with myself and my past.
Because the present is good
and the future is bright.

And I will always have my girlys to face it with.

So I smile, and I stand,
this way and that,
and I put my feet through torture to look pretty,
and I feel pretty, oh so pretty,
and I want to capture THIS moment
in my mind forever.

So that every time I close my eyes,
I will see us all together again,
laughing and talking like old times,
except these are NEW times,
and I want to drink a lechaim to us,
and to our Futures.

Because the past is fading as we speak,
thank G-d for that.
Thank G-d we get to leave the bad behind us,
and that every time I close my eyes
I will see that bright blue clear sky,
And I will no longer ever see you.

Sticks and stones may break my bones,
but you can never hurt me.

I'm different

Hello world. I'm still alive. Just busy. Very busy. But I did miss you. Every time a great idea for a post popped into my head I was so tempted to stop everything and sit down and write. But I'm busy. Oh so busy. Thank G-d.

Boredom breeds negative behavior, so keeping busy is a good thing. At work they added new tasks to my workload, which is fine once I get used to it. But it takes awhile to juggle a normal workload and the extra stuff.

At school I am really busy with end of term papers. I was up last night until 3 am editing a paper which was written as a group, and given my seal of approval. Not to be pretentious, but I am good at editing. So I had the final say and everyone loved it and I am looking forward to my A for effort.

I don't have enough time in my day to sleep, so (shrug), oh well.

My friend got engaged (Mazal tov!) and I am helping bake stuff for the lechaim. My roommate named herself my official taste-tester.

I'm so tired. I'm tired of grammar and punctuation and paragraphs and citations and papers and grades and tests and quizzes. I'm tired of traveling every day, to work and back and school and back, and then do it all over again. I'm tired of doing laundry and cooking food, and buying food, and eating food. Sometimes when I'm tired I think I should really not talk cuz who knows what will come out of my mouth.

My art teacher showed us a painting of Moses with horns. We all know that he didn't have horns, but still people think Jews are hiding something under their Yalmukas. So my teacher said, does anyone here know why Moses has horns? Anyone wearing a Yalmuka? No one raised their hand. So he started making something up, and then I raised my hand, and then he laughed and said he was joking, he knew the real story.

When they talk about Jews I feel like everyone is looking at me even if they are not. When they talk about Israel I feel like everyone expects me to jump up wearing an Israeli flag and protest. When they talk about Jewish holidays they look at me for approval to make sure they are pronouncing it right. Today a guy said his coworker gave him Matzah, ("Is that how you say it?"), and it was great.

Hey everyone! I'm Jewish! I AM JEWISH!

I used to be so tired of being lumped together with everyone else. I spent my whole childhood trying to "discover myself" and separate myself from the masses, and be different. I wanted to be different because everyone was the same and I wasn't like everyone, so what was I.

I protested the box, the cookie cutter mold, the stereotypes. I vowed to take my own path, to do my own thing, to be my own person, to be different.

When my brother was dating, my mother would tell people that he needed a different kind of girl. So people tried to set him up with girls who were weird, or funky, or not religious. My mother had a hard time explaining that my brother was different, but not that kind of different. Yes, there are many types of different.

Instead of being part of the masses I broke away and did my own thing and no one bothered me and life was good.

Then I entered the real world. And my differences were glaringly obvious. I tried to pretend that they didn't exist, that I was 'just one of you'. Suddenly, I hate being different. I hate standing out. I hate having to explain why I can't shake hands, why I wear skirts all the time, why I can't take an exam because it's our holiday, ("What holiday? Shavuot? What's it about?" I have no idea, we eat cheesecake.) Why we live in Israel despite the fact that the Palestinians think it is theirs. Why women wear wigs. Suddenly, I just want to be they same.

I want to be recognized as a person, because I am smart, and articulate, and skilled. I want people to know that I have what to add to a group discussion and class presentations and that I am not just different because I am Jewish, but because I am me and I am not you.

I do realize that years ago I may not even have had the opportunities I do now. People would taunt and hurt Jews, not look at them like interesting creatures under a microscope to be studied and questioned. Should I encourage questions? Probably. Do I have all the answers? No. Sometimes they ask me questions that even I question. What do you say then?

Some people might tell me that this is a beautiful opportunity to enlighten the world and be a good example, etc. Yes. I know. But when we talk about stereotypes and they say that some people say Jews are rich, it feels weird that they are singling ME out, and I laugh along with everyone else, but I keep quiet because I am hoping no one is looking my way.

No, I'm not ashamed. Not in any way. I admire frum guys for wearing tzitzis and yalmukas on campus and I would proudly do so if I were a guy. And yes it is less obvious just by the way I dress that I am a religious Jew.

I'm different. I know I'm different. I'm different because when my professor brings Italian cannolis for everyone and asks if there is anyone who can't have and I say me, and it's not because I'm allergic and then he offers to bring me a 'rugale', I laugh and say no thanks.

But sometimes I just wish I could eat that cannoli with everyone else and not feel so out of place.

Why should I believe you?

I'm so used to all the lies, that when you tell me the truth I'm not sure if I should believe you.

You ask me how things are going, and I try to gauge if you are really interested or just trying to make polite conversation. After all, isn't that your job? To pretend to care, to resolve issues as they come up, to keep things running smoothly? Do you really want suggestions, or do they go in one ear and out the other?

But I give it a try, and I tell you how I'm feeling. You speak to me like an equal, even though we both know that's not how it is. You listen, or pretend to, and you respond in kind. Part of me feels a burden lifting, a bad energy dissipating, but the cynical part of me holds on to it for later. You know, just in case this feel-good situation does not work out.

You address my concerns, and apologize, and say all the words you are supposed to say. I smile, we laugh, things are better now, we are on good terms. I'm no longer mad and upset at you, because after all, as you explained it is not your fault.

Why should I believe you? Because you sound so sincere. Because I feel myself deflating like a balloon losing air, and it feels so nice to have someone listening to me finally. Because the things you are saying make sense.

Will this resolution last? I hope so. Only time will tell.

You tell me that suggestions are always welcome and I want to believe you.

I have to believe you, because it helps me get through another day.

Maybe things will be better now, because you tried to understand.

If nothing else, I believe that you tried. And that's something.