Frum and single

It seems to get harder and harder to inject spirituality into my life.

I used to push myself to daven, to learn, to do the things I am supposed to do. Sometimes it came naturally, and sometimes it was hard.

Once I left high school and seminary, I kind of drifted slowly away, not in any negative ways, more just neglectful. But I still had a conscience, and once in awhile I would think about all the things I'm not doing that I should be doing. Every year around the High Holidays I would get this guilty feeling, like I better shape up for the coming year.

And now even that has faded. I went to shluchim for a few years, helping with the kids and the meals, davening, saying tehillim. But this year I decided to go to my parents instead. There won't be a lot of people around, and the thought of a quiet no pressure yom tov sounds appealing.

Any time I mention my guilty feelings, my mother says that I'm doing so many wonderful things and that maybe I should focus on what I am doing rather than what I'm not doing. She may have a point, but that is still not a great mindset to live with.

Jewish life is all about family, and being single makes it harder to feel like a part of it. Sometimes for shabbos meals I stay in and make a small meal in my apartment, and it feels weird to not have a man saying kiddush. When Chanukah rolls around, I can't just go downstairs and listen to my father light the menorah, I have to set it up and do it myself. When Sukkos comes, I have to go over to my brother to borrow his lulov and esrog, or get some kid on the street to lend me his.

All these small little rituals that you take for granted when living in a family environment where things just seem to happen on their own are that much harder when you are single and have to create it for yourself.

It is hard to create an atmosphere that is conducive to being religious when living on your own. I know that may sound like an excuse, but it's true.

That's why I'm gonna marry a Rabbi so he can just lead the household, and all I have to do is show up. 

Wedding: Check!

It was nice. The whole family was there. I mostly can't stand my family, but for simchas we all 'make nice'. My brothers even let me take pictures with them. One brother came in from Israel, another from Florida, married sister trooped in with all her three kids.

My little brother about whom I used to say 'hate', yes, I hated him, he put his sweaty face near mine and smiled for a picture with me and my niece. I gave him a friendly punch on the arm, and he lightly punched me back, instead of shoving me like he used to.

I watched my brothers dance, and tried to guess who had the most to drink.

I made my sister the kallah jump rope with me, even though she didn't want to. It was fun, holding my dress, flying in the air, feeling like my feet would never touch the ground.

People came. When there's a simcha, family and friends and neighbors come crawling out of the woodwork, and I look around and realize that there are people who like us. Who knew.

It is hard to focus on my friends, when I feel like there are a million things going on and I don't want to miss a single thing.

The guys had awesome dancing on their side, so naturally I gravitated there to watch.

Someone set off firecrackers right after the chuppa, which was awesome, and then a confetti bomb during the dancing, so it looked like confetti threw up all over the dance floor.

Some guy was rollerblading. I guess anything can be called 'shtick'.

I looked gorgeous, and got many complements.

As the next single girl in line, I got many 'im yirtze Hashem by you's and I smiled and said thank you, amen! I don't know why girls get bothered by it, I genuinely appreciate that there are people out there who are thinking of me, and in my opinion, the more brachos I get, the sooner it will happen.

My feet hurt. Like, hurt. The term 'hobble' took on a whole new meaning when I hobbled to work today. Hopefully the pain will go away.

I got tons of pictures, my nieces looked adorable (!!!!!!!!!!!!!), my sister looked pretty, and she seemed very at ease and relaxed, which is nice.

She posted sheitel pictures already.

My mother and father cried by the kabbalas panim, which made me cry, and my father said "you should have a wonderful life, with lots of cute kids, even cuter than _______'s kids" (my older sister who has three kids.) I told my sister that and she said 'hey!', like how could there possibly be kids cuter than hers. I kind of agree.

My mom keeps saying it's a miracle that my older sister is married. I know it sounds mean when people say things like that, kind of like, oy poor girl it will probably never happen for you.

But it is a miracle, everything Hashem does it technically a miracle, and now I don't have to ask Hashem every day to 'please let my sister get married soon so she will move out of the house and stop annoying me'. Even though I don't live at home anymore, I called dibs on her room. I'm guessing it will already be taken by the time I get to it.

'The guy' seems nice. I don't have much to do with my siblings spouses anyway, so what do I care, as long as my sister is happy and her husband treats her right.

So as they say, 3 down, 3 to go (of marriageable aged children in my family.)  C'mon G-d, just a few more and you can take a break.

Baruch Hashem for simchas.

Why did the chicken cross the road?

(From the perspective of the chicken)

These damn humans question it all the time. Shut up stupid humans and stay out of my business. Do I ask you, “Why do humans bark like dogs? Why do humans touch their lips to another human's lips? Like, ew. Humans, stop face-sucking other humans.

I crossed the road because- none of your damn business!!! Stop asking what you call the “Age-old question”, or the next question will be, “Why did the chicken shoot the human?”

Bam. Now you can't ask THE QUESTION ever again.

Happy chicken.

_______________________________________________________________

(From reporters perspective)

“In other news, the chicken has finally fought back, in what can only be described as a mental chicken breakdown. As you can see behind me, a crowd has gathered here to watch the chicken, who seems to have finally snapped. Chicken squawks of “death to humans” can be heard, as millions of chickens come out in support of their brother. The question of “Why did the chicken cross the road?” has been asked by humans everywhere, since the beginning of time. Humans just want answers. The chicken wants, in his own words, “To shut humans up.” The chicken has been taken into custody for threatening a human with an illegally obtained gun. We will be closely following this story as it unfolds. Stay tuned for the follow up story of the chicken's arrest and arraignment. I am Chayanne McFarlin, ABC News.

I HATE YOU GMAIL!

After an already crappy horrible day, now gmail is making the new pop-up 'compose window' the default, and you can no longer switch back to the old method. Did I mention I hate change? I hate it! No, I will not get used to it. I'm mad. For a free service, gmail sure is trying to 'improve' a lot. Just leave it the way it is and every is happy.

"Temporarily switch back to the old view."

"Temporarily switch back to the old view."

"Temporarily switch back to the old view."

"Temporarily switch back to the old view."

"Temporarily switch back to the old view."

"Temporarily switch back to the old view."

Switch it back!!

Think about it. What if your cleaning lady/live-in maid/mom/picker-upper-person took your favorite comfortable old ratty t-shirt and through it out cuz hey, you can get something newer and better. But you LOVED that t-shirt!

Maybe not the greatest comparison, but people like what is familiar and comfortable.

Oh, change is good, you say?

No it's not!!!

"Temporarily switch back to the old view."

"Temporarily switch back to the old view."

"Temporarily switch back to the old view."

"Temporarily switch back to the old view."

"Temporarily switch back to the old view."

I. Hate. You. Gmail.

Die. 

Night-time candy run

"Do you speak Hebrew?" he asks me.

"A little", I respond, thinking, please sir just give me my laffy taffys. My mother's voice is talking in my ear and I have no idea what she is saying. Something about a dress for the wedding...sea-foam green...?

"Yaldah yafa me'od', he says, dangling the laffy taffys in his fingers, and I just want him to put them on the counter so I don't have to take them from his hands. "Yaldah yafa me'od" he repeats, and as I get a creeping feeling in my stomach I try to understand if he is saying a very nice girl or a very pretty girl, and then I wonder why it matters. I realize it is dark out and the store is empty and the man behind the counter is staring at me and asking me what my name is. I give him an awkward thumbs up and thank him for the items that I just paid him for and hastily leave the store, wondering why something that is meant to sound nice gives me a sickening feeling in my stomach, and if there was something I did to signal to him that I was interested, or if I am way overreacting.

In the safety of my room I stare at the laffy taffys and wonder why I even wanted them that badly.

The Price of Silence

"It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open one's mouth and remove all doubt." -Attributed to Mark Twain.

I know, I know I shouldn't respond, but I want to so badly. I want to put someone in their place for once, knock that cocky smile off their face, show them up, say my piece and be done with it. The problem with people is, you can't control them. If I say one comment they must respond. So when will it ever end? "I know you're stupid but what am I?" Oh ya, great comeback.

I was never very good at comebacks. In high school I tried verbal sparring with a classmate and she won every time. You have to be quick, and I'm just not able to be quick and witty at the same time. She tried to teach me, but every time I would retort I sounded like a mad idiot with nothing good to say. In my world, I would say my brilliant response, and people would be speechless as I walk away.

In reality, they respond and it makes me go grrrrrr just shut up already, I want the last word! But people don't shut up. So you must control yourself and NOT say that great comment you thought in your head, unless you are ready for the repercussions.

When to tell someone "you suck!"

Why must I go through this torture? They make me read this junk and I have to critique it and say nice things but all I want to say it you suck! This is junk you should never write you will never be a writer this is generic, it is stupid, it makes no sense, how can you call this writing??? It has horrible spelling, grammatical errors, confusing sentence structure.

But then I think, what if someone said that to me? Would it crush my dreams of ever being a writer? What if I was really a horrible writer and I needed someone to awaken me to that?

I know I shouldn't be mean but it is so hard to not be harsh and blunt when I am suffering through every word of what could barely be called writing.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sick Leave

 
We used to have a sign in my office that said, "I used up all my sick days, so I called in dead." It has since disappeared from the office. I guess that excuse just doesn't fly with my company. Dead or alive, it doesn't matter to us. Come in to work anyway.

I believe the era for "calling in sick" is long gone. I woke up with a bad cold to I texted in sick. How can you convince them in a text that you are sick, without coughing on the phone, making your voice sound hoarser than it is, unable to say your d's or n's properly cuz your nose is stuffed?

Text: "Hey boss, I woke up dizzy and with a really bad cold, I'm not coming today".
What I really mean is: "There's this amaaaaaaazing sale at the mall and I just haaaaaaave to go!".

Boss: "Okay, feel better".
What he really means is: "Liar. We know you are not sick, you don't even sound sick in text."

Well, convincing or not, I was sick. Still sick. Summer cold, I guess. No, really, I am. I even brought my cold medicine to display on my desk today so everyone knows that I am really sick and not faking it. And the medicine tastes disgusting, no way I would fake that.

The worst part about recuperating from a cold is getting my sense of smell back on garbage day.