Baking & Sibling Rivalry

Although I fall somewhere in the middle in my family, I never thought of myself as being overshadowed by my older siblings. Until I learned how to bake.

I have an older sister who went to culinary school, and is considered by all to be the resident baker and chef in my family. Which is all well and good, I freely admit that she makes good stuff. 

I enjoy baking too, mostly the enjoyment of having people sample and enjoy what I make. I don't think I'm very good at it. I like making simple easy recipes, with as few steps as possible. I like embellishing recipes and putting my own touch on it. I don't like being confined by rules, so I will usually never write down the changes I make, and most often will not be able to recreate it.

Once in awhile I will post pictures on Facebook of what I make. I get many comments oohing and aahing and asking me to send them some. (But they never ask for the recipe, they just want ready made goods.) 

My sister is a serial poster, she will post pictures almost every night of what she makes for dinner, every Friday what she cooks for Shabbos, and every time she bakes, believe me Facebook will hear about it.

So it should come as no surprise that when I posted the pictures below on Facebook, someone mistook them for my sister, and wanted to ask her to save some for them.

One Friday, she was busy so she asked me to make one of her cake recipes. I of course 'loosely' followed the recipe, which she didn't care for. I think it came out better than hers, if I do say so myself. 

They say too many cooks spoil the broth, but in this case, I think two chefs living in different states are pretty safe.

I just can't show up to her party with anything, or I'll never hear the end of it.

Suspended

Sometimes I feel like my life is on hold. Like everyone else has moved on, relationships, careers, families, babies, illnesses, but for me life has stood still for the last 6 months. It's perpetually summer here, I feel like I'm on vacation all the time. Like winter never happened.

I can't blame someone for being sick, for dodging my calls, for being too tired, too dizzy, too weak, or just not in the mood to talk to me. I should have been thrilled to hear that my mother is in remission, but selfishly all I could think was, when will things go back to normal? Why is she not calling me? Who am I supposed to talk to?

I met this interesting woman who told me all about the book she is writing, debunking medical myths. That taking vitamin D is a myth, all we really need is sunlight. She told me about crystal healing she does, using crystal light energy to heal the body. About how sickness begins in the mind, and we could cure ourselves. I sarcastically countered with, what about people with cancer, or who have diabetes? She claims she knows a way to cure them. She thinks western medicine is just a bunch of pharmaceutical companies trying to make money, that we can't find 'cures' for diseases such as cancer, because otherwise there would be no money in drugs.

I don't believe a lot of what she says, but that is not really my point. I do believe that our mind has the power to harm, or to heal. I know that when I am physically sick, most often I am feeling depressed or down. So which comes first?

 

There are times when my mind goes on a loop, when there are things, events, people that I can't get out of my head no matter how much I try to tell myself to forget. I always wonder, where is that magical portal, the one that transports you to a beautiful place that makes it all better, that heals the wounded and cures the sick, that takes away all pain, that allows our minds to rest? For me, it is not sleep, because my dreams are haunted by the thoughts which in the daytime I refused to allow myself to think. I wake up with a feeling that I can never escape it, no matter how hard I try.

It's not our hearts that feel. The heart is just a muscle. It is our brains that feel pain, joy, anger, jealousy, sadness. 

I finally got around to watching the movie Inside Out. Despite all my aversion to cartoons and Disney movies, I liked it. I liked the way it portrayed emotions, showing that it's okay to have a wide range of emotions, it's okay to feel. 

Sometimes I just wish I could shut it off.

It's not the world that's the problem

In this week's episode of Chicago Med (another spin-off of Chicago Fire), there is a mass shooting in a movie theater by a 17 year old gunman, and a high school teacher shoots the gunman thus saving a lot of people. Everyone hails the teacher as a hero and congratulates him on his quick thinking. He instantly goes from being a nobody to being an internet sensation, gaining 96,000 followers in one day.

As the episode progresses, the doctors realize that the only gunshot victim they treated was the 17 year old 'shooter', and the rest of the victims were simply victims of trampling. After investigating, the detectives find out that the shooter was no shooter at all, rather an idiot kid with a leaf blower pulling a prank. The teacher, swearing that he saw the kid holding a gun and that he heard gunshots, finds out that he shot an unarmed victim. Suddenly the internet turns on him and makes fun of him for shooting the kid. Feeling guilty, or humiliated, he ends up committing suicide by stepping in front of a car. His last message left behind on his phone is "It was an honest mistake."

The closing scene, in a bar between two doctor discussing the events of the day:

"Think he killed himself 'cause he felt guilty? Or because he was humiliated?"

"I don't know. I mean, does it really matter?"

"The time we live in, it's crazy."

"No. Look, The Crusades, the Mongol Conquest, World War I, World War II, that was crazy.
We're actually living in the most peaceful time in human history, but not that you'd know it. You know, every dumb, mean, stupid, vicious thing gets a light shown on it. The world would be a much better place, a much safer place if people'd just shut up."

A couple of days ago I woke up to the news that there was a 'terror attack' in the London Undergound. A guy pulled a knife, screamed 'This is for Syria" and stabbed 3 people before being subdued by the police. I wanted to go on a rant on Facebook, explaining why, in my opinion, this was no terror attack. France, that was a terror attack. Israel, they've known quite a few terror attacks. America, 9/11, San Bernardino, Boston bombing, all those were acts of terror. I wanted to laugh, in London a crazed man does not set off a bomb, does not pull a gun, he pulls a knife. By the time the police arrive the station is pretty much empty. It's like, so sorry mate, please, I want to cause some terror, please, so stand still while I stab you, please. (Phoebe, in The one With Ross's Wedding part II).

Of course, I hate controversy, especially anything political, so instead of posting my rant I turned over and went back to sleep. But I think the reason I felt so strongly about this is because, out of everything going on in the world right now, how can anyone call that a terror attack? Simply because the guy said it was for Syria? As one on-looker shouted, "You ain't no Muslim bruv". You don't represent Islam, or Syria. You are a crazy individual, and perhaps no one will ever know why you did what you did.

These aren't peaceful times, but perhaps it is true that the terror is simply broadcasted more widely than ever before, faster, instantaneously, you can watch an attack as it occurs in real time, the soldiers are taught to shoot and not to think first, assume that every shady character is a terrorist, it doesn't matter what the skin color is, because these days anyone can be a terrorist.

So what do you do? Do you live in fear? I thought, how weird for those 14 people who woke up in the morning, went to work and probably never even thought 'what if today is my last day on earth?' And then bam! They get shot and killed, and for what?

I can't explain it. I can't explain any of it, I can't explain the humor in a Facebook post that says, "I'm asking Santa for better presidential candidates", I can't explain why people spew hateful messages towards the current leadership, or why that leadership does not seem to be able to give the people what it needs right now, I can't explain why I get mad about the 'stop and frisk' rules in New York because I think it's racist, or why people call me a Liberal when they feel that the rise in crime is a direct result of the removal of that law.

The world is not the problem, the world has problems. People create problems, people create war, adversity, terror, hatred, racism. It all starts with man.

How can we combat that? How can we feel safe when the world feels like a terrifying place?

Here is a beautiful article I saw, addressing just that.

"15 things to do when the world feels terrifying".

Among the 15, here are my favorites:

6. Leave a copy of your favorite book in a public place.

Trust that the right person will find it.

10. Buy an extra box of tampons the next time you're out shopping.

Leave them in the ladies' room of your workplace for anyone to take. (If you're a dude and this weirds you out, talk to this 15-year-old kid about it).

*Author's note: I'm sure females can identify with this one. I was in the bathroom on campus one day, and I heard a voice from the stall next to me say, excuse me, do you have a tampon? I didn't, because I don't believe in tampons, but I was able to supply the anonymous voice with a pad (or "sanitary napkin"). It was a strangely elating feeling to be able to help out a stranger in a restroom, and I never even saw her face.

12. Go to a diner.

Order a milkshake. Tip 10 dollars.

13. Buy a pile of index cards and a sharpie.

Write down, "You are Important" or "Breathe." Carry them with you as you go about your day, leaving them in waiting room magazines, on car windshields, in elevators, in bathroom stalls. Keep one for yourself. We all need the reminder sometimes too.

14. Dig up an embarrassing photo of yourself from your teenage years.

Post it online. Laugh gently at the person you were, and celebrate the human you are now. If you're still in the process of living through your teenage years, take lots of pictures. You're doing great.

And the one that touched me the most:

15. Think. Think about the fact that the world can sometimes feel like a flaming cesspool of garbage.

Think about everyone in your zip code who is homeless and hungry, cold, terrified, and lonely. Think about global warming, handguns and assault rifles, violence on television, rape statistics, domestic abuse. Think about terrorism, both domestic and abroad. Think about petty cruelty. Think about your childhood schoolyard bully. Think about the times that you won the argument but lost the friendship.

Think about all the times you got too busy and didn't visit your relatives like you said you would or didn't give the dollar in the checkout line because times are rough and who even knows what the March of Dimes is. Think about how you don't want to think about who grows your food or makes your clothes or pieces your iPhone together, because in the world we inhabit, it's virtually impossible to exist without making some kind of ethical compromises. Think about the 7 billion other people people out there in the world. Think about the average 318,000 births today or the 133,000 deaths.

Think about how enormously complicated all of this is.

Think about how Mother Teresa accepted funds from corrupt embezzlers, how George Bush is an oil painter, a husband, a father, and a war criminal. Think about Princess Diana's life's work of charity and goodwill; remember also that she was depressed, lived through bulimia, and self-harmed. Name five celebrities, and then imagine them in the morning, with horse breath and red-rimmed eyes, stumbling to splash water on their face, just like you and me.

And remember, amidst all this, there are tons of incredibly easy, tiny ways to make the world a slightly less shitty place for everyone.

Take a deep breath of gratitude for the people out there who actually do make the world a better place. Challenge yourself to be that person, in whatever small way you can manage right now.

Photo via iStock.

Close your browser window. Shut down your laptop. Silence your cell phone. Just for a minute, before you go back to Netflix, before you text someone, before you answer more emails or meet friends for drinks or order a pizza or whatever it is that you're doing today: Just for a second, take a moment to remember that the world can be pretty magical sometimes, and you're really lucky to be alive in it.

Do what you can.

~~~

That's how we will combat the 'crazy' that is the world today. By remembering that darkness is simply the absence of light. By reminding ourselves every day that there are still good people in the world, and by making small efforts to try and be those people. 

Every time I get off the highway, there are homeless people with signs asking for money. I get nervous, because I am paranoid that the second I open my window they will try to carjack me. It bothers me that I lost the ability to trust in the goodness of humanity, that maybe these people are simply hungry and really do need the money for food, or to take care of their children. Unfortunately, there are many less-than-honest people who will break your trust and cause you to fear them and anyone like them. The key is to find a balance between complete paranoia and distrust, and being overly trusting and naive.

I had an idea that I could keep little 'to-go' bags in my car, a ziplock bag with a granola bar, mini water bottle, maybe mouthwash, gum, a few dollars, and maybe a note with some inspirational words. I could give it to these people when they walk by my window. Maybe they won't go hungry that day.

I'm sure you have ideas like this too. So go with it. Instead of thinking, it's probably a stupid idea and they will laugh and throw it back in my face, think that maybe out there, someone will get your message and feel touched, and grateful for the kind stranger who helped them out. 

Maybe you will be the one to restore someone's faith in humanity. And along the way, maybe you will even restore your own.

Turn that frown upside down

Tacky, I know.

I seem to always write when I have a cold, like "hey world, I feel like crap today, just thought I should let you know!". Not sure how you can get a cold in warm climate, but it happens.

Things haven't been going so well for me lately, or rather, I have let my control slip and things got into disarray. It is all how you look at it. Is my world falling apart, or am I just not holding it together strongly enough?

I'm part of a 'get fit' facebook group (who isn't?) The moderator is posting small exercises to do each day, to get people moving. Today it was simply, go outside, enjoy the beauty. So I did.

First, I went running. It was raining all morning, so I thought, how appropriate, I will run in the rain like in all romantic movies. But by the time I got dressed and went outside it had stopped raining. It was still nice and breezy, and I had a good run/jog/walk. There was a moment there when the wind picked up and I was running, it felt like I was controlling it.

I lit the menorah and enjoyed some chanuka songs.

Then, I went to an awesome outdoor free Avraham Fried concert, did I mention free? The music was so beautiful, and like I've heard mentioned before, Avraham Fried is such an aidel yiddishe guy, it's a pleasure to watch him sing. I felt like, hey there's Avremel Friedman, I see him all the time in Crown Heights, we're practically neighbors. It was nice to see tons of Jews in one place.

Then, I sat around drinking tea feeling sick and sorry for myself. But that's not the end, my friends.

My sister texted me for my address, and I'm pretty sure she's gonna send me chanuka cookies. Then we texted back and forth for like 45 minutes, and she was being really nice and supportive about what I'm going through. Which is, as my mom would put it, 'a miracle' because we used to hate each other and could barely say anything without throwing out nasty words. So ya, I guess family is not that bad.

All in all, I think things are looking up. And I attribute that to my attitude and my mindset, since nothing really changed since yesterday. But I feel different. More hopeful, more positive, like I actually want to move forward, and instead of waiting for things to fall into place, I will actively take the reins and make it happen.

Out of place

Trust. It's a fragile thing. It is easily broken.

Did you hear, Mark Zuckerberg and wife had a baby girl? Mazal tovs are in order. I mean, she is half Jewish. Just not the right half.

He and his wife wrote a letter to their baby daughter, expressing their wishes and hopes for what the world would be like when she grows up. I think it reads politically, rather than a sweet letter from dad to his daughter.

Regardless, I thought I would try one.

Dear unborn children of mine,

I want to say nice things like, I am so excited for your future, or I will be the best mom ever and love you the most. But I know that is not true.

I will try not to scream so much, like my parents did. I will try not to get annoyed at you when I am overtired and you are not listening, or when you wipe your grubby little hands all over the nice clean counter I just wiped down. I want you to understand the value of money, but also to never worry that we can't support you. I want you to call me in middle of the night when you screw up, even if it makes me feel like I didn't teach you right. Realistically, I know I may not be the most patient person, I know I may very well say things I will regret, I know I may not screw you up like my parents did to me, but with my very own errors, and I know there will be times when you will want to run away. So will I. Sometimes it is so tempting to leave when things get tough, but my mom never did that to me, and I promise not to do that to you. Every time I wanted to scream at my parents, "I hate you, and you never should have had kids!" my mother reminded me that apparently I chose them. So my advice to you, kiddo, is don't choose me. Run the other way!

I don't think these letters mean anything, because they are all unrealistic. You can say anything you want to a baby or an unborn child, but you will never truly know how things will be until they are.

I know how sucky it feels to answer the phone when my brother calls, thinking maybe he is interested in my life, but of course he only calls when he needs something from me. And then to do everything in my power to get him what he needs, thinking maybe then he will love me.

I sure showed him, showing up at his thanksgiving dinner where over 40 people attended, many of whom did not even know my brother personally, and yet he didn't think to text me to invite me. I said "thanks for inviting me" and he said "I didn't invite you but come again." I showed him, rifling through his kitchen, drunk and trying to find and steal (is it still called stealing if it's from family?) the green tea kettle my mom left there which I asked him if I could have because I was sick but had no burner to heat up water for tea, but apparently they "misplaced" it. If I were a tea kettle, where would I be? I never found it. I strutted around telling everyone 'that's my brother' like it actually meant something.

Ah, family. Sometimes I get homesick and tell my father that I want to come home, but then he reminds me that every time I come home I end up being miserable and wondering why I made the same mistake again.

I chase after these things respectfully called love, acceptance and belonging, knowing very well that they must come from within, not without (and picturing Will Smith saying, "without what?").  


I've been trying to get back into writing, so I tried some writing prompts. One was called, Out of Place. "When have you felt out of place? How can you capture that experience in words?" This is what I came up with:

~~~~~

She told me to ask for "The Firehouse", so feeling like an idiot I made my way to the front of the bus, and asked with uncertainty to be let off at the firehouse. I was sure the driver would tell me he's never heard of it, and I wouldn't know how to respond because I've never been there and I'm not very good with directions. But he simply nodded and said sure, it's along his route. Like, he knows. He's been there. They've all been there, I'm the only outsider in this little town. The bus slowed down and I gripped the back of the seat, trying very hard not to go flying through the front window. Definitely not the best way to exit a bus. I looked around me trying to locate #17, feeling lost and confused. Everyone had a chance to settle in, but I've never even seen the place. There are boxes with my name on it somewhere in the basement, but that's about it. The house looked so small from the outside, which is why they called it the "little green house". Definitely not big enough for 5 occupants. Six, now. I didn't bother knocking, I know they never lock their door. They never ask me to call first, they know we all just come and go, showing up and leaving when we please. Literally an "open home", but not in the meaningful sense. I tried to smile when I walked in the front door, to appear curious, enthusiastic, or simply interested in seeing their new abode. But I hated it the second I walked in. The clutter, the mess, the walls closing in on me reminding me why I left in the first place. Not this house, I didn't get a chance to leave yet. But I will. And soon. This definitely didn't feel like coming home.

~~~

To be fair, it did get easier after that first time. I still don't think of it as home, but merely "the place where some of my family members reside", only that's way to long to say. Also, after being away for so long it is nice to seek comfort in my parents' arms. The child in me wishes it could have been different, but the adult in me reminds myself that it is my turn now, to create my own home, my own world. 

You'd think I would be psyched, living in 80 degree weather, with my own apartment, a car, a pool in my backyard, living 15 minutes away from the beach and getting to watch magnificent sunsets every day. 

But I feel out of place. Like I don't belong anywhere. Like something is missing. Like I'm searching for something. It's not like looking for a lost object, because then you'd know what you were looking for, you just wouldn't know where to look. In this case, I don't know what it is, or where it is, or how to find it. 

I hope one day I will be driving home, and turn onto my street and feel a familiarity, like this is where I belong.

Just breathe

I inhale slowly, like he told me to, letting it flood my senses. It burns my throat slightly, but I don't cough. I am in control. I feel it spreading through me, my tongue tingling, I take another hit, but I feel nothing, or everything, I feel too much and I can't stop, I can't turn it off ever, I sip some wine and swirl it around on my tongue, swallowing, my head feels pressurized, everything is magnified by ten, but still I can't forget, I can't shut off my thoughts. I suggest more wine but he says I've had enough. I mumble under my breath, I think they can hear me but I'm not communicating, I can barely hold my head up, my thoughts coming faster than usual, melancholy, depressed, they say this is a downer, oh I feel it. I am ruining their vibe, but I can't help it. He tells me to go watch a funny movie but I don't want to be alone. I stare at the moon and mention its brightness, they laugh at me, I don't know why I didn't mean it to be funny. They carry on a conversation but all I can think about is G-d, what my purpose is in this world, and how I can be a giving person without getting hurt. I am aware that I am saying too much, I should stop talking now, I really should. I know I should just go to bed, but I don't want this weird night to end, and yet I know I will wake up tomorrow and pretend it never happened. He asks me "Are you good?" and I smile and nod and tell him yes, I'm good. And in a strange way, I think I am. 

On Body Image

I thought it was just me. But it isn't.

I sit on the couch with an old classmate looking through high school pics and reminiscing about the 'good 'ole days'. After all, it has been quite some time since high school. But the more we talk, the more it seems that we had a very different high school experience. While she went to a high school where she was young, thin, popular and had lots of friends, I was the awkward overweight teen who stood out in all the pictures, had a bad haircut, and had a hard time making friends. With every picture came more regrets, more shame, more self-hatred. The best way to explain it is that I was mad at "her" for being overweight and missing out on all the experiences, even though her was me and it wasn't really my fault.

"Oh my gosh, you lost so much weight, you look emaciated!" which is her way of saying 'you look hot and skinny', but the word emaciated conjures up images of bodies of people in the holocaust, and why would you want to look like that? But apparently thin is in.

Even famous people hate their bodies, apparently. But the question is, why? Is being thin going to make you happier? Looking like Brad Pitt going to make you more attractive? Will changing anything about yourself going to make you into a better person?

The problem is, if you can't figure out how to change your thoughts, control your mind, change your way of thinking, you can change your body, but inside you will still hate everything about you.

On Flying

We don't live in fear, we don't board a plane and wonder if it'll be our very last plane ride, if we will be hijacked midair. We roll our eyes and take off our shoes and go through security, bemoaning the liquid carry-on rules, the increasing baggage fees and the decreasing baggage limits, we roam the airports in search of electricity so we can stay connected, that is our one goal in life as we watch our batteries drain with fear in our eyes to never be without. But we are always watching, on our guard, alert. Or we are being watched, as we leave our bag for a second to walk over to the garbage can, and we know there is someone wondering if we will come back. We imagine saying "Oh no sir, that is not my bag," as we walk away, slowly, casually, imagining the bag blowing up behind us and leaving chaos and fear in our wake.

No? Is that only me?

I watch the travelers, wearing leggings and baggy clothing, traveling gear, nothing fancy, our hair and makeup and basic hygiene put on hold as we travel for 3, 5, 10 hours at a time, we confine ourselves to claustrophobic seats and even smaller bathrooms, our internal clocks screwed up as we cross time zones and date lines, getting to our destinations at ungodly hours and being forced to perform, to smile and hug and greet people and be a generally polite human being when all we want to do is scream that this is not human, and please I just want some sleep!

There's the safety video that is meant to catch people's attention and leaves me with raised eyebrows and headshake. A nun, really?

At least water and oxygen is still free. Barely. 

Wait, that's your BROTHER?!

On one of my Facebook stalking routes I came across a profile picture of a pretty girl and a pretty boy in a pretty picture with sunlight slanting over them. Someone commented on the picture, "And, who may I ask is this with [you]?" Someone else replied, "That's her brother." I would have been more taken aback had I not seen the same guy in another picture with another girl whom I'm friends with. (I have to say, he's a good looking guy. But that's not my point.) My point is, why would you pose in a rather intimate picture with your brother?

I saw another picture of a shirtless guy and a girl in a bikini with the caption "Look who I came across!" Apparently, also brother and sister, and if I understood correctly from the comments, they were both backpacking in Europe (separately) and chanced upon each other, prompting a sibling reunion. If the half naked thing wasn't enough, the siblings were commenting back and forth on each other's bodies, saying things like "I look so fat, look at my bloated stomach, but you look great!"

Okay, what we learn from this is that I have too much free time on my hands and should stop stalking random people on Facebook.

But seriously, I was never that close with any of my brothers, one of whom can't stand me for some reason. I'm not saying that the way I act with my family is normal, but neither is being overly close to your brother to the point of raising eyebrows.

I recently moved to an area where 2 of my (single) brothers live. I barely see them, but when I do they pretty much ignore me. Now, I know this is an unfortunate holdover from the somewhat dysfunctional childhood we had, but to me it's just normal.

I was feeling pretty homesick so I kind of sort of asked my brother if he wanted to hang out, and I was not surprised by his response of "I don't like you, why would I want to hang out with you?"

I am all for having normal healthy relationships with your brothers, but if you choose to post a picture of the two of you as your profile picture, please do us stalkers a favor and write #sibs.

I don't know how

I don't know how
to separate the private from the public
so I just say nothing.

I don't know how
to bare my soul
to leave everything behind on the stage

I don't know how
to close the divide
between what I'm feeling and what I'm saying

If only I could be that brave
if only I could be that good

if only,

My grandma calls to ask how I'm doing,
but there is so much we don't say,
were taught not to say from a young age.

My father says
he barely speaks to his mom anymore
because after all the things we are not allowed to talk about
there isn't much left to say.

We couldn't mention when my dad got his first cell phone,
because he was clearly too poor to have one.

We didn't talk about the new house,
don't tell them you are unemployed,
let's keep the transparent paper-thin charade going
as long as we can,
so they believe we are something
instead of losers.

I can't really say
that I spent 4 years in college
with not much to show for it.

Well
I'm sick of being a loser,
It's hard to move past all the
family drama,
all the things we never said.

These people,
these performers
speak about racism,
speak about love
and hate
and self-loathing

They speak of  broken homes
and broken hearts,
cut up bodies,

they speak of themselves,
they open their hearts and souls
they dig deep
and use their lives
to wow audiences and judges.

I want to be one of those persons,
I want to perform
not just write
in a dark dusty corner
forgotten.

I want to invoke tears
applause
feelings of awe

I want to feel that I too
can share from deep inside

But there is so much we do not say,
it's like locked up
in a box
deep inside

I don't know how to let it out.

Stop and smell the rainbows

"Come outside," he says.

Really? Now? In the middle of all this? What is it that you need that is so urgent it can't wait until I'm off the phone, until I'm done cleaning up other people's messes.

What do you want now when I'm busy, when everything is messed up and I'm trying to deal with it?

"Come with me," he says.

I follow him outside, impatiently barking at him. "What do you need?"

"Look," he says. And points up at the sky.

The voice in my ear fades away, as everything slows down. I stare up at the most magnificent rainbow coming out of the clouds.

"It was much bigger before," he says.

I smile. I pause, and take a breath before everything speeds up again.

There is always time for beauty.

Ocean Breath

The path leads straight into the water
it's as clear as day
the only way to go is down,
follow the white broken lines
follow the cars
just follow,
but you're happy to,
the sun and wind in your hair
the ocean spread out before you
as the road you take goes straight into its depths,
it seems
you speed up,
awaiting
anticipating
the salty air permeating
your being
you want to be breathe water
you want to be the water
fluid,
in motion,
overwhelmingly beautiful
breathtakingly wonderous
you sense no danger
as the wide open road
propels you foward
and the ocean welcomes you
with open arms
but at the last second
it curves,
you turn the wheel
follow the white broken lines
around the bend
the foliage
obscuring the water
the beauty you see no more
you mourn its loss
but you know it wasn't meant to be.

Muscle Memory

I thought I had forgotten how to run, but I guess my muscles remember. Vaguely, but they do understand how it works.

Oh how they ache, I can barely sit or stand without feeling the burn. There's a great path by the canal near where I live, it's 2.5 miles around.

I got halfway around and could barely breath but there is really no stopping when you have to get back to the other side of the canal. Except there is a bridge in the middle but I decided not to cheat.

As I was walking the last leg, a woman passed me on the trail, jogging at a slow pace. My competitive side kicked in, so I jogged past here and then switched back to walking. So she got past me.

Then I did it again a few times, leapfrogging her just to psych her out. It got her to move faster, but then I gave up.

You win. Game over, I can't breath.

But then I got home and jumped into the pool, so it was all worth it.

We hold each other

A beating heart. That is what we were each given.

A heart keeps us alive, until it stops beating.

A heart causes you to feel.

To feel pain, to feel joy.

To feel fear. Loneliness. Uncertainty.

We hold each other because that is all we can do, the more we hear, the more pain we feel as each video comes scrolling through news feeds and we want to block it out, stick fingers in our ears and pretend it is not happening, but it is. It is and you can't stop it, you can't stop the pain.

You can't stop the violence, as you hold yourself, arms crossed over your body, rocking with the tears, wishing it would stop.

*People judged us they couldn't see the connection
When I look at you, it's like I'm looking back at my reflection
I don't see nothing different, our pigments they coincide
We hold each other so tight they couldn't break us if they tried

What causes one person to feel the pain of another across the globe, cry with families of Jews killed in our land, soldiers ripe in years, babies even, stabbed to death for protecting what is theirs.

It makes no sense, but all we can do is keep holding on and pray for the redemption.

*Lyrics from "Hold Each Other", a song by A Great Big World

I want to get better

When I get a cold, I get it bad. Really bad. Wake up with aches and shakes everywhere can't move no interest in anything bad. Boxes of tissues and bottles of cold medicine bad. Wondering if I'll ever get my sense of smell back and how many people I am annoying with my nose blowing bad.

I finally went to the doctor after the pain in my sinuses became too much. I was convinced that I had a sinus infection, having gotten them all the time when I was little. I remember once when I was about 5 years old, I was so sick I couldn't even put on my socks, I was sitting on the bed in a fog and my mother had to do it for me. Pain in my sinuses clogs my whole head, the pressure makes it feel like my eyes will pop out, like I'm underwater in a pool filled with chlorine, like something is compressing my face.

So I marched in there ready to tell the doctor that I already diagnosed myself and please write me a prescription for antibiotics, thank you very much.

But after a few questions she announced that I do not present with a sinus infection, I simply don't have the right symptoms. Damn, I knew I should have answered yes to 'Do you have a fever, sore throat?'. Just give me the drugs and let me be on my merry way!

She did give me drugs. She prescribed steroids as an antihistamine to dry up my sinuses and allergy medicine to prevent it from building up again. She said in a week I should be good as new.

She also informed me that what I have is common, and some people live with it for months before going to a doctor. This? I thought. Why, why would anyone want to live with such pain, such discomfort?

But we do it every day, we have an ache in the back, foot, an itch on the arm, stomach, we feel minor pain and we chalk it up to lifting boxes, or nothing, or something that can't be explained. We have twitching muscles and stiff joints and we shrug and say eh, that's life, what can you do.

Well, you can do something, if you want to get help, if you want to get better. I have found that it is seemingly much easier to do nothing then to attempt to resolve your situation, because as a pessimist I anticipate failure as inevitable. And why bother trying when you will fail anyway.

BUT what if you could make a change and help yourself, make your situation better? Shouldn't you at least try?

I could have lived without my sense of smell, or with a box of tissues as company. I've done it most of my life. My family used to make fun of me for blowing my nose so loud. But now when I wake up in the morning with barely any tissues on the floor beside my bed, and a clear nose that I can breath from, I am grateful to have gotten the help I needed to get better.

It's not always easy to change your situation, but imagine how good it will feel if you try, and instead of failing, think about this- what if you succeed?

After darkness comes...lightning?

I'm sitting in my car at midnight and I know all the stories of people being shot or jumped outside late at night, and despite the warnings in my head I can't go inside. I lock my doors, turn off the ignition and just sit there, listening to "Roses" by The Chainsmokers over and over again while I watch the most breathtaking lightning show taking place in the sky, and I can't go inside, if I could I would sleep out here, sleep on a cloud so I could be closer to the light, I would stay here forever to watch this sight that takes my breath away and makes my heart pound in awe of what the Creator has done.

I can't go inside, because I lied, I lied when I said that everything is great, I lie because you probably couldn't handle the truth and I probably can't handle the truth. The truth is, that you can change your job, your location, your situation, your friends, you can change all the facts about your life but you cannot change yourself, and as I already knew, wherever you go, there you are. It sounds depressing, right? What if you are so sick of yourself, what if you are so boring that a guy can't stand to talk to you for more than an hour and says "Let me know if you want to do this again sometime" which you know is code for "You are so boring and that was a waste of my time" so clearly you bore people to death, and the bottom line is that you will die alone.

Your mom says that isn't true and that you have a lot going for you, but what does she know, she's been married to the same guy for 35 years and she claims she only married him because he was the only Jewish guy she knew and she knew she was supposed to marry a Jew.

What do you want to know? What do you want me to tell you? I could tell you every single crappy detail of my new life, but what would be the point? You can't help me, and who the hell reads this crap anyway?

I had to say that.

I'm sorry. (Not really, but maybe that's what you need to hear. If you are reading this.)

My first instinct was to run to an 'ex' and beg for validation, please, tell me what you ever saw in me, tell me that I'm interesting, and funny, and smart and worth being around, tell me that I'm likeable, that I'm lovable, that I'm not boring as hell or broken, that I'm not gonna die alone. But what would that do? Best case, he'd probably say something lame and generic to try to make me feel better, worst case he'd be a jackass and say something mean. Or ignore me altogether. Then I would be left to peel my shame off the ground, the last little shred of dignity that I may have had left.

No, I'd rather stay up alone and wallow.

And sit outside watching the lightning, waiting for some creepy killer to knock on my window. Or do they even knock?

In an effort to try to cheer me up:

Thank you and goodnight.

My Bubby, with love

I'm sick. I hate when I have a cold, my body feels weak and tired and all I want to do is go to bed.

But my body is betraying me, because so many things are going right in my life. Thank G-d.

I have a new job, new car, new apartment, new city/state. I picked up and moved and started a whole new life all on my own, and with G-d's help everything is working out.

I woke up this morning to the most gorgeous view outside the window of my grandparents' condo. I love spending time with them, although when I was younger I did not appreciate it.

They are old, and they are wise. And they take care of their family. I felt that especially today.

My grandfather helped me with my new car, walked me through the whole process and was with me every step of the way. He was patient with me. He explained everything.

The more time I spend with them, the more I regret having brushed them off when I was younger. I thought they were boring. I thought their habits of saving everything, from plastic cutlery to peanut tins was funny. I thought they were old and slow.

It took time and patience for me to realize what a treasure I have, and how much I should appreciate them while I still can.

My father grew up in a house with 4 boys. If they did have any emotions, surely they never showed it. The only one who apparently 'lived freely' was Uncle Neal. He was the fun one, the adventurous one, the one full of life and laughter. He wrapped himself around a tree driving drunk when he was 25.

Growing up, I learned that tears meant you were weak.

I learned that saying "I love you" makes you vulnerable.

I learned that opening a door to trust brings pain.

I learned to stuff my feelings deep inside, to bite or be bitten, to put up a wall to keep others out.

A lot has changed over the years. We aren't the people we once were. We agreed to bury the past, make peace with it so we could move on. Things are different now.

I never saw my grandmother as a very motherly being. She was simply my grandmother. She sent me cards on my birthday. She came to every graduation. She called to say hello and see how I was doing.

I never felt anything. I didn't know how to feel, at least not to them.

I saw her in the kitchen today, wearing an apron, preparing breakfast. She left me a glass of orange juice in the fridge. She made me a bowl of oatmeal.

I noticed a tube of lipstick on the counter. Its girlishness seemed out of place in this kitchen.

Then I looked around. At the heart-shaped card from a student of hers, where she volunteers to tutor. At the pictures of all of us, her grandkids and great-grandkids. At her knickknacks, her 'Edith Bunker' cookbook, at the charm and personality of her kitchen.

I looked at all the patchwork quilts she made over the years, and all the lives she's touched. Sometimes I feel like I'm not good enough, that she could have done better in grandchildren. I wonder if she wishes I had gone to Harvard or Yale, instead of City College. I wonder if she is embarrassed to introduce me to her friends, because I am religious.

She blows me a kiss as I say goodbye.

It's hard to say "I love you" but I think she knows.

New York

My feet are freezing in my tights and boots, and my body is all confused. I should be in Florida right now, but here I am, in New York, the greatest city in the world.

I miss it, I really do. I miss the buses, the noise, the pollution, I miss the crowds, the NYPD Blue, I miss the comfortable feeling, like a favorite old sweater, that this place gets me, that it is me, and will always be a part of me.

I'm excited to tell people that I moved to Florida, and I'm happy there. I'm in New York for a visit, to see my friends and be here for Yom Tov. But then I'm going back, back to Florida where I live now.

Yes I live in Florida now. I have a job and  a car and an apartment with a pool. Do I sound all grown up? Cuz that's how I feel.

I will always be New York, you can't take that away from me. But right now I can't wait to go back to the Land of Sun.

Skating

My heart was in my throat for the first half hour as I relearned how to ice skate. It's not something I forget, but every time I feel the panic anew, the unsteady feeling beneath my feet, the fear of falling, the longing to be wearing shoes again on steady ground.

I'm not a pro in any sense, yet after going around a few times, I felt myself easing up, moving with the music, enjoying myself thinking, maybe I can do this without falling embarrassingly on my bottom.

I didn't fall once, thank G-d, but every time I witnessed someone else fall, I reminded myself to not be cocky because that could have been me.

The ones who fell almost immediately got back up and kept going, either for fear of being trampled of simply because they refused to admit defeat. We will all fall at some point in life, it is inevitable. What we must remember is to never stay down, to get back up as fast as you can, muster as much dignity as possible, and keep going.

I weaved in and out of skaters trying to avoid a collision. This is nothing like driving, I thought. I'm pretty confident on the road, and comfortable enough in the fast lane that I pass plenty of people, and get annoyed when people pass me because I'm slow. But on the ice I don't really know how to stop without slamming into a wall, so the possibly of bumping into someone in my path is pretty high. People will always get in your way, cut in front of you, try to trip you up, but you have to swerve, to avoid them, to not get tangled up and not let it distract you from your goal.

There were some pretty experienced skaters on the ice, some much younger than me. I tried to go faster, even considered doing some fancy tricks, but alas that was sure to make me fall and feel like a big idiot. So I stuck to the 'safe' route, simply skating in a circle. You won't succeed if you don't try, that may be true, but you also have to know your limits. When you first learn to swim, most often you don't do so in the deep end. You start slow in the kiddy pool. When learning a new skill, you start at the bottom and work your way up. Yes, it's often frustrating to see people far surpassing you, and wishing you could be as good as or better than them. And maybe one day you will be. But envy and self-pity will get you no where, but hard work and determination will.

If you want to be great at something, you have to give it 100%.

What I learned tonight is that skating is not for me, and I'd much rather sit it out and watch the kids have a good time.

Never Alone

I hold it/her in my hand and speak to it/her softly. Why must men use male chickens and women use female ones, I wonder. I no longer think of it as an 'it', but a shivering mass of fear. We have one thing in common, this chickie and I. We are both afraid.

I watch the blood and gore, the stench of excrement stifling, holding a paper over my mouth so as not to accidentally inhale any feathers. PETA makes a spectacle out of this every year, but I'd like to believe that there really is no suffering. That for these chickens, death is a cleansing process, a relief, that they meet their maker in peace, having served their purpose here on earth.

I hold the chicken in my hand as I swing, and I wonder where I belong. As much as this age-old ritual is for the purpose of atonement, for me it is also a family ritual. I recall years of going to kaporos the night before yom kippur in middle of the night, my brothers holding the chickens in their gloved hands and swinging it for us. I have never touched a chicken in my life until today.

But this year has been a lot about firsts for me. I earned my bachelor's degree. I will soon own my first car. I've moved cities. I took a rode trip. I held a chicken in my (gloved) hands. While some of these things may seem ordinary to some, to me it is a big deal. I am growing up. I am asserting my independence and conquering my fears.

Although I tend to be a 'loner', one of my biggest fears is being alone. Not physically. I don't mind being home alone, even enjoy the peace and quiet. But throughout everything I go though in life, I want to know that there are people I can share it with, be it friends or family or a special someone. I admit I have made foolish decisions at times, simply based on the emotion of loneliness. I do realize that it is better to be alone then to be with someone who makes you feel bad about yourself. But I also realize now that the feelings of inferiority come from within, not without. No one can make you feel anything that you don't already feel inside. Maybe their personality brings out the worst in you, but it cannot be attributed to them.

I sit on the floor with my back to the washing machine trying to get some privacy as the kids come in and out climbing over me. I am enjoying this, my new normal. I chose this. I am happy here. I chat with my father even as I hear him playing Word Whomp in the background and he denies playing a game while talking to me on the phone. We talk longer than normal, and it is nice, no tension, no pressure, no ulterior motive, just a chance to speak to my father and enjoy his company.

I get a call on the other line and see it's my mother. My father thinks she is calling me because she is worried that he doesn't want to talk to me anymore. I remember when I was younger people would ask me if I was closer with my mother or my father, and I remember thinking that was a dumb question. I am equally close with both of my parents, I have different relationships with each of them.

After I hang up with my father I call my mother and we talk for awhile. There's a comfort in hearing their voices.

Sometimes I think of G-d as a 'friend' in the sense that I have conversations with Him in my head and think we are 'good'. Then I start thinking how serious Yom Kippur is, and how holy it is and I get worried. Maybe I'm not worthy of good things, maybe I have more to atone for then I first thought.

Let's say it really is this simple: You are never alone. I am never alone. We are never alone. Sometimes I think G-d is 'out to get me'. I get mad at the way things turn out and wonder why He can't do for me what I think I need. But let's say I'm wrong. Maybe this is exactly what I need, this growing up and breaking free, this cutting my strings so I can fly. This letting go so I can move on and grow up and discover the world on my own.

It's scary, yes. I cried, I sobbed at the thought of having to buy a car by myself. The thought of going to a dealership by myself was terrifying. But then a funny thing happened and it all worked out. You might call that luck, I call it G-d's intervention.

We might think He's 'out to get us' but remember that He does know best. Remind yourself of that in a few months when everything is working out, when everything is coming together when just a few short months ago you could have sworn that your life was falling apart.

Sometimes things have to fall apart in order for good things to fall into place. Cosmic shifts. I don't know if I believe all those sappy quotes but what I do know is that I don't need you. I don't need you. I don't need you. I don't need you.

Maybe I don't believe that. There are days that I fall back into old patterns, fall back on old relationships, ones so old and covered in dust there are no good feelings to fall back on, no matter how hard I try to drudge them up. But I remind myself that it's okay, I don't need that anymore. Throw down your crutches, let go of your security blanket, ride out the storm on your own.

You are not alone.

Get up and go

The rain hasn't stopped in days. They wave their hands and say, "Well, it's hurricane season, you know". No, I don't know. I barely know anything about this place, I can't turn the corner without my GPS. Each morning I step gingerly over puddles to get to my car, and each evening I must wipe my feet thoroughly before entering the house to avoid muddy footprints.

I read about the earthquake in Chile as the walls shook from claps of thunder this morning, and I truly felt like it was a day to stay in bed. I wanted to call in "Not interested in coming to work today due to the gloomy weather" but I didn't think that would fly.

I love driving. I love the freedom of being able to get in my car and drive to work, or to stores or aimlessly, to be unchained. I left my old life behind and created a new one, and I'm happy. If part of that means leaving my friends behind while I try to figure things out, then I'm sorry. Sometimes when people ask how I am I really have nothing to say.

A professor with whom I was close recommended me for a research project and I am beyond flattered. He said that I stood out from all of the hundreds of students he taught, and then he made me promise that I wouldn't get stuck here. I wanted to play dumb and ask him what's wrong being here, but I think I know.

I know, because I am terribly afraid of failure. I know, because it is so much easier to lay low, stay under the radar, take each day as it comes, live off the grid, and any other term that is meant to describe not being active, not trying, not living the way life is meant to be lived.

Before, I was like a balloon filled with air, filled so much that I was ready to burst at any second, and coming here was like making a hole and letting the air out, getting rid of the tension, being able to breathe again. It was the best thing I ever did.

I'm here because of a friend, a person with whom I hope to be friends with for a long long time. But I also know that I can't stay here forever, at least not at this job or at this level in life. Soon I must move on.

I do want to promise that I won't get stuck here. I want to make a vow to myself, that I will set goals for myself and achieve them, that I will figure out what I want to do long term and work towards getting there, that I will find my passion and go for it, that I will go back to school if I have to and never stop learning.

I want to promise future me that I will not only try but that I will succeed, that in years from now I will look back at this moment and know that it was a turning point, that I made a decision to change things and then I did.

But although I know all this to be attainable, I also know I am too scared to try, too scared of failure to do anything.

I did try. In my own way. I drove to an abandoned looking building and circled the block twice, didn't go inside. Turns out it was the wrong place so I gave up and went home.

This is comfortable, this waking up in a new place, this going to a job where I barely have to think and there isn't much for me to do and still I get paid, this having dinner be cooked for me, having everything I need at my fingertips, having new family and friends to annoy and enjoy. I love it.

And yet, I know I'm hiding from life.

I don't want to break the news to him because I know he'll be disappointed when I leave. He's so happy to have me on board, so excited to show me what his plans are for the place, how much the company will grow in the next few months, years even. We're partners again and I love that. But this is holding me back from really living. I'm just pretending right now. Laying low, taking it easy, not thinking.

I think a part of me knows that me staying is not for him, but for me. Because sometimes, it is so much easier to stay, then to get up and go.

Confessions from someone who's never been in love

I've never been 'in love'. I abhor the term, as it conjures up romantic chic-flicks where guy meets girl, guy falls in love with girl, guy and girl live happily ever after. Or something equally as purge.

I've come to some realizations. I used to think of relationships as 'real' or 'fake'. If a relationship ended, especially if it ended badly, I labeled it as a 'fake' and claimed it basically never existed. It was easier to look at it that way then to deal with the pain of liking someone, or someone liking me, and then those feelings disappearing. My mind would go through mental stress of 'why don't they like me' or 'what did I do' and that was what hurt me, cut me down, made me feel like I wasn't worth it. But despite those feelings, I can now acknowledge that to get to that hurt place, there must have been a 'real' relationship to begin with, at least to some extent of reality.

Here are my life's lessons:

* You learn something from every person, no matter how shitty they treat you. Years down the line you will be doing something or thinking something and suddenly remember who taught you that. You will silently thank them for adding something to your life.

* When it's done, it's done. Walk away, don't stick around for more pain.

* Be with someone who wants to be with you.

* No relationship is better than a dysfunctional one.

* Food is never the answer.

* Don't start the year with them if you can't finish it with them.

I don't believe in 'settling'. You will meet a guy, and he will be perfect for you. Not perfect. Perfect for you. Sometimes they seem so perfect on paper, or they have all the qualities you are looking for but you just can't stand them, or they make you feel bad about yourself, or every time you think of them you get jealous because of the life they are living which seems so much better than yours. Sometimes a guy can seem perfect and you really really want it to be him but you know that it is not and will never be him.

Because somewhere out there is your perfect, and if you just hold out a little longer... I know you will meet him. And all the waiting will have been worth it.

So we all had burgers

We sit on bar stools at night
eating burgers
and sausages
the juice dripping down my chin
trying to keep the onions from sliding out of the bun,
thinking
THIS
this is it,
these people
this time
this place,
here I have found a home.

So we all had burgers late at night,
my third dinner
I think,
can't quite remember
it was an exhausting day
but I get to come home
to family,
not by blood
but by choice.

Tomorrow is September 11,
I think wistfully of the towers,
kinda miss seeing them
on the horizon
I see them in pictures now
and old TV shows
and once a year on the news
and media
telling us
screaming at us
begging us
to never forget.

And although it's a day
that some among us were not around for
and many cannot remember
because fourteen years have now passed,
it's a day that we cannot
will not
won't let us
forget.

So we sit up late at night
eating burgers,
complaining about the traffic jam
responsibilities
exhaustion
menial day to day conversation
that mean nothing
and everything
just an all-American burger
in an all-American land.

A celebration
dedication
commemoration
of freedom.

Every Day

She always used to cut her hair
really short
said she liked it better that way,
more comfortable under her shaitel.

I always had the feeling that
she didn't mean it
that she just said it
because she stopped believing she was beautiful.

She finally decided to grow it out
was excited to see how long
it would grow,
to get it cut and styled, colored.

But then she cut it all off
when the cancer came,
decided not to wait for it to fall out
in tufts.

Said she's okay with it,
she's losing weight
because she can't stomach anything
she sees that as a plus.

I watch her fumbling with her mask,
she has to wear it on the plane.
I wonder what the other passengers think,
if they're dumb enough to think they could catch her germs.

I wonder about the air she breethes
and if it's killing her slowly,
or if the cancer is doing that
all by itself.

I see her eyes
above the mask
they're smiling at me,
telling me that she is okay.

For once I want to be the one
to comfort her
and not the other way around,
tell her everything will be okay.

I lay next to her trying to sleep
the TV flickering
she asks if it's bothering me
if I can't sleep.

But her presence is comforting,
I fall asleep wishing
I could wake up next to her
every day.

Super Girl

He offered me a Hello Kitty sticker.

I told him I hated Hello Kitty, did he have anything else.

He informed me that all the other stickers were boy stickers.

Despite trying to explain to him that stickers are gender neutral and I can like a 'boy' sticker, he didn't agree.

Then he dug this from his stash:

I put it on my laptop to remind myself that no matter what the world tells me, I don't have to be a 'girl'. I can be anything I want to be.

#BreakingStereotypes

What will it take

Open up your heart, and feel.

Open up your mind, and think.

What will it take to put yourself aside and appreciate the beauty around you?

It is hard to listen to a piece of music that touches your soul, when you are attracted to the one who sings it but can never have him.

It is hard to appreciate an artfully written essay when you are entirely jealous of the one who wrote it because she isn't you. Or you aren't her.

It is difficult to open yourself up and feel, to allow life to come inside, when you are mad that you aren't more like __________, that you haven't accomplished _______ yet, and maybe never will.

It is hard to watch someone else living the life you were meant to have, to see your dreams slipping away, and do nothing to catch them. 

Rain

They said the rain would stop, but I didn't believe them.

We walked along the canal, watched the flock of birds eating lunch. The fat waddling turkeys, the sad skinny-looking pigeons, ahhh a taste of home. The iguanas, and the pelicans. They moved aound each other peacefully, no pushing or shoving, a far cry from New York birds.

It was peaceful by the water, a nice breeze keeping us cool. We sat for awhile, talking as the winds got stronger and we felt the first rain drops. I thought we had awhile to get back, but they didn't. As we started walking the sky opened up and the rain came pouring down, soaking me instantly, my glasses a mass of spots.

We ran. We laughed, breathing hard, my wet curls falling in my face, no chance of seeing properly through my glasses, but it was glorious. We slowed to a walk and enjoyed the spray.

They said the rain would stop, but I didn't believe them.

Five minutes later is was gone, the sun coming out and drying us up, as if it had never rained at all.

The price of freedom

He said I could pick any car that I wanted.

Any car?

I made a beeline for the red one.

It drives beautifully, I was going 55 and it felt like I was floating.

I feel like I'm bleeding money, spending it faster than I'm making it. Which makes sense, since I'm not working at the moment, and good things in life cost money.

I used to scoff at people, the ones who wanted the best job, the best car, the best phone, everything costs money so instead of resigning themselves to spending less, they simply found a way to spend more. I guess I saw it as arrogance, but now I'm learning that it's mostly about lifestyle- you want to live and spend a certain way, you have to find a way to do that. I'm just used to being content with less, so I see it as money-hungry.

You can't beat freedom, the freedom of getting in a car and driving away, the freedom to have a phone and not worry about cell reception, the freedom to swipe a card and buy yourself food.

I'm high on freedom.

Now I just need to find a way to pay for it.

You can lead a man to the water...

But you can't make him drink, you can't even help him, you can't force him, you can't hold his mouth open and shovel it in...

Why am I doing this, I wonder, as I make a ticket to fly 6 states away... I have a job, it's a start, some people don't even have a job...I don't have a car or an apartment or any real idea if it'll work out or how long I'll be there for...I shudder at the thought of signing a one year lease because who knows where I'll be in a year...then again, does anyone really know where they will be tomorrow, let alone a year from now?

So far most of the people I've been in contact with are nice and helpful, or at least polite if not helpful, my brother, my own flesh and blood, everyone tells me he will help me, but of course family is usually more of a headache then a help.

Life in New York was so easy, I didn't need a car, apartments were a dime a dozen, I didn't need anyone. I was Miss Independent and it was okay. Suddenly, I need other people to help me get around, to navigate this strange new city, and I am mad, not at them but at myself for needing other people.

I asked my brother to come with me to check out a used car for sale, he said I don't need him...but I do, I do. Until now I was basically going in with my eyes closed, not thinking about it, just going, just doing, I figured at some point the dam would break, and I guess tonight it did.

I need someone to hold my hand, to walk me through the scary parts in life. For me, that's buying a car when I have no idea what a car is. Yes, like a girl I chose one based on the color...

I want someone else to do the thinking, to explain the legal jargon, to make sure I'm not getting myself into anything shady.

I can be a strong independent person, I have been until now, only now I am finding myself in deeper water, unfamiliar territory, more real world then ever before...

I came down with a horrible cold last night, maybe from the air conditioner, or lack of sleep, or change in weather...or maybe it's my body's way of telling myself that I can't do this after all.

#Hashtag#

In the world of hashtags, apparently anything goes.

#lolololololololol

Despite Justin T and Jimmy Falon's obvious hilarity and chemistry, mile long hashtag sentences are truly annoying.

#whydon'tyouwriteasentencewithspaces?

The sound my phone makes

My phone pings as I walk down the frozen food isle in the grocery store and my heart jumps, it always makes me think of you. It's not you, these days it barely ever is you, but I can't help wondering, thinking, wishing that it were.

My phone is a third hand, it is not just a part of me, it is me, I check it right before I go to sleep and the second I wake up, I tell myself I should live more in reality, what is going on right in front of me but even in company I find myself checking texts, emails, Facebook updates, living in my virtual reality and wishing I could live inside my phone.

They call it an addiction, saying that we have to learn how to detox and ween ourselves off of technology, make more time for the people in our lives that we can see, exercise more, go outside, breath the air, leave our phones behind. But it is hard when that is the way you learn to connect with people, when text has replaced real conversations and people thousands of miles away are closer to us then people sitting across from us.

I hate how the sounds my phone makes automatically sends my mind in your direction, I hate that I expect a text to be from you, or an email, or a Facebook post. I hate how much I depend on other people to make my life complete, I hate that my phone has become my prison.

I hate the sound my phone makes, but mostly I hate that it is never you.

I'm happy for you

Every time a guy I dated gets engaged, I don't know why but I feel the need to reassure other people that I am okay, that I am fine, that in fact I am happy for him, and it feels like closure, that now I know for sure that I made the right choice saying no.

This is especially true regarding someone with whom I had a longer relationship. It is obvious- he has moved on, and I am still single. So what does that say about me?

I saw him recently, he works in a store near where I live. I thought about going in there, saying hey, remember me, or maybe acting all nonchalant and seeing how he reacted to seeing me. But I decided not to do that, to spare him the pain and trauma of seeing me again after all this time, seeing as I was the one who ended things with him, and he obviously still carried a torch for me.

What a good person I am, thought I.

Imagine my horror when I saw he got engaged last week. How can that be? I thought I broke him. He pined for me, I told him it was over, I thought he would never love again. But there are pictures, evidence that he has moved on, that he is in fact happy. How can that be?

My friend texted me to ask if I saw that he had gotten engaged, she said "I guess he could love again".

I guess so.

I smiled a soft smile, and in my heart I wished him mazal tov. The part of me that once cared about him is truly and genuinely happy for him. To know that he has found happiness with someone else. Sometimes that's all the closure we need.

Open Road

You run, you know, but you don't what you're running from, or where you're running to, but it gets so easy when you don't have to think about it, simply get in the car and drive for 4 days straight, stopping to see the scenery and to sleep a little, just a little, you are so tired but it's fine because your body adjusts until you can't tell anymore. All the driving makes you tired but you can't admit that, you can't stop because stopping means thinking and you can't think right now. So you jump from state to state, you take pictures and smile and share memories on Facebook and you are not faking it, you are genuinely having a great time. During the day you are fine, the driving is thrilling as you navigate the highway and try to guess everyone else's next move, it's a game to you, trying to get ahead and stay ahead. It's the nighttime that gets to you, suddenly the streetlights are gone and the road is wide open and pitch black, the lights from the oncoming cars are bright and glaring, you can't see the road, the windshield is foggy, you drift lanes and you know it's time to stop. She offers to take over driving but you can't admit that you are terrified and trembling, probably because the air is on full blast so you don't fall asleep and drift lanes, but the dark worries you because it is unfamiliar, it is unknown, it is terrifying but you can't relinquish control. She finally takes over so you can sleep and you try but you can't, you watch the road, you watch the speed, you watch the windshield and you worry, she says she's fine but you worry, you can't stop trying to control everything. But it's okay because you are having a nice trip and the constant moving helps distract you. But you get to your destination and your body starts to shut down, it is ready to crash and suddenly you are so exhausted and not moving and not sure what to do next, and no idea what comes after next.

Like the dark, the uncertainty worries you, but maybe if you can just keep going, can you keep moving forever and never stop?

Don't let them...fall

The balls are thrown about the crowd, hitting heads and hands and arms as kids and people chase them, throw them, try to keep them in the air, keep the game going for as long as they can, don't let them touch the ground, don't let them fall.

We all wear masks around friends, family and even ourselves. We share some but not all of our thoughts, perhaps because some thoughts are not meant to be shared, or some things we simply don't want to admit.

So we lie, we say things like "I'm happy" when we're really not, or "I'm excited" when everything feels horrible.

We feel the pressure to put on a face for society, show them that we are alright, that we are holding it all together, when inside all we are thinking of is how everything is falling apart.

I am with child

I met a friend of mine tonight for dinner. She didn't let me know her buddy would be coming too.

I guess there's a new friend in our circle.

He's about 25" tall, and weighs under 20 lbs.

He is healthy looking, but carries around some extra weight in the chin area.

He drools a lot, and likes to grab my hands when I extend them in greeting.

He is respectful when others are talking, and only makes noise to alert others that he is hungry, tired, thirsty, or has soiled his undergarments.

He is 5 months old, his initials spell YAY, and he answers to the nickname 'chiller'. He has a shmushy face and looks like he could be a Gerber baby.

I didn't realize that friends getting married means they come with husbands now.

I didn't realize that friends having kids means they come with babies now.

I didn't realize that things changing means they would never again be the same.

A conversation that once would have been about haircuts, bang length and styling is now about sheitel brands, coloring and hair texture. "Feel how soft it is!" she tells me. Um, no thanks, I really don't want to touch your hair, home grown or otherwise.

What once may have been a steamy conversation about guys and dating now centers around husband, baby, job, sleep or lack thereof, schedules, free time (which is never) and hurried conversations whilst rocking a baby stroller to and fro anxiously trying to calm a baby's cries.

Babies are cute. I like babies. I like holding them, and playing with them, I like when they smile and laugh and clap their hands, I like when they are asleep, I like it less when they cry but don't mind changing diapers.

I like babies.

But I don't have any.

Which is not to say that you can't bring your baby along when we go on an outing.

Which is not to say that you can't talk about your baby all the time.

Which is not to say that I won't smile or laugh at the cutest thing your kid just did, marvel at the fact that he is crawling already at 5 months (gasp, no way!), discuss the pros and cons of breastfeeding vs. bottles, like the pictures you share online, or be understandable when you are late or can't come because your child/husband/thing came up.

But you have to understand that when we single girls go on a spontaneous outing to Brooklyn Bridge Park, share laughing pictures online of the fun times we had and you are insulted that we didn't include you: please know that we didn't do it intentionally. We didn't stop to think about if you would be free at that particular time, how much time you would need to get you and your baby ready, how difficult it would be for you to schlep a stroller with a child up and down the subway steps, maneuver it onto a subway car, feed a crying baby in public, how awkward it would be for you to run/walk/skip/jump/hop the way we do on a whim.

Which is not to say that we won't include you in the future.

But we are single.

You are with child now.

Things will never be the same.

The internet is not safe anymore

I know it never was. Before people really knew about the dangers lurking online they felt relatively secure. When webcams first became popular no one knew of the possibility that someone could hack in and spy on them. I call it, before and after. Before, people didn't know. Now they are too scared to know.

The internet as a whole may not be safe but people find places where they feel a certain sense of security. Maybe forums (a dying breed) or blogs (almost completely dead) or Facebook or instagram or Twitter, somewhere where they can just BE without anyone else infringing.

But now it is not safe. Bloggers bring trolls and stalkers. Facebook suggests named of people I most certainly do not want to be friends with and would rather never be reminded of again. They take advantage of my momentary weakness, I searched for you and I found you and I remembered why I didn't want to know you existed. I wish I could unknow. I wish I could unsee. I wish Facebook didn't track my every move.

When relationships used to take place in the physical realm, it was possible to delete all traces of someone. Burn their letters, chop up their pictures, get rid of any mementos and eventually the memories fade.

Today, it is much harder. Delete the emails. Delete the texts and pictures and even phone number. Unfriend them. Delete their email address. You think you can forget and move on but I guarantee you it is not over. It may never be over.

You can run, but you have no where to hide from the clawing cloying conniving hand of the internet that is intent on reminding you everything and everyone you long to forget.

Not quite done yet

There's something about joining pre-existing family life that is like jumping on a moving train. When everyone is pretty much settled in and you are the last one to join. When everyone knows the rhythm and you are clearly the newby.

Family is safe. They are familiar. They love you, they hate you, they make jokes at your expense, they fight over rooms and places at the table and last pieces of pie.

We have a motto in my family: "You snooze, you lose", which in Latin translates to "Tu dormis, tu perdis" (which incidentally I just read in a book called The Sellout and exclaimed excitedly to my father that the author stole our motto). This motto applies to anything, really. It's the answer to all questions, solicited or otherwise.

There's a learning curve. I've only been here since Thursday night and it's been years really since I've lived at home. So I watch, and I learn. One stays up all night and sleeps all day. One does the food shopping and cooks dinner, the kitchen is her domain. One stays out for weeks at a time, I've been told he's living at home but I've seen no evidence of it. The baby who is now legally no longer a minor works all day and hangs out with friends at 2 am, he smokes, and has no idea if or where he's going for yeshiva next year. My parents don't tell anyone what to do or how to live their lives, so even though I'm itching to parent him, I know it's not my place.

Life moves at a slower pace here. If you've accomplished one thing today it's a good day. On Friday I spent half the day with my nieces and came home exhausted. On Shabbos I walked over to my sister (40 minute walk) and arrived just as the kids were going to bed. The kids thought it was hilarious, their parents did not.

I asked my siblings what there is to do around here, they said not much. I hear kids hang out by the local 7-Eleven but I hate slurpees plus I'm not 17 anymore. Which I'm being reminded of constantly, and it hurts because part of me still feels like a teenager and the rest of me is 25 and wishing I knew what it meant to 'act my age'.

I'm trying to figure out my new normal. I'm wrapping up school this week and that's exciting, plus I know I did all I could to set myself up for success in the future. My GPA is great, I'm part of an honors society, I have quite a lot of work experience, and a nice sum in savings. For all intents and purposes, my future looks bright.

I was walking today and taking in the scenery, the fresh breeze, the trees and grass and peace and quiet, and thinking, I could get used to this. But my sister says I wouldn't last very long here. She predicts that I will gain 50 lbs, be bored and miserable living at home.

I'm not done yet. I know that. This is not the end for me. My story doesn't end with me single at 25 moving back home with my parents having a degree but no job, and chillin like a villain. I wasn't made for this. So the question is, what's next?

The crickets and the dropping night temperatures, and the darkness outside that makes you wonder if there is anything out there- and the smell of brownies.

What is normal, really?

Men + Women = Friendship?

There are differences when it comes to friendships amongst men and friendships amongst women. We are talking primarily about same gender friendships, as opposed to cross gender.

It may appear that men have more friends than do women, as men tend to have larger social networks or groups, whereas women spend more time in dyads, or pairs, and form closer one-on-one connections.

The reasons for friendship amongst men and women are also different. Men tend to have more activity-based friendships, while women spend more time in conversation with friends. Men assert more dominance and knowledge display in conversation, and women focus on conversation maintenance- establishing and maintaining relationships.

Women are more agreeable in their language, using disclaimers like "I may be wrong, but..." or hedges, "sort of", "kind of", and intensifiers "very", "really", "seriously". This may reflect on their level of confidence in their own opinions or knowledge base, or it may show a desire to be compliant with the person they are talking to, to avoid conflict.

Men generally avoid personal disclosure. They see it as a weakness to open up to friends and share personal thoughts or feelings. Women engage more in self-disclosure, tending to share their feelings and emotions with close friends.

Although there are difference between friendships among men and women, there are more similarities. Ultimately, the reasons for friendship between men and women, either same gender or cross gender, are the same. From The Psychology of Gender by Vicki Helgeson, "Both men and women want the same things from friendship and view self-disclosure, empathy, trust, and expressions of support as the most important features of a friendship."

30 before 30

I read an article today that I liked. Here's the link, and I'm posting it in below. I have taken the liberty of bolding the ones I can check off:

"30 Things All Women Should Have in Their Arsenal Before 30"

Turning 30 is a big milestone because you finally feel like a real adult instead of playing one in your early 20s. Here are some things you probably have accomplished in your 20s:

1. Eyeliner and mascara that doesn't smudge. 
2. A bad relationship that will make you treasure the good ones. (Too many to count.)
3. The experience of negotiating a raise or asking for a promotion. Because you deserve it.
4. A love for yourself — flaws and all.
5. A good mattress. (One day...)
6. Enough self-respect to not put up with an unhealthy relationship and friendship. (Ya, after it gets so bad I can't take it anymore.)
7. A home that looks lived in and not like a rental. Which includes a piece of furniture you splurged on that's not from Ikea and an original piece of art you love. (I'm waiting for the perfect home to decorate.)
8. One international trip experience that took you to another continent.
9. Wild stories of past shenanigans that you love reminiscing over with your friends. And zero urge to relive it all.
10. A résumé and LinkedIn profile that you had to struggle to shrink.
11. Six months of living expenses in your emergency fund and a robust 401(k). (savings: Check.)
12. A friend that makes you laugh, lends an understanding ear when you need a shoulder to cry on, and tells you things you need (and not want) to hear.
13. Forgiveness and letting go of past hurts and grudges. Life's too short for that. (Letting go sucks...)
14. And the realization that forgiving doesn't mean accepting that it was OK. Forgiving means accepting the fact it happened. (This I can do.)
15. Go-to recipes for key occasions, from a fancy dinner party to leftovers night.
16. A backup system for your important documents and photos. (Check. Learned that the hard way.)
17. Something you can take care of, be it a plant or a pet (or maybe even a baby!). (I've killed plants before...not sure what that says about my chances with kids).
18. The ability to enjoy things alone, whether it be a trip, a dinner out, or a show.
19. A coffee machine so you stop wasting your money at Starbucks.
20. A good skin care routine, which includes applying sunscreen.
21. The confidence to go without makeup, wear a bikini, and have an opinion. (Um, ya, never gonna happen.)
22. A sewing kit and a set of tools that you've actually used.
23. A reliable dry cleaner and a tailor.
24. A chic outfit that you can transition from work to play — not to mention, a high-quality bag or purse to bring to work every day.
25. A safe place for you to relieve your stress and recharge — be it your reading nook or yoga studio.
26. The resolve and discipline to kick at least one bad habit. Bye-bye, soda and Cheetos.
27. The satisfaction with what you have and not worrying about if you're missing out on something better and newer.
28. An exercise routine beyond cleaning your home or commuting to work. (Gym...check.)
29. A credit card that you pay off in full every month. (Ding ding ding!)
30. The realization that life just gets better.(Well that's a relief.)