The Hopefuls

I see no discernible path through the debris
But they do,
They make their way stepping gingerly over mounds of dirt
scraps of wood
piles of pebbles
particles, pieces
that start as nothing
and become something
become a house,
a home.
A mother, baby on her hip
a father helping a small child through the doorway
a handful more kids trailing behind
her with a snood and modest clothing
him in a white shirt and black pants,
traditional garb,
traditional is what we call them.
They step through the opening
disappearing inside
trying to imagine where their furniture might go,
or where they'd put their Shabbos table.
From its infancy
I watched it take shape
through my window
always watching
growing and shaping and forming by the day
imagining people and children and lights
and laughter
the place this family may soon call home.

Like an adult

The moon is bright tonight. It's so beautiful that I think if I blink and look away it'll be gone. It's hard to distinguish between the light of the moon and the lights of the parking lot. Even out here, away from the city it's still hard to get the beauty unfiltered.

It was a hot day today. I watched kids from morning till evening. We decided to turn on the sprinkler. The kids got soaking wet and loved it. They took buckets of water and dumped it over their heads while shouting "ice bucket challenge!" I'm not even sure how they know what that is.

I bought cherries. My mom loves cherries and I used to think I hated them, until I realized that I never actually tried fresh cherries and the only thing I had to go on were cherry flavored licorice and fake cherry flavored cake and soda. The first time I tried fresh cherries I wondered what took me so long to find them.

Today was the first day of summer. I miss summer. Even though I basically had summer weather this whole past year, whenever it's not summer, I miss it. And when it finally comes, I'm already sad anticipating its farewell.

It's been a year since I finished school. I miss that too. I never thought I'd say that about school, but I miss the classrooms and the learning, even the papers and the deadlines. The difference for me between being a high school student and a college student was my choices, my autonomy. I liked being able to choose my own classes and arrange my schedule. I like being in charge of my own destiny.

I have a job now. It's no different for me since I had various jobs for the past few years and worked all through college. The difference now is that I have a degree. I know it's not a magic wand and you don't just suddenly have this great awesome future handed to you when you leave college. I know it's hard work and things take time. But I thought at least that school would help me figure out what I wanted to do with my future.

I thought I'd be this big great writer someday, but I see all these people, essentially my peers passing me by and instead of feeling motivated or challenged, I end up feeling bad about how small my progress has been in the past few years and how my ship has sailed.

I'm an adult now. I have a job and a college degree and a car.

I'm an adult and I live with my parents and am currently debating about paying them rent.

I'm an adult and I sometimes cook my own dinners and sometimes just eat what's in the fridge.

I'm an adult and that means nothing to me, except that now I have to choose and pay for my own health insurance. Schedule my own dental appointments. Put myself to bed at a reasonable hour. Convince myself to not eat a bajillion donuts just because they taste good. Put on sneakers and go walking/jogging even though I'm tired and I don't really want to.

I haven't passed any major milestones and this is not just occurring to me. But every year I get older and wonder when I will feel like an adult. It hasn't happened yet.

Maybe this year.

Normalcy

I left to go to the supermarket, and ended up at the lake. I guess food was not what my soul really craved.

It is so peaceful here. Close your eyes, and you can hear the wind rustling the leaves, the water gently lapping at the rocks, the chirps of the birds and honking of the geese.

It says "no swimming" but I just want to dive into the water, swim across to the other side. I know I'd probably panic even though I know how to swim, because I get scared when my feet can't touch the ground. But the smell of the water, the smell brings back summers of long ago, at different lakes, the rocks cutting my feet but the water, like a hug enveloping me.

Routine is a funny thing. Since I started coming here to walk/jog a few times a week, I started seeing the same people here. The black couple with the stroller, the older Chinese guy, the frum girl rollerblading. Oh ya, the frumies. No matter how far I think I've gone from the community, there are always frumies there.

I'm beginning to make peace with it. Except I know they look at me because I dress differently than them. Or rather, they DON'T look at me. They stick out their arms for rides and if I stop they turn away awkwardly, avert their eyes because I'm a woman and that's not allowed. I'm forbidden to them.

I'm not bitter, I'm not mad. They have their ways and I have mine, mine which is currently undefinable as I try to figure out how frum or not I want to be, what is "allowed" and accepted versus what I feel comfortable with.

A guy I dated recently took issue with the fact that I'm not frum enough or not trying hard enough. He has a valid point, but it's not that I don't care or I'm not trying, I'm just taking my time and hopefully I'll get back to a place where I don't hate religion and the people who sully it.

I finally feel a sense of normalcy. I know normal is relative, but this past year has been hard. I left a job, finished school, moved to Florida, lived pretty much isolated from family and friends for 8 months, took two jobs and quit both, spent my days relaxing and chilling and any other word used to put a good spin on "doing absolutely nothing by choice". It was lonely and depressing and confusing and I felt lost and aimless. And all along I told everyone it was fine and life was glam and why not, who else picks up and moves to a new city, Florida no less!

I'm home now. My parents home. Not the home I would choose for myself but the home that chose me. My little brother who just finished/dropped out of yeshiva expressed annoyance at having to be home and I told him, you don't have to be here. And his response was "where else am I supposed to go? "

Home was not always the happiest of places, but I'm carving out my own space and realizing that right now, this IS my choice. Even if I don't always like it, I went away, I stayed away for many years, but I chose to come back.

I got a job. That was one of my provisions for coming back, that I would get a job and be productive. I hesitated and wasn't sure that I wanted it and it wasn't my first choice. But BH it is working out great, and I'm happy there. I feel like I'm getting back to a place of normalcy, that I'm finally moving forward and not standing still, frozen and unsure.

Going into summer always gives me a good feeling, and I hope to stay on the up and up.

Sending sun, wind and all good things.

Stop it Google!

Google chrome keeps trying to bookmark pages that it thinks I frequent. Every time I log on to chrome in my phone I don't see the bookmark I want, instead I see the ones that it wants, that it thinks I want. Who is IT anyway, Google is not a real person, it doesn't really know me, it takes a guess based on my history, it watches my every move and thinks it knows me, but it doesn't.

You don't know me! You don't know what I'm thinking or feeling. If I Google "how to get over a guy" maybe you'd think I was sad. If I searched for a recipe for cheesecake then you assume I love cheesecake. Yes I do but that's not the point.

Stop trying to tell me what I want. Stop trying to offer me assistance or ask me if I want to tag my photos with the places I've been, stop trying to guess my next move or interpret my every word.

Google, you are my right hand, you are as much a part of my brain as every thought, you walk me through life and teach me what I never learned or don't remember from school.

But you are not me, you will never be a part of me or know me well enough to know what I want.

Because what I want I can't have right now.

So stop trying to fill in for that.

How Can You

I used to write all the time. Happy moments, sad, blah or nothing, it got recorded. There's something cathartic about writing. A release. But it is also nerve wracking, it makes one vulnerable, exposed.

I didn't stop writing. It just trickled. Maybe I had less and less to say, or maybe it just got harder and harder to say it. It wasn't as important to me as it once was.

But it is important. That's the problem. I want to, but I can't.

I can't.

I can't.

I can but I won't.

It's a struggle. I struggle with myself and my thoughts, my emotions.

I struggle with my identity, my place in this world.

I just started a new job and most people there don't know my name.

But it doesn't matter. Why does it matter. I'm nobody.

Before you come into someone's life, you don't exist. They don't exist to you. People are just floating particles concentrated in a body. It can go any way.

It doesn't always go your way. Maybe it never does.

Sometimes you don't matter. Sometimes you want someone else to matter, but they won't. They can't. Maybe you are meant to cross paths and then never meet again.

I hate it. I hate everything about it. I hate putting myself out there, I hate trying to make small talk with strangers, I hate trying to interpret words and gestures and find meaning where there is none. I hate pretending like I an do this, like I'm normal, can get dressed up and do my hair and nails and makeup and spend 3 hours with a virtual stranger and maybe one day meet a stranger who won't be a stranger any more. I hate that I can't talk about it, because I have to. But I can't.

I just can't.

See this is why I can't write. So much that I can't talk about.

I think I'll go eat some cake now. It's peanut butter chocolate fudge dulce de leche ice cream cake.

I know, right.