The color pink

Apparently, I have Arab fans. Well, fine, they weren't looking for my blog, they just happened upon it, and they didn't stay for long, but still. Who can say that they have traffic from Arab countries on their blog?

I was checking my statistics, which I do occasionally. It helps boost my morale when I see how many people read my blog. And I saw 2 very interesting visits. One was from Jiddah, Makkah, Saudi Arabia. They found my blog through someone's profile, by blogs I follow, which is interesting in itself.

The second one was from Dubai, Dubai, United Arab Emirates. And they found my blog through google, I'll include the link. They googled the words 'what lays beneath' and found my post, 'what lies beneath the mask.'

So hey, the world is smaller then we think, and someday some Arab may be learning Torah on a blog, not really knowing what he's reading. Who knows.

On another note: my brother bought me a present. It was cancer awareness day at his work, and anything you buy, the proceeds goes towards cancer research. He got me a calculator and a pen, that says 'Every women counts'. At first I thought it meant me, as his sister, but then I realized it was referring to the cancer research program. Oh well. It's the thought that counts. I was very touched, it was so sweet of him to think of me. (And no, he doesn't read my blog, and doesn't know I'm writing about him, so this is purely for the sake of sentiments.)

It came with a credit card sized calendar, and on the back it has a nice quote. I'm a sucker for quotes, so here it is:

"Seize each new day with renewed strength. Believe in yourself. Go forward with courage and faith to face whatever tomorrow may bring."

Sounds like it came straight out of a self-help book. But it is true, and can be applied to everyone. And maybe today I'll even attempt to listen to it. There's a first for everything.

Sukkos!!!!!

It's....soooooo.....c-c-c-oooold!

Maybe Israel thinned out my blood, but when I woke up today to discover it was 59 degrees outside, I gasped. And then I gasped again when I got outside...

Short skirt, pantyhose, open shoes.... not enough protection, nooo. I think my toes froze.

It was so great to get out with friends. We went out to eat. Of course, we couldn't decide on a place to eat, so when we finally passed by the same place for like the 4th time (I do exaggerate) we decided to walk in there. It was fuuuuun... and more than I wanted to pay. But I never laughed so hard in my life. Thank G-d for friends... and waiters who can't accurately describe a piece of cake.

Ok I'll admit, we took pictures, but hey, I think the occasion called for it.

The sidewalks were swamped with people. Tables and trucks set up, selling lulavim and esrogim. The cutest was one of those plastic kiddy tables set up, where 3 cute little boys sat, they looked to be around 7-8, and they were selling those ring thingys that people use to bind the lulavim. I had the urge to buy from them just cuz they looked so cute... I guess everyone did, maybe that's why they actually made money.

There was such a fresh feeling in the air. Ya, besides the cold. It was like an excitement, that you can feel. Tangible. It made me giddy. Expectation. Anticipation. I just wanted to laugh out loud, or dance in the street. Sukkos is coming!

I remember when I was young... oh so young. I loved this time of year. Vacation from school, a new dress, sitting in the sukkah, steaming cups of hot cocoa mingling with the frost from my breath. Chilly weather, pulling on the warm coats, and gloves. No worries, or cares in the world.

I remember standing outside my house, having taken a bath, dressed in my new yom tov dress, so proud, at age 7. Watching my father building the sukkah, bang bang bang, and my big brothers helping. They all seemed so old and grown up to me. I loved sitting in the sukkah, because it was such a contrast to sitting inside the whole year. And it felt so cool to be sitting outside to eat. I imagined strangers passing by, wishing they got to sit in my sukkah.

Of course there was chol hamoade to look forward to. The trips we went on, as a family. And simchas bais hashuava... another whole topic on it's own. The people, sooo many of them. Trying to stick close to my older sister, and not get lost in the crush. My father giving me allotted spending money, and me being very careful to use it wisely. Which meant of course, cotton candy, sour sticks, and any other kind of candy that appealed to my eyes.

So happy to have a later curfew, loving the music, which was so loud I couldn't hear my own voice, and believe me, I tried. And wishing it would never, ever end, and dreading going back to school.

So many things are different now. Now, it's the younger siblings that build the sukkah, cuz my father is busy. (I am not gonna even THINK it might be cuz he's getting older.... no, parents are not supposed to get old.) I don't even offer to help, cuz I don't know how to build a sukkah, and my help isn't wanted.

Now that I'm older, and I'm not in school full time, the week before goes by in a blur, and I have to mentally remind myself that sukkos is coming. Oh ya. Maybe I'll go shopping, buy something new... chol homoade, not that exciting. When I was little the best part of it all was coming to school after, and swapping experiences, and what cool trips you went on. But now, I'm happy if I get out of the house at all... Now the feeling is kind of like, let's get this over with so we can get back to real life...

But tonight, in the busy streets of the Heights, I got a little whiff of that feeling again. That carefree, love-for-life and-everyone-in-it feeling, that everything is right, that this is a great time of year, that it's gonna be fun, and everything is gonna be just fine... It was so amazing.

Children have it so simple. But being an adult has it's benefits too.... hey, just realized, no curfew this year!!! Hello, simchas bais.... ooooh ya.....

Live it up

Imagine waking up and having no idea who you are. No memory whatsoever. Usually when we meet a new person we say, 'Hi, my name is Altie' (or whatever your name is.) What if you had to say to a stranger, 'Hi, what's my name?' because you just can't remember?

It happens. Maybe rarely. I've probably heard about it way more in fictitious novels than in reality, but it exists.

Your whole life is gone. You need a stranger (who could very well be your best friend, husband, or sister, and you wouldn't even know it) to tell you all about yourself, and how you led your life until this point. You may have been a Docter, a lawyer, royalty, and none of it would matter. It's hard to do your job, and act like a powerful person who commands respect, if you can't even recall being that person.

It's scary. You lose your identity, you lose You. It's like starting life anew. You know how to talk, how to walk, and do all the normal functions, because your body has those natural reactions imprinted in it. But you have to recreate your life, a life you don't even remember living.

It's also thrilling, exciting, exhilerating. You can be anyone you want to be. You have a fresh start. You can say what you want to say, think what you want to think, have no opinions about the world and everyone in it. If you were a pessimist your whole life, you can now be an optimist, without much hassle to change your habits. Refreshing.

It's like that question, after 80 or 90 years on this earth, will you look back with regrets, and wish you lived your alloted years differently. For each person this answer will vary. Some will wish they had a family instead of focusing on their career. Some will wish they made a name for themself, instead of being a stay at home mom. Very few people will have no regrests at all.

But most people, if given the chance, will not actually go back and change anything. Every single mistake and wrong turn you made in your life helped to bring you to this point, and made you who you are today. If you change even one small thing, you may be a very different person, either good, or bad. Why take that chance?

Life is about living in the moment, and doing all you can now, so you won't have regrets later on. It's about learning to be happy being YOU, and not wishing you were someone else. It's about making mistakes, and learning from them, so you can be a smarter wiser person from it.

I wouldn't want to start over. I wouldn't want to lose all I lived until now, even if it meant a fresh start. And I don't wish I was someone else. Most of the time I'm happy being me.

Live in the moment. Not in the past, and not in the future.

The chicken ritual

Rain pouring down on me, just as I like it, drenching my recently washed hair, curls cascading in a mess down my back, face upturned to catch the spray. Ear buds in, music blasting in my ears, looking for the world to see cool, calm, and collected. Leaning against a van, taking in the scene, eyebrows raised slightly, confidently.

Girls shrieking in mock fright, or perhaps they are really scared, it's hard to tell. Snapping pictures, wanting to remember this moment, though I see no reason to. Just a part of the rituals to me, as it is.

Standing slightly apart from everyone, waiting my turn. The smell that lingers in the air, I imagine it'll take days for it to go away. So many people collecting charity, and regretfully, I left my wallet at home. With a shrug, and an apologetic smile, I indicate that I have nothing to give.

My turn. Bird swinging on top of me, crouching so as not to get feathers in my hair. My brother's voice saying, 'c'mon chicken, poop in her hair, poop in her hair' and me mentally warning the chicken against that course of action. If you want to live... I think. But of course, it's not going to live, it'll die, on my account.

Remembering the PETA signs I saw, 'Gelt not guilt' and not really caring either way. I stop my mind from going down that road, I don't want to argue an issue that I don't care about.

I say the prayers, like I do every year, trying to put some feeling into it. Remembering just a year ago, waking up at 4 am for this, half asleep, feeling slightly drunk, and caffeine deprived. Swinging a chicken over my head, friends shrieking, picture taking, the same thing, year after year. And of course, girls will be girls.

There is an ice cream truck there this time, which I find slightly amusing. Who wants to think about food at a time like this? Supposed to be solemn, at least. And at most, there are chickens being slaughtered and blood being sprayed, a few feet away. But that didn't seem to bother people, as there were plenty of customers lined up to buy, and the guy tending the counter seemed pleased and amused to be this close to shrieking members of the opposite sex. You'd think he never heard a girl scream before.

Glad it's over with, and hoping I'll be forgiven, I trudge home, my shoes now soaked through.

Just a little rain, a few feathers, and the awful smell of chickens to welcome in a new day, the holiest day of the year, the holier of the two High Holidays.

May it be an easy fast, and may all of our sins be atoned for.

A response

In response to my last post: My grandfather is not religious, and in fact, dislikes very much that we are. He doesn't 'agree' with religioun, and thinks my mother shouldn't have raised us this way. But it is a side point. I don't try to argue with him on it.

He was trying to convince me to go to college, because in his opinion, if you don't, you are undeduacted, and basically worthless. But he knew since we are all religious, he might not be able to convince us. So of course he was happy to hear that I started in college this year, and that I want to get a degree in psychology. This is what he told me:

"You are to be commended if your desire is to be a professional psychologist since it is of my opinion that most religious Jews need consoling because their religious training often conflicts with the secular world and they react, sometimes to the detriment of themselves as well as their families.  And that is where a psychologist can assist them and do family consoling."  

 He thinks I should become a psychologist so I can help religious people with conflict, seemingly meaning, if they go otd, I can help them and their family work things out.

I think I just confused myself. But sadly, my grandfather has a point. We don't have control. You can't tell a person what to do, even if you disagree with his decision. You can't prevent someone from going off the derech, no matter how much it may hurt you to see it.
 
So maybe dealing with the situation after is happens is the only real option? After the fact: do something about it. Ignoring the problem is never a good thing. Believe me. My grandfather tells us often enough what he thinks of us, and he didn't come to my sister's wedding because he doesn't like being around religious people. Don't try to step on eggshells, because that's not what is needed. But don't be hateful either.

Find a middle path. Somewhere that you can both walk on together. I think some of these people who go otd have more hate in them then the religious people have against their actions. But that doesn't mean you should hate them back, or shun them, or spite them, or pity them. 
 
Just be cool. Love them like they are your brother. And stay away from topics of religion.

OTD, OTDed, OTD'S.....

I won't claim to be smart, I won't try to prove anything, because I know I can't. I am a person, as simple as that. I have logic, I have emotions, I have some brains, but that's pretty much it. I wish I could be like those people who are brilliant, and can argue any point, bring refferences, proofs, disputes, and the like. But I can't. And I figured, even if I could, what would be the point? These people are set in their ways, they don't want to listen.

They don't keep quiet. They want to rant. They want to be known. They want to show off, prove a point, 'come out of the closet.' These days, it is 'cool' and 'hip' to be otd. Even calling it by an abbreviation makes it cooler. And what's the point? There is none.

I don't believe. There is no G-d. The Torah is false. Nice, very nice. And Jesus wasn't hung on a cross, he wasn't killed, he is the messiah. There is no messiah, we are all going to hell. Atheist. What's the definition? 'One who disbelieves or denies the existence of God or gods.' Even the definition has the word god in it. How can you talk about a god you don't believe in, and say He doesn't exist?

I make a point of not reading OTD blogs. They bother me, and I'd rather not get into arguements that go nowhere. But I found this, and I don't think the blogger would mind if I used it. She says: 'It’s so great to know that there was a strong generation of OTDers before us.  We are a less organized and probably much smaller group of people than they were, but we can benefit from what they left behind.'

It's like a society. A club. Like being gay. I don't believe in that either. Everyone wants to belong somewhere. But as I've heard from a few people who have gone otd, it alienates them even more. They are different, they don't realy fit anywhere.

I don't believe the Torah is false. I don't think I'm qualified to say, because I haven't learned enough of it to doubt the truth of it. And to prove that G-d doesn't exist- it's already agreed that that's impossible to do. Most of these people who claim to be otd are not smart enough to prove anything. They are just trying to make a point.

Well I'm gonna make a point too. I think they are pathetic. They are Jews like me, and I have to love them. But to love their actions? I don't see where it says that anywhere.

If you have a problem with one person, the best thing to do is to go straight to them, and work it out. Someone once disliked my 'mode of conduct'. She couldn't convince me to do something she thought I should do. So she told me to 'take it up with G-d' and stormed away. And you know what? I did.

Does it sound stupid to tell G-d that you don't believe in Him? Maybe. But guess what? He'll listen anyway. And in my opinion, it's better to tell the big Guy what you think, then to spew it all over the internet, and to anyone who will listen, and wear it proudly as a badge. It is nothing to be proud of.

I am not cynical, I am not hateful, and I am not stupid. I am simply upset about it. Someone once asked me, what would you do if a child of yours went down that path. Honestly, I have no idea. I pray to G-d it doesn't happen to me, cuz I don't think I'd be able to deal with it.

Lechaim, and may it all become clear this year.

What lies beneath the mask...

By a raise of hands, how many of you know my last name? How many of you have ever seen me? Or think they know me just by reading my blog? How many people think Altie is not my real name? Okay, now how many people who know me in real life think they know the real me? Ya, put your hands down.

What is an online identity but a facade, a mask? You can't really know a person by reading their blog, chatting with them, etc. But truthfully, is 'real' life any different? Who is to say that the life we live is even 'real'? Are you really you? Am I really me? Has Big N8t stolen my identity for all eternity?

There is an entry in the English dictionary, for the word Persona. It is the origin of the word person, and it means: the mask or façade presented to satisfy the demands of the situation or the environment and not representing the inner personality of the individual; the public personality.

So in essence, the 'you' that you show the world is not the real you. How many masks do we have? People wear so many masks, that sometimes they look in the mirror and say, 'who is that stranger staring back at me'. We show our family one side, friends a totally different one, society yet a third. We laugh when we want to cry, smile, when we are burning up inside. We clench our fists and walk away from a fight, because we want to be a 'peacemaker.' We wear beards and kippas (well, not me) cuz that's what G-d wants of us. But what do WE really want? Or is that not supposed to matter?

We show the world only what we want them to see. But what about ourselves? Do we have masks for us too? Is it possible that no one really knows who the 'real' them is? It says, 'fake it till you make it.' So if you pretend to be someone long enough, do you actually become that person?

Very few human beings are able to see their deep, inner self, and still live with themselves afterward. I once kept a journal. I tried to write in it every day. I didn't even write deep stuff, just my general feelings. One time I reread what I wrote, and I felt like destroying it. Coming face to face with yourself is scarier then finding out who someone else is.

That's the truth of human's, though I find it sad. We are never true to our self, because even to our own selves, we don't want to appear weak and needy. If people in your lives have called you a loser and told you to 'suck it up' when you cried, eventually you will force yourself to stop crying, and you will ridicule yourself when you do show emotions.

Who are you, really? Is there anything underneath the mask? Or is it just like skin, layers, and layers, that never end? Maybe, just maybe, there's nothing really there, besides for a black hole, of emptiness. Or maybe it's the 'real' you, just waiting to be discovered.

In a way, I think masks are necessary. Imagine talking to a complete stranger, and telling them your life story, all your problems, and about how you are depressed. (It's called a therapist.) They will think very differently of you then they would have, had you just pasted a smile on your face and made believe everything was fine. Not everyone has to know what you are feeling inside. Some things are meant to be kept to yourself, and if that means putting on a face, then so be it.

But on the other hand, sometimes it is better to be yourself, rather than hide behind a mask, and try to be someone you are not.

I keep thinking of a movie I saw, in which a person used magic to make them self attractive. But when the magic went away, they turned back into an ugly creature, which was who they really were. They thought by looking pretty, people would like them more. But in the end, they were liked just fine without the mask.

So are masks really necessary, or are they an indisputable fact of life? Yes, it's easier to put on a mask, and hide behind it, even from yourself. But is it worth it in the long run?

The upside down world we live in

I never really understood politics. But I realized that not always do you have to understand something to 'get' it. I get it. People take different sides over controversial issues. That's fine. We all agree that the fire truck in front of us is red, right? Okay. The issue is, you believe it should be yellow instead, and site various sources in which a yellow firetruck is actually more visible. I believe red is the ideal color. Red is flashy, red represents danger. Etc. So why can't issues be discussed in a civilized manner? Why must people fight?

It always upset me when I saw adults fighting and screaming over issues that seemed petty to me. Parking spaces. Honestly? Man A cut off Man B and got the parking space first. Man B then proceeds to curse out A with every curse in the book, and childishly scratches his car.

Shluchim disputing over territorial issues bothers me immensely. You are all working towards the same goal, right? (I hope.) Everyone wants to help bring Jews closer to G-d and Torah. So why should it matter if you have a nicer event than me, if you attract more people than I do? Aren't we all trying to do the same thing?

Shomrim. Shmira. Those two names that no one likes to see next to each other. If you are from Crown Heights, I hope you don't know what I'm talking about. I am an outsider, so I don't even understand it fully. All I see are people, adults, bad mouthing each other. I discovered a website that slanders other Jews. This is my reasoning: whether or not whatever accusations that are made are true, it is no one's place to bring about 'justice'. Only g-d is the true judge, and only He can say who is guilty of sin. Man has no say in it.

Sometimes I look around and wonder at how the world became so corrupt. And am I the only one who notices that a lot of adults act like children?

We are now in aseres yemai teshuva- the 10 days of Awe. Grow up, people. Do a little teshuva.

Rosh Hashana in a nutshell

I was by shluchim in New Jersey for Rosh Hashana. When the shlucha, Goldie Azimov, found out that I'm a 'journalist', she made a joke about how she would've been on her best behavior if she knew that I was gonna write about her. I wasn't even planning on it, but now that she mentioned it...

I had a very nice yom tov, thank G-d. I watched some kids, thankfully there weren't too many. I even had time to go into shul and daven. Now here is the part where I would lie to you and say, 'Wow, I had such a spiritual Rosh Hashana, I felt like I really connected to G-d, and I'm so refreshed and ready for a new year!' But I was never a good liar.

I didn't feel that spiritual. I actually felt quite sick. My allergies kicked in pretty bad, maybe from all that clear country air that I am not used to, being polluted with city air all the time. With each sneeze and blow of my nose, I felt like I was dying a little more. May that be all the punishment that G-d gives me this year.

I davened as much as I was able, said the tehillim twice, heard the shofer, did  tashlich, oh, and ya, we ate some.

Here's where my 'journalism' skills come in. Goldie was amazing. The first night we had a big meal, all the people that came to shul were invited to stay for the seudah. And both days there was a kiddush. The food just kept on appearing. I seriously peeked into the fridge to see where there was space for all that food, and it remained a mystery to me until I heard the magic words: bring this to the garage please. Aaah, the secret stash. A good lesson for home makers: always have a secret stash ready, whether in your basement, or garage. It'll keep food hidden that you want to remain hidden, and keep guests marveling at your organizational talents.

Goldie's kids are of course, gorgeous. I now have 6 new best friends. One of the little girls, Mussie, was confused when I said I was leaving after yom tov, as if she expected me to stay forever. I had a great time, and I was invited back for Shabbos. I just might make good on that offer.

I can't say that I'm looking forward to Yom Kipper. I wish we could skip it and go straight to the festivities of Sukkos. I wish I could invoke in myself more spiritual feelings then I have at the moment. Right now, I'm just thinking about the fast tomorrow, and what I'm gonna do to keep busy.

Well that's all for now folks. So, how was your Rosh Hashana?

On friendship

 Disclaimer: I did not write this poem, but I really like it, and find that the words are so true. The author is unknown. But the poem is great. And to my friends, you know who you are, I just want to say, thanks for being such great friends. Enjoy it.   Friendship  The old man turned to me and asked,
“How many friends have you?”
'Why 10 or 20 friends have I',
And named off just a few…
He rose quite slow with effort,
And sadly shook his head.
“A lucky child you are
To have so many friends,” he said.
"But think of what you’re saying,
There is so much you do not know.
A friend is just not someone
To whom you say “hello”.
A friend’s a tender shoulder,
On which to softly cry.
A well to pour your troubles down
And raise your spirits high.
A friend is a hand to pull you up
From darkness and despair…
When all your other “so called” friends
Have helped to put you there.
A true friend is an ally,
Who can’t be moved or bought.
A voice to keep your name alive
When others have forgot.
But most of all a friend is a heart
A strong and sturdy wall.
For from the hearts of friends
There comes the greatest love of all.
So think of what I’ve spoken
For every word is true
And answer once again my child
How many friends have you?"
And then he stood and faced me
Awaiting my reply.
Softly I answered him, “If lucky, one have I”

The jokes on them

As we approach the year 5770, I was just thinking about the irony of it. It's almost funny, if you think about it. The number 770 represents Chabad Lubavitch. It stands for Bais Moshiach. The building itself is the central headquarters of all Chabad activity worldwide. And now, we are going to begin a full year with that number. It sounds, ominous, if you wish.

All religious Jews go by the Jewish calendar. I saw an ad for a yeshivish organization, and it said something about this coming year, 5770. I almost laughed. That number seems so out of place in that world. And yes, there are worlds. As much as we are all the same, we are so very different. Chabad, Misnagdish, Modern Orthadox, Chassidish, we are all Jews, with many titles.

And yet, out of all these groups, it is a number widely known as belonging to Chabad that will be on everyone's minds and lips this whole next year. I'd like to think that 'kulam chabadnikim, aval heim kvar lo yodim et zeh achshav'. 'All Jews are Chabad, they just don't know it yet.' Of course, there are many people who will disagree with me on this.

I think there is something going on in the hearts of many Jews now, as we approach Rosh Hashana. Some probably expect us to pull out our magic wands, do some hocus pocus, and bring about techias hameisim. Of course, we know better than that. Magic won't bring Moshiach. We will, and we've been trying hard enough as it is.

So the question is: will this be the year? No one can answer that. I don't want it to be this year, I say it's better that Moshiach come today, before 5770, and save all Jews the embarrassment of having to say, Chabad did it after all.

Is that so

Sometimes I know what I'm gonna say before I say it. And sometimes I have no idea at all. Maybe I'll just start with a thought, and branch out from there. I used to think that I had to know everything. I felt like I couldn't speak, or write, if I didn't know what I was talking about. What ever happened to opinions? Well, they seemed to have gotten lost somewhere in the scheme of things.

But I'll tell you a little secret: I miss it. The freedom to just write whatever I'm thinking, on any topic. To be free to be myself, and not care what others think. I seemed to have lost that somewhere along the way. But I'm trying to get it back now. I haven't written in three days, and if any of you miss my posts and want to read more, please nudge me.

I had my first college English writing class today. The teacher is British, which I find amusing. She walked into class, and the first thing she said was: girls, you're gonna write an essay now. I want to see what level you are on. She gave us four topics to choose from, and said start.

The other girls sat there looking lost, or dazed, not sure what to write. And I just launched right into it. I chose the topic, 'It is said that first impressions are accurate. Do you agree, or disagree?'
Of course I disagreed, cuz what's the point of an essay if you just agree with the subject line? There's not much to say then.

So I wrote five paragraphs, and to the shock of all the other girls, announced that I was done. The teacher told me I couldn't possibly be done, I had to write 350 words. So I counted them all up, and alas, I had only 150. She also announced that we had an hour to write it. I almost laughed. I don't need an hour to write a 5 paragraph essay. Me. I'm a good writer, this will be easy.

45 minutes, 1 outline, 150 more words, and 3 drafts later, my hand was aching, and I was done. I handed it in, and I have no idea what she will think of it. Personally, I think it deserves a good mark, but that's just me.

Lesson taken: don't be so cocky, even though many people tell you all the time that you are a great writer. Because someday, you will come across a British English college writing teacher, who will challenge all of your skills and beliefs.

Wish me luck, gentleman, I'm gonna need it.

Meme: my superpower

Rule number 1: Read the rules.
Rule number 2: Write one superpower you would like to have and what you would do with it.
Rule number 3: Write why you chose that super power over everything else.
Rule number 4: Tag and link 7 people, and write why you think they will have an interesting meme.
Rule number 5: fix your broken links.

First, thank you Material maidel for tagging me. I was shocked, but happy nonetheless. Secondly, I wouldn't usually do this kind of thing, cuz it's hard to come up with something refreshingly different than everyone else's. But as MM said on her blog: 'Altie - because she's a Lubie, and I love Lubies. I'm thinking her superpower will either mikarev everyone, bring Moshiach, or let her see through boy's beards.'

Okay, so here goes:

If I had to choose one superpower, it would be Time Fast-forward. The ability to speed up the clock. Sometimes my life is going too slow, or I'm going through a hard time, and I wish I could just fast-forward 10 years or so, be happily married, with kids, and a job, and just know where I'm going in life.

And of course, it'll help bring Moshiach that much faster, if we could just project ourselves into the future, and a new era. 

If I could have a secondary power, it would be a Problem solver. The ability to solve anyone's problems, in any arguments or situations. When I see people going through hard times, it hurts me, so I wish I could make it all better.

Blogger's I've tagged:

Yossi, because his posts are always witty and interesting, and I'm sure his super power will make me laugh.

Big N8t, because I love his posts, which are always deep and thoughtful, and his super power will probably have something to do with women, and how they are superior.

Chanie, because she has a crazy way of thinking, and I know she'll do great things with her new-found power.

Faivel, because he's a great guy with a head on his shoulders, and his super power will no doubt make this world a better place.

TRS- because his blog is cool, if slightly whacky, and his super power will definitly be something to read about.

Chanalia, because I know her super power will have something to do with food, probably the ability to create as much of whatever you want with no effort.

E, because it will be something complex, and having to do with math, and I most probably won't understand it.

I get to do one more than 7, cuz TRS just got married (mazal tov!) and won't be blogging for a while. So lastly,

Cheerio, because she has a refreshing take on everything, and I have no idea what super power she will choose.

Follow the links. Enjoy!

Forgive a little

It's that word that scares me, that brings on a headache, and makes me nauseous all at the same time. Teshuva. Elul. I keep saying, 'I hate this time of year', but unfortunately, in this world we live, you must say what you mean and mean what you say, and that just doesn't 'fly' with the 'people'. So what do I really mean when I say that?

That I dread it. It's hard to face your problems, admit to wrongdoings, and own up to it. But hardest of all is to fix it. 'Admitting that you have a problem is half of the solution.' Yes, but it's the easier half by far.

I went to a farbrengin last night, for the girls in my seminary. A mini reunion of sorts. The Rabbi who farbrenged was a teacher of ours, who was in town for a bit. The topic of discussion was that: Teshuva. What is it, how do you do it, etc.

The gist of it was like this: we are humans, we sin naturally. We don't want to, because if we knew the effect it had on our relationship to G-d, we wouldn't even think about it. But of course, while we are sinning, our minds are a bit preoccupied. But then afterward, we regret it. G-d gave us a numbing technique, called forget. Something happens, it hurts, you don't want to remember it, so your mind forgets it, to numb the pain. Does that mean it's gone? Maybe, maybe not. But with a sin, if you regret it, you promise not to do it again, then that's pretty much all you can do.

There were once two bochurim walking by the banks of a river. One was a Chossid, one was a Misnagid. They heard screams, and saw that a lady was drowning in the river. The problem was, she was fully naked. They hesitated a second, these pure bochurim contemplating what to do, then the chossid took off his jacket, and jumped in to save her. He had to grab hold of her, her unclothed body in his arms. And once they were on the banks of the river, he had to administer cpr, and maker sure she was ok. Then they continued on their way, in silence.

They walked for two hours straight, and both bochurim were clearly dazed after what happened. Suddenly, the misnaged turned to the chossid and said, 'how did you do it? How were you able to touch her in that way?' And the chossid answered him, 'the difference between me and you is, I forgot about that girl the second we left her behind by the river. But you, you are still thinking about it, and she was walking beside you the whole time.'

This is essentially what teshuva is. We regret, we feel bad, we do what we have to, and then we move on. We forget. Because that's all we can do.

Kesiva Vachasima Tova, may we all merit a fulfilling Rosh Hashana, with lots of prayers and tears. And may we be zoche to see the coming of Moshiach right now, before Rosh Hashana!

They're coming....

As the sound of rain makes pitter patter noises at my window, and it conjures up an image of little feet in padded slippers, pajama bottoms, steaming cups of hot cocoa, wind, howling outside, thunder so loud it makes you bolt upright in the middle of the night, while you were having a sweet sweet dream, lighting that strikes so fast and so bright, for a second you are not sure if it is day or night.

Fingers tapping at the keys so fast they are getting ahead of themselves and tripping over the words. Excitement building inside of you, this bubble that grows and grows and feels like its gonna burst. Shivering with excitement, shivering with cold, shivering with lack of sleep. So many things collide together to form one great picture.

Walking down Kingston with friends, so happy to be in their company once again. Hearing a language that is foreign, yet so so familiar. The scent in the air, that feeling, that knowledge that something is about to happen. The human mechanism that tries to prepare for a blow, and yet can never duck quick enough. It is coming, oh yes, and we can't stop it. These times, they are almost upon us. You know of what I speak. You know, because you think about it too.

These people that are a part of us, our brothers and sisters. Bodies pressed up against each other. Your space and my space becomes our space, there is no I in celebrate. We. We will do this together.

They are coming. It is coming. Soon this place will be swamped with them. And as much as I try to groan and be annoyed, I find myself excited, and looking forward to it. Cuz really, what is Tishrei without the Israeli's?

This time of year, so new, and special, so old, and ancient. Mental preparation, prayers, and forgiveness. Repentance. A G-d that forgives, a people that always return. Let it come, don't stop it. This demon inside of us, pushing away our natural desire to cleave to G-d. Go against your nature. Fight it. Don't give in.

As the storm rages, and inside it is nice and warm, I think about the next few weeks. I think of the sukkos we will be sitting in. I shiver with cold.

But we have Rosh Hashana to get through before then. It's coming...

THEY are coming. Let's get ready.

First day. Here goes nothing

The little bro says, 'Altie, you're going to school?' And I mumble from the computer, 'No, what are you talking about?'
'Ma says shes taking you to school.'
Thinking, thinking, my brain is moving so slow... 'OH! Yes! I'm going to school tonight...'

Then it hit me. Ouch. I have to sit in a classroom?? My experience with that in the past hasn't been that great. Me and classrooms, we don't mix too well.

Bright white walls, they almost blind me. Fluorescent lighting, tables in a semi-circle, a blackboard, teacher's desk. Ya, this looks like a classroom to me. New faces, girls I've never met. Married women, with shaitels. All here for the same purpose; to learn something. Nervous gulp.

Teacher comes in, seems sweet enough. Math class. Okay, I'm good at that. Tells us we are starting with the basics. Addition. Subtraction. I almost laugh. Really? That far back? (Lesson learned: NEVER laugh before you know what is to come.)

An hour and a half later, eyes drooping, head hammering, basic knowledge in math restored. Rusty brain not so rusty anymore. Thinking I might need to switch to higher level, thinking I should give it some more time, thinking I need to stop thinking so much.

Go home on the subway, falling asleep, notebook and folder in hand, feeling all grown up and important. Want to scream to the world: I'm old now!! I'm in the big world of college!!' Realizing that no one really gives a hoot. So I keep quit.

The possibilities, the opportunities, the potential, well, there's a lot of all that. And it's just beginning....

Will it work? We shall have to wait and see.

The search

I saw him from a distance. He was wandering, clearly lost, searching for something.
I approached him and asked, can I help you? What are you looking for?
Her. He responded.
Her who? Asked I, still wishing to be of assistance.
I don't know, really. Just her.
Okay. I hope you find her.

He looked in shop windows, he look around corners. He looked in alley ways, and on roof tops. He went into the ice cream store, and the pizza shop. He stood in the street and glanced at every car that passed by. But he didn't seem to find her.

Who are you looking for? I asked him again.
Her, he replied, quite frustrated and dejected now.
So what's the matter?
I can't find her! He answered in frustration.

I shook my head sadly, and said to him: dear boy, you can't find her, because you are looking for the wrong person. Don't look for her. Look for yourself, and then you will find her. Because she owns the other half of your soul.

His face cleared in understanding, and he turned and slowly walked away.

I hope he finds himself. I hope he finds her. I hope they find each other.

Happy Labor day

I feel something... in the air... can't explain it exactly.

The noise... the people... the metal barriers.

Something's happening... something big... not sure what.

Sitting there... my favorite bench... my favorite friend... (one of them.)

The floats... the flags... the costumes.

Once a year... celebration... a remembrance of freedom.

We watch... we smile... we enjoy the music.

Complain... about the invasion... while secretly wishing we could join in.

The smells... bbq's... the traffic, no spaces.

Wondering when... we will have our own celebration... for what exactly? Not sure.

Labor day... 16 years ago... my journey here began.

When... it'll end... is anyone's guess.

We wish for... we hope for... something.

To all New Yorkers... and to everyone else... wishing you a happy Labor day.

And may our journey... end very soon... in celebration.

Little brother o' mine

He came home from camp, lil brother o' mine, was there for two months, more or less.

The songs he was singing, the chayus he radiated, made me wonder what exactly went on there. He loved it, had a great time. The niggunim and camp songs he is constantly singing are proof of that.

I started singing a snippet of a song. 'You can't sing that,' he said to me, quite indignantly for such a young boy. (He's 12.)

'Why not?', asked me, annoyed at having my song cut short.

'Cuz it's not Jewish'. He rolled his eyes at me, annoyed to have to state the obvious to ME, his older sister.

'Oh right. I forgot.' These things just don't sit right with him. It's wrong, I can't do that.

Today I asked him if he went to Shul. His response was, 'Of course I did.' Again, like, how could you even ask me such a question??

I smile, when I think about it. So young, so pure, so not touched by conflicts, problems, decisions. It doesn't effect him. He goes to school, listens to his Rabbis, sings Jewish songs, goes to Shul, and it never even crosses his mind to change any of that.

I think I used to be like that, once upon a time. It's quite possible, actually. So what happened? I guess I just grew up.

But lil brother of mine, I hope he goes the way I didn't. I hope he stays on the straight path, I hope he becomes a great Rabbi someday, or a chazzan, with his belowing voice. I hope he remains pure, and that the 'goyishe velt' won't touch him, and taint him.

I hope so many things for you, lil brother o' mine. Make me proud.

Blast to the past

Oh my G-d! I just had a vision of myself 4 years ago. I was 15? I don't even remember. I had an account on chabadtalk.com but then I abandoned it, cuz I decided it was a waste of time. I just checked it out to see if it was still there. It is!

I was reading through all my old posts and comments. It's like meeting a younger version of myself. I was cringing! Man, did I use the smiley emoticon way too often. And trying to please everyone? Ugh. I'm happy to say I've done a lot of maturing since then.

If you were to meet yourself from 4 years ago, what would you think?

A girl out there

This is response to the previous post, and this comment:

Big N8t said...

Seriously though what should guys look for?

So I composed a list of what a guy should look for in a girl. But if you are a guy, feel free to make your own list, or add to mine.

Find a girl who asks about your day, and listens to your response.

Find a girl who let's you hang out with 'the guys' and doesn't ask about what you did. 

Find a girl who doesn't mind your mess, and gives you your space. 

Find a girl who can drink as much as you can, and laugh with you when you're both drunk.

Find a girl who keeps your secrets, but respects your privacy.

Find a girl who at the end of the day, you want to hug her, and protect her, but she in turn makes you feel safe. 

Find a girl who makes you smile just thinking about her.

Find a girl who makes you laugh.

Find a girl who you feel comfortable crying in front of, and makes you feel like you can lean on her, and she will hold you up.

Find a girl who has confidence in you, and stands behind you even when the world does not.

Find a girl who will pack you lunches, and include a note with a smiley on it.

Find a girl who would declare you innocent, even when you are guilty as sin.

Find a girl who sees not your faults, but your strengths.

Find a girl who will push you to your limits, because she believes that you can go far.

Find a girl who won't say a word when all her friends are swapping 'my husband' stories.

Find a girl who will come to your ball games, and cheer the loudest of all.

Find a girl who owns the other half of your soul.

Find that girl. She's out there.

A borrowed quote

I borrowed this quote from Shorty's blog (thanks!) who borrowed it from someone anonymous. Hey, if he wanted to be famous, he should've wrote his name! (Everyone knows that 'anon' is NOT  a name.) Well here it is, cuz I thought it was deep and meaningful.

"Find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot,

who calls you back when you hang up on him, 

who will stay awake just to watch you sleep. 

Wait for the guy who kisses your forehead, 

who wants to show you off to the world when you are in your sweats, 

who holds your hand in front of his friends.

Wait for the one who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares about you,

and how lucky he is to have you. 

Wait for the one who turns to his friends and says, '...that's her.'"
-Anonymous

Where are the brakes??

I finally changed my blog URL. The old one was just getting old. Right after I came back from Israel people were trying to convince me to change it, move on, (my new title) etc. But change and me don't go so well. So I put it off. But now it's done.

The funny thing is, people are STILL asking me about Israel. My mind is worlds away from there. It's like a chapter that I'm over an done with, and would rather not think about. Not that I didn't have a good time there. I did. Just check out my old blog posts. But some things can only be dragged out for so long.

I have friends who still miss it, and don't want to move on. But there's no point living in the past.

I had a job interview today. Yes, the guy that thought I was aggressive. He was analizing me during the interview, and from the looks of things, he liked what he saw. I'll keep you posted on that.

Did you ever go rollerskating? The first time I learned how to rollerblade, I didn't know how to brake. So any time I wanted to stop, I just headed towards a fence, and put out my hands until I crashed into it, and it prevented me from falling. And hurt my hands.

Well I still skate like that. I never learned how to stop. I guess it's just not one of those things that can be taught. And I never trusted the brakes on the skates. I assumed that if you tried to use the brake, you would fly head over heels and crack open your skull. That is a scary possibility.

I feel like I'm in a race car, speeding towards nothingness. And again, I don't know how to use the brakes. So my hands are out, palms up, and I'm just waiting till I crash into the fence. I hope someone will brake my fall.

Genie in a bottle

It would be absurd if I told you that today I was granted one wish from an enchanted genie. (Yes the genie was enchanted, it's my story and I can tell it however I want.) It would be even more absurd if you believed me.

Well this genie rubbed her lamp and told me to wish whatever my heart did desire. So I thought and I thought, (it took me awhile cuz my heart desires a lot of things) and I finally came up with the perfect wish.

A new year is coming. Everyone complains all the time. Oh boy, we gotta pray, gotta ask for forgiveness, yadayadayada. What shall we do. So I wished that everyone would disappear, that I would live on my own universe all alone, and peace would rain upon the land.

Selfish? I think not. I'm doing all of you a favor.

As someone told me, I'm a misanthrope. Look it up.

You know what? Someone offered me a ride today. Two people did! And I thought, how nice, there are actually kind people in this world.

And then, after emailing tons of people about jobs, and not hearing back from any of them, I emailed them all again, and kindly informed them that I'm waiting, and I want an answer. And a guy called me, and said, 'You're aggressive. I like aggressive. Come in for an interview.' Yay! Thanks to my aggression, I might get a job!

I saw an almost drug bust, and an almost car chase. Ya, I know, almost doesn't count. Well, as I overheard from one of our very own, 'I really hope there's gonna be a car chase!' Too bad for you buster! It was just a quiet ole night out on The Avenue of Kingston. And as usual, I was watching...

Oh, and just in case you'd like to know, I told the genie to forget about it. I decided to give people another try. I hope they don't fail me again.

So, I got another wish. And I can't tell you what it was.

And I am still here

They are all leaving. Finally. The house will be quiet once again, Sister will be away in high school, brother will be away in Yeshiva, and I will still be here. Alone. Well not really. My house is never empty. But you get my point.

For the 1st time EVER a new school year is approaching, and I am not packing, or shopping for new school supplies, or making a bus reservation, or scheduling a flight. Because I am not leaving! And I don't even know what to do with this freedom.

Okay I do. I stayed in PJ's for the whole day today. It felt great! I really have no idea what direction my life is taking now. I signed up for Touro. I'm looking for a job. I haven't found one yet. But other than that, I'm just home, not going anywhere, and it's the weirdest feeling!

I don't know whether to laugh at the absurdity of it, or cry. As usual, I choose to laugh.

It's all good.

What are you supposed to do

What if I told you that I found a place, where I can spy on you, and see all that you do. Every step you take, every move you make, I'll be watching you. Wherever you go, I will know. Whatever you do, good or bad, will be seen by me. How would that make you feel? Scared? Freaked out? Cautious? Would you change what you do just because you knew someone was watching?

Did you ever see a one way mirror? There is one in a shul I used to go to. On the men's side it's a mirror, and on the ladies side it is glass. We had a good laugh watching the men fix their hats, smooth their beards, and even check their teeth in the mirror. And the whole time they were unaware that we were watching. Otherwise, I'm pretty sure they would've behaved differently.

Well there is no such place. For the only One who can truly see everything that goes on is G-d. I can pretend to know stuff, but no one will know everything you do except you, and Him.

On shabbos, while sitting by a friend's window, I had a pretty good view of Kingston Avenue. I noticed people on the roof of a building across the street. They were frum guys, white shirts, kippas, and a few married ladies. While I think it's stupid behavior to hang out on the roof of a building, the number one factor being that it's unsafe, I say, each to his own. So I didn't pay them much attention, until I noticed that the guys were smoking.

Hmm, I thought. It's Shabbos afternoon, they are wearing white shirts, and kippas, so they are obviously observant, at least somewhat. So why can't they wait till after shabbos to smoke, why do it purposely now, and desecrate the Shabbos?

Then I remembered that I'm not supposed to be judgemental, so I tried to let it go. But it still bothered me. And of course, there is nothing I can do about it.

What are you supposed to do? Look the other way? Make believe it's totally fine behavior? Remind yourself that it could be YOU that is smoking, so don't judge at all? Say, if you can't help them, then forget about it?

I wish I didn't have to see that. But I did. And now I don't know what to do about it.

Every day is a winding road...

Up and down, and up and down. It's like a seesaw.

Every day is a winding road... and sometimes you make it around the bend, and sometimes you land back where you started... and sometimes you don't move from your place at all.

Everybody gets high... everybody gets low... You can't control it. You just gotta take it.

Well I finally took a step forward. I applied to Touro, so IY"H I will be taking classes next year. A step in the right direction. Now I just need a job...

I know there are people who don't 'approve' of my decision. What am I supposed to do about that? You can't please everyone, so learn to please no one but yourself. In the end of the day, only YOU have to be happy about your decisions, because you are the one that has to live with them.

No one knows where they will end up. No that's not true. We know what the end is, we just don't know when to anticipate it. But life is full of decisions, and it's okay to switch tracks, even very quickly. If you let yourself feel like you are stuck, you won't go anywhere at all.

And what do we learn from all of this? 'Live life.' Cuz that's really all we CAN do.

Poll

Check out the poll on the right hand side of my blog. Vote if you feel like it. Thanks!

Let me go!

Ever saw those leash thingys that people use with little kids, to keep them from running into the street? You clip it to the back of the kids shirt, and hold on to the end of the string, and voila! You are walking your child. Brilliant invention.

I always wondered how the child felt when they are rudely yanked back, how frustrating it is to them when they are trying to run into the street, but the adult won't let them. Why not? Why are you stopping me from having fun? But of course we, the knowing adult, are aware that we are doing it for the child's benifit, to keep them away from danger. The child may not know it, or acknoweledge it, but it is really in their best interest.

I went driving today, with my instructor. I'm a good driver, if I do say so myself. And though the instructer has a break on his side, for the same purpose as the child leash, he rarely uses it, because I drive safely. The times that frustrates me are when I'm trying to park, or make a 3 point turn, and he steps on the break, when I am just about to do it myself. I feel like saying, stop! Let me do it by myself! But of course I don't. I grit my teeth, and continue driving.

My father was telling me about something I did that he didn't approve of. So I said, 'It's all part of growing up. You have to let your kids figure it out themselves, and they won't always do what you think is best, they will decide it on their own.' His response was: 'Did you think up that line all by yourself, or did one of your friends text it to you?' He didn't agree with my theory.

Give me a manual, and I'll be stubborn and try to figure it out on my own. Tell me what to do, and I'll dig in my heels, and refuse. With most children, they rarely like to listen to instructions. They are excited to jump right in and figure it out by themselves. The whole wide world is open to them, and they are itching to discover it. And then they are rudely yanked back to reality and told, 'Bedtime, sweety. You'll play more tomorrow.'

How unfair it is. How annoying it is when people tell you what to do and how to do it. If only they would leave me alone and let me figure it out.

But no one said life is fair. No one said anything is supposed to be fair.
And it's all a part of growing up.

Nothing says it better than...

Quotes, cuz I'm too tired to come up with some of my own, and some of these say it better than I could. But only some. Enjoy, tell me which ones are your favorites.

Always end the name of your child with a vowel, so that when you yell, the name will carry.

California is a fine place to live - if you happen to be an orange.

Curiosity killed the cat, but for a while I was a suspect.

Drawing on my fine command of the English language, I said nothing.

Every man has his follies - and often they are the most interesting thing he has got.

Go to Heaven for the climate, Hell for the company.

Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city.

Do not go where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path, and leave a trail.

I am not afraid of death, I just don't want to be there when it happens.

I bought some batteries, but they weren't included.

I don't think anyone should write their autobiography until after they're dead.

Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end.

I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we'll never know most of them. But even if we don't have the power to change where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there.

When I say LOL I'm not laughing out loud, I just have nothing better to say.

Believe that everything happens for a reason. People change, so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong, so that you can appreciate them when they are right, you believe lies, so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart, so better things can fall together.

A good friend will bail you out of jail; A TRUE friend will be sitting there next to you saying, "damn... we f$%*#^ up!"

Life will make you fall, but you gotta be strong enough to stand up again.

Life is too short to wake up in the morning with regrets. So love the people who treat you right, forget about the ones who don't, and believe that everything happens for a reason. If you get a chance, take it. If it changes your life, let it. Nobody said that it'd be easy, they just promised it'll be worth it.

Be the kind of woman that when your feet hit the floor each morning the devil says, oh crap, she's up!

Sometimes when I say, 'oh I'm fine', I want someone to look me in the eyes and say, 'tell me the truth'.

We hide because we want to be found, we walk away to see who will follow us, and we let our hearts get crushed to see who cares enough to fix them.

Life is a winding road- don't get lost around the bend.

Life moves on

Thump.
The ball hits the pavement. Bounces. Lies still.
The kid picks it up. Throws.
Hits the backboard, swishes through the hoop.
Basket. Score.

Laughter. Applause. High fives.
People happy. Proud.
Kid beams from ear to ear.
Success.

Silence. Wind swishes through the trees.
Bugs crawl in the underbrush.
birds chirping, quietly.
Silently, they move.
These people, defending their country.

Boom. Noises, shouts, fire.
Gunshots. Worse. Bombs, exploding everywhere.
In 2 minutes it's all over.
Silence once again.
No men survived.

Ice cream, dripping down his arm.
Giggles.
Children, frolicking in the sun. Swimming, on a hot day.
Giddy, happy to be alive.
Life moves on.

Waking up in a hospital bed.
Knowing your family is gone.
You will never walk again.
Your arm was amputated.
Life moves on.

No money. No food. No clothes.
Shivering in winter, sweltering in summer.
No job.
Economy, that evil word.
Country has failed you, after all you gave to them.
Life moves on.

President, trying to lead the people into better times.
'Yes we can.'
What does he know? Can we, really?
Soldiers dying at war,
families without money,
so much sorrow.

Just a typical Sunday,
shooting hoops with the guys,
happy, carefree.
No worries at all.

If the kid was the child of the soldier,
or the son of the President,
if he was touched by poverty,
or understood the ways of the world,
things might be different.

But such is the world we live in.
People dying,
babies being born,
happy,
sad,
sorrow,
laughter,
destruction,
construction,
ice cream,
and basketball.

And life moves on. It always does.

A rather disconcerting thought

A whole new world of driving has opened up to me. It is so awesome!

And no, I haven't hit anyone or any cars yet. Unfortunately. I had a thought to jam into the car in front of me, but then I decided it might not have good results. Oh well.

Did you know there are actually people up at 9 am?? I did not know this! Maybe I should start waking up earlier to enjoy this phenomenon, instead of the hours in the noontime. Or not.

Friendship

'I can't claim to know you, because to know someone is to know their soul, and you have not let me in.'

Why is friendship so hard? You think you know someone, but then you realize, you don't really know them at all.

You care about a person. When they cry, so do you. When they are happy, you can't help but smile. A true friend has a piece of you in them, as you have a part of them in you.

When they go through hard times, you wish you can take their problems on your shoulders, take their hand, lead them through it. You want to make their problems go away, because it hurts you to see them suffer.

But what do you do when they don't let you in? When you know they are going through hard times, but they brush you off, and tell you that everything is fine. But it's not fine, you know that. And they know that too. They just don't want to share it with you. What then?

Do you childishly stalk off in a huff, and say, if they don't need me, then I won't care at all? Do you laugh and make believe everything is fine? Do you stay by them through the hard times, and make sure they know you are there if they need you, even though you are standing out in the cold, on the other side of the closed door?

Is it selfish to want to help them? To want to feel needed?

I read a story once.

There was a girl who went to camp to be a counselor. She never felt needed or wanted. In camp, she met a lovely little girl, and they became close. She felt needed and loved by someone finally. Once, the campers were swimming in the pool, and this little girl started to drown. The counselor, seeing this said, please G-d, let me be the one to save her. She jumped into the pool, and saved the little girl. After that their bond became so much stronger.

Was she selfish in asking G-d that she be the one to save the little girl? To want to be the hero, to be the person to have that special bond with her?

When people go through hard times, they turn to people for help. Friends, and family. They share a bond with the ones that helped them, because they were there for them when they needed someone most.

So is it selfish to want to feel needed, rather than just being a friend no matter what?

But friendship must be a two way street.

And it hurts when they don't let you in.

*That* subject, revisited

http://from-the-holy-land.blogspot.com/2009/05/that-subject.html

Remember this post, dear readers?

Things change. People change. What can you do?

Someone once said, 'Life is hard.' And I say, no, life is not hard. It is the situations in which we find ourselves, and the individual decisions we are forced to make, that make things hard.

Untitled

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
-I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

-Robert Frost

I wait and I wait and still I wait for that time where I can say these lines, and look back to this time, and know that I chose well.

So many decisions.

And still I wait.

Plans, life, more plans, no plans, no life, it all intertwines

'What is this with us meeting at midnight all the time?' Says my Computer to Me. And Me answers back, 'Well, it has something to do with separation anxiety, a little to do with boredom, and a lot to do with the fact that I have nothing better to do.' 'Oh', says Computer. 'Well then, sit down, enjoy the music, stay awhile.' 'Thank you, kind sir. I think I shall.'

Yes, dear invisible (and quite possibly non-existent) audience of mine. Once again it is after the G-dly hour in which humans are meant to be awake, and slowly approaching the red zone, and yet I'm still sitting here. Some of you may ask why. Others realize that is a dumb question.

My life was very happening recently. Or not happening. A lot happened, but I didn't get much farther. Get it? If I was one to gossip, even about myself, I may fill you in. But I have a strict policy against gossiping, which is, never gossip at an unG-dly hour, because quite possibly you will say stuff you will later regret.

There is this rule of social propriety that says, when you see or speak to a friend or acquaintance that you have not seen in a while, you must ask that number one annoying question. 'So what are you doing next year?' And the number one answer, 'Oh I'm still figuring it out.' Really. Does no one realize that we are all in the same boat? Why do people still ask??? I feel like wearing a sign on my head that says, 'NO! I DON'T know what I'm doing next year so DON'T ASK ME! Come back in a few months, and maybe by then I'll have it all figured out.'

If they ask, do they REALLY expect me to give them the full picture? 'Well I was gonna do shluchus but then I changed my mind. Then I changed my mind again. Now I'm looking for an office job. I got an offer but I don't think I want to take it. And then I changed my mind again. Yes, I know I do that a lot. I was thinking about college. Yes! That evil place that Chassidishe girls don't go to! I'm thinking of going there! Ah, but who ever said I was Chassidish?'

And so the conversation goes. By that time the person regrets ever asking. Why bother?

The clock is ticking, and 'next year' starts in 1 week and 5 days. Oh boy.

kids, the subway, and misc

It's like being invaded by an army of little people! I thought camp was over. I was done with all of that. I came home, the house is quiet, and then- bam! It is filled with kids! B"H. They are very cute. (I have to say that, their parents are reading this!)

My bathroom is filled with hampers of kids clothes, the bathtub has little boats floating around, and it's an obstacle course in my room just to get to my bed.

They smile at me, and give me shy looks. They don't know me yet. But I'll bet that by the end of the week I will have made four new friends. Ah, the joys of having kids around again. I have almost forgotten. And yet I thank G-d that I don't have any of my own. I'm not ready for that just yet...

On another note: I was on the subway today. Yes, the pride and joy, the heart even, of New York City. The glorious smells, the heat, the rats, and the people. So many people. If it's not rush hour, and you are lucky, you might get a seat. If you are EXTRA lucky, you won't have to sit near anyone.

Otherwise, you get squished next to someone anyone, and get their glorious sweat all over you. Or their bad oder in your face. So you jam your earphones in, listen to your blasting music, try to look bored and disinterested, like all the other robots riding the subway, and pray that the ride is over very soon.

There are certain codes in the subway system. If you know them, you follow them. The number one rule- you do not make eye contact with any other train goers under any circumstances. This can spell bad results for you.

Rule number 2: when a preacher for Jesus comes into the car, you feign sleep, or read a newspaper, or listen to music. If you appear interested, he will realize he has an audience, and he won't be quiet.

If people are selling snacks, don't take out money. If they are collecting money, don't take out money. You never know if there is a purse snatcher near you.

I love reading the billboards on the subway. Sometimes they have very good quotes, or interesting adverts.

All in all, the subway is a whole world on it's own. And I always say, I'm never really home until I've taken a ride on the subway.

Why be a follower

You go with the flow,
you move like they do,
talk when they talk,
walk when they walk,
mimic them.

When they say jump,
you say how high.
When they tell you to swim,
you jump right in.
Cuz they seem to know what they are talking about.

You look to them for direction,
when you are lost.
You turn to them for answers,
when you have questions.
Cuz they are smart like that.

Or so you think.

But now you are not sure.
You question.
You observe.
You see that things are not as they seem.
They are not who you thought they were.

Cuz really, they are just like you.
One big question mark,
disguised in a body.
Stumbling along, same as you,
looking for answers.

So why follow them?
Why follow the blind when you are blind yourself?
Why turn to others for answers?
Who needs them?
They can't help you.

So you stop.
You turn.
You leave.
You find your own path.
Cuz you were following people all along,
until you realized,
that they were just following you.

Stam

Oh I wish I had the power, the power to change the world, but I'm just one man trying to do it on his own.

Good Shabbos everyone!! Wishing you all the best, wherever life will take you, and remember the most important thing of all- don't worry, be happy!

What to do

You mock other people when you see it happen to them. You pity them, the fools that they are, to think that something like that is actually real, that they will be happy from it. You swear to yourself that it will never happen to you, not in a million years. You will never be one of those blubbering fools, you will not be that stupid, you won't ever go down that road, because you know where it leads, and you know you don't want to go there.

The path is not straight. There is no straight path. Maybe in the land of make-believe, but here in reality, the path is crooked as sin, and it is up to us humans to stumble along, in the dark, and try to figure it out.

But what if you can't? What if you are leaning so far over the water, and you can't return to dry land? What if there's a branch hanging down, but it is just out of your reach? Nothing can save you now.

What if you used to have it right, it was all so clear, but then your vision blurred? Society mocked you. You changed your mind. No, it just changed of it's own accord, gradually, you never even realized it was happening.

In the end of the day, it is no one's fault but your own. There are never enough excuses you can give, nothing that will defend your actions, or condone them.

In the beginning of the day, what are you supposed to do about it?

You can be smart, you can be logical, you can be analytical, or all three- and there is no way it's gonna help you in the long run.

Nothing is forever

I wrote this story, a few weeks ago. Some of you may have read it. This is a work of fiction. It reflects my thoughts on the matter of death, but in no way is it suicidal. Don't bother me about that. Just enjoy the story.

I watched, from a safe distance, because I was curious to know what would happen, how they would react. At first, there was a lot of confusion. They didn’t know who I was. That was obvious, and expected, but still, I always wished I was some famous person, and they wouldn’t even have to look, they would just know it was me.

They tried administering CPR. The EMT was really cute, I might have hit on him if I was conscious. They tried to save me, I know they did. He would not have let me die. But it was useless. I was already gone, because I was here.

They searched me, looking for identification. They found my wallet, my license. That horrible picture of me, that I swore on the day I got it that no one but an officer of the law would ever see it. And even then, I’d try hard not to have to show it unless necessary.
They noted my home address, and phone number. Now would come the hard part.

They slowly pulled the white sheet up, over my body. I watched in awe, in shock, confusion. So that was it. That was how it all ended. I wasn’t ready to go, not just yet. But it was too late.

I was loaded onto the ambulance, and they gently shut the doors. They didn’t rush me to the hospital. There was no need.

An officer reluctantly knocked on the front door of my house. That perfect, yellow little house, with the flagstone path, the white picket fence, the tree that I had fallen from, and broken my arm. It was too perfect for my liking. That house that I was never really happy in.

Dad opened the door. His face registered annoyance, apprehension, suspicion, anxiety, in that order. The officer politely asked if he could step inside, and Dad, being the gracious host that he was, moved aside and let him in.

They sat there together, Mom and Dad, hands clasped, knowing there was bad news, but not wanting to hear it. Mom twisted her fingers, like she does when she is nervous. Dad sat still as a stone, being strong for the both of them, as always. So picture perfect. Except I was missing.

‘There’s been an accident’, the officer said. ‘A car came swerving out of no where, and hit Ella’s car full on. We tried to save her, but were unable to. I’m sorry. Ella is dead.’

No. That single syllable was whispered by Dad. Mom was frozen in place. Her face was a mask of shock, and denial. She offered the officer a drink. Cake. Food. Anything. He just stood up, and apologized, then left. Ya, he said he was sorry for dropping the news on my parents that their only daughter was dead. Gone, forever. Sorry? Too little too late.

Dad cried. Dad. A solid rock. I’ve never seen him cry, ever. There were tears coursing down his cheeks, but no sound came out of his mouth. Mom still hadn’t moved from her chair. She just kept whispering, over and over, ‘it can’t be true. Ella’s supposed to be home soon. No. it can’t be.’ Again and again she whispered. And I wanted to shake her. For once, Mom, stop denying the truth! Yes, bad things do happen, even to perfect little families like ours.

And Dad, he did the one thing I really wanted to do at the moment. He screamed. Dad never screams. ‘She’s dead! Ella is dead! Why can’t you believe that? She’s not coming back. Not today, not tomorrow. Ever! Stop kidding yourself. You’ve lied to yourself your whole life. Maybe that’s what got her killed.’

No, no. Don’t fight now. Not at a time like this. Please, just stop! They never stop. Always fighting. Always screaming. Maybe I am better off dead. I wanted to scream, but of course they couldn’t hear me.

And then Mom cried. And cried. Loud, wailing, soul rending sobs, that went on and on, and never seemed to stop. Dad pulled her into a rough embrace, and together they cried. He held her so tight, and she clung to him, her life saver, as it always was.
And me? I cried with them. The rain poured down, hit the window pane, and slid down in slow, mournful tracks. Yes, I cried too.

I caused them pain in life, and now, I caused them grief in death.

Life is hard. Sometimes it is so so hard, there seems to be no way to go on, and ending it looks like the only way. But death is harder. It is not so simple. It does not solve anything.

I was scared of what would come. I was sad to be leaving. Yes, souls can feel emotions in death too. Who would come to my funeral? Would anyone show up at all? Who would feed my dog, Foxy? Would Mom stop buying Reeses puffs, my favorite cereal? Would anyone else ever sit in my chair at the table? Or sleep in my bed? Would a stranger take down all my posters, the one of Harry Potter, and Will Smith, which I kiss every night?

I knew there were a lot of changes, but I wasn’t sure what to expect.

I went to my funeral. I watched as they lowered my coffin into the cold, hard earth. I felt like screaming. No, stop. I’m, still here. Don’t let me go. Don’t leave me. I didn’t want to be buried, I hate tight, small spaces. They creep me out. But of course, they couldn’t hear me.

I tsked at their choice of attire. Black. So boring. I always imagined people in bright, gay colors by my funeral. I imagined balloons, flowers, maybe chocolate.

There was a big turnout. My best friend, Rachel was there. I wanted to apologize. We just had a huge fight last week, and I never got a chance to say I was sorry. I was waiting for her to say it first. Well, she seemed regretful enough now, as she cried and cried.
Big nosed Billy came, and we hated each other since first grade. Max was there. He used to bully me, and steal my lunch. And of course, Andrew, my secret crush, he was there too. They all came. And that made me happy.

But it also made me realize, there is no going back, no chance to fix things. After it is over, it is really over.

Mom cried, but it seemed liker Dad was all cried out.

Afterwards, in the house, I watched as they tried to get back into daily schedule, resume normal activities, tried to move on, and forget. That’s what scared me the most. That they would forget. That I would slip away from them, fade, until I became just a distant memory.

I was scared that my scent would fade, that my face would blur, and my voice would become distorted. That they wouldn’t remember me anymore, or wouldn’t be bothered to try.

One night, a week after the accident, I saw Mom take out a picture of me. She sat there, staring at it for hours. She traced the lines of my face, my eyes, my smile. She kissed it. She smiled, through her tears. She whispered, and I leaned in close to hear her.

‘A gift. G-d gave me a gift. I thank Him for the years we had together, and don’t regret a minute of it. Just know, wherever you are, that I love you so much. I’ve always loved you, even when we fought, and you thought I hated you. I’ll always love you, as long as I live. So go in peace. Sit by G-d’s throne. Say hello to Grandma Jill, uncle Joey, and everyone else. I’ll never forget you, you will always be in my heart.’

I wanted to cry, but no tears came. I leaned in, and embraced her. I think she felt my presence, knew I was here with her. And though I’ve left, physically, I never really went anywhere.

No, death is not easy. It is a painful thing. It makes the living realize how short life is, and how little control they really have. It makes the dead realize their regrets, and know they can never go back.

Life isn’t easy, love isn’t easy, none of it is. But it is something we all must go through.

I felt at peace for the first time. I said goodbye. I knew everything would be ok now. And though I missed them so much, missed being alive, doing things only a body is capable of, I knew that a soul is more free. Uninhibited.

The dead are gone, and the living, well, they have to learn how to deal with it, and move on.

I’ll be back sometime. I know I will. Nothing is forever.

Finally!

In my tirednessness state of mind, I must now venture into the world of driving. That's it folks!! In a half hour, I will be having my 1st ever driving lesson! Stay off the roads!

Just a tip: don't tell the driving instructor that you went to sleep at 3 am, and you are extremely tired. It might not work very well in your favor.

Wish me luck. Au revoire!

Why?

If your own life is so miserable that you see no way out, if you are so depressed that there seems to be no other solution, if no one understands you, and you are locked in a prison of misery and pain, then go ahead, and take the easy way out. Pick up the gun and shoot yourself. That is your own choice to make, though it is a stupid and cowardly one. But of course, no one said we must do the right and honorary thing in this world.

But to take someone else's life as well- that is just plain selfish. Who gave you the right to kill? To murder innocent children, teachers, students? Who told you that it is ok, in your anger, to pick up a gun and shoot, to run and hunt, to search until there is no one left but you? And in the end, you finish your own life too. So why? Why must you be so selfish?

Let them live. What have they done to you? Looked at you in the wrong way? Sneered when you walked by? Or worse, looked through you as if you were not there at all. No one likes to be ignored, least of all you. It hurts, yes. And you have this need for revenge. For that ultimately satisfying feeling of making someone else share your pain. You do not want to be alone in your suffering. So you force others to feel it too. To hurt so bad that they have blood pouring out of them. To kneel on the floor in excruciating pain, till the life drains out of them. And that makes you feel better?? To watch someone else suffer, as you have?

For you it is already too late. If you do not want to get help, to stretch out a hand and let someone know that you are in pain, then that is your decision. You must account for your own actions, and no one can help you but yourself.

But to take someone else's life too- who gave you that right??

As Sundays go

I find it funny, and slightly annoying, how there are more Crown Heightsers here than there are in Crown Heights. And here I thought I was gonna get away from them for the summer. But no, apparently they followed me.

So camps over. The Rabbi gave me a bracha to be married by next summer (amen) and I said maybe I'll bring my husband back and we will do camp together.

For those of you who know what Munchies is (the ice cream store here in LA, on Pico, which incidentally is also a major hang out for guys and girls) I went there last night, and asked the owner for the 2nd time if I could work there. He said no. Again. I told him I'm free now that camp is over. He told me to get married. I pointed to all the guys in the store, and asked him which one to choose. He said he doesn't get involved in that stuff, and if I wanted to screw up my life, then I could go ahead. I told him I'm smarter than that.

Then I asked him if I could have a cool Munchies t-shirt (they are orange, the coolest color) he said no. Again. What is with grumpy owners and saying no? And they won't give you free stuff either. Go figure.

The place is slowly emptying out. Going home tomorrow. I'm sure California will miss me.

That's it. It's all over.

The end.

Homeward bound

So that's it. I lasted 6 weeks. Tomorrow shall be the last day of camp! And then I'm going home.

People keep asking me, are you sad that camp is over. Am I a horrible person that I answer, no, I'm actually happy I'm done? I'll miss the campers, yes. I'll miss the experience. I will be sad it's over once I'm home, and it has hit me that another summer is over and done with, that this is probably the last time I will be doing camp, that I don't have a job for next year, that I miss my friends, etc. etc. etc.

The good part is, I don't have to work anymore, at least for the rest of the summer. It was a good experience, sure, but it was a lot of work, and very stressful at times. And I'm gonna be home. But guess what folks? I'm not even sure where that is anymore!

Mama wants to move to Monsey. In a few short months, I could be rudely stripped of that title I hate, the one where everyone calls me a Crown Heightser. Nay, for a Crown Heightser I am not, nor have I ever been one. And now, I shall no longer live there. If Mama has her way. I'll have a new title.

So goodbye dear friends. It was nice knowing you. I guess it's a good thing my blog was never called, 'blogging from Crown Heights, Kan Tziva Hashem es HaBracha'.

Still being written

You think you are finished with all of that. Petty fights? Who has time for it? Tears, emotions, all those things you think you have left behind in your youth.

But apparently, there is always room for that. A child shall forever remain a child, just as a parent will always be a parent.

Each day is a new page, each fight is a new draft. You can tear it out, rip it up, throw it all away- but you can never get rid of it.

If life is a story- then mine is still being written.

Footsteps in the sand

There were so many of them, these little imprints in the sand. Big, and small, and of medium variety. I could not tell from which persons they came. I had no idea who was here before me, who ruined the beautiful smoothness of the sand, before I had the chance to make my own imprints.

Then I saw it. A wave. Stormy, and rolling, and crashing, and moving. And it came closer, and closer, as I just stood there, not wanting to move, hoping, just hoping, that it wouldn't touch me. But it came to me anyway, and it rolled over my feet, up my legs, even drenched my skirt. And then it receded, went back where it came from.

And in it's wake, the sand was now smooth again. There was nothing to show from before. I took my first few steps, and there was only me, as if there had never been anyone else. As if I was the first.

Because the slate is always wiped clean. You always have a fresh start, to make your own impact. And after you, it will be clean once again.

Be you

I feel like a stalker, but what am I doing wrong? Is it a crime to look through a window?

The cars are passing by, in a blur, and I stare, as one by one, a piece of someones life is merging with mine. For a second, a minute. I will never know who they are, what their name is, or anything about them. I may know what kind of car they drive. That says a lot about a person. It can tell me whether they are rich, or poor. Flashy, or conservative. Or, it may not tell me anything at all.

I may know what kind of dog they have. Or what they chose to wear today. I can tell stuff about a person by what they are carrying. A purse, or shopping bag. I can tell which store it is from.

But then again, I don't know much about them at all.

And I sit, and watch, as they pass by, one by one. And I wonder what it would be like if that were me, driving that flashy sports car, or walking that pretty dog. If I was the one walking with friends, laughing, and licking ice cream cones. My mind wanders, and wounds, making up stories of people, and places.

And then I return to this room, and my reality. I am me again. And that's just fine.