No status

Now that I have Facebook, my life seems to revolve around my status. The ability to be able to say in 420 characters or less how I'm feeling. Sometimes it just doesn't seem enough. Facebook gives the option of writing it as a note instead, if it exceeds the 420 characters. But who wants to write a note about how they are feeling?

And sometimes, like tonight, my status remains empty. 420 characters is way too much for what I want to say. I don't want to say anything. Nothing of significance comes to mind.

And so I sit and stare at the screen, and I contemplate writing a 'fluff' status. But really, why write empty words? So I don't write anything.

And it is hard to describe what I am feeling, and I also don't know if you will understand. But tonight, my status remains blank.

Not because I have nothing to say. But because my insides are mute, my brain remains frozen, and I don't want to think tonight.

Tonight, I want to forget.

Friends

There's tension inside me
Something bursting to come out.

I can't explain it.
A rush of anxiety.

Teeth clenched.
Moving fast.

Part anger.
Part desperation.

Why did I go.
I hate going.

But it wasn't for me.
Some things we do for other people.
For the sake of doing it.

But now I'm wound up tight.
Like a rubber band about to snap.

I need to put distance between me.
I need to get away from there.

I'm moving fast.
My feet pound the pavement, mirroring my anger.

Angry at what? At who?
At no one and nothing.

I see them in the distance.
Two black shadows, with a hint of flesh-colored legs.

I walk faster.
My heart is pumping.

My fists are clenched.
The block shortens.
Almost there.

They are sitting on a bench.
I think they don't see me.

But then they look up.
I tilt my head.
I walk a little jauntier.

They see me.
They stand up.

I am almost there.
And then-
I am in their embrace.

And nothing else matters.
And no one else is there.
And my anger dissipates.

And I sit and talk.
And they get it.
In the way that only friends can.

And my problems don't disappear.
And the world is not magically 'right' again.

But everything is just a little better,
Things seem a bit more bearable,
Because I know my friends care.

And right now, that is all that matters.

Chicken noodle soup

"Xcuse me, do you mind if I sit here? It's really busy today and the whole train is full..."

I mumble a "No problem!", flash a smile and move my purse off the seat next to me. Then I turn my attention back to my phone, emailing, texting, whatever it was that had me so engrossed. The plan was to listen to music and play games on my phone the whole hour and 40-something minute ride.

A few minutes later: "Does it smell like chicken noodle soup?"

I take a sniff. "Hmm you're right it does. Wow. I wonder why someone would bring soup on a train."

"Ya that is kind of weird." We laugh.

"At least it's not tuna," I add, hoping this conversation is winding down. I add something about looking for the person who has the soup, she says something about maybe they would have crackers to go with it.

I look back down at my phone. Then:

"This is a pretty good price for the train. Do you take it often?"

To which I explain that no, I'm just going in for the weekend. Then I politely ask her where she is going and if she lives there.

There went my quiet ride. I had a very pleasant conversation for an hour and a half with a random girl on a train. Which for me is interesting since I always envied those people who can strike up a conversation with their seatmate on a train or plane or wherever, while it never really happened to me.

I learned all about her boyfriend, the new dog they were getting together, how they were finally moving in together after being a couple for two years. I learned how they met, which was a really cute story. She told me where she had gone to college, where she is going for law school, why she is going to law school now as opposed to going to med school which she originally wanted to do.

She told me about her parents, her family, her childhood. Her roommates, her friends. I learned that she was German, I told her that I was Jewish. She said she has a lot of Jewish friends. We spoke about religion, about the danger of intermarriage. We spoke about marriage in general and shared our ideals.

She told me she sees herself marrying her boyfriend but wants to have her life and career set up first. He wants to marry her soon but she says if he's the one then they have their whole lives together so what's the rush.

I told her there are 8 kids in my family, to which she displayed shock. Too bad I didn't tell her I know of families who have 16 kids. I told her a little about my life, my family, where in life I am right now.

It was a very interesting ride, to say the least. I learned so much about a stranger in a short amount of time. She was a nice person, we crossed paths randomly, and I will most likely never see her again.

As the train pulled in and we both got off, ready to part ways I said, "By the way, I never asked you your name."

"My name is Laura."

I think Laura is a pretty name. And thank you for making my trip so interesting.

And to think it all started with a cup of chicken noodle soup...

In memory of my grandmother

How can you miss someone you've never met?

I miss her. It's like I know her. My mother talks about her and she comes alive.

My mother tells me how she loved to shop. She had closets full of clothes she never wore, but she liked to find bargains. She was very chatty. My mother tells me, she didn't say hello when she called you, she just started talking. She was beautiful, and she had a great smile. She was young, and energetic, and vibrant. She would stop people on the street to say hello. Strangers did not remain so for long.

I wish I had met her. I think we would have been great friends.

She is forever frozen in my mind, an image from a photograph I saw of her. I thought about going to the cemetery, but that would be confining her existence to a plot of land. She was so much more than that.

I wish she was around now. I wish she could be at my wedding. She would have loved to meet my niece. And I would have wanted her to meet my children.

It's hard to think of what might have, could have been.

When my mother talks about her, it is like she is really here. But she is not here, and will not be here, until the coming of Moshiach.

Sometimes people talk about loved ones of theirs who passed away. I thank G-d have never been touched by death directly, so I couldn't really understand it.

But now I think I get it.

Today is her 25th yartzeit. Twenty five years ago the world lost a special person.

And even though I never met you, I miss you, Bubby Doris.  

UN-communicative

I just-
...
I don't know, it's like-
...
I can't explain it-
...
My mind has clear thoughts-
...
But my mouth-
...
It's like-
...
It's wired shut.
...
I feel-
...
Defenseless-
...
To your onslaught-
...
Please stop talking-
...
Because-
...
Well-
...
I haven't formulated a comeback-
...
Yet.

Life's lessons

I have so much to learn about life, and I can't even say that I've lived that much till now. But life has taught me some things throughout my short journey here.

1. If you fall, no matter how long you lie there, you will always get back up again.

2. Eventually, someone will offer you a hand, and it is your choice to take it or reject it.

3. It really does all work out in the end.

4. And because it does work out, worrying is just unnecessary.

5. Better to laugh than to cry.

6. No matter how long you cry, you will have to stop long enough to breath. So you might as well stop altogether.

7. A little prayer goes a long way.

8. Look around you, and you will see who in your life really matters, and who is just taking up space.

9. G-d always knows what's best.

10. A week really is a long time, especially when all decisions are made a week before camp/school starts.

11. Wherever you are, that's where you'll be, and wherever you are there is always a Walmart. (Or some equivalent.) So pack light.

12. Talking to friends instead of dealing with things on your own really does make the burden lighter.

13. Some people aren't so bad once you get to know them.

14. Dealing with difficulties makes you a stronger and wiser person.

15. Running away solves nothing. But vacations are nice once in awhile.

16. Never ask G-d to test you, because He will. Be happy with the easy things you have to deal with.

17. No matter what happens today- there will always be a tomorrow.

18. Everything really does look better in the morning.

19. Trust in yourself, because G-d put you here for a reason, and only you can do the job that was assigned to you.

20. Never do a half job, because you will have to do it again, and then you will be doing a job and a half.

21. The only approval you need is your own.

22. Ask not "why me?" but rather, how can I be the best me I can be?

23. Bad hair days will not kill you.

24. Laughter cures all.

25. And lastly, "It's all good", because you know what? It always is in the end.

Feel free to add your own.

The man at the ohel

I don't know him, but he is a dear friend of my mother's. She knows his number by heart. He knows every single detail of our family, everything that we've been through, all of our deepest secrets and requests.

And yet, he has never met us.

He is the man at the ohel. My mother calls up for a bracha all the time. And I mean all the time.

You are flying? Call the ohel. Job interview? Call the ohel. Cut your finger? Call the ohel. Surgery? Ohel. Getting engaged? Okay, we go to the ohel for that.

It is convenient for people who do not live near the ohel, they can call up and ask the Rebbe for a bracha and submit their name, and someone will read it at the kever.

It is a strange concept though, that this man hears everything about people. Details. Names. Things people may not even tell their friends. And yet this man knows it all.

I sure hope he can keep a secret.

My mother said maybe one day she will go to him and say, hey man at the ohel, I'm so-and-so who calls all the time. I can just imagine his eyes lighting up in recognition as he gives my mother a look and says, "So how's the family?"

To kill a mocking bird

I hate driving in New York. I can drive in New York. Since I learned to drive here, I can hold my own pretty well. But I hate it. I hate the congestion, I hate the constant beeping, I hate the swerving cars, and the double parked cars taking up lanes, and the cars turning left that hold up the whole lane. You get my drift. I hate it all. Although I don't mind driving at night or early morning when the streets are empty.

Today I sat on a street for fifteen minutes because there was a hold-up ahead. I couldn't tell what was happening. Neither could anyone behind me. But of course it started. Beeeeeeeeep!!! Beeeeeeeeeeeeep! I wish there was a horn in the back of my car to beep at the driver behind me. Really? Do you think I'm just sitting here because I have nothing better to do and no where else to go? That I want to annoy you? I don't understand what beeping accomplishes when there is no where to go, except to release your annoyance and bother other drivers in the process.

Me? I put the car in park, reclined my seat, and listened to music. No need to stress when you can relax just as well.

When the traffic finally let up, you can bet everyone sped up to catch the light, after being held back for so long.

So there I was driving along, the street was clear so I was trying to cover as much ground as I could before the light turned red. And there in the street were two birds, seemingly unaware that I was about to bear down on them.

I have never hit or killed any animals before, thank G-d. (Nor people.) Oh my G-d! I am about to kill a bird!

So I did the only thing I could: I beeped.

Well guess what? It works as well with birds as with cars. They flew away, the road was clear and I kept on going.

And my track record of never having killed a bird is still clear.

I guess beeping has a purpose after all.

Like it's 5 am

It's 5:30 AM and I am awake. Not because I woke up early, but because I haven't gone to sleep yet. I just drove my little brother to the meeting place for his class trip. They are going to Hershey Park. I guess it's considered a graduation trip, since he's graduating eighth grade this Sunday. (Can I interject an 'awwww' moment here? My little baby is graduating!)

It's a weird feeling to walk outside at 5 am- and be greeted by complete daylight. It could be any time of day out there. But my brain knows it's still night time for me, as is evident from my constant yawning, and my tired eyes.

I went to a friend's lechaim last night, and it was really nice to see my classmates whom I haven't seen since the last wedding. And another friend whom I haven't seen in a few months.

There are a lot of changes happening in the near future. My parents are moving, I'm looking for an apartment, and a job. I'm going to be on my own and independent. Yes, I've been independent since I went away for high school when I was 14. But this is different. Then, I went home every so often. I always had a base to return to. Of course I will still go visit my parents once in awhile, but I don't think it will be 'home'. Once you reach a certain age, home becomes wherever you lie down to sleep.

I don't like change. It makes me nervous. I want to be settled and know where I'm going. I want my future to be clear and certain. But it's not. And that scares me.

But I realized two things.

1) Attitude really does matter. Yes, the situation will turn out however it will, and I don't have full control over that. But what I have full control over is how I react to it. I can freak out and sit on a bench on Eastern Parkway and mope about how my life is falling apart- or I can calm down and say, this too shall pass. Everything will work out. "It's All Good". And you know what, I am happier, calmer, and more at peace when I think that way.

And 2) There is someone much bigger than me who is controlling the world. And as much as I worry about what comes next, what I should do, He knows. Hashem knows that I am here, He knows that I am looking for a job, He knows that I need an apartment. He knows, but I didn't tell Him. I didn't turn to Him, I didn't ask Him. I forgot. I forgot that it's not just me, little Altie who makes the decisions. Hashem runs the world. He knows, He sees, He hears. And He listens when you talk to Him.

And I know that G-d won't let me down.

What next

It's like a wind machine blowing in my face.
I can't breath.
It lifts my hair and tumbles it around my head.

It's like the Big Bad Wolf from the story of the three little pigs.
Who huffs and puffs and blows my house down.
Only now it is down to the ground.

Down in shambles and pieces.
I can't put the pieces back together.
It is like a puzzle that doesn't fit.

A book with a page ripped out.
A street with no signs.
No direction at all.

Standing at the crossroads
in the middle of the night
no idea where to go from here.

And no one prepared me for this moment.

Rain

I couldn't fall asleep. Probably because I was in bed earlier than usual and my body said, no this makes no sense. It was 2 am and my eyes were wide open.

The steady sound of rain reached my ears. I couldn't sleep anyway so I got out of bed, threw something on and went outside. It was raining hard out there and as I stood on my porch in pajamas in middle of the night with rain streaming down on my hair and outstretched arms- I felt at peace. Giddy, even. It was exhilarating.

I watched the rain illuminated in the headlights of passing cars. A part of me felt safe.The street was quiet and empty.  But then I thought, what if a car drives by and starts shooting at me? Unlikely, but then again this is New York, anything is possible.

So I went inside and locked the door hoping not to wake anyone in the house.

I went back to bed but didn't fall asleep till 6 am.

I love rain, it makes me feel so alive.

What is love

Seriously, nobody falls in love in 2 days!!!! That's not how life works.

The way books depict love is so unrealistic. Meet, fall in love (sometimes 'the first time they lay eyes on the person') and live happily ever after.

Gag.

I can't claim to know how love works. But one day when I find out, I'm going to write to Nicholas Sparks to tell him... you got it all wrong.

Shavuos prep

This picture is for illustration purposes only. I did not make this cheesecake, I don't think I would have the patience for something this fancy. Thank you Google for the image. 

Some people prepare by learning. Others, by doing soul-searching or praying.

But this is how I prepare for Shavuos:

Ipod blaring, dancing to my own beat, making cheesecake in the kitchen at 2 in the morning. This is what I call fun.

Perhaps I'll post some pictures of my cheesecakes. One is a no-bake-triangular cheesecake, one which I've been making since I was in sixth grade. Simple, tasty, you can't go wrong. The second is a new recipe I am trying, thanks to The Professor of Lifeonacottonball for the recipe.

A freilechin Shavuos to everyone! May it be meaningful, filled with learning and growing, and may we all be in Eretz Yisroel with Moshiach this year to accept the Torah!

Oh, and enjoy the cheesecake!

Diversity

It had a documentary feel to it. I was an observer in a world that was foreign to me. I was the stranger. They stared at me wondering what I was doing in their world.

We walked until he decided to stop. A good place to take pictures, he said. I was his 'assistant'. He zoomed in and focused his lens. He was taking pictures of letters today. An experiment, he told me.

Williamsburg had lots of Hebrew letters. On the buses, on the storefronts, on the entrance to shuls and yeshivas. People stared at us at they walked by. They had suspicious looks on their faces. And interest. Why was this man taking pictures in their neighborhood?

No one stopped us. No one ran out screaming at us to 'please leave Williamsburg'. I heard Yidish being spoken all around me. I wasn't sure how well they can speak English. I know some yidish, but their accent is different.

We stopped in a park to sit down. I smiled at the kids as they rode past on their bikes. They stared at me, the stranger in their midst, with curiosity and hesitation. Perhaps I was akin to the man whom their parents warned never to take candy from.

We are both Jews, yet we are worlds apart. We come from the same nation, we serve the same G-d. But we dress differently, we talk differently, we act differently. I am not welcome in their world, because I am different than them. I am not so sure how welcome they would be in my world either.

It is an odd feeling. Like brothers who have never met. We feel like strangers. We treat each other like strangers. But at the end of the day, if you strip away the clothes, the speech, the customs, you discover the heart and soul, the neshama. We are both Jews.

So tell me, are we really that different?

Flame

It’s gone now

I don’t know where it went.

First it was there, then

Up to heaven it was sent.

Glowing orange and blue

It clung to the wick.

To its source of life

It had to stick.

The heat

It burned my hand

Had to pull away

The feeling it could not withstand.

Fire so pretty

Yet can cause such grief.

Can end a life

That was so brief.

I stare at the flame

It beckons me

Where there is no light

It helps me see.

Candle, yellow.

Flame so bright

Wax so soft

A beautiful sight.

I stare until

It is no more

The flame is gone

Called to heaven’s door.

That little wick

Is now so bare.

The flame that fought so hard,

It is no longer there.

I watch to see if it will come back, but it doesn’t. 

The last vestiges of the flame died, 

and a wisp of smoke ascended. 

A flame represents so many things. 

Life, a soul, a yearning. 

To me it is mesmerizing. 

But now the flame is gone, and it’s time for me to go to bed. 

People watching

On Eastern Parkway we sat, people watching. Maybe we saw you. You will never know.

We made up stories as they walked by. We tried to guess where they were headed, who was related to whom. We commented on clothing. On how cute little kids are.

We watched the cars as they drove by. Green ones and yellow ones. Cool cars and ones that have seen better days. Music blaring, thumping to the beat. These people were going somewhere.

Everyone was going somewhere. But we sat and stared. We weren't going anywhere.

It started to rain, and still we sat.

It got dark out, and still we sat.

To open your eyes and see the world around you, to observe- it is refreshing.

Shabbos ended and we headed home. Time well spent.

The bench awaits until the next time we decide to sit and watch.

Who knows what we might see.

Happy birthday to me!

Yup, it's that time of year again. Wait for it... wait for it...

"Go, shorty
It's your birthday
We gon' party like it's your birthday"

To all my readers: 

On the occasion of my birthday, I would like to bless you with all good things, physically and spiritually. May you be successful in whatever you put your heart to, may you have direction in your life, may you only ever see revealed good in everything, and may G-d grant you your hearts desires for good. It should be a good fulfilling year for me, for you, and for all Jews and humankind. May we see the revelation of Moshiach now!

If you would like a specific bracha feel free to email me at altie47@gmail.com

I would like to ask all my readers to do one mitzvah (good deed) today in honor of my birthday. That could mean giving charity, doing someone a favor, smiling at someone. Anything big or small. 

Happy birthday to me! And of course, gifts are always welcome :)

When the world stood still

So much color around me,
things spin as I walk by.
The world is kind of on its side.

One eye open,
the other closed,
how many, know one knows.

I don't know what comes next
but now I want to sing.
Who knows what tomorrow will bring.

Water, they tell me
is the cure.
For what, I am not sure.

Smile and be happy
it's my birthday tomorrow night.
The future, I wish it were so bright.

The house is quiet.
I should go to bed.
So many thoughts in my head.,

Z, you are my rock,
you're always there for me.
Sometimes more than my family.

For all the things I write,
sometimes what I really want to say
will never make it to the page.

For audience,
as much as I love thee
you are not a part of me.

My head, it hurts.
My bed it calls.
And I just can't help but stall.

The night is quiet.
I am alone.
Sleep I will postpone.

Advice I do not ask for, but
So much stuff they say
I wish they'd go away.

Genie in a bottle,
I'm ready for my wishes three.
Will you grant them if I ask nicely?

Sometimes you just don't get me,
or the things I say,
you would think it's all cliche.

But this is me.
I never lie.
I very rarely cry.

So please don't hold me back.
My future, it awaits.
As soon as I open the gates.

Thoughts swirl in my head.
Tomorrow today will be gone.
But there is always a new dawn.

Sleep, it draws me in.
I do not want to let go.
There is so much I don't know.

They say that it is fine.
That it'll all be okay.
That tomorrow is a new day.

I so want to believe this.
I want it to be true.
Especially coming from you.

So I will go to bed now.
And remember the things you say.
Cuz when tomorrow comes, I don't want it all to go away.

Blank page

She asks me to write something for her.
Because I'm good at it, she says.
Because I've written stuff for her sister.

 I tell her I'll give it a try.
She sounds all thankful and grateful.

My mind is blank.
I'm stuck.

I should know this stuff but I don't.
Where do you learn it?

It is something that grows over time.
I try to remember if I ever had it,
or was I faking it all those years?

I google it,
I search for it,
I panic.

I have been taught this since the cradle.
Since I was in first grade.

We would stand on a chair on our birthday and say what our birthday wish was.
We could have said anything we wanted.

A new toy, games, a doll.
But time after time the answers were exactly the same.

"I want Moshiach."
It was said with the sweetness and naivete of a young child who actually believed that wish would come true.

And not in 20 years from now.
But today.

I don't know what happened,
but I am not that little girl anymore.

You can ask me what I want for my birthday.
I might say a car, a new phone, a guy.

I will not say Moshiach.
Not because I no longer believe.

Not because I no longer care.
But because it got buried so deep underneath my search for life, for truth, for direction,
that I am not sure it will resurface again.

She asked me to write a poem
about the Rebbe.

Thanking him, dedicating to him, what he gave to us and how he helped us along our lives.
And my mind is blank.

And I don't know what that means.

Kids: bits and pieces

"Mommy, where did you go? When are you coming home?"

His voice cracks on these words and I can see the tears about to fall. It is so cute and yet I can't help feeling sad because he is.

He chats on about nothing. He tells me his mom went to Pennsylvania when I am sure I heard her say Maryland, but who cares. He knows where his mommy is and that she will be back tomorrow night. He gives her a few kisses through the phone and it is just so cute.

I lay next to him until he falls asleep, and though he swears it will take him 5 hours to fall asleep he is out within 20 minutes.

He asks me when I am leaving and I tell him tomorrow night. He tells me that he wants me to stay here forever, and somehow I wish I could.  

Of band-aids and hot sweaty days

He comes inside crying. I ask him what happened but he is sobbing too hard to tell me. I tell him to please stop crying and tell me what's wrong, I can't understand him.

He comes and climbs onto my lap, and through his tears I figure out that he fell on the steps. He skinned his leg.

And so I hold him tight and kiss his hot sweaty forehead, and I tell him that it is going to be okay. I rub his back, and apply the band aid that he brings me. I remind him that he is going swimming soon, I sooth him as I talk to him, and I hug him because I know I can make him feel better, I can take his pain away.

He walks away content, and I marvel at how simple children are.

I wish a band-aid and a kiss could fix all of our problems.

Sleep

Toss and turn,
can't fall asleep.
Feeling the pressure, need to get up in a few.

That stupid blue light
that shines so bright
and tells me how much time has passed.

My eyes are closed
but my brain won't stop moving.
My mind won't stop thinking.

I have a headache.
Feels like my head is bigger than it should be.
I really need sleep but it just won't come.

I try everything
except for counting sheep.
Cuz really, why imagine sheep flying over my bed?

It is 7 AM.
I have not slept a wink.
But I have to get up.

Searching for that one thing that evades me.
Begging for that escape that won't come.
I fall asleep when I don't need to.

But when I'm tired
and it's late
and I gotta get up early to take care of kids...

That is when sleep eludes me like wispy curls of smoke.
Coffee is not even strong enough now.

Hope everyone else has a good day.

Yeshiva blues

Little brother:

"Oh I'm going back to yeshiva soon".
 Picks up crumbled white shirt from behind the couch, sniffs it.
 "This'll do."
 Puts it on.

Seriously?

Happy Lag Baomer!

This is a very happy time for Jews. We make bonfires, have barbecues, celebrate. Those who are in Israel travel to Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochei's grave site.

A short synopsis from Chabad.org:

Lag BaOmer (the 33rd day of the Omer count) celebrates the end of the plague amongst Rabbi Akiva's students, and the ascent on high of the soul of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai. The mourning practices of the Omer period are suspended, which is why many three-year-old boys receive their first haircut on this day. Many visit the gravesite of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai in Meron in northern Israel. It is customary to go on outings and to light bonfires; children play with bow-and-arrows to recall that "during the lifetime of Rabbi Shimon the rainbow (--a sign of the world's unworthiness, as per Genesis 9:14) was not seen."

The Lubavitcher Rebbe initiated the organization of parades of Jewish unity and pride on Lag BaOmer and on a number of occasions (in 1953, 1956, 1957, 1960, 1966, 1967, 1970, 1976, 1980, 1983, 1984, 1987 and 1990) he addressed the parade held near his headquarters in Brooklyn in which thousands of Jewish children and their teachers participated.

This year, since Lag Baomer is on Sunday there will be a parade in Crown heights on Eastern Parkway in front of 770. It is very exciting, and everyone is invited.

I wish everyone a happy chag, and enjoy the day wherever you are!

Altie, Somewhere in the USA

So my parents are selling the house. For real this time.

It's funny how the house my family has lived in the longest is the one where I have been the least, and have hardly any memories with.

My first house I lived in for 3 years. Second house was 5 and half years. Third house was one and a half years. Fourth place was 4 years. This current house we have lived in for 6 and a half years.

But by the time we moved in I was away at high school and came back infrequently. This is not a place I call home, it is but a pit stop for me. A place to regroup, reassess. I come here for food and to do laundry, for a free roof over my head. For occasional company.

Where my parents will go from here is a mystery to me, and them as well. Right now everything is up in the air, and who knows where it will fall?

As for me, well my future is uncertain, I live day by day, I don't think about it until it comes. Okay on moving day I'll figure it out.

I might as well get myself a permanent address, kind of like the google voice of addresses. Instead of having a forwarding address all the time I will make my new address:

Altie
Somewhere in the USA

And somehow, whoever and whatever is looking for me, will find me wherever I am.

Who am I

I cry by sad movies. I cry and cry when someone dies. I know it's not real but I can't help it.

I like to sit by the water and feel the breeze on my face.

I love the sound of rain, the smell of it. I love the feel of it on my skin.

I love the feeling of Spring in the air, and knowing that summer is right around the corner.

My favorite colors are green and orange, though not together. When I was little I might have said blue. I changed it.

I get crushed when someone rejects me. As a friend, for a job. It hurts.

I love the smile of an innocent child, especially when they look guilty of something.

I discovered I like cookie dough ice cream.

I'm scared to try because I hate to fail.

I like reading books that have a happy ending.

I hate when people are upset at me, especially if they are justified.

In a book when a good person dies I go back just to see that they are still alive.

I have two hundred friends on facebook, but I am probably only friends with a quarter of them. Maybe less.

I would do anything for my friends, anytime, anywhere, any place.

I can't sleep without noise in the background.

Most of my fears are internal.

I don't like weddings.

I hate the color pink.

I paint swirls of color because that's how I feel inside.

Sometimes I just can't deal with real problems and so I pretend I don't have any.

Sometimes I do stupid things and then hope to G-d they don't come back to haunt me.

Sometimes those stupid things come back to haunt me.

I respect strength, and I abhor weaknesses. Especially in myself.

Sometimes I wonder why people don't get me, but then I realize that maybe only I will ever really understand Altie.

Words of wisdom

I want my words to sink in
like permanent ink on thin paper.

I want my words to hit home
like a punch to the gut.

I want my words to make a difference
like rain to parched earth.

I want to be an inspiration
to people who need hope.

But in order to do that

My words must leave my mouth.

Leave the paper.

Leave the virtual imagery that is the web.

Fly through the air on wings born of creation.

And find you.

Will my words ever find you, touch you, inspire you?

Or will they remain stuck in my head, unsaid, forever one with me?

You must return from whence you came

What goes up, must come down. It is simple laws of physics. Following that same rule, those who go, must return.

The water is gorgeous. It reminds me of sparkling diamonds. It laps up against the rocks and makes a deafening wooshing sound. There is an ebb and flow to it, a rhythm. This makes sense to me, this I can follow.

I close my eyes and take in the smell and the sound, eliminating my sense of sight. It is so peaceful here, where the world can't touch me. I am listening to my music, but I pause it and listen to the music of the sea instead. I take a deep cleansing breath, count to ten and let it out. I practice breathing slowly and focusing on my body. It is relaxing.

I open my eyes and everything seems much brighter somehow. Whitewashed. I know it is because my eyes were used to the sunlight beating down on me and the respite of closing my eyes made everything appear brighter. But I can believe that the world looks different now, fresher.

I climb over the rocks, looking for the perfect one. This one looks good, so I sit down and try to get comfortable. But it is on a slant and not good for sitting. So I look for a different one. This one is too hard, this one is too narrow. There seems to be a problem with every rock I choose. I force myself to sit still and stop moving so much. I feel like Goldielocks.

I look around me to make sure no one is witnessing my fidgeting. One last rock, and then I stay. In life you can't keep looking at what's better and bigger. As soon as you get what you want, you fantasize about a different one. You have to live in this moment, and not crave the next one to come and replace the current one.

Of course, the second I move rocks, I am suddenly almost certain that the previous one was more comfortable. So many to choose from.

I climb over all the rocks, jumping from one to the next until I get to the edge of the water. Suddenly, I am a little dizzy and nauseous. Suddenly I am not so calm and at peace as I was before. I know how to swim but the vast ocean makes me nervous. What if I fall in and no one can save me? What if I wake up and find myself in middle of the ocean with no land around me at all? I tell myself my fears are unfounded, but I am done standing here. Time to go back to solid ground.

I turn to go back over the rocks, when I realize that all those rocks I had so much fun jumping over are stretched out before me. Somehow it is easier to run away then to return. They are the same rocks but now they look more treacherous, more risky. I pick my way from rock to rock, and remind myself that I've done this before.

It strikes me that when I went the first time, I forgot about the return journey. And now here I am climbing over the same rocks again and praying that I don't fall.

No matter how far you go, you must always return home.

And home is where I am right now, with a much calmer disposition, and two bright red sunburns on my arms to show for my trip today.

 Sunburned arm

 other side of same arm

Contrast. Or as some girls call it, a 'tznius tan'.

Passwords

I try once, then I try again. Sweat starts to form on my forehead, but I push away the nervous feeling creeping over me and I try again. Something is wrong. It has to be. Why is it denying me access? You know me. It's ME! Let me in, what is wrong with you?

I take a deep breath and try again. And again. Access denied. The clock is ticking and I only have a certain amount of tries. What will I do if it doesn't recognize me? How can you do this to me, I CREATED you!

I am banging on the door but it remains locked. It doesn't know who I am, or if it does, it no longer cares. My heart lurches in fear, for if I can't remember, I may remain outside forever.

I search my brain trying to come up with the right combination that it may accept it this time. But I can't. There is too much in my brain swimming around, and it just won't come to me.

It's ironic, really. I created you to keep intruders out, yet you keep me out as well. I am no different to you than a stranger.

Red flashing, access denied, once again I am turned away. I can't remember my password, and in this nightmare, there is nothing I can do but hurl it across the room, slide down the wall onto the floor, and bury my head in my knees.

It's me, Altie. Why can't you just let me in?

My seat at the table

It is a coveted spot every Shabbos. Since I was little, the oldest child home was the one who got it. Of course I was jealous, but I bided my time until it was I who could sit there proudly. But my time never came.

One sister went off to school, but there was still one on top of me. Somehow by the time I was supposed to be the oldest girl home, my older sister was living at home again. I just couldn't catch a break.

But this Shabbos, oh this is going to be great. The only ones home are me and my little brother. The house is so quiet and peaceful. And this Shabbos I will not have to fight for it, that seat is mine by right.

Yes I realize it is because I am the only girl home. But it is still nice.

I get to sit at the head of the table, right near my father. :) Some parts of childhood never go away.

Have a good Shabbos everyone.

Oh Mr. Sun, how we love thee

The sound of the wind rushes past my ears. It is deafening. It swirls around me and plays with the tails of my open sweater, causing it to billow around me. The sun is out, the rain is gone, and it is a glorious day.

Well hello there

It is 6:30 am and I am ready to go to sleep, when most of the East Coast is just waking up. Scratch that, it's a Sunday, give them a few more hours to sleep.

People ask me how I am and I say I'm fine. And that's the honest truth. I'm better than fine.

I couldn't stop smiling since the moment Rabbi told me I'm out of a job. They decided to close down the dorm, so my job there is done. Some people might be devastated by this turn of events, or unsure of what to do next. I can assure you, what comes next in my life is one big question mark. But I am okay with that.

There is a certain beauty in not knowing what comes next. A certain freedom. I am free to go wherever I want, do whatever I want, forge my own path, create my own future, I am free!

And my choice was to stay up all night and sleep all day. Well, I'll figure that out too.

I put my trust in G-d that everything will turn out for the best. Oh don't get me wrong. I am planning as well. Looking for a job, looking for cheap tickets to anywhere so I can take a vacation and get away, thinking about the future.

But there is a part of me that knows that no matter what I do or don't do, G-d has a plan in mind for me. And it was set in motion the second I drove away from Connecticut with all my stuff.

Goodbye past year, hello future.

Hit me with your best shot!

Through the fog

Eyes glued to windshield
hunched forward in the seat
trying to see
trying to stay in control.

There is nothing to see
and no where to go
except for the long winding road
leading nowhere.

Through the trees
twists and turns
the fog so thick
I'm sure I can cut it.

I am scared.
Approaching headlights
may spell my doom.
One mistake is all it takes.

But there is no stopping,
only moving forward, onward.
For the one who stops
may very well be the one to cause the crash.

I hold my breath and keep going.
I am shaking.
Concentration a necessity
holding the wheel tightly.

I want to close my eyes.
Take a break.
Wait till it clears.
But no such relief.

The fog engulfs me
holds me tight
surrounds me.
There is no stopping now.

Will I make it?
Or will I get lost in the fog
forever wandering
trying to find my way back home.

:) :) :)

To think it's been a whole year... 13 months to be exact approximate.

I am of course talking about this. Tonight and tomorrow, the first day of Chol Hamoade is my niece Rochel Leah's first birthday!

My sister and brother in law and niece spent the first days of yom tov with us. It was so nice to see her smile, hear her garbled baby talk, even hear her cry and have diapers in the garbage. It's been a long time since there has been a baby in my family.

She is a gorgeous pretty princess and I love her. (I didn't buy her a birthday present cuz come on, she will never remember anyway. I need to reserve it for when she is older and can actually remember that I am indeed her favorite aunt.)

Happy pesach everyone, and to lots of simchos and happiness.

Star light, star bright

One night I woke up and glanced at the clock. It read 4-something AM. My first thought was what woke me up in the middle of the night? And then I realized something was wrong. I could see the clock. I could read the numbers. It took awhile until my foggy brain cleared, and then I noticed my eyes were dry. I had forgotten to take out my contact lenses before I went to sleep.

The first thing I do when I wake up in the morning, after I shut off my alarm, is to grope blindly for my glasses. Before I put them on, everything is blurry. If I ever have to use the bathroom in middle of the night I usually dont bother to put on my glasses, since I only keep one eye open in the hopes of not actually waking up.

I never really think about it because that is my reality. My world is naturally blurry, unclear. Without my glasses I see shapes and colors, but nothing really makes sense to me. Wearing contact lenses is the closes I will get to having the feeling of normal sight. But every night I have to take them out of my eyes. And once again the world is blurry.

Everyone needs a pair of glasses. Eyes to look through and see the world clearly, as it should be. Without it all we see are vague shapes and outlines. Without it we have no direction, we are lost.

For some people this is their parents, or a teacher, or a rabbi. As a Lubavitcher I turn to the Rebbe for guidance, and my mashpia. Sometimes my parents.

Sometimes when something is unclear for you it is time for a second opinion. A different perspective. You need someone who will be your glasses, who will guide you in what to do and show you what you cannot see.

A joke:

Through the pitch-black night, the captain sees a light dead ahead on a collision course with his ship. He sends a signal: "Change your course 10 degrees east."
The light signals back: "Change yours, 10 degrees west."
Angry, the captain sends: "I'm a navy captain! Change your course, sir!"
"I'm a seaman, second class," comes the reply. "Change your course, sir."
Now the captain is furious. "I'm a battleship! I'm not changing course!"
There's one last reply. "I'm a lighthouse. Your call."

Sometimes we need that light to show us the way. The constant, the one that never moves, never falters. The one that keeps us on course.

Every once in awhile it is good to take stock of our lives and say where am I headed? Am I going in the direction I should be? How do I intend to get there? What tools along the way will help me to my destination, my goal? What is my goal?

Of course it helps to put on our glasses, look at our lives from a different perspective.

And know that if you are ever lost there will always be a light to guide you back home.

Only human

I don't want to go to sleep at 3 am when I know I need to wake up at nine.

I don't want to be upset because my family invited the whole neighborhood to our barbecue and I am not in the mood for company.

I don't want to be tired and moody because I took care of 7 kids today and they are not even mine.

I don't want to bother my little brother and have him bother me back.

I don't want to not help for pesach and have my father be disappointed in me.

I don't want to waste my vacation and then regret it when it's over.

I don't want to be pessimistic all the time.

I don't want to be jealous because someone got their article published.

I don't want to feel threatened by other people's success.

I don't want to be bored and watch meaningless tv shows.

I don't want to write a list of all my faults and moan the fact that my life is going no where.

I don't want to waste the brains G-d gave me and say oh well high school's over I guess I won't learn anything now.

I want someone to believe in me and give me a chance.

I want to believe in myself and give myself a chance.

I want to be happy.

I want to find something to live for.

I want to find purpose and meaning in life.

I want to get high off of life.

But I am only human.

I get tired.

I get cranky.

I get moody.

I am a pessimist.

I am selfish.

I am self destructive.

I create my own obstacles.

I am not the strong person that I know I could be.

I am not doing the best I could do.

I am not even doing a quarter of what I could be doing.

I made this list to make myself feel better about myself.

It is not helping.

It is just an excuse to waste some more time and try to convince others that I am not a loser.

I wish I wish I wish I was a genie.

In other news: some good quotes.

And remember, no matter where you go, there you are. ~Confucius

It is not easy to find happiness in ourselves, and it is not possible to find it elsewhere. ~Agnes Repplier

There comes a morning in life when you wake up a new person; that is to say, you wake up the same person but you realize it's your own fault. ~Robert Brault

We must be our own before we can be another's. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

I know well what I am fleeing from but not what I am in search of. ~Michel de Montaigne

To clean or not to clean.

That is the question. I really don't want to. I hate cleaning. Especially when the place is a mess. (It's easy to clean when it's already clean.)

Plus there is so many other things I could be doing. I'm on vacation. I hate pesach cleaning, it is annoying. I wish the house would just clean itself.

The funny thing is, no one even asked me to clean. My mother is not making me, they didn't say "only come home if you are going to help." If I don't help no one will even notice.

But there is this guilt inside of me, and this dreadful feeling I get every year that somehow, our house is just not clean enough.

Thank G-d for the bracha that exonerates us from the chometz.

Now I am off to not clean.

The horror

I'll tell you one thing- spreading my wings and flying is not as awesome as its made out to be.

So I'm all grown up now. I have a job, I make money. I'm independent. It feels great. (So my father pays my cell phone bill, so what?)

Suddenly, about a week ago, Father drops a bombshell on me. He will no longer be paying my cell phone bill. (Okay I can't breath.)

Now I am all on my own.

What to do?

Shop around for no contract cell phone plans. But there are so many. And all of them clain to be the best. Whom to believe?

By now I'm probably an expert.

Virgin mobile, $25/month unlimited text and web, but only 300 minutes. Or $40/month unlimited text and web, with 1200 minutes. Or $60/month unlimited everything.

Metro PCS- ranges from $40-$60/month, unlimited everything.

Boost- $50/month unlimited everything. They also offer a daily plan of just $2/day. Or a minute plan of 10 cents per minute.

Page plus- $29.95/month- 1,200 minutes/ 2,000 text/MMS messages/ 100 MB of Data. Or $44.95/month- unlimited talk and text, but only 20mb of data.

Why am I telling you all this?

Like any smart person would do, I decided to read the reviews on these plans. And I wonder, how can there be two totally different reviews on the same provider? One person praising it to the high heavens, saying it's the best deal he ever had. The next calling it evil and saying they stole his money.

And on and on.

So how do you decide? When there are so many options out there, how can one possibly decide?

It was so much simpler when my father paid the bill and I had my stupid old flip phone. Soon the smartphones will take over the world and my durable flip phone will become extinct.

And in the meantime, I will be without a cell phone once my father cancels his plan.

Oh the joys of growing up.

Close my eyes and take a ride inside

There are words inside me trying to get out but there is something blocking them. Tonight is just not my night. And so many people try to tell me their opinions on this, or how to do this right or that right. I don't know what their point is but I know how it makes me feel. It makes me feel little, like they are stepping on me, putting me down, telling me that the way I have been doing things my whole life is all wrong. And who gave them the right to do that to me?

I am in a world where the truth is hidden and everyone is pushing their way through, trying to figure it out. Everyone interprets things differently, and it is up to me to find my own way, to sift through the rubble of right and wrong and find something to trust in.

That is what I lack. Who do I trust in a world like this? The homeless guy who tells me that if I give him a quarter I will get absolution? The lady who tells me that I should or should not wave my fingers at the flames? My mother who tells me that we peel our vegetables on pesach?

People ask me what my standards are, and I don't know what to tell them. Do I go by what my family does, or should I make up my own stuff? Do I go by what my family does cuz I thought about it and decided it was the right way to do things, or because it is easier than researching and figuring it out myself?

I don't know why I do what I do. I have many questions with no answers. I have so many doubts and uncertainties. The more I think I know, the less confident I feel about it.

I am outside walking alone. There is so much conversation going on in my head. It is late and it is quiet out. The questions and doubts just keep swirling, and my feet hit the pavement with a loud clacking sound that can probably wake the dead.

I want to be inside, somewhere warm, somewhere accepting, but somehow the darkness stretches on and on, and I am very far from home.

In the nighttime

I open my window to get some fresh air. I lay back down and look up at the ceiling, wishing I was laying under the night sky, looking up at the stars.

The sound of cars rushing by comforts me. It is familiar, like home. I wonder where all these people are going at midnight.

I should be sleeping. Little kids are most likely asleep. Teenagers who need to go to school tomorrow are asleep. Even adults who are expected at work tomorrow are in their beds, sleeping.

Then who are these people that are outside now, driving somewhere? Do they have a direction in mind, or are they wandering aimlessly, hoping they will find the place they don’t even know they are looking for?

Are they going home, or leaving home? If it is nighttime, they should be asleep.

Then why do I hear so many cars driving by?

I close my eyes and let the noise wash over me. I laugh at the child in me, wondering all these things. And I hope that child doesn’t disappear, because of all the adults in this world who try to quiet it.

Sleep comes. I have so many questions, so much to learn, but it’ll have to wait until morning.

The longest eight minutes of my life (3/3)

My car is the mini van

The day after the wedding I was exhausted and figured I would sleep in. But that was not meant to be.

The owner of the apartment we were renting rang the bell at 9:25 in the morning to tell us that there were people coming to clean the carpet for pesach at 9:40. Which gave us 15 minutes. She apologized saying she booked them 2 months ago, she asked them to come in the afternoon but they said she was the first on the route. I thought it was rude since we were guests and paying for the place. Imagine staying at a hotel where they make you get up so they can change the sheets.

I was tired and bleary eyed and still in pajamas when these 2 frum guys walk in. They tell us we can go back to sleep after they finish, but by that time the noise had woken me up. And the carpets were soaking wet.

We all got dressed and then I asked my father if I could drive the car to my house. He said it was fine but to keep an eye on it for signs of anything unusual. (This was the car that was in an accident.) At this point I had still not spoken to the rabbi about the car, he wasn’t answering his phone. And then when he did talk to me he told me to drive it back to New Haven and he would take care of it there. But my father felt that after an accident it might not be safe to drive.

It got to my house ok. My aunt needed to go to the airport at 2 so I volunteered to drive her. The car fine most of the way there. But then I noticed it started doing this thing where I would press on the gas and it would rev up but it wouldn’t get into gear. So it wasn’t doing anything. I didn’t do anything about it until I left the airport to go home.

I decided not to take the belt parkway and for some reason went the wrong way and ended up way out of my way. I programmed the GPS which told me it would take 34 minutes to get home from where I was, which is the same amount as from the airport. I had driven totally out of my way. I made a U-turn, stopped for a red light, and that was it. The car wouldn’t go. I was stuck in the right lane, there was an emergency lane right next to me but my car wouldn’t move. I put on my hazard lights and people still beeped at me.

I called my father who told me it was most likely a problem with the transmission. I had to cross a really busy street to get to the gas station on the other side. (Sounds like a joke.) Bought transmission fluid, walked back, saw a cop taking a look inside my car. I signaled to him that it was my car. He helped me push it to the side. Then he left.

I put in the transmission fluid, got in and started the engine- and thank G-d it drove! There was smoke coming from the hood but my father said it was probably cuz I spilled some fluid in the engine. He told me to drive it home and stick to the right lane.

It gave me trouble all the way home. It would go, then it would stop. And I kept praying that after the stress of the past few days I would just get home safely with no more hassle.

The longest eight minutes of my life. The GPS said there were eight minutes left until I got home. I said tanya by heart the whole way, the same perek over and over in a loop. I hoped it would help. “Please G-d just let me get home okay, Please G-d just let me get home okay.”

Thank G-d. I got home and parked the car.

Then I spoke to the rabbi about what to do with the car. That was a very unpleasant conversation. I will not repeat what he said since it wasn’t very nice.

I took the train back to Connecticut. The car is parked on my block. The transmission is leaking any fluid I put into it. I am no mechanic but it would be safe to assume there’s something wrong with the car.

I don’t like dealing with stressful situations. I am not calm. I get nervous. Sometimes I cry. But then I pick myself up and do what I have to do, cuz if not who will do it for me.

And through it all I pray to G-d to give me the strength to get through this.

And of course, I hit number 3 speed dial on my phone, and listen to my father’s comforting voice, and let him tell me what to do. And I know he won't let me down.

The dress crisis (2/3)

Wedding day. I wake up from my alarm at 8:30 and turn over, wishing I could go back to sleep. But there’s lots to do today. Manicures, eat lunch, hair make-up get dressed, pictures. We are on a tight schedule. Since the dorm car was parked and undrivable, my brother was driving back and forth all day picking up, dropping off. (My brother who is 17 and only has a permit. Who scraped someone’s car and caused my mother a lot of anxiety since he was the only one driving which is illegal.)

After manicure and pedicure I am running late. I keep getting phone calls while my nails are still wet and of course I can’t answer them. Someone comes to pick me up. I have to run to the apartment where I was staying to pick up my dress and shoes and anything else I will need. I’m starving since I missed lunch. My sister grabs me a bagel.

We get to the hall. The make-up lady starts on my sister first while I get my hair done. We can’t decide what to do. Up, down, half up, half down. The lady doing my hair tells me to try on my dress to see which hairstyle will look good with it. I ask my sister to zip me up. The zipper gets stuck at one point and won’t go up the whole way. Three people give it a try and suddenly the zipper breaks. This is great.

For some reason, last week I was freaking out about the dress I bought for the wedding. It was green when all my other sisters and my mother found purple. Which was fine with me. But it was sleeveless, and for some reason I thought a long sleeve lace shirt would look good with it. After buying my own material and deciding against making a shirt, I found one online for… $50. I bought it and it came. I tried it on with the dress.

It looked horrible. The lace was all wrong with the material. There’s no way to describe it besides that I was panicking. Not knowing what to do but knowing I was desperate, I ran to the mall, tried on a few dresses and bought one. Here’s the funny part- it was purple.

I called my mother to tell her the whole story and she convinced me that I was just nervous, that she would buy a plain cream colored shirt and it would look good with the green dress, that I should keep the purple one just in case but not wear it. I already got the green one hemmed, didn’t seem nice to waste it after all that effort.

So I brought the purple one with me just in case. It was my ‘back-up dress’. And I ended up wearing it.

My brother came to pick me up. I had to run to Kingston to buy a black shirt to go underneath the purple dress since I hadn’t foreseen needing one. I’m in a jean skirt and sweater, my make-up is professionally done, (and gorgeous), my hair is half done. I cannot imagine what people thought. All I kept thinking was, wedding crisis.

I ran to get my purple dress from the apartment, ran back to the hall, tried it on, and everyone agreed it looked perfect, I would fit right in with my family, it was hashgacha pratis that I bought it and brought it with me. So I finished getting my hair done and all was well.

The wedding was great. My brother was his usual unusual self. He wore a kappatah but with a vest underneath it and he made it look like a morning coat worn by British men long ago. He wore a flower on the lapel. And his signature top hat.

The kallah was gorgeous. I cried a little after the chuppah when it hit me that he was married. It was a fun wedding, and the best part was when my mother came out with 60 plastic top hats and gave them out to the guys to wear while dancing.

Oh and we played ‘pass the niece around’. My one and only gorgeous niece who is ka’’h one years old.

My aunt was there, and my mom’s best friends since she was 6 came with her daughter. We all had a really nice time.

So that was the story of the dress crisis. Part 3 coming soon.

The longest eight minutes of my life

Part 1/3

I cry when I'm stressed. I don't know why. I wish I could be tougher, like guys. But when I can't deal with something, first I scream and then I cry.

Friday was a stressful day. It started out in Connecticut. I drove to New York and the traffic wasn't that bad. By the time I dropped off all the girls it was 3:30 and Shabbos started at 7:02. I figured I'd go run some errands before I went home. This was after a 2 hour drive.

I went to 2 gas stations, 2 drug stores and one other store, and had problems with my debit card at every one of them. I called the bank frantic thinking there's something wrong with my account... until I realized I was using my card for my savings account and not my checking account, therefore my pin was wrong and that's why I had declined transactions. So I went back to all those stores and made the purchases again.

5:00.

I get home, eat something cuz I'm starving. My mother wanted to go over to the apartment I was staying at for shabbos. Since we were having relatives for the wedding she rented a guest apartment and wanted me to stay there. So we go over there and I put my stuff down.

5:30.

I go to pick up my friend who was staying with me for shabbos so I wouldn't be alone since the guests were only coming motzei shabbos. Swing around the block. I didn't find parking. Went around the block, and saw a space... only it was down the block on a one way street so I had to go around the block again to get it, and I didn't want to lose it so I made my friend get out of the car and run to stand in the space so I wouldn't lose it.

5:50.

I was at a stop sign. The car behind me beeped. I started going, I looked right, couldn't see much cuz there were cars parked blocking my view down the street.

The car came out of no where. I remember thinking, that car is going to hit me. And then it did.

5:55.

Everything was happening so fast. It was like swirls, only all dark colors. It felt like bumper cars when they hit you on purpose, only it's not fun at all. I slammed into the door, and then the steering wheel. The other car dragged my car for a bit and I slammed on the brakes and thought, I can't hit hat parked car. And then I kept thinking, oh G-d oh G-d, how much money is this gonna cost. It's not my car.

After that a lot happened.

My friend ran over to see if I was okay. I called 911. A frum lady ran downstairs. She called shomrim. I called my father. And I cried.

6:00.

Shomrim came first. They asked me if I was ok. I kept saying I was fine. The car was a bit banged up but the other guys car was worse. He looked fine too. He had a passenger in his car who needed medical assistance but she was conscious.

The police came. Asked for license and registration and insurance.

Hatzala came. Asked if I was ok. I still said I was fine.

6:15.

I asked the police if I could run inside to use the bathroom.

I asked them how long it was gonna take.

The photographer from crownheights.info came. He got his information wrong. He said there were 2 girls in the car. But it was just me. I was hit on the passenger side and thank G-d my friend wasn't in the car.

6:25.

I keep looking at the time thinking, shabbos is coming, this is taking forever. I need to take a shower.

I ask the police nicely if I could go inside and take a shower and come back. He said no.

6:40.

The police are done. They wrote up a report. I don't know what it said. I told them it wasn't my fault.

6:45.

My chest is hurting. Also my shoulder is sore. I tell them maybe I'm not fine after all. They say maybe I should call hatzala.

The hatzala guy comes and tries to convince me to go to the hospital. But it's almost shabbos, I just want to take a shower and it's probably nothing.

6:50.

They tell me to get into the back of the ambulance. I wonder how I could go to the hospital on shabbos. I wonder if I am being stupid and it is really nothing. I wonder how I could not light shabbos candles when I've lit them every week since I was three.

The guy says it's my life and the worst that can happen is it is nothing but it wasn't a waste of a trip.

My phone rings. It says home. I pick it up expecting my mother. It's my brother. My brother who doesn't talk to me. My brother who doesn't care. He asks me how I am. I tell him they are saying I should go to the hospital but I don't want to. He tells me to go to the hospital and he is coming with me.

I cry again.

My friend runs inside to put down our purses and phones since most likely we will walk back on shabbos.

I am strapped to a gurney riding in the back of an ambulance for the first time, sirens blaring and all.

I think, at least it's an experience.

7:22.

It is shabbos and I am in the hospital.

After a 2 hour wait I am discharged. Just like I thought, it was nothing, just a bit of pain and soreness. They give me motrin.

We walk back. It is a 45 minute walk. I am in my jean skirt. I wonder what people think when they see me. But now I know you can't judge.

I get home. It is shabbos. My family is in middle of a meal. My mother hugs me and cries. I am done crying for one day.

Baruch Hashem it was not a serious accident. My first and hopefully last.

Shabbos was restful even though I wish I had gotten a chance to take a shower.

Sunday was wedding day... more excitement to come in the next installment of 'The longest eight minutes of my life."