It can't be

My mind refuses to believe what my eyes are seeing.

It can't be. It can't.

What I want to know is how. Because if you can't tell me how it happened then maybe it didn't happen. I refuse to believe it. I want someone to confirm it. Better, I want it to be a mistake.

Anger. I am so angry. And I just don't understand.

They call it a 'tragedy'. They say 'With great sadness and deep pain' but what do they know about pain? I doubt they even knew him.

Did I know him? He must have been 7 when I first saw him. My brother's age. We all played in the backyard together. He watched his little siblings. Sometimes he was annoying. Sometimes I teased him. For the way he talked. For the way he looked.

And then I moved away and never thought about any of them again.

His levaya is tomorrow. I have no idea how he passed away. I can't even say the words. I can't believe it.

Most of the time it's sad, but when it's someone you know, even vaguely... it hits harder. I am still reeling from the blow.

So please G-d, turn back the clock and make it not happen.

I feel like screaming. And I still don't understand it!

Hi, it's Mommy

That's what she always says when she calls. So simple. But sometimes I save her message in voice mail and play it back when I check my messages. It is reassuring.

Her voice is familiar, her words are familiar. She calls to tell me news. She calls to say hi. She calls to check on me.

I say 'hi ma, why are you calling?' (Well not so abrupt like that, but I work it into the conversation.)

She says she just wanted to say hi.

This is an ode to my mother whom I love so much. It is not mother's day. It is not her birthday. But if you ever get that warm protected feeling like there is someone who cares beyond physical belief, like you can fall and they will catch you- you know what I'm talking about.

"Hi ma, I'm just calling to say hi".

And she understands.

My little bit of freedom

Savoring it, enjoying it, cuz it might not last. My little bit of freedom.

The wind in my hair, I can go anywhere. But I choose the one place where I feel tranquility. Here I feel at peace. Calm. Focused.

I go to the place where questions are answered, where doubts are resolved, where fears are banished. I go to the place that soothes many souls, that encourages the wounded, and gives strength to the broken.

My thoughts are fluid. They bleed from my brain and form words on the paper. My hand cramps from writing too fast. I say all that I want to say, and hope that it is understood.

When I leave, I feel uplifted. It is as if I left a part of me behind. The part that doubts, the part that gets upset and worried, the part that fears. I emerge anew.

I am confident and faithful. So faithful that I hold out my hands ready to catch the blessings being rained down upon me.

It is more than that I have to believe. I believe because I have faith. And faith cannot be explained.

I know that this year will bring many good things. I hope that they will all be openly revealed good.

I cherish my last bit of freedom and return the car to its rightful owner.

My day is over but I am looking forward to tomorrow.

Perspectives

It's all about perspectives. One time I was watching a late night talk show. (Conan O'Brien). One of the features was a game called 'What in the world?!' They would project a picture onto the screen, but it was heavily zoomed in. You would have to try to guess what it was a picture of, and then they would zoom out and you would see that you were way off the mark.

When you are too close to a situation it helps to take a step back and try to see things from afar instead of up close and personal. Things will start to make more sense.

I was working on finances for camp. I'm pretty good with numbers, but I kept adding and adding and it kept coming up $50 short of what the total was supposed to be. I used excel so the calculations weren't wrong. There was a 50 missing somewhere and I needed to find it. My boss said, big deal it's just 50 dollars, let it go. But I couldn't let it go. So she told me to take a break. And when I came back, the answer was glaring me in the face.

It helps to sleep on it. I was doing a 500 piece puzzle with my friend. We all got tired and couldn't find any matches. So we went to sleep. (The puzzle is still in progress so there is no end to that story. But hopefully when we try again things will be clearer and easier to find.)

Sometimes things just look really bad or down. But if you just take a breather, sleep on it, stop and zoom out and try to look at it from a different angle- usually you see that your problem is not really a problem after all.

I had a really great time camping and would love to do it again sometime. Hope everyone is enjoying their last few days of summer. I just realized that schools are starting back next week. Scary, I thought summer was for another few weeks.

For anyone in the path of hurricane Irene- be prepared and stay safe.

Wishing everyone a happy and healthy Shabbos!

-Altie

What's the difference?

Somewhere along the way I lost the mockery. I stopped judging. Or rather, I tried to understand.

A parent should (and I stress should since not all parents do) teach their children to have an open mind and view the world without judgement. But alas, we are human, and children especially are prejudiced. If you are different than me then clearly you are wrong, you are strange. Acceptance doesn't come easily to children, it must be taught.

And what of adults? Some adults never learn either.

When I look at someone who is different, oh so different from me, I try to see where they are coming from. How their customs differ from mine. Take me and you out of the equation and we are one and the same. Maybe some things you do are right and I am wrong. Maybe I find your code of conduct strange or your standards way too high. But that is not my business and it is not my place to judge.

I feel different because of the way I dress, think, speak, because of the type of music I listen to, the books I read, the shows I watch. I wonder if you will look at me and see me with the same open-mindedness that I try to see you. Do you condemn me for being different than you, or do you try to understand? Do I even exist to you, or do you try to hide me behind a curtain and pretend that I am not there?

Some things you wear or do I see as oppressive. The funny thing is, these are the same things that the non-Jews see as oppressive, only to them you and I are the same. In Mitzrayim, during the Spanish Inquisition, in Russia, during the Holocaust, in Persia, in Syria- we were the same. We were all Jews and there was never a distinction. They tried to change us because they didn't want us to be 'different'. But we are different. We are different from them. We keep the Torah.

So why make a distinction between you and I?

Maybe we will never talk, maybe we will never dine together, I will never dress the way you do, you will never listen to the music that I listen to. All this is true. And once upon a time I used to think that you were too sheltered, underprivileged, that you were missing out on 'my world'.

But now I realize that my world and your world are one and the same. Maybe the color is different. Maybe the outside is different. But they make no distinction, and neither should we.

I see you waiting at the corner and I wonder if I should offer you a ride. Will the fact that I am a girl make a difference? The fact that I am Lubavitch? Or will you see that I am just trying to do a mitzvah and help out a fellow Jew?

One day it won't matter. We will all be united with the coming of Moshiach, may it be speedily in our days.

You found me

I've missed you so much, my friend.
I'm glad that you are back.

It was so lonely here without you.
So empty.

So uncomfortable.
And squishy.

I missed the way you smell.
And the way you felt.

We were one.
And I was so lost without you.

I hug you close to me.
And breath in your smell.

So familiar,
and comforting.

You were $45 dollars,
but it was a bargain to me.

I've missed you my green converses.
I'm so glad to have you back.

CAMPING!

That is my great vacation plan. I am going camping with my friend and her family.

Ah, to be at one with nature, the smell of the trees, the feel of the dirt, sleeping in tents, gazing at the stars, swimming in a pond, roasting marshmallows over a camp fire, bonding, togetherness, hiking, public bathrooms and showers.

I can only imagine. I've never gone camping before. It's gonna be AWESOME!

I wonder if my phone will get reception there. I wonder if I'll be able to pull myself away anyway and enjoy the trip without distraction.

I've scheduled posts for the next few days so I think I'm gonna do it the good old way and refrain from cell phone use for a few days. Well, at least email.

Adios, amigos. Oh this is gonna be fuuuun!!!!

The things you see in Times Square. Oh New York, the capitol of Awesomeness.

Ever saw a bride and groom in Times Square?

The Running Man. Running in place for some flip flop marathon raising money for some cause.

The spray painted guy. 

The Candy Man. We can all use one of those.

Self-explanatory. (No I did not buy one ;) )

Selective amnesia

Slam slam, lock lock
walls shake, house rocks.

Finally quiet, fight is done
tell me, who really won?

Chairs strewn everywhere,
avocado in my hair.

Voices shouting throwing slurs
how it started is a blur.

Silence, but the heavy kind.
no talking, can't rewind.

Take it back- no you first.
being home brings out the worst.

Children quarreling, but we're grown.
each man for his own.

Tensions thick, tempers high,
it must be them not I.

Takes two to start a fight
can't end it, I am right.

Will we ever let this go.
maybe someday, I don't know.

Shabbos over, must get out.
Leave or I might shout.

Why do I always return?
I guess I never learn.

Calm after the storm

Smile. It is raining and the day is dreary but smile. Heart light, too light, like my stomach is filled with air. Maybe because I ran out of cereal and had a weird breakfast of a protein bar and a fruit.

Walking in the rain, no umbrella or sweater. Really, no use.

Early. It is so early but I'm not tired. I don't know why. I feel peaceful, calm. It is the kind of calm you feel after a bout of nerves, when your nervous system depresses and says, I've had enough. It is a false calm brought on by nerves. So am I nervous or am I calm? I don't know. Maybe both.

Nice shirts. And suits. Heels? What's the occasion? Now I feel under dressed. But this day is not about me, is it.

Feels like a normal day, but it's not a normal day. Last time making my rounds, last time repairing a scraped knee, last time answering the phones, last time. Sigh. I will probably return soon enough but it'll be quiet then. What is camp without the campers?

So much to do, so-much-to-do. Breath. Busy busy, way too busy, not gonna finish on time. Too much pressure. What do you want, what do you need, can't you see I'm busy? Yes okay, I'll do that, I'll take care of that, and that and that and that. And cross off things on my list of things to do until it is empty. EMPTY.

The office is so empty, everything packed into boxes. Computer deleted of all files. It is like we were never really there.

Parents calling, confused. Where do we go? Really? We told you already, do you not listen?

Babysitting a blackberry in a car for twenty minutes. Such fun. Missing the performances, the best part. Greeting parents, still doing my job, still in office mode.

Food, but too nervous to eat. It's back again, that bottomless pit in my stomach that anything I eat will fall into a deep hole. And then good bye good bye good bye good bye. When does it end? Still here? I thought I said good bye.

Oh well. Maybe I'll see you again and maybe not. Either way, great meeting you, great experience, hug hug, thanks so much.

The first tears flow but that's okay I have no need to cry, a job's a job. People? Ya it was fun but so what? Car rides in the morning, chit chat in the office and making fun of the campers and staff alike. We were equals. A part of something. Something in common. But it's over. So good bye.

Last car ride home. Smile. It is dark and pouring and the sky is lighting up with lightning. Just smile. That nervous feeling has not gone away. Get in your last stories and jokes because this thing we are a part of, once it is over- we will no longer have anything in common. It will be just you are you and I am I. So good bye.

Have a safe trip, see you around, keep in touch (probably not.) Final salute. A salute. It feels so official. And how do you say good bye without a hug, a handshake? Nothing. It is just good bye.

Final car door slam. That's it. Good bye good bye good bye good bye.

I walk up the block and my stomach feels light and empty. Walking aimless? That's weird, I know where I'm going. But I don't know what comes next.

It is so quiet outside. Like the world is holding its breath. Waiting for something. For what, I don't know.

And it has finally hit me that it's over. It's really over? Ya it's over.

So good bye.

Winner winner chicken dinner

It is gratifying to have someone pay for your dinner. Who doesn't like free stuff?

But I'd rather stay at home and slave over a hot stove (spare me) for my own home cooked meal. I usually can't stomach take-out, not to mention the fact that it tastes so unhealthy and loaded with unmentionable ingredients.

Tomorrow (or rather today when you will be reading this) is the last day of camp. It is going to be a high stress day for me. Finishing up, packing up, cleaning up, transferring files to dvd's, wiping the hard drive clean, (we rented the laptop from RAC). Lots to do.

And I always get this nervous feeling when the end draws near. I hate endings. I wish things never ended, they just went on forever. Or if they had to end that it would happen gradually and over time so I wouldn't notice it. I hate abrupt endings. Which is technically redundant as ending ARE abrupt.

So good bye summer. Well not yet but soon. Yesterday I left my place and thought, maybe I should take a sweater? It is getting chilly out.

Oh future, future, where art thou?

I'm going 'home' to Monsey for shabbos. Yes, it's only Thursday, but I was already saying on Monday 'so the week's almost over...'.

I loved my job and it was a great 7 weeks. Now on to bigger and better things. (Hopefully.)

Ups and downs

Ever tried to book a flight 5 days before flying? Try it. It is frustrating. Besides the fact that the prices are already higher than they would be had you had the foresight to book in advance, the airlines try to trick you. The more you search for flights, the higher the prices go. Instantly.

I found a flight for 321, was basically ready to book it and literally 5 minutes later it had shot up to 381. $60?? I think this is G-d's way of telling me, too bad sweetie, not this time.

So it looks like the vacation thing ain't happening. At least not now. Maybe I will go to a friend or somewhere local just to get away. Even a few days would be nice.

Sometimes in life things do change quickly, the rug gets pulled out from under you. You have to make a choice: gets upset, storm away throw up your hands throw a temper tantrum and give up? Or deal with it. Yes it is not fun dealing with set-backs, or problems of any sort. But you must deal with them cuz is there really an alternative?

Another lesson, specifically for procrastinators like myself is- make up your mind! Don't take so long to make decisions cuz otherwise life will pass you by while you stand there thinking, hmmm, red or green? Grab life by the horns and ride it for all it's worth.

Hope everyone has a great day, and try this statement: "Today I will do one thing to make the world a better place".

Ya I think I was meant to be an inspirational speaker :)

Piece of mind

I close my eyes and let the breeze rush over me. I inhale deeply and let my body relax. I let the tension drain out of me and block out all noise besides the pulsating beat in my ears. Nothing exists besides me. I find my peace in my own little world. I embrace it and let it encompass me, I make it mine. I am at peace.

And then I slowly open my eyes and the noise of cars and traffic and people permeate my senses and I am outside once again.

But just for a short time, the universe was my living room and the bench my oasis. And I was alone.

Mi'laim mitzvos k'rimon

I think I should get an award for the most consecutive posts in over a month. Go through my blog, the evidence is all there. I've posted almost every day for the past 5 weeks.

Last night I did not get a chance to write a post. It felt weird this morning walking to camp and knowing I wasn't expecting my customary email at 8 am telling me that my blog post has been published. As much as I like being random, it is also nice to have something to post about every day.

And then in the car I came up with something. I heard two nice things I'd like to share.

1) The Baal Shem Tov said that everything you see and hear every day, specifically in Torah learning, has some connection to you and your avodas Hashem. Which brings me to the second thing I heard.

2) A chossid once came to the Rebbe (I'm not sure which Rebbe) and asked him, how can it say 'Afilu poshei yisroel milaim mitzvos kerimon' (Even the lowest sinners are filled with good deeds like a pomegranate). If they are sinners how do they have any mitzvos?
To which the Rebbe responded: if they are filled with mitzvos, how can they be sinners?

We can take two things from this: that even if you think you are 'bad' or a low person, you still have a lot of mitzvos and merits. And that there are no real bad people cuz anyone can repent.

It is easy to say, well I slipped up this time so why bother trying. Or I am such a bad Jew anyway so why should I do any mitzvos?

Every little thing counts.

I have taken on a hachlata and stuck to it for 4 days so far. I am proud of myself because I usually drop them very quickly. We'll see how long it lasts, but I know every little thing is a step in the right direction.

(And there is my post for Monday.)

The rain is falling on my window pane, but we are hiding in a safer place.

Walking in the rain with a smile on my face. I think my opinion about rain goes back and forth. Sometimes I love it and sometimes I can't stand it. Tonight it was quite gratifying.

Oh wow it just thundered REALLY loud, it sounded like a building fell down. Today by the meal my brother knocked over a wine bottle and then he leaped to catch it and I jumped. What is it about loud noises that make us jump?

The end of summer had me thinking of back to school, but I am not going back to school. At least not now. The thought of new school shoes makes my heart pound, and not in a good way.

I am trying to plan a vacation with anyone and everyone. First with my mother, but she doesn't want to go away right now. One friend is busy, another not really interested, my little brother jokingly said he will come. I finally settled (not the greatest word to use) on one friend and we are in the planning process. We'll see if it works out but the more we stall the higher the ticket prices rise.

Manhattan is a fun and cool place to go. Today I saw a total of 4 fountains. They were awesome. I saw 2 brides. I saw a gay couple (kissing). I saw a girl with no shirt and no bra offering people to take a picture with her for a fee (don't worry her nipples were covered in jewels.) I saw a guy offering free hugs, I saw myself on a huge screen in Times Square, I saw 2 horses, I saw tons of police officers, and surprisingly I saw no punch buggys today.

Out of shirts? No problem. Forever 21 is open at midnight. Need a ring with a bone on it for your dog? Sure. Just $995. (Yes that is nine hundred and ninety five dollars. Seriously.)

I did tons of walking today I am so tired and ready to go to sleep. But it was a great day with friends, and discovering new things.

My current job is about to end and I have no solid plans for next year yet. But that's okay, it's great, it's all good, it'll all work out. (Or so I try to convince myself.)

I'd like to do a repost of a poem I wrote last summer. (I never do reposts but it seems fitting here.)

SUMMER!!! and stuff

Summer comes,
Spring wanes,
along with it comes sunshine rains.

The temp is hot,
the guys are not,
in the pool we want to stay.

I've got to work
no time to play
for me this ain't vaca-
tion.

Rise at seven
kids and camp
no time for a nap.

Burnt we get
like barbecue
faces red and peeling.

No sunscreen?
That's just dumb
tanning like a beach bum.

No plans for next year
but who cares
forget about it now.

Relax, let loose
enjoy the sun
have some summer fun.

Three months it is
until it ends
and then the fall comes again.

The ant and the grasshopper
like in the French fable
La cigale et la fourmi on my kitchen table.

Danced and sang
all summer long
the inevitable I did prolong.

The time has come
to move on, but-
damn I've got no job.

Follow the link here if you would like to read the comments. Some are quite funny.

That's all for now. Good night and stay dry.

Coward

You sucumb to it time and again.
You never stay until the end.
Stare it down like I do.
Dont give in until you're through.

Cowards never win the fight.
You think you're weak but you've got might.
Always remember push through the pain.
Only strong ones will remain.

I vibrate with anger every time.
Who said being weak is a crime?
You are not only slighting yourself.
But everyone who needs your help.

Dont be a coward be a hero instead.
What good are you if you're dead.
You ignore me but I try to make you see.
If not for you then do it for me.

I will not make the same mistake as you.
You say Im strong now I've got a lot to prove.
I hate when you don't sound the same.
This is life it ain't no game.

So suck it up cuz ppl have real problems don't you get it?
You haven't scored but you want credit.
Fake it till you make it if that's what it takes.
But never ever be cowardice
cuz the weak ones- they always break.

Where in the world is Carmen SanDiago?

Some people you just know where they are at all times. Some people may be strutting around the globe and you have no idea where they are now.

Some people lead exciting lives and are constantly traveling. While others have their same routine day in and day out.

Some people don't want to be settled, while others yearn for stability.

I like knowing. I like keeping tabs on people. Not in any creepy sort of way, and not for any controlling reasons. It is just reassuring to me to know where certain people are. I like knowing that my mother is at home. Or my father is at work. If my parents were hippys and constantly moved... well I would have been a flower child.

A friend once asked me why I cared or wanted to know where they were going to be for the year. I said it reassures me even if we are not talking or near each other to know where you are. Kind of like a parent knows that after tucking in his or her child that child is in bed.

I can look up at the night sky and wonder if you are looking up too. I may not be with you but I know where you are.

Today was my brother's birthday. I forgot. Or I didn't know to begin with. Happy birthday brother, wherever you are.

What if

What if what was, wasnt.
And what is, isn't.
And what will be, won't.

What if what used to be never was.
What if what seems to be isn't at all.
What if reality is fictional.

What if what we think doesnt exist.
What if things that were said weren't meant.
What if what we send was never sent.

What if what is given isn't gotten.
What if what was laughed about was taken in tears.
What if my smile never reaches your ears.

What if what was real is one big sham.
What if black and white is really gray.
What if what you said isn't what you say.

What happens to past when present changes?
What happens when everything is different
and nothing remains the same?

What if gullibility is like a punch to the gut.
What if reality is wrenching.
What if past is painful and confusing.

What was, was it?
What is, is it?
What will be... What will be?

Baby Brother

"I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living,
My baby you'll be."

Sometimes we fight.
But it's okay cuz I'm bigger than you.
Sometimes I bother you just for the fun of it,
To feel like a kid again.

I sit on you.
But then I remember that I am not bigger than you anymore.
You are bigger than me now.
So you try to hurt me.

But I laugh, because you fight like a girl.
I fight like a girl too.

I give you candy and you look at me suspiciously.
I offer you $10 to help me out and you are surprised when I pay up.

You are my baby
But you are not so little anymore.

Sometimes you are annoying,
But then you let me hug you in public.

Sometimes I can't stand you,
But then you email me to tell me you miss me.

I know you will grow up eventually.
I hope you will still miss me then.

Even when you are away at yeshiva,
Even when you are a famous rabbi or shliach,
Even when you find a beautiful girl to marry,
Even you have a baby of your own.

I hope you will still email me then,
Even if I laugh cuz you can't spell.

You will always be my baby brother.
And I'll always love you.

Punch Buggy Red

Jolted

Ever had that feeling of falling, when you are sleeping sitting up, or resting your head on your hand leaning your elbow against something? Something happens, either in your dream or your arm is jostled and suddenly you are falling forward, jolted into sudden wakefulness.

I hate that feeling. Here I am sleeping peacefully, or fitfully but sleeping nonetheless, and I am rudely awakened. It is especially hard to sleep in a moving car when you are awakened with every turn.

Jolt:  
1.to jar, shake, or cause to move by or as if by a sudden rough thrust; shake up roughly: The bus jolted its passengers as it went down the rocky road.
2.to knock sharply so as to dislodge: He jolted the nail free with a stone.
3.to stun with a blow, especially in boxing.
4.to shock emotionally or psychologically: His sudden death jolted us all.
5.to bring to a desired state sharply or abruptly: to jolt a person into awareness.

The definition of jolt is something startling and sudden. It is meant to surprise you, stun you, push you into action.

We all need a little push once in awhile, someone to tell us nu, learn a little, get up and go to minyan, take stock of your life and start making decisions, get on the right path now rather than later.

Like a wise woman once told me, "No one is an island, and no one can do it on their own."

Wake up yidden! Ton a mitzva, ton a yid a toiva, do something to bring Moshiach, or to further your personal growth.

If you are in such a good place in life that you can disregard this message, I am jealous of you.

Here is my wake-up call to you, my little push to get you moving. Utilize it.

Dear mom and dad,

I'm having a great time in the country. Besides for the rain. Oh it rained ALL day. We sat on the porch and watched it come down dripping, in buckets, slow and steady. But it wouldn't let up. It was kind of dreary, yet somehow beautiful at the same time. I wanted to walk to the lake but I didn't have rain boots. So we ate and read and slept and had a shabbos party and tried to pass the time.

I watched little girls riding bikes in the pouring rain with their hair stuck to their faces and I thought how cute but also where are their mothers.

And the BUGS. They were everywhere. Daddy long legs, ants, big bugs and small. They invade our space. Or are we invading their space?

The mosquitoes were relentless. I tried not to scratch but boy did those things itch.

All in all I had a great time. I got to hold a 3 week old baby. She is so tiny! It's weird to think that 3 weeks ago she wasn't even here. She has tiny little fingers and she weighs nothing. I was a little nervous that I was holding her the wrong way but I was reassured when her mother let the older kids hold her. I mean I can't be any worse than a 11 year old right?

I have a recollection of someone jumping up and down on my bed as I tried to sleep. Some kid licked my phone. They fought, they cried, they touched my stuff. To say I love these kids is an understatement. But when their Bubby came to take over I gladly gave over the reigns and said good riddance. A kiss on the head and I was out of there.

I always wonder if the way I treat kids I babysit will reflect the type of mother I will be. Will I be so strict about not standing atop the monkey bars that they will hate me? Is it normal that everyone let's their little kids run wild but I have to know where they are at all times? Or that I force them to sit down and eat a snack? Or take a nap? Or scrub their faces clean even when they are squirming in protest?

Is it okay to be more strict with the kids you babysit than their mother is with them?

I worry cuz I want to be a good mother and I don't want my kids to hate me.

Anyway I had a great time and it was nice to meet the newest addition to the family.

On my way back now. Looking forward to some R&R from my vacation. Yup you read that right.

Hope to have a good week.

All the best,

Altie.

P.S. I made it to my new month with 2 minutes to spare. Mostly because my phone didn't have reception in the country and also cuz I forgot my charger so it died. Feel free to call for a 2 minute conversation ;)

Don’t say lashon harah don’t, even if you want to then you won’t

But unfortunately, we DO. We are taught to watch our words but do we? Most of us say things we shouldn’t at least once a day. Sometimes it can have severe repercussions.

It was the classic case of sending a text to the wrong person by accident. Not a big deal, it happens to all of us at some point. But what if the text that was sent was about the person who it was accidentally sent to? It wasn’t so negative, but it had connotations that wouldn’t be mistaken as anything else.

I felt really bad and stupid, but I couldn’t take it back.

What is that, you say? Normal friends would understand that people make mistakes, and that some things were intended differently than they sound? But when something is already in a rough place, some things can tip it in the wrong way.

A setback. What will happen now? I don’t know. I guess time will tell. I made a mistake, not by sending the text to the wrong person, but by sending it at all. I shouldn’t have said what I did, and the worst part about it is that as I was sending it I was thinking I shouldn’t be saying this, it’s wrong. But I did it anyway. I guess I learned my lesson.

In contrast, I called the wrong person yesterday. But it was a simple hi sorry wrong number bye. So why the difference? Well for one thing, there was nothing negative about it. And additionally, if a friendship is stable and standing on firm ground it can withstand anything.

This is not just about friendship. This is about taking responsibility for your actions and being able to say, I was wrong. This is about listening to your yetzer tov over your yetzer harah. This is about trusting your instincts when they tell you not to listen to someone and to do the right thing instead. This is about trusting yourself and making the right choice when it seems like everyone else thinks differently.

I hate messy situations. I would think most people do. Sometimes I just want to walk away and not deal with it, even if I’m the one who got myself into it. But one must take responsibility for ones actions.

And so I will stay and try to do the right thing, and possibly save a friendship in the process.
Checking out- I’m going to the country for Shabbos, so I’d like to wish everyone a great one. And please remember in general, and especially in these days right before Tisha Ba’av, to watch your words carefully, and to not say anything that might hurt someone.

So it seems

Trying to remember all the good times instead of bad.
Trying to stay positive when you make me mad.

Trying to communicate and make you understand.
Trying to keep the peace with all your demands.

When one door closes another opens is what they say,
I have yet to see this happen in my day.

"He said she said", I can't keep up.
Farvust darfstu dreit mir a kup?

Sometimes I can't adequately express in words.
That doesn't mean I don't want to be heard.

The world just swirls and nothing makes sense.
Seem to be always one leg over the fence.

Out the door and gone today.
Here for now but not to stay.

Sweet and rosy, black as night.
It may not seem so but I hate to fight.

Pack my bag and be on my way.
Finally done, now what have you to say?

Whatever you have- I don't want it

Yes, it is annoying when people shove things in your face as you walk by. I don't want to read it, and whatever it is- I don't want it.

I can't multi-task. My brain does this thing where if there is too much happening at once it goes into overdrive and stops. My buddy in the office said, I thought all girls can multi-task. Well, you thought wrong.

I don't have a lot of patience. I try to, but some days, like today, I have none. People are talking to me and I try to listen, I really do, but sometimes I don't really care what they are saying, and I'm busy, and I have important things to do, more important than watching a 'funny' video of four guys who do stupid stunts and hurt themselves on purpose. I think it's a guy thing to find that funny. I don't laugh at others misfortunes.

And I'm not snobby, I'm really not. So don't stick your face into mine and ask me why I'm ignoring you. Yes, I'm listen to music- I can't hear you.

I had to write an article and the world was spinning. Too many people coming in and out, too many phone calls, too much to do. So I took tylonal, listened to music, and shut the world out. It worked, until they called to tell me my ride was leaving. Day over, thank G-d.

I was told I make very good chocolate milk. Thank you. If you ask me what I did today I can't tell you. I really don't remember.

I was invited to the country for shabbos, for those of you who are familiar with the Catskills and the bungalow colony phenomenon. I'm looking forward to some R&R, along with 7 little kids and a new born. Yay... (that was a weak yay as in, yay can it get any better than this?)

My cell phone month is about to expire. I only have 5 minutes left. Should I refill now, or wait until the month ends on Sunday? That depends how many people call me for no reason from now until then.

Today is just not my day.

Poker face

I've started it so many times,
but I've never finished it.

Because I haven't found one person
worth telling the whole thing to.

So I tell you a little.
Maybe you feel privileged that I've shared this with you.

But this is just a fragment, one tiny particle,
of the story of my life.

Maybe I'd tell you all of it.
If you cared to sit and listen awhile.

But then again,
in poker you must keep your cards close to your chest.

And what is life, really,
if not one big game of poker?

Peace

Like water,
you flow through my fingers,
and run over me like a balm to my soul.

You are like an oasis,
in a dessert,
like a cold drink on a hot sunny day.

Refreshing,
and calming,
with a cooling effect.

You are strong when I am weak,
and funny
when I am morbid.

You are smooth when I am prickly,
and sweet,
when I am bitter.

Your words are reassuring,
you say what I need to hear,
somehow you just know.

You don't flinch
by the things I say,
no matter how upsetting they may be.

You are positive when I am negative,
white when I am black,
day when I am night.

Confident, when I am shaky,
sure when I am doubtful,
and all this with a smile.

You know what it means
to be a friend
and for that I am forever grateful.

Panic button

I think everyone should have a panic button in their life. An SOS, a lifeline, a sign, some way to call for help.

For those times when life is a slippery slope and the only direction you can go is down.

For those times when you can't figure yourself out, and everything is not making sense.

For those times when you are so mad you want to hit something.

For those times when you are so depressed you can't move.

For those times when if you were in a car you might crash.

For those times when tears blind you.

For those times when you think that if you would just disappear no one would notice.

For those times when you are so tense you can't sleep.

For those times when you wish you were anywhere but here. And yet there is no escape.

For those times when you just want to get away from yourself, and no matter how far you run- there you are.

For all those times and more, I wish there was a way to say, help me, I'm drowning.

(A picture comes to mind. When my sister was little her class had to do a project for fall, connected to leaves. They had to make a collage, and they were all put on display in the hallway. One girl made a really cute one. It was a whole bunch of leaves, with a hand sticking out, and a talk bubble saying, "help me, I'm drowning!". I thought it was so cute and original.)

And someone would come running. Sometimes you just need an encouraging word, or a hug, or some sort of validation that there are people who care about you, who want you here and would notice if you were gone.

Family is far away. And sometimes family just doesn't cut it. Thank G-d for good friends.

I think if I had a panic button I'd have to be sure not to abuse it. I wouldn't want to become the boy who cried wolf. But for those rare times, those times when you can barely hold it together- it would be nice to know that there is someone on the other end of the line, listening and caring.

And reassuring you that everything will be okay.

Struggle

It is so annoying.

All over the place.

There is so much of it.

I can't stand it.

I like it.

But I hate it.

So many things one can do with it.

But on a hot day I just want to

destroy it.

I want it gone.

So I take a rubber band.

Lift my hands slowly.

So as not to startle it.

I strangle it in one fell swoop.

Tie it tight in a knot.

And put it up high.

It struggles but I won't let it go.

I sit back and relax.

I have won.

And my face is no longer

Surrounded by

All my hair.

Impostor

I am an impostor.

I play the part.
Act the part.
I try to be the part.

But it is not me.

I sit when I need to go.
I crawl when I need to run.
I keep silent when I need to scream.

I am an impostor.

I say I'm okay when I'm not.
I eat when I'm not hungry.
And refrain when I am starving.

I get scared by things you wouldn't think of.
Yet I can kill a bug with my hand,
when everyone else runs screaming.

I am an impostor.

I do so much for you.
But for myself,
I do nothing at all.

I would never tell you when I am scared.
I do not want to appear weak.
I do not want you to have that power over me.

I am an impostor.

You offer me your hand.
I say no at all costs.
Even if this pit is too deep even for me.

I lie to you, and to myself.
I say I can do it.
When I know that I cannot.

I am an impostor.

I hate to need you.
But I hate even more
When I need you but will never admit it.

I am an impostor.

I grit my teeth and do it, when I say I can.
Because I cannot admit to you
that I can't.

Somehow everyone has learned it.
But these skills evade me.
And so I must pretend, at all costs.

I am an impostor.

I can go on pretending, faking it.
Maybe I'll convince you.
Maybe one day I'll convince me too.

Am I an impostor because I try to be
the person who I think I should be,
who everyone expects me to be?

But inside
I am an impostor.
And maybe
I will never be
the "real" me.

Accidental

I came upon it quite by accident.
I think it was something I was not meant to see.
But now that I've discovered the mystery,
maybe it was already destined to be.

A name is not something we choose,
it is something given by our parents.
Accidental? I would not call it.
Rather, divine providence.

A wrong turn might be accidental,
at least it may seem that way.
But few accidents in this world do occur,
on any given day.

I talk and it seems like you don't listen,
yet you can repeat my words back to me.
Sometimes I don't know why I bother,
when things don't turn out perfectly.

They say it takes two to tango,
but I like flying solo better.
Independent I've always been,
I'm not sure how this has occurred.

Accidental is a funny word,
kids use it to say "I'm sorry".
Sometimes sorry won't cut it.
Even if you feel badly.

I came upon it quite by accident,
I could not explain to you how.
Maybe, just maybe it was meant to be.
I think I'll hold on to it, at least for now.

Timing

Timing is everything. Ask the person who missed his flight only to later hear that it crashed, with no survivors.

Or the person who stayed home sick on 9-11, instead of going to work at the twin towers.

Sometimes, most times, we never find out why things turn out the way they do. It is rare that we are aware of a car swerving and missing us by a second, or a tree branch falling right after we walk by. These little things are miracles that we may never know about. It is called nature. And that is why we say that everything that happens is Hashgacha Pratis. Divine providence. Because even if we don't know why things happen, G-d always does.

I left my apartment for the sole purpose of walking down the block to give someone something. I saw my friend across the street whom I haven't seen in a long time. Random occurrence? I think not.

I leave my house every day at approximately the same time. I generally don't notice people around me. In the morning I usually listen to music as I walk. But somehow I noticed a mother walking her child to camp. He was wearing the bright orange t-shirt from the day camp that my brothers went to as kids. And that was it.

Then I noticed her the next day. And the day after that. I wondered if she ever noticed me too. It seemed like I could sort of measure my time by her. We passed the same corner at pretty much the same time every day.

And then the other day, I didn't see her. For a few blocks. And then there she was. Was I early? Was she late? I don't know. I find it interesting that you can measure things by time. And routine.

I see the same orange car parked in the same spot every day. And the same yellow car. Sometimes I notice the same people whom I saw pass by the day before. I see the same mother waiting with her two daughters for the bus every day.

Routine. I used to think it was synonymous with boring, and predictable. But now, it is familiar and comfortable. I like being on time, I like having a schedule, I like the fact that people are expecting me to show up and do a good job.

Maybe one day I will say hi to the lady walking her son to camp. Maybe we will become friends of sorts.

And maybe I will remain a silent observer, watching things around me occur seemingly on their own. But I will look up and wink, cuz I will know who is making it all happen.

"Home"

Things I like about being 'home':

1) REAL INTERNET!

2) How cute it is to find cut up pieces of shnitzel in the fridge, a high-chair, a stroller, kids toys. It's the take-over of the niece! She is so cute ka''h poo poo poo and it's nice having a kid around again.

3) The mess is not my mess.

4) Air conditioners.

5) Having a car to use. I missed driving.

6) The quiet. But not too quiet, if you know what I mean.

7) Convenience. Food, laundry, other people around. The first thing I did when I got here was pop my head into my sister's room and say, "honey, I'm hooome!" Now, she screamed at me to 'get out' and some other not nice stuff. But hey it's my family and I only got one.

8) It is nice to 'get away' from the city.

9) I'm taking off work tomorrow! Nice relaxing day to shop and chill.

10) WALMART!!!

I am 'home' for Shabbat. Hope y'all have a good one.

Sorry, wrong train

For anyone familiar with the New York Subway system, particularly in Crown Heights, you would know the difference between the 3 and the 4 trains.

The 3 train stops right outside 770, in the heart of Crown Heights, while the 4 train is an express train, it does not stop there, and it goes all the way to Schenectady, which is convenient for us Jews who do not live in a 'prime location'.

I would always take the 4 train to get home. It is more modern than the 3, it is express and it takes me closer to my house. The 3 also goes to that stop, but it takes longer to get there.

Now that my family has moved, and myself as well, I take the 3 train to get home, cuz the 4 train does not stop where I need to get off.

Sometimes people switch from the 3 to the 4 or vice versa, if they need the express or local train. I was on the 3 train and the 4 train was right there across the platform. Had I still lived in my old house I would have ran across the platform to get it. Or I would have already been on it. But the 3 train was what I needed.

How many times do we look at the 'goyishe velt' (secular world) and want what is out there, or desire to act or dress like them, or be like them? How many times have you stayed up late when you knew you should go to sleep early? How many times have you eaten candy when you know junk food is not good for you? (If you answered 'no' to all of the above, then congratulations, you are a tzaddik).

Many times in life we look out instead of looking in. The Frierdike Rebbe said, "It is better to be on the outside looking in, than on the inside looking out."

We have to say, what is not for me is not for me. It may be okay for someone else, but it is not good enough for me. Don't sit here with the guise of a frum person, while craving things that are not allowed. Rather, look inward, look towards your religion for the answers, because that is where you will find them.

I stayed on the 3 train, because that was the train I needed to take me to my destination. And the 4 train? I let it pass me by because after all, it will not take me where I need to go.

Really?

I don't like rude people. I don't like walking into a store and being treated badly. I don't think anyone does.

Today I went into two stores and had two very different experiences. One, a very pleasant one, and the other not so much.

Bath and body works caught my eye as I was leaving the mall so I decided to stop and see if there was anything I liked. They were all so friendly to me, offering me free samples of lotion, asking me if I needed assistence, or a shopping bag. I could tell it was genuine. I picked out a few items and when the cashier was ringing up my purchases he made sure to tell me that I could get a few more items and it would make everything cheaper. 3 for $10, 5 for $5. Yes, I ended up spending more than I initially planned, but I left the store with a smile on my face, and quite happy with my purchases.

The second store was a frum store in Crown Heights. I am not trying to bad-mouth Crown Heights, or make generalizations in any way. But in my opinion, it seems that frum people think they can get away with being rude and unmannerly, solely because they are frum. Whoever said frum people don't need manners? I was always taught to be polite and respectful.

I walked into a store to buy candy. I had $3.00 to spend. (Yes that sounds like a child, but that way you only buy 3 dollars worth of candy, as opposed to whatever you have in your wallet.) I looked around trying to decide what to get. My friend pointed to a sign that said there was a sale on organic candies. "Wow they are so cheap, only 89 cents." I took a closer look. No, that can't be right. The sign is wrong. Upon closer inspection this is what it said: (And ya I can take pictures now from my super cool phone.)

$.089. That does not mean 89 cents. For anyone who knows math, it means 8 cents, or rather 9 cents if you round it up. So I thought, hey an opportunity to make a statement and play a joke.

I walked up to the counter with the candy ready to pay and said to the cashier, this is 8 cents. She said no it's 89 cents. I said look at the sign. She looks and says, it's a mistake. (And yes looking at it now I see it says 'not responsible for typographical errors'. It's a good thing they put that disclaimer.) She said wait I'll get my manager.

By this time my friends were laughing and saying really, you are not gonna let this go? But I was having too much fun.

The 'manager' comes. (It's in quotes cuz I'm not sure he was really the manager.) He says what is the problem. I explain to him that the sign says 8 cents, and he should give me the candy for 8 cents. I thought he would recognize the joke for what it was. He says, it was a mistake. I said if this was Target they would have given it to me for 8 cents. (They advertise right when you walk into the store that if there is an error in price they will give it to you for the lower price.) He says, and I quote, "I thought you were smarter than that."

I'm thinking, that's rude, and you don't know me. He tells me he's not giving it to me for 8 cents, and maybe I can make a hobby of this. (And he had the nerve to try to tell me that .089 was not even a number and meant it was zero. ME. I know my math. If it was .0089 then yes he would have a point.) He said good night. And that was it.

I walk out of the store annoyed. I didn't buy anything. I hadn't wanted the candy in the first place, I was just trying to make a point, and thought it would get a good laugh. But some people can't take a joke.

If you were the manager, how would you have reacted? I figure he could have humored me and given it for 8 cents. It's only an 81 cent difference. Or he could have politely said, sorry ma'am that was our mistake, but we can't give it to you for that price. Anything, other than sarcastically telling me I am 'smarter than that'. There is a way to talk to a customer, and then there is not.

It just strikes me in general the professional demeanor found in the 'secular world', and the lack of it here in the frum community. It bothers me a lot. I like and would rather shop at non-Jewish stores, even go out of my way because I feel more comfortable there, more like a person, and treated much nicer.

And like I said, maybe I am generalizing though I am trying not to. But 'frum' should not be synonymous with 'rude' and 'do whatever you want because we are protected by our frumkeit'.

Cynical?

So cynical
so critical
so involved with all the physical.

So practical
pragmatical
no need for all political.

UN-typical.
So logical.
Me, no I'm not hypocritical.

It's comical
YOU
so distrustful
fanatical.

I'm quizzical
analytical
you are just stereotypical.

Question?
No that was rhetorical.
You talk and it's all just nonsensical.

You don't believe in magical.
No room for hypothetical.
so cold and clinical. Mechanical.

So egotistical
think you are the pinnacle
of everything epical.

Your ideals are so radical
to the point of diabolical.
Scheduled, never erratical.

Me? I may be skeptical
even cynical
and critical.

But hey at least my brain is vertical
symmetrical.
AND grammatical.

Never whimsical
Unequivocal.
No need for the illogical.

Don't need your vocals.
Unethical
Heretical.

You are after all physical.
Typical.
Degradable.

Talking statistical?
Or mystical?
Anthropological?

Cynical-
it is reciprocal
almost satirical.

You can be rabbinical
and I'll just keep my cynical.
at least I am juridical.

Ironical.

Family picture

We used to take a family picture every year to send to my grandparents. Not a professional picture, my mother didn't believe in those. She said we should all look natural. No, it was the sit-outside-on-the--steps-and-jostle-till-we-are-all-sitting kind of picture, and we had a neighbor snap a few pics. They usually came out nice.

I was going through a box and I found one. From my old old old old house. We were all so little. My youngest brother was a baby.

It was a moment frozen in time. The house in the background is not there anymore, We are all grown up and gone our separate ways, we have 3 new additions to our family now.

But the picture, that moment will remain forever.

I smile and slip it into my pocket. Cuz this is one memory I want to keep.

Someone's watching

Recently an inspector came to camp. Everyone was forewarned. Do not speak to the inspector. Be on your best behavior. Tell the camp director if he shows up. Needless to say everyone was on edge and nervous. If we failed inspection they could shut down the camp.

I was in the hallway and a bunk was walking down the hall in a line. One kid was walking in a zigzag and not properly aligned with the rest of the bunk. Another child turned to him and said, "you have to walk nicely the inspector's here!" To which the first child replied, "ya but the inspector is not watching us right now."

Hearing that made me smile. And it made me think. Are we only on our best behavior when the 'inspector' is watching? Are we lax in our observance of the mitzvos when we forget that Someone above is watching our every move?

Maybe we should have an inspector in camp every day. It makes people step up their game. Everyone is aware that they are being observed and it insures that they work in their best capacity.

But then people would become immune to it and it would mean nothing.

Are we so immune to G-d and His Torah and our purpose in this world that it takes a visitor from an 'inspector', G-d forbid a tragedy or disaster for us to step up to the plate and do what we are supposed to
do?

The 'inspector' is always watching. G-d is there in the morning when we wake up and at night when we go to sleep. He is there when we do something good and when we mess up terribly. He is always there and He is always watching.

We must make sure to 'walk in a straight line' always and not just when we remember that Someone is watching us.

Thank G-d we passed inspection. May we all 'pass the ultimate inspection' and greet Moshiach speedily in our days.

Empty

I walk inside and the ac hits me hard after the broiling day outside. I just want to stay inside and chill all day. But I dont live here anymore. I dont have a bed here or clothes or a toothbrush. There is no food in the fridge. The cabinets are empty. The walls are bare. There is nothing left, no way to prove that we once lived here.

It is so empty. The floor creaks under my feet. It always creaked. But now it just sounds so hollow.

The floor is littered with stuff. Garbage, stuff we don't need or want. Im not sure if I want to go upstairs. It looks so different, so devoid of US. I don't want to cry because well, big girls don't cry. And I keep saying how I dont care, I have no attachment to this place, it means nothing to me. But it means something.

I can see my little brothers on the computer playing games and watching movies. I can see my mama sitting at the kitchen table at 2 am talking to me while drinking her tea. I can see myself making pop corn. My niece scooting across the floor. My brother's wine fridge. I can see my father walking through the door after a long day of work. And my sister coming in with groceries. I can see my mom's friend stopping by to say hi. I see the grape juice stains on the walls from our food fight on pesach. Backyard barbecues.

I see it all. And it means something to me. More than I thought it would.

There is so much dust and I can't stop sneezing. I walk through the house slowly, a little creeped out being there by myself. I know that no one is going to jump out at me and say boo. But it feels weird nevertheless.

I find two boxes of my stuff. Stuff I didn't know existed. There's a booklet of cards my classmates made me when I was 6. A picture of me and my little sister, I look to be around 5. A book I wrote for a book report when I was 10. Poetry I wrote. Everything. It is my memories, my mementos, it is ME.

There is a quilt my grandmother made me when I was born. She sewed my name and birthday onto it. It is as old as me. I don't remember seeing it before. I found my mom's wedding dress. She thought she threw it out.

I call home cuz I am confused. Why was all this left behind? My family is not very organized. They packed and ran. No one realized that all this important stuff was left behind. And yes it is important. It's important to me.

They are busy. No one wants to deal with this right now, on a Friday afternoon hours before shabbos. I hang up, and I stand there, unsure of what to do next.

And then I cry.

Somehow I dial my friend's number, and she picks up in a happy cheery mood. I blubber on the phone and she doesn't understand what I'm saying. So she tells me she's coming over. Cuz that's what friend's do. I wait, I go upstairs, I look around and I feel lost. This is not my house anymore. Now it belongs to someone else.

My friend comes and we spend 2 hours going through my boxes, looking around the basement, trying to figure out who all this stuff belongs to. I am scared that if I don't rescue it now, it'll get thrown out. And no one seems to care.

But it is Friday after all, and I have to go. Shabbos is coming.

I will go back Motzei Shabbos to finish packing whatever I can. But the clock is ticking. Soon, soon we will hand over the key for the final time. And that will be it.

I feel like my childhood is finally over. I moved 4 times with my parents, and now I'm done. Even though I only lived in this house for like 5 years, those were the last 5 years of my childhood, the last time I will have lived at home. I am an adult now, I am on my own.

And as I walk through that door for the last time, I feel like I am saying goodbye to more than just a house. I am saying goodbye to my childhood, to a big chapter of my life.

And I feel so empty inside.

A million miles away

Isn't it ironic that you can be physically close to someone, and yet millions of miles apart?

What's your name, girl what's your number

What is a name? A way to refer to someone? Does it have any meaning? Is a nickname more meaningful than a given name if it is the one used most? Is a name a personal thing, or a separate entity from the person?

It's funny how I deal with campers names all day in the office, and yet I have no idea who these kids are. Once in awhile I will discover that this face matches that name and then it will be an 'aha' moment, like I know you. But do I really know you just because I know your name?

It is a common question when meeting a new acquaintance to play 'Jewish Geography' and ask 'do you know so-and-so?'. Sometimes I will say, yes I know her, I've heard her name before. Or, she was in my grade in elementary school, I'm sure if I looked in the year book I'd recognize her, ya I know her name.

But do I really know her? Not at all.

Sometimes I find it strange when a total stranger calls me by name. When I answer the phone in the office I think that my name is irrelevant, so I only give it out when asked for it. And to hear it on the lips of a stranger- well it kind of feels like my name is a personal item of mine, and you can only use it with permission. So why are you using it when I don't really know you and haven't given you permission to enter my 'space' yet?

A name is something close to my heart. I feel that my name is unique, and it makes me who I am. I try to refrain from calling people by name unless they are a friend of mine or someone I know well. That is not to say that I am rude or refer to people as 'yo'. But to use a stranger's name feels weird to me.

I have a hard time remembering names. Maybe because it is so impersonal to me. I've heard that a good way to remember someone's name is when they introduce their self you look and them and say, 'hello ________ (fill in name here.) It is so nice to meet you.' That way, you are from the start connecting this name to this person, and the next time you see them you should be able to remember their name.

Try it. Let me know if it works.

So when you ask me my name and I tell it to you and you say "hello Altie nice to meet you", there may be a second where I pause and wonder, how do you know my name and why are you saying it like it is so familiar to you?

Maybe one day I will remember your name too. And when I say it, it won't feel so strange. And maybe it'll actually mean something to me.

In the meantime, hello stranger #1, stranger #2, yo, and you, and whatsyourface, and heyyouoverthere, and personwiththemostcommonnameicaneverrememberit. It is so nice to meet you.

A little birdy in the concrete

Have you left your footprint on the world? This little birdy did. He walked right through that wet cement, and his little birdy feet will forever be embedded on the pavement.

Isn't it cute when you see a baby's footprint on the sidewalk? You wonder who that little child is who didn't know better and walked where they weren't supposed to.

What if you could really leave something of yourself behind? Physical things don't last. One day everything will crumble and burn, even those side walks with the footprints left behind.

So what will you leave of yourself for the world to remember you by? Will they remember you at all?

I look at those birdy prints and I think how funny. But where is that birdy now? I wonder, does his feet still have bits of cement stuck to them?

I don't think I have made an impact on the world. On a list of 'what can I do to make a difference in the world' people might list: solve world hunger, make a medical discovery, win a Nobel prize, discover a cure for cancer, etc. I have done none of the above, nor do I care to.

I do not need my name on everyone's lips, I do not need my picture in the newspaper, I do not need to be recognized wherever I go. I do not need to be publicly acknowledged for anything, though it might feel nice.

I want to do something that I will know in my heart that I made a difference, that G-d will know, and the people who matter will know.

When I figure it out, I guess I will jump on that bandwagon.

In the meantime, I will ponder where that little birdy has wandered off to.

Frustration

I squeeze it in my hands tightly,
deforming it, misshaping it.

The company that made it would not recognize it.
They wouldn't want it back.

It is not worth the plastic it is made of,
nor of the drink it contains.

Shaken and stirred, all bubbles gone,
it is not fit to be sold, nor to be drunk.

I clench my fists
pass it from hand to hand.

I wish to throw it far.
As far as it may go.

I want it to hit something.
I want to hear a thud.

I want to squeeze it until it is no more,
and hurl it into oblivion.

I want to be rid of this
and I want it to be gone from me.

And somehow when I get home I realize
it is still clenched in my hand.

So tight, it has made an indent on my palm.
I cannot throw it.
I cannot hurl it.
I cannot destroy it.

So I clench my teeth
I twist it some more hoping that it will explode
before I do.

Fresh air, green grass, and all the cuteness you can take

It's a cute little house. I stress the word 'little'. I don't see how they can fit in here. From the outside it looks like a doll house. Seriously.

It's weird seeing all our furniture in a new place, like it doesn't really belong here. I keep referring to home as the house in Crown Heights. This place, well it's not home to me. And soon 'my house' will have new occupants.

It's funny to see how each one adapts to a new environment. This one is cooking, it's like her natural habitat. I get nervous in chaos, I can't cook unless everything is organized and neatly in its place. But she goes straight to the kitchen and cooks up a storm for Shabbos.

This one is straightening her hair. One brother is hogging my niece. I say hogging cuz he won't let me hold her. I finally got some quality time with her and pushed her on the swing. I think it'll be nice for my mother to be near them now.

My baby brother is wandering around like he's lost. I thing everyone is a bit unsettled, and unsure of what to do. I wonder how long it'll take to get everything unpacked.

This place is smaller than we're used to. Everything is just smaller in size. The bathroom is tiny. But it's a nice place. Plus, since we are renting it they won't necessarily stay long-term. I mean c'mon, we cannot break our "no more than 5 years in one house" rule. That'll be blasphemy.

One day my parents (or rather my mother) plan on living in a motor home and driving around the country. She thinks it'll be easier to see all of her married kids and grandkids that way.

So far three neighbors have brought over welcoming cakes. I think it's so nice. In Crown Heights I doubt anyone would have noticed if we moved in next-door to them.

I like the fresh air. It is pleasant and much easier to breath in than the city air. And it is naturally cooler here. And there are trees. And even though the houses are not so spaced apart, it feels more spaced out than the city. And more private. We have a little front garden that is blocked from the street by hedges.

When I was little if we were in a fight we would say to one another: "get off my property." I don't think we really knew what the word property meant. But we knew it insinuated, this is mine and not yours, and since we are in a fight you can't be here.

This is my property. Well, not mine per se, but it is nice to have an open backyard with dirt and trees and an old swing set.

The house is right across the street from the fire station and the hatzalah. My family claims the siren in the fire station is really loud. Though I for one don't mind noise.

I don't see my parents ever 'settling down', though this is a nice temporary abode.

I made it here for Shabbos, despite a mishap with the bus. I am looking forward to sleeping and relaxing and enjoying the fresh air, and more importantly, bonding with my niece and getting her to smile at me rather than regarding me as a stranger.

Have a good Shabbos everyone!

The Munchies

How do I somehow manage to mess up so many things in one week? Is there something wrong with me? I always felt that despite everything, communication is the key. And yet somehow the more i talk the more i ruin things. So should i stop talking?

There are swirl patterns on the floor moving closer towards me. But the second i try to step on one it moves away. Sand on the floor? What the heck?

My voice sounds extremely loud even to my own ears. WHY AM I SHOUTING? I try lowering the volume but it doesnt work.

Im laughing so hard but Im not sure about what.

My eye lids are heavy, my throat hurts, my eyes are tiny slits.

And when i get home, everything is exactly as i left it.

So what changed? Nothing much. Besides for me buying out the whole junk food section of the grocery store.

And i may have fewer friends than i used to have.

So all in all- a very productive week.

Now can I cry?

The details were vague, and I wasn't sure I understood it properly. First I thought that they were a camp in the same building as us. Then I heard they had gone swimming in our building that day. They passed me by on the stairs. Maybe I saw him.

Missing. That word can mean so many things. So I mumbled a prayer and thought, how relieved everyone will be when they find him safe and sound.

Except that's not what happened.

I got into the car this morning. Two of the counselors told me they had been out all night aiding in the search for the missing boy. I thought, that is nice of them, and I briefly wondered if there were any updates. Then the head counselor shook his head and said, 'Boruch Dayan Haemes. They found his body.'

I was shocked. The details kept pouring in, the rumors were flying, everyone was passing around information, and I wanted to cry. Can I cry? This tragedy has touched so many people, way beyond the immediate family members. Because Leiby is a Jew, he is family to us all.

I have no words to express my anger and hatred for the sick man who did this to him. The question WHY???? has no answer.

They are going to have someone talking to the campers about safety. We were told it is very important to not say that 'this is what G-d wanted.' HOW can you justify that to a child, let alone yourself?

I am still in shock, I wish we could turn back the clock and stop that horrible thing from happening. It makes no sense to me.

We are one in this tragedy, united, one heart and one soul. And when one soul is hurt, we all bleed. I think tonight everyone will be bleeding tears, and praying for a speedy redemption from this horrible Golus.

Leiby, I hope you are praying for us. May you rest in peace.

Baby please don't go, when I wake up tomorrow will you still be here

You called to ask me if I was okay, cuz I didn't come home for dinner tonight. I told you, of course I'm okay. I made, my own dinner. I'm living on my own now. I'm pretty sure girls living on their own are not supposed to come home for dinner.

I laugh because you started packing on motzei shabbos and you think you will be moving by Wednesday. I scoff, and yet I don't help. I watch, I observe. The house is getting packed around me and still I don't believe it.

Are you okay? Everyone keeps asking me that. Of course I'm okay. I'm not even moving with them. Why would it bother me. All I have to do is pack up my few boxes and make sure it gets sent with them and that it has a place in the new house. And sure I'll go visit for shabbos. I've moved four times in my life, 5 now that I have my own place. And I'm not going with them, so really, I'm fine.

Are you okay? Well let's see, tomorrow is moving day. So if I forget to go home for dinner tomorrow night, will they leave without saying goodbye? Will I show up to do my laundry and the house will be dark and empty, and locked for the first time? Will there be a big 'sold' sign out front, and no one around? Will they just forget about me cuz I am not going with them?

Are you okay? I ask myself that. And I'm not sure. For the first time in my life, I will be truly on my own. If I forget to buy food for dinner, I will starve. If I forget to do laundry, I will have no clean clothes. If I fall apart and never leave my room, no one will ever know. I made my friend promise me she won't let that happen to me.

Am I okay? I think I'm okay. I say I'm okay. I try to be okay. But I think I am not as okay as I'd like to think. And that scares me more than i care to admit.

The beginning of the end

There is no light at the end of the tunnel.
No fork in the road.
No distinguishing sign at all.

Just me.
And the wilderness.
In all its fine glory.

The dirt path stretches on.
No end in sight.
Nothing to break up the monotony.

No bear jumps out.
No lion roars.
No leaf flutters.

In the silence I wonder aloud.
What comes next.
Where does this road lead.

Do I want to find out?
Can I turn back now?
Or is there no turning back.

No refund.
No exchange.
I am stuck.

My only choice
is to do
the only thing I've ever known how.

And so I pick up the match.
And destroy.

The dirt road
it is no more.

Musings

Why is there no one out? It's only 10:30 PM. Okay granted, it's summertime, everyone is probably in the country. But only 3 people out this time of night? Weird.

No people, no cars. This place is creepy.

What am I gonna do when my family moves? Ya I know people here who I can eat by, but still it's easier and more convenient to just go home. Am I gonna go to Monsey every shabbos? Is that even considered my 'home'? When I tell people I am going to Monsey for shabbos and they say, who do you know there, I will say my parents. Which leads to more questions.

So where is my 'home' now? This is not home, this is a temporary abode until I find a better place. And then maybe that will be a temporary place. So when do you actually settle down and call a place 'home'?

Seriously, where are all the people?

Why is there a bus parked in someone's driveway? Do they own it? Can you even own a bus?

These streets are crazy, why do they do so much construction? Are they actually doing anything, or just trying to make traffic horrible and give the workers something to do? So many bumps and cracks.

Fudge! Just stepped into a puddle. My foot it all wet. Oy. Looking down at the ground, making sure there are no more puddles.

Still nobody, it's like a ghost town.

Not looking where I'm going. Oh no, watch out for that... tree!

Precious

She had an L for a nose, exes for hands, her hair was kind of stringy and it looked like she was going bald. Her feet looked like potatoes. Her head was disproportional to her body.

The sign said "mommys awfiss" on it. It was just the cutest thing that only a child could make.

So what does it mean to YOU?

I'm sitting here on the floor. Literally. I'm so tired I can't move. I'm hungry but too lazy to make dinner. I'm happy that I didn't have to take care of kids all day. No, I sat in the office and worked on the computer, watching the counselors shepherd around their herd. Okay, I also ran to and fro setting stuff up for camp. It was a lot of work and it's still not all done. But not having to deal with kids all day- I call that a good job.

I need to go shopping, I need to toivel some dishes, I need help bringing something over from my house, I need to do laundry. I have to do all of this on my own. I want to give in to self-pity, I really do. But for some reason I can't. I'm better than that. So I sit here on the floor and don't do anything I have to do. Great.

Today is Gimel Tamuz. If you were to ask me what that means to me I'd say, well firstly it is my little brother's birthday. He turned 14 today. He is not so little anymore. But he is still my baby :)

Gimel Tamuz is such a conflicting Yom Tov. Ask ten different people and you'll get ten different answers. Some people would not dare to mention the Rebbe's "histalkus". I don't know what they think happened on Gimel Tamuz, but apparently the Rebbe never left. Then I ask, so why do you go to the ohel? What is there? They have no answer.

Sometimes it makes no sense to me how people talk about the Rebbe, or rather lack of talking. People beat around the bush, they mumble, they tell themselves whatever they have to in order to keep on going. And those are only the quiet ones. Then you have the ones who throw benches, who beat up grown men, who besmirch the Rebbe's holy name, and all in the spirit of what they claim is right.

Do you say yechi? Do you not say yechi? Are you meshichist? Are you anti? Are you a closeted mishichist? Do you wave a yellow flag? And on and on.

It is all so stupid. What's it any of your business what anyone else does. I say live and let live. And when people fight, especially claiming it's in the name of the Rebbe, I am pretty sure it makes the Rebbe sad, not proud.

What does Gimel Tamuz mean to me? I don't know. I walk down the street and see signs that say, make a hachlata for Gimel Tamuz- get a mashpia. Well, I already have a mashpia, she just never answers her phone. Hey, at least I could check that off on my shidduch resume.

When it boils down to it, to me it is all on the inside. I can't explain it to you because it is a feeling. Yes, I can learn the Rebbe's teachings, I can follow his horaos and hope that in that way I can make a difference, or connect to the Rebbe, or fulfill my spiritual "duty".

And admittedly, I don't even do any of that. So does that make me a 'bad' person? Or not a chossid of the Rebbe? I'd hope not. And then again, who are you to tell me whether or not I am a chossid? That is up to the Rebbe.

Someone asked me if I'm going to go to the ohel tonight. My response: "well it is going to be so packed....". That may not be a reason to not go. But I like going at night when it is secluded and I can feel like I am actually having a private moment, without being pushed or shoved or feeling like people are staring at me.

What does Gimel Tamuz mean to me? It means that despite everything we've been through in the past 17 years, we are still standing. We are still going strong. It means that even though there are 'tznius' problems, and people hurting each other, we are still Chabad, and as well known as Coca Cola. It means that the wellsprings have finally spread out to the farthest corners of the Earth. It means that I see a black hat and I think, my people.

Where was I 17 years ago? For awhile I was confused about that. We moved to Crown Heights when I was 3. Gimel Tamuz happened when I was 4. So where did that whole year go? Then I figured it out. The Rebbe was sick and not in 770. My mother tells me I got a dollar when I wasa  baby. But I don't remember.

To me, the Rebbe 'lives' in a video machine. He is alive on the pages of a sicha. He is in 770, he is at the ohel, he is inside of me, and next to me, and surrounding me. I go to the ohel and sometimes I cry. Sometimes my eyes are blurred ad I can't even read my pan. I don't usually read my pan, I figured the Rebbe knows what I have to say. He knows me better than I know myself. Sometimes I feel like I am made of glass, like I am see-through and the Rebbe sees it all. You can't hide it from him.

If the Rebbe were here with us, would I be running to farbrengins? Waiting on line every Sunday for a dollar? Dressing and acting more tznius and being aware of my behavior? I'd like to think so. But I don't know how it would be.

You can say whatever you want about Gimel Tamuz. But make no mistake. The Rebbe is very much alive. He is not just a picture on your wall. He is not just a possession, 'my Rebbe', he is not just a very well-known 'holy man from Brooklyn'.

My relationship with the Rebbe is 'complicated'. People say you have to work on your relationship, you have to put in effort and maintain it. While that may be true, the connection is always there. The Rebbe doesn't get 'insulted' if you don't write. I believe that the Rebbe knows who I am, and that he cares about me, the way only a Rebbe could. And I know that even if I don't go, and even if I don't write, and even if I don't learn- I know that my Rebbe isnt going anywhere.

So what does Gimel Tamuz mean to me? It means everything. It means a heart and soul connection that can never be broken.

It means that I am proud to be Lubavitch, that my connection to the Rebbe is only my business. That you don't need to understand it, just feel it. And it means that you can never take that connection away from me.

"You can take a girl out of 'Lubavitch', but you can't take Lubavitch out of the girl."

Happy spiritual Gimel Tamuz.