But-

I want to be happy but-
My head is spinning.
2 cups of eggnog had I.

I want to be happy but-
I'm so confused.
Keep thinking how, why?

I want to be happy but-
this makes no sense.
It's like one big joke.

I want to be happy but-
I don't get it.
I think I need an ice cold coke.

I want to be happy but-
I had no idea.
She didn't tell me at all.

I want to be happy but-
we grew apart.
She didn't even call.

I want to be happy but-
it kind of hurts.
Though I'd never tell her.

I want to be happy but-
I'm dazed and confused.
Everything is a blur.

I want to be happy but-
I should be happy.
This is not about me.

I want to be happy-
so very happy.
I'm just not sure how this could be.

One text
that brought it all
crashing down
around me.

I can't think.
I need another drink.
Something strong.

I don't know how
I didn't see it.
Maybe I was wrong all along?

But I paste my smile on.
And say the words
she wants to hear.

Cuz friends we used to be
until the day
she disappeared.

Right now I need some sleep
cuz I don't know what's up
and what's down.

Things are moving
way too fast
I think I might just skip town.

Have a heart

As seen in the New York Times:

Dear Diary:

A few days before Christmas a year ago, I was on the F train riding uptown. At West Fourth Street, a young man boarded with a boombox. He explained, loudly and enthusiastically, “I’m trying to stay out of trouble tonight, so I’m offering you a dance, like we do it in the Bronx.”

Only a few of us looked up. Then he plugged his iPhone into the boombox and proceeded to dance his heart out. This included a few back flips, trapeze moves with the handrails, and body spins on the ground with just one hand. By this time all eyes were glued on him. A young boy next to me yelled out in sheer delight: “Wow — that’s amazing!” We all shared his sentiment.

Many passengers gave generously when he walked by with his donation container afterward.

Just then, at the other end of the car, a homeless-looking man boarded with a plea for help. He was disheveled and without any dance routine or music act to offer. All he had was a wish for kindness and an outstretched hat — one that remained empty among this group of recent donors.

That was until, just before the doors were to open at the next stop, the dancer went right up to the homeless-looking man, spilled out all of his earnings into the outstretched hat and said, “Merry Christmas, man.”

Christina Daigneault


Dear Diary:

I live in a huge condo in Brighton Beach.

On the first night of Hanukkah, there was a knock on my front door, which I didn’t open. When I inquired who it was, a small voice asked, “Are you Jewish?”

Indignant, I replied, “That’s none of your business.”

When the voice claimed to be with the Chabad, I retorted, “I don’t care who you are — that’s an inappropriate question,” and promptly called security.

Moments later I heard our guard very politely explain to the man from Chabad that he was trespassing and couldn’t go around knocking on doors asking about religious affiliations. He would have to leave the premises at once.

Without missing a beat, I heard that small voice ask the very patient security guard, “Are you Jewish?”

Suzanne R. Friedman

Oh it's ON!

I am proud to say that I have had a donut every night of Chanukah so far. Some were better than others, and some were not worth the flour they were made of. Oh, the calories, so what. It's Chanukah, and I for one am enjoying every minute of it.

Tonight I decided to make my own donuts. I tried it one year and they came out pretty good. We are having a family Chanukah party and my sister is doing all the cooking. I heard something about her making donuts. There's nothing wrong with two kinds of homemade donuts is there? Apparently there is.

My sister, screaming at me while waving around a big knife threatened me and told me not to come into 'her' kitchen.

My mother jokes and says this house is not big enough for us, we need a bigger house with separate floors and kitchens so we can all spread out.

Make no mistake- I WILL make my own donuts before the holiday is out, and they will taste good.

Happy Chanukah, let the crazy out!

I can

Cuz you believe in me
when I don't believe in myself.

You look at me
when I try to look away.

I shrug like what you see
is nothing at all.

You teach me how to
recognize my own accomplishments.

I breath easier
because you empower me.

You give me the tools
to empower myself.

I am high.
I want to touch the sky.

I know I can do anything
if I try.

Not because you told me,
or because you know I can.

But because I know I can.
And that is all it takes.

What sadness?

Trying to
share your sadness with the world,
hoping that they can ease your pain.

To take it away,
and maybe
their happiness to obtain.

But sadness is catchy
it brings others down
and you remain the same.

And no one can ever really know
how you feel
sometimes they don't even know your name.

When you hear how
others lives are
you want to be strong, for them.

To be an inspiration,
as they are to many,
but from where does it stem?

There she sits
in a hospital room,
with an electric menorah tonight.

While I stare
at the flickering flames
complaining about my morbid plight.

And she makes me smile still,
and I want to cry
because I dont know what true sadness is about.

While she, she is strong
beyond her means.
And sadness, I can do without.

Happy Chanukah.

Habit

I watch as the blood
oozes out and slides
down my finger
slowly.

It wells in the gap
shining bright red
and spills over
the edge.

I wonder where
it comes from
and why it leaves
my body.

I wipe it off
but the red
stays
congeals.

Reminding me
not to bite my
cuticles
next time.

And then a funny thing happened...

I left my phone at home today by accident. I noticed on the way to work. It was weird to pat my pocket and not find the familiar bulge. I was really tired, having gotten only 4 hours of sleep due to going to an out of town wedding and getting back at 2:30 am. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep for awhile. Then my boss asked me to stay late.

I realized it is Chanukah tonight. I didn't forget, but I kept thinking, it's coming it's coming. Then suddenly, here it is. I have no menorah, I am all by myself and everything is overwhelming.

What should I buy? The prepared glass cups with oil? The empty glass cups, separate bottle of oil and wicks? Colorful candles? (That's pretty much out of the question since it's our minhag to be mehudar with menorah.)

I have a hard time making decisions in general. I stand there contemplating each choice, it usually takes me awhile to get to a conclusion. I finally picked out a few items and got on line. I asked the guy if he knows if these floaters will fit into these glass cups. He seemed as knowledgeable as I was on the subject. In these situations I wish I was a guy, or at least that I remembered the halachos we learned in high school.

I'm so tired. I'm so stressed. I'm so overwhelmed. I don't know why, but holidays always makes me emotional. I am walking down the street, there are people everywhere, Chanukah music blasting from stereos, electric menorahs atop of cars, mitzvah tanks filled with young overeager boys ready to go out and publicize the miracle of Chanukah to the world. And I can't deal with it.

I. NEED. SLEEP.

I hate the feeling of helplessness, that because this is pretty much my first Chanukah on my own, I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm willing to trust the guy behind the counter if he told me what to do.

I miss my mother's big greasy latkes. I miss the 'shush shush nu nu' when everyone is lighting the menorah. I miss the 'open the door sloooowly so you won't blow out the candles'. My family is having a Chanukah party tonight and I won't be there.

Yes, this is me having a pity party. Yes when I'm tired and stressed I blow everything out of proportion. Sometimes I even cry. Yes, I'm a girl. How pathetic.

I don't even have a dreidel. What is Chanukah without a dreidel?

Me and my friend joked that we would go to a different donut shop each night of Chanukah and try different kinds. Considering the major amount of calories we'd digest, and the fact that I have no idea where all the good donut stores are I doubt we'd really do it. I was also going to attempt to make my own latkes until I realized I don't have a grater.

I need my mom to say 'aww poor Altie' and even though it doesn't change anything it makes me feel better.

I need to get into the spirit somehow cuz Chanukah will happen with or without me. And I'd rather enjoy it then let it pass me by.

I think I need some chocolate. Stat.

Minutes to midnight

I love bus rides late at night. I always sit in the first seat right
behind the driver so I can watch the road. I love how the bus seems to
eat up the road as we drive. The black darkness stretches out before
us and beckons us into its midst.

Whether you are heading towards a destination or away from a starting
point the road is anonymous. It does not differentiate between
travelers. It does not know who belongs here and who is a stranger. It
does not know anything about you.

The forest surrounds on both sides, the trees slightly menacing and
unfriendly. I wouldnt venture there. Even during the day I'd rather
not explore its mysterious depths but at night it takes on a different
more sinister quality.

I watch the headlights in front of us wondering if we will catch up to
them. If they know we are following them. Is this a race? Where are we
going?

You can get on the road and drive forever and never stop besides for
gas and food. Truck drivers are friends of the road. They are familiar
with burnt coffee and truck stops and taking cat naps in their cabs.
I can't really sleep on busses. I do enjoy traveling and the feeling of
going somewhere. It is exciting.

But now it's late and I'm tired and wishing for my bed.

Oh road how I love thee but it is time to say goodbye. For tonight.

Watch over them

Dear G-d, please
watch over them in their sleep.

And when the day breaks,
and they awake.

Be with them throughout it all.
And when their spirits start to fall.

And when they pick up a gun to fight,
let them live tonight.

Let no harm come to them,
these brave women and men.

The ones who grow up way too fast,
Let them come home at last.

When it's holiday away from home.
No family, on their own.

Let them be safe and warm
away from the eye of the storm.

Let them be strong,
and give them courage to go on.

They are someone's child,
someone's daughter and son.

And when they fall in combat,
I hope you cry bitter tears.

I hope you carry their fears.
Because who will tell their parents that they are gone.

You are the only one
who can help them.

Who can save them
and keep them safe from harm.

So G-d, please this holiday season,
send cheer and happiness to the soldiers.

Let them know peace and no more war.
Let them come home for the holidays and fight no more.

Watch over them, G-d, when they sleep
and can't protect themselves from the enemy.

They are your children, G-d.
When they cry, you do too.

When they are hurt,
you are in pain.

Let the night be over,
and let day break.

And forever protect our brave soldiers,
and bring them home this year, when they awake.

It'll be their own personal miracle.
And we will celebrate with them.

Because we sleep safely at night,
while they risk their lives to protect us.

And our great country.

You never knew

You never knew that I cried, when you told me my picture wasn't good enough.

You never knew how hard I had it, when I didn't speak about my family.

You never knew how much it hurt when you didn't accept me in your little 'clique'.

You never knew what kind of person I really was, when I just showed you what I thought would make you accept me.

You never knew that I was a good writer, because you never bothered to read my stuff.

You never knew that I cared, because I didn't let you see it.

You thought I was tough.

You thought I was guarded.

You thought I had a wall around me and didn't let people in.

You didn't know that words hurt me.

I must be a great actress, because you never knew how I was feeling.

I didn't tell you because you never bothered to ask.

You never knew because I didn't wear a sign on my head that said "Tough on the outside, but vulnerable and sensitive all the way".

I hate when you tell me how tough I am, you make it sound like people should be scared of me and not the other way around. While I feel so flimsy sometimes, ready to fall apart.

You never knew any of this, because I put up a good front.

Because sometimes the only way to get through life is to show people you are tough. That you don't care.

It's funny when you tell me what you think I'm like, and you are generally wrong.

You want to think I'm tough, I'm guarded, I'm closed, that I don't care and don't get hurt at all? You want to think that nothing matters to me, that I don't get fazed by anything?

That's okay. I will take your words and try not to let them pierce me. I will harden my wall even more, because you never bothered to climb over it.

You never knew I was vulnerable- and that's how it should be.

Because if you knew, that would give you the power to hurt me. And really, I am my only defense.

Maybe it's best you never knew.

To the ends of the Earth

What if you start walking and never stop?

Is that possible?

It is not possible to walk on air, but they do it in those cartoons, like the Road Runner and Wile E Coyote, where the character runs off a cliff and continues to run in midair, until they look down, get a shocked expression on their faces, and then fall.

We know the world is round. It is not possible to fall off the Earth. But did you ever walk on a Subway platform and wonder what would happen if you kept on walking and fell off the platform?

"But I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walked 1000 miles
To fall down at your door"

In Forrest Gump, Forrest started running, and he just kept on running for 3 years, 2 months, 14 days and 16 hours. It doesn't sound possible. Who would want to run that much?

There are a few reasons why a person would run.

1) Physical exercise.

2) Running towards something.

3) Running away from something.

The first two reasons are (generally) good reasons for running. That last one, not so much. I've learned the hard way that running away from your problems will get you no where. You will just be miles away, with the same problems. "Wherever you go, that's where you are". And you can never actually run away from yourself.

Besides for pondering what would happen if you walked off a cliff, or if you started running and never stopped, there is the realization that the ends of the Earth are close indeed. "Around the world in 80 days". The globe is small enough that it doesn't take long to travail it. There is no where to run.

Sometimes I think that there is no place that I want to be. I mean not where I am, and not anywhere else. Where do you go when you have no where you want to be?

The answer lies within you. If you are wherever you go, then you must create a place inside of you, a place of peace and tranquility. Like a turtle that carries its house on its back, it can settle wherever it is, and call that place home. If a turtle indeed has a home.

I read a children's book once entitled 'The happiness box'. It was about a little boy who decorated a cardboard box and decided that whenever he was sad he would climb into his box. Inside the box the rule was no sad thoughts allowed. He could forget all his little-boy troubles, and revel in happy thoughts only.

What if you could carry the happiness box with you at all times? But you could. The sanctuary is inside of you. That is where you must create your oasis, that is where you must create your escape. "Wherever you go that's where you'll be".

To the ends of the earth and back- you will always be along for the ride.

Parshas Vayeshev- Yakov's spiritual journey

The pasuk says "וישב יעקב בארץ מגורי אביו בארץ כנען" Yakov settled in his father's birthplace, in the land of Canaan.Yakov went to the house of Lavan and worked for him. Why did he go? In order to gather the sparks and elevate them and bring them to 'Aviv', his father in heaven. Canaan is from the lashon 'מסחר'- business. A person has to use money in order to gain money, like it says, you get what you put in.

A Jew's job in this world is to work with and elevate the physical things in this world. We have to do it for 'אביו' for Hashem. Everything we do is for Hashem, and not to receive a reward. And in order to make sure that we are not doing it for the reward, we should work specifically with simple things. We have to have kabalos ol- "Accepting the yoke' of heaven, doing it solely for Hashem and nothing else. We are called 'Tzivos Hashem', the army of Hashem. A soldier must give himself over to his commander and do everything he tells him to do without question.

In order for Yakov to give himself over completely to Hashem, he worked specifically with simple things, with sheep. Yakov worked with elevating the sparks. He worked hard. It was physically and spiritually hard.

Yakov had to run away from his home. He had to leave not knowing if he would ever return. He could have asked, why me? Why couldn't it be Esav who left? But he didn't question. Not only did he not question his lot in life, but he did it with a light heart, he went happily.

And he did not see leaving Eretz Yisroel as a 'yerida' descent, at all. In fact, on Yakov's deathbed it said 'His bed was complete'. This means that his life was complete, including his time by Lavan. He used it as a spiritual elevation, he elevated all of the sparks. And physically, he gained a lot of wealth.

And that's why the Torah uses the lashon 'בארץ כנען'. He elevated the sparks by Lavan, and also by Esev. When Yakov saw Esav again it says 'וישקהו' and Esav kissed him- with his whole heart. Yakov caused Esav to do teshuva. So Yakov came back physically richer, and spiritually richer.

So going to Lavan was not a yerida at all. He earned his parnassah in ruchnius and gashmiyus.

Each Jew must 'elevate the sparks', he must work with his gashmiyus and ruchniyus to create his own 'moshiach', and in that way to herald the coming of Moshiach for all Jews. May it be now.

-Based on a sicha of the Lubavitcher Rebbe

The lesson I learned from this was that just as Yakov did not question his journey and instead went happily, and that he recognized it as an opportunity and not a negative thing, we must realize that wherever we are in life we are there for a reason, and we can use it as an opportunity to do good, to become closer to Hashem. And when we realize that, we will be happy to be there, even if seemingly it is a 'bad' place for us. 

And also, 'whatever you put in, that's what you get out'. We have to work for things in life, sometimes really hard. But the reward will be great.

Good Shabbos to all!

Assertive woman?

They were about a year and a half. The little girl walked over to the boy and shoved him in the chest. He fell on the floor, got up and she pushed him down again. Guess she showed him. His mother took pity on him and picked him up.

Little kids are so funny to watch. Even at a young age they learn to interact with one another. My niece is 20 months and has a new baby sister. She is very overprotective of her, treating her like a doll and not letting anyone come close.

This little kid tripped and fell, and another girl almost stepped on him. But he just got up and walked away like nothing happened. I think if they realize no one is watching they can be tough and 'walk it off'.

There was music playing and these little 'babies', for lack of a better description, were all dancing together in a circle. Just jumping up and down to the music. So cute.

Some little kids are so adorable you want to pick them up and squeeze them tight and give them a big kiss and never let them go.

But whenever I say, 'come here I have a secret to tell you', they rarely believe me. I have to run after them for a hug.

I wonder if you can tell by watching a little child what kind of person they will turn out to be. I hope that little girl won't shove her husband to the floor.

Freedom

I am proud to live in a country that allows me my religious freedom. I can live as a Jew openly without the fear of being discovered, imprisoned, beaten or killed. In Russia in the days of old the Jews did not have that luxury, that basic human right. For without freedom, we are slaves to a master and the rules he imposes upon us.

Today is Yud Tes Kislev (the 19th day of the month of kislev.) It is a special day. It is a day of freedom, of rebirth, and of expansion. This article from Chabad.org explains the significance of Yud Tes Kislev.

Yud-Tes Kislev - The Rosh HaShanah of Chassidism

The Baal Shem Tov writes that he was once granted a spiritual vision of Mashiach. Unabashed, he asked him: “When are you coming?” Mashiach answered him: “When the wellsprings of your teachings spread outward.”

Two generations later, Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi, founder of Chabad Chassidism, was imprisoned by the Czarist authorities. He was sending money to the Chassidim who had settled in Israel, and the Russians thought that he was conspiring with the Turks (rulers of Israel at that time) to fight the Czar.

While in prison, Rabbi Shneur Zalman had a vision of the Baal Shem Tov and asked him: What was the real reason for his imprisonment?

The Baal Shem Tov told him that there were spiritual factors involved. Rabbi Shneur Zalman had been spreading Chassidic teachings without restraint, and this had aroused negative forces in the spiritual realms. “The world was not ready,” these forces claimed, “for such a great revelation.” And therefore, Rabbi Shneur Zalman was imprisoned.

“If I’m released, should I change my approach?” Rabbi Shneur Zalman asked.

“No,” the Baal Shem Tov answered. “If you are released, that will be a sign that your approach has been vindicated.”

On the Hebrew date of Yud-Tes Kislev, the nineteenth day of the month of Kislev, Rabbi Shneur Zalman was released from prison. That date is thus celebrated as a festival. For on it was granted the potential for the wellsprings of the Baal Shem Tov’s teachings to be spread outward and prepare the world for Mashiach’s coming.

There is even a Wikipedia entry on it!

I am privileged to be a chassid, to have chassidus in my life, and to know what it means to be held to a hire standard.

It is customary to wish one another "Le'shana Tovah Be'limud Hachassidus U'vedarchei Hachassidus" May is be a good year in the learning of chassidus and the ways of chassidus.

Good Yom Tov! Hope everyone has an inspiring and meaningful year.

Happy Chrismahanukwanzakah!

'Tis the season to be jolly....

Frum guy gives all Jews a bad name

Clothing being stolen at a laundromat? Never actually happens, right?

I made my weekly trek to the laundromat (single girls apartment, no washing machine, you do what you gotta do right?). I never leave my clothes unattended, because I'm neurotic responsible. A frum guy came in looking for his clothes.

Apparently he had put the wash in himself yesterday, but needed to leave so he gave the lady working there two dollars and asked her to put it in the dryer for him. I don't know why he waited until today to pick them up, but  they were no where to be found. He looked all over the store, and even started opening up laundry bags of clothing people had dropped off (paid for drop-off service) and the lady started getting annoyed. He declared that he wasn't leaving the store until he found his clothes.

Sounds fair, right? I would also be upset if my clothing were stolen from a laundromat. The question is, is it their fault or his? He didn't actually pay for the drop off service, therefore he didn't have a ticket to prove that he left his clothes there. He claimed that since he paid the lady (a mere) two dollars, it was now their responsibility.

I was put off by his attitude though. He demanded to speak to the manager. They finally got through to the lady who was there yesterday. She said she saw a boy take his clothes out of the dryer. (I don't know why she didn't stop him since it wasn't the same man who dropped off the clothes.) He kept demanding to speak to the manager, the owner, then told them they must pay him the value of the clothing. He threatened to sue them, and then told them they would lose all their Jewish customers. He walked around taking pictures of the store. And when I left he was still sitting there.

Then he got on the phone and I eavesdropped overheard him asking someone about suing. His argument was that they are responsible for any clothing put into the washing machines or dryers, when there was a big sign saying that they were not responsible for missing articles of clothing. Apparently they told him he could take the owners of the laundromat to small claims court. I have no idea if he will, or if he has a case or if he will win.

But what I do know is, when he stepped out of the store for a second one Spanish lady said to the other 'That Jewish man is being ridiculous. I had to step into the office so I didn't curse his mother*%&#$ @$$."

I couldn't help but cringe. I wanted to go over to the guy and let him know what a big chilul Hashem he was making. But instead I said thank you and slunk out of the store.

Whether or not the guy was right and they were wrong is not the issue. Yes, his clothing were missing. Yes I'm sure it was very upsetting. But there is a way to say something. My mother always taught me, you get what you want if you ask nicely.

Case in point:

I was once very late to the airport for a flight (as usual.) I was on line waiting to check in, and at the same time there was a flight that had been cancelled, so a whole line of people were waiting for service, demanding to be put on standby for the next flight, screaming and being loud and rude. I didn't know what to do and I didn't want to miss my flight. So I went over to a hassled looking agent and said (trying to be calm), my flight is very soon and I need to check in, can you please help me.

She grabbed my arm (I wasn't sure what she was gonna do at that point) she said, "You are the only one who spoke to me nicely!". She dragged me over to a counter and said to the lady, "Help her and check her in". And B"H I made my flight.

There is a way to speak to people. Like a mentch. And this guy did not act like a mentch. And I regret to think of what the owners of the laundromat think of Jews now, and I can only hope that they encounter more positive polite Jews than the opposite.

Opinion?

...

Then again, if you want something badly enough, you really have no choice but to go after it.

How long

They told me to jump and I did.

But it wasn't enough.

They told me to reach and I did.

But it wasn't enough.

They told me to try and I did.

But it wasn't enough.

It was never enough.

The bar at which they measured me kept moving farther and farther out of reach.

My muscles groaned in agony, my anger grew, for how could they tell me to do and then make it impossible to succeed?

Like a rite of passage, like an initiation, 'they' tell me what must be done. The good and the kind-hearted and the pure of heart, they have such good intentions, they say.

For when someone is above and beyond you, they can tell you about their own journey, and give you advice. But advice is useless.

“Pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place. If I quit, however, it lasts forever.”
-Lance Armstrong

What is success? To keep going when it hurts so much? If you ask an Olympian how it felt to continue in a competition with an injury, I'm sure they would say it is the greatest feeling in the world. To go on when the pain is so bad, and to finish knowing that you never gave up.

But what is giving up? How can we measure failure and success?

Like a little kid throwing a temper tantrum, pounding their fists into the ground for all their worth, I implore at heaven's door. But eventually the kid will tire out, grow silent and still. The energy seeps, the desire to fight drains out, and a limp form remains.

How long can one fight, until they forget what they are fighting for? How long can one try, until the desire to succeed is gone?

How long does it take to get beaten down and not get up again?

Good Shabbos Joke

A young woman visits her parents and brings her fiancé to meet them. After an elaborate dinner, the mother tells her husband to find out about the young man. 
The father invites the fiancée to his library for a drink. “So what are your plans?” The father asks the young man.
 “I am a Torah scholar.” He says.
 “A Torah scholar, Hmmm,” the father says. “Admirable, but what will you do to provide a nice house for my daughter to live in, as she is accustomed to?”
 “I will study,” the young man said, and God will provide for us.”
 “And how will you buy her a beautiful engagement ring, such as she deserves?” asks the father.
 “I will concentrate on my studies,” the young man replies, “God will provide for us.”
 “And children?” asks the father. “How will you support children?”
 “Don’t worry, sir, God will provide,” replies the fiancé.
 The conversation continues like this, and each time the father questions, the young idealist insist that God will provide. 
Later, the mother asks, “How did it go, Honey?”
 The father answers, “He has no job and no plans, but the good news is he thinks I’m God.”


Halivai we should all ave such strong faith in G-d. Have a good Shabbos everyone!

The end of the line

If you want advice, you've come to the right place.

If you want to change, we're here to help.

If you want to kvetch, well, there's a special line for that. It's the one that goes all around the block with no end in sight. If you want to kvetch, there's a special phone number for that. It's the one with an automated voice, and no option to speak to an operator. If you want to kvetch, well you've come to the wrong place. We can't help you.

We help people who help themselves, and if you don't want to change, if you just want to complain, well baby, you're at the end of the line. There's no where left to go.

Cuz I know you'll be reading

I don't laugh cuz I know you'll be watching, but sometimes I laugh cuz I want you to see.

I don't live cuz I know you'll be looking, but sometimes I try harder cuz I want you to be proud.

I don't write cuz I know you'll be reading, but sometimes I have you in mind.

Cuz I wonder what your face looks like as you read my words.

I wonder what your thoughts are as you process them.

I wonder how you feel sitting at your computer staring at the screen, at my words taking up space, spewing my message for all of CyberEarth to hear.

And I wonder what you are thinking as you click off. I hope that I leave you with food for thought.

I don't do things because of other people. I do things for myself, and let others reap the benefits.

I'll probably never know. But it is ironic to write these words, wondering what you will be thinking as you read them.

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And for your efforts, here is an article I recommend to read. It made me cry a little, experiencing the pain all over again. But here's the thing about pain: for me it is just a tiny drop in the bucket, will pass pretty quickly. But for the parents in the horrible story, the pain will be a gaping hole in their lives, and it'll never leave. "HaMakom yenachem et'chem b'toch shar avay'lay Tzion vee'Yerushalayim."

If I had no heart

Maybe if I had no heart I wouldn't have to cry.
Maybe if I had no heart I wouldnt feel so high.
And so low.
Feel the blow.
Pummeling at my chest.
You at your best.

Maybe if I had no heart it wouldnt hurt like hell.
Maybe if I had no heart it wouldnt break so well.
Shattered on the floor.
Banging at the door.
Begging to be let in.
Is that a sin?

Maybe if I had no heart I wouldn't feel love's desire.
Maybe if I had no heart it wouldn't be set afire.
Giving it to you.
Risking it broken in two.
Want to rip it out.
And shout.

Maybe if I had no heart it wouldn't cause such pain.
Maybe if I had no heart I'd rely solely on my brain.
Go back to before.
And hurt no more.
Never again.
Let these feelings end.

Rip it out.
And stomp on it.
Till it shrivels up and dies.
Sighs.

Feels much better.
Need a sweater.

Suddenly so cold.
So old.

And gone.
Because that heart kept you young.
And strong.

But it is no more.
And you've lost all love.
And life.

For release of pain-
you always pay the price.

When one door closes...

"Some stories do have a happy ending, just maybe not your happy ending."

When one door closes...

(Sound of a door closing.)

I'm not exactly sure what comes next.

Runnin runnin and runnin runnin

runnin' runnin' and runnin' runnin'
And runnin' runnin' and runnin' runnin'
And runnin' runnin' and runnin' runnin' and

Why are we always running?
Do we ever stop?
What is it we're after?
To make it to the top?

People always shuffling,
always somewhere to go.
Destination in mind?
Or heading for the unknown?

Do you know where you came from,
or have you forgotten as soon as you left?
Do you know where you are going,
or do you wander aimlessly, your life bereft?

Your feet move faster than your brain,
trying to rush ahead.
Will you succeed in life,
or are you doomed for failure instead?

It's cliche to say
"stop and smell the flowers along the way".
But hey,
we only live today.

Take off your running shoes,
walk at a slow pace.
This is your life,
don't rush, it's not a race.

'Get out of jail free' card

Daddy's credit card. An expression of awe. Wonder. Entitlement. When I was younger and my father gave me his credit card my friends exclaimed how lucky I was, just use it whenever I wanted, buy whatever I wished. But that is not how it worked in my family. I had to ask before using it, my father had to approve of the purchase, and basically it was just for emergencies. A 'get out of jail free' card. And somehow this worked for us. My father trusted me, and I didn't break that trust by making unnecessary purchases.

Many years, wallets, and jobs later, I forgot all about that credit card. Until my mother asked me to pick something up for her at a store in Brooklyn and bring it back with me to Monsey. I asked how she wanted me to pay for it. My father asked me if I still had his credit card, and if it had expired yet. I dug into my wallet, and knew I would find it there, among all the other rarely used cards, like drug store reward cards, old laundromat cards. I checked the expiration date which turned out to be... January 2012. In a month.

I doubt my father will be renewing my card. I haven't taken or borrow money from him in a long time. Now that I work and am self-supportive, I have no need for it. But there was a small moment where I thought, bottoms out. Safety net is gone. What happens if I get into a jam? It's all me now.

Is it a handicap to have that free pass? That just in case? Is is cheating to have that reassurance, to know that you can cash in at any time? In no way do I want to go slinking back home to my parents saying, it didn't work, I can't make it on my own. But knowing that they are there if I need them is comforting.

So it's just a credit card. I know that. If I ever needed money G-d forbid, there are other ways they can get it to me. But it is more what it represents. The good, the bad, and the just plain terrifying part of growing up.

I am reminded of a scene from the tv show 'Friends'. Rachel decides to be independent, so she cuts up all her Daddy's credit cards, with everyone looking on chanting 'cut cut cut cut!'. Ya, it feels good to let go of that 'security blanket' and make it on your own in the real world.

But then again, it's always nice to have that 'get out of jail free' card, to keep it in a safe place, forget about it, and have it 'just in case'.

Which is better? Holding on, or letting go?

H-O-M-E

There was a moment, when we all ended up in the same room together, everyone just chilling, lounging around, when I thought: this is it. My whole family is here. We haven't all been together since my brother's wedding in April. It was us, plus the additions: sister in law, brother in law, and two nieces.

Being home brings out the best in us:

Swapping boots with my sister for lip gloss.

Sitting and talking with my mother for an hour.

Walking with my sister even though I wanted to walk ahead.

My little brother being civil to me for a change.

Talking and laughing, about whatever.

Being home brings out the worst in us:

Me and my youngest brother (14) having a slapping fight at the table.

My family is not 'conventional'. Sometimes we don't get along. But when there's a family simcha we all kind of bond. In our own way.

I made cookies. My sister made cakes. My brother bought beer. My other sister made salads. My brother bought chocolate. My mom got sushi.

We contribute in different ways. People tell me that I look/sound like my family, which I resent sometimes. I don't want to be a by-product of them, an extension. I want to be my own unique entity.

Someone pointed out that every single one of us is different. Yes, some siblings have similar personality traits. But we are all so different, forging our own paths.

One of the guests said we gained one and we lost one, since my sister has a new last name and my sister in law inherited ours. I vehemently opposed this. My sister will always be my sister even if her last name is different.

Here's the thing about family- it's not always easy. They say that with your family you revert back to childhood. Your family sees you at your worst. Not every family is perfect. But the best, and simultaneously, the worst part of family is that no matter where we go, no matter who we marry, we will always be family.

Despite what my mother says, I don't think we get to choose our family. But at the end of the day, if we all threw our families into a pile and got to pick any other one, I really do think we would each choose our own. Not only because it is familiar, the 'lesser of two evils'. But because if you strip away the layers, when you really need them you know your family will be there to catch you if you fall.

I like the batter better

Really yummy cookies. I just made a double batch of these, half for a friend's bridal shower, and half for my new niece's kiddush this Shabbos. These cookies are best if put into the freezer after they cool off, which helps keep the shape. Take them out when you are ready to serve. Sorry no pictures. Enjoy!

(Oh, the batter is kind of like brownie batter, and since I really like cookie dough, it tastes good to sneak a bit before I shape them into cookies. Not recommending it, just explaining the title.)

P.S. The shower is over and I got many compliments on the cookies. They are really good and easy to make. Be prepared to make a double batch, they go fast.


Cocoa Crinkles

3/4 cup oil
3/4 cup baking cocoa
2 cups granulated sugar
4 eggs
2 tsp vanilla extract
2 cups flour
2 tsp baking powder
1 cup confectioners sugar
1/2 tsp salt

Mix oil and cocoa until well blended. Stir in sugar. Add eggs one at a time, stir until well blended. Add vanilla. Stir flour baking powder and salt into mixture. Chill several hours or overnight. Heat oven to 350. Drop rounded teaspoonfuls of dough into confectioners sugar. Roll and shape into balls. Bake 10-12 minutes. Dont over bake.

This makes maybe a few dozen. Not sure.

THAT girl

Do you really want to be THAT girl? The one that people can't stand? The one about whom people say, 'you are not my mother', or 'yes mom', in a very condescending eye-rolling sarcasm-filled voice?

Who does?

Who wants to be their mom? I love my mother, but really?

"Turn off the lights when you leave a room. Wash your dishes.Take out the garbage please."

Do you want to be THAT girl? The one who chides her friend about drinking too much? Or points out when a girl's skirt is too short?

Do you want to be the girl who feels it is her job to put others in their places? Do you want to be the girl who everyone tells to 'live a little', the one who seems to everyone to be too serious and responsible? Like the world makes it seem like being responsible is a thing to be pitied. At least in your early twenties it is. But then when you become a mom you are expected to be responsible, and if you are still a 'party girl', they pity you for that.

Do you want to be the girl who gets all up in everyone's business?

From a simple request- "Turn off the light when you leave a room"- cuz really, why leave all the lights burning when nobody is home-  comes all these questions.

So tell me- who do you want to be? The girl who doesn't care about anything at all, the girl where everything flows, the girl who says live and let live, your life is not my problem, do whatever you want, it doesn't concern me, we have nothing to do with each other?

Or do you want to be the one about whom they say, 'Oh, did someone ask you to monitor the electricity?'

No. But is there something wrong with being a little responsible? Will it kill you to turn off the light?

And why, I ask, does everybody hate THAT girl?

Outsider

It is the laws of human nature to want to be accepted.
To want to be a part of something,
rather than being on the outside looking in.

Inside, the warmth surrounds,
but does not fill.

Like sitting near a blazing fire
but feeling cold inside.

The laughter abounds,
the chatter and gossip passed around.

A silent listener,
merely an observer.

But never one of them.

There is a house, a new one now.
So different than it used to be.

Right next door, it stood.
That house is gone now.

But even then, it was you against them
and them and the world against you.
They always won.

None of this is yours to claim,
since you don't share their name.

You can pretend, like children do,
but family is a strong bond, and you are not a part.

The light, the laughter, the company-
it is all borrowed, to be returned at the end of the night.

When relatives come pouring inside
from all corners of the world.

You serve them tea,
and then you leave, your time is up.

Forever will you be standing at the window
on the outside looking in.

Looking in at a family so close,
a family that is not your own.

What guys do when it's cold outside

Wear a scarf with their suit jacket and walk with hands in their pockets. Well that ought to do it.

Tonight

Tonight,
I think of you.

I write things that I cannot say.
I think of things that I cannot talk about.

I know tomorrow will come in a few short hours.
But that knowledge does not help this night pass any faster.

I smile to let the world know that I'm okay.
But inside, I am struggling.

These are things I cannot tell you.
These are things you will never know.

But if I had a diary,
I would have filled volumes by now.

Bottled up
it stays.

Until one day
it all blows up.

Tomorrow will be a new day.
But tonight- tonight will never end.

I don't celebrate Thanksgiving

Seeing as everyone is saying 'Happy Thanksgiving', I feel compelled to add my own non-Thanksgiving day post.

My family doesn't celebrate Thanksgiving as a rule of thumb. Sometimes we 'happen' to have turkey and pumpkin pie on the Shabbos near Thanksgiving. That's about it.

I know there are frum Jews who are traditional and have an official Thanksgiving dinner with family. Whether or not I would agree that we should or should not be acknowledging holidays of the non-Jews, I hope everyone enjoys their turkey dinners and their time with their families.

In my mind every day should be a day of thanks, and every Shabbos should be a time with family to wine and dine and enjoy each other's company. Why just once a year.

I am most thankful for 2 things: The fact that I was born a Jew, and that my parents became religious through Chabad, so I am a Lubavitcher today. (That is one thing.) And I am thankful that I am American, that I have the freedom and privileges that come along with living in this great country. In that order.

G-d bless America!

Now as I said, since I don't celebrate thanksgiving, (but I do have a day off from work), I am now off to buy boots.

Peace! (Love and Harmony.)

P.S. (20 minutes later...) Apparently all stores are closed on Thanksgiving?? Guess I'm celebrating this holiday by default ;) Oh well, boots will have to wait. 

The tale of 4 working girls

There once were 4 best friends,
inseparable were they.
They spoke and texted on the phone,
and saw each other every day.

Till one of them got busy,
a job she did obtain.
Left the other 3 to wither
outside in the rain.

Then another, she got hired,
on her way she went.
Until just two were left,
And together time they spent.

Then suddenly, there was one,
and all the friends were gone.
What to do, where to go,
how to carry on?

Yes friends they still remained,
but their lives ran different paths.
Could those 4 friends stay together,
would their friendship last?

What if one got married,
and happily she'd sing,
while showing off to her friends,
her sparkly diamond ring?

What if one friend moved away,
across the continent?
Could those 4 friends remain,
without an argument?

4 singles,
3 singles,
2 singles,
just one?

I wish I had the answer,
but I could only wonder.
Would those 4 friends stick together,
Or would they be torn asunder?

Christmas has come early to Pupa

They may not know it, but they strung a whole bunch of Christmas lights in the street, for the Pupa wedding.

Pupa Chassunah
On Monday evening, November 14, Dovid Rubin married the daughter of Rabbi Meir Yechiel Mechel Deutsch, Pupa Rosh Kollel, and granddaughter of Rabbi Yaakov Yechezkel Grunwald, Pupa Rebbe. The chassan is the son of Rabbi Yekusiel Yehuda Rubin, rosh yeshiva in the Satmar Yeshiva and son of Rabbi Moshe Chaim Rubin, Monsey Dinover Rebbe.

Hey I'm not faulting them. They would not know better. But forgive me for thinking it looks like a Winter Wonderland. A pretty Winter Wonderland.

The lights are still there. Oh holiday season, you are right around the corner.

I feel pretty

"I feel pretty, oh so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and gay".

Remember when the definition of gay was simply happy?

Gay: having or showing a merry, lively mood: gay spirits; gay music.
Gay suggests a lightness of heart or liveliness of mood that is openly manifested: when hearts were young and gay.

I had a really nice time over Shabbos with friends. Although why people assume you are drunk when you laugh a lot is beyond me.

As the great Mark Twain said: "Against the assault of laughter nothing can stand."

May your nights and days be filled with laughter and merryment, and may you be forever gay.

Good moods are catchy. Hope you are smiling :)

College Essay???

To the person who inspired this post: you know who you are.

I like Starbucks as much as the next person. From an objective point of view, I like the decor, the ambiance, the music, the chairs. It has a very young hip chilled kind of feel to it. It makes you want to come in and sit down. In fact, I am pretty sure that lady on the front of Starbucks whispers to you as you pass by. "Coooome insiiiiide". So quietly you are not even sure you heard it. Don't believe me? Then explain to me why Starbucks is so full and it's hard to find a seat.

I don't drink coffee. Shocked? I wrote a post about it awhile back. I don't like hot beverages of any kind, besides for soup which is considered a food. I think tea is strictly for the elderly or the British. I see no reason to drink it unless I'm dying. And by that time I doubt it'll help.

The only form of coffee I allow myself is the iced kind. My father is actually very 'into' coffee and he buys his own coffee beans, grinds them and makes fresh coffee daily. My mother is also the most devoted tea drinker, she has a cup of tea almost every night before bedtime. You can understand why it is I feel that I'm adopted.

So how did I find myself in Starbucks? I went there to write a college essay, and I'm not even in college. Ya, I'm confused too.

I sat there waiting for my friend to show up. I naively agreed to 'help' her write her essay. I ordered an iced coffee. The particular Starbucks I went to attracts a lot of frum Jews as it's very close to Crown Heights. I saw two couples there on dates. No one I know thankfully, but really, why go to Starbucks on a date and risk the possibility of being seen by someone you know? (I liked the girls orange top, I should have totally gone over to compliment her.)

I drank the iced coffee, and I now feel like I have a hangover. Honest to G-d, the caffeine went straight to my head. I didn't get a jolt of energy, I got an instant headache of which I am still suffering from some few hours later. My friend insisted I drink ice water to quell the pain, although it didn't do much.

College essay. Right. After 4 hours of back and forth negotiation, I kid you not, I agreed to read and summarize the book for her and have her write the 6-10 page essay. I regret it already.

Morals, you ask? Well I'm not writing it for her. I was firm on that point, despite her enticing offer of sushi. (Of which I will take her up on on Motzei Shabbos.)

I thought I was a pushover but I guess I am stronger than I thought. I refused to sign the contract that she drew up, claiming I needed my lawyer present. (I don't have a lawyer.) It stated that I agreed to write the essay for her, which I did not. And that breaching the contract is unconstitutional. Which it is not.

I am going to read a boring book about the 28 principals on which the constitution is based. I have absolutely no interest in reading this book.

Oh, and I 'have' to do it by Motzei Shabbos.

The things we do for the people we dislike like.

A woman's handbag

Tis a mystery to men. "What do you carry in there? Why do you need such a big purse?" They just don't get it.

It brings to mind the scene from Marry Poppins, where she pulls lamps and impossibly large items out of her purse. Yes, that is comical in nature, but most women, or the smart ones, come prepared.

It was a joke in the summer with the people I worked with. Every time someone asked for something they knew Altie had it in her bag. Tissue? Here you go. Siddur? No problem. Hand sanitizer? The nice scented kind. Lip gloss? Check. I even had a comb in there for some reason. (Don't ask why, I don't use a comb.)

A friend of mine enjoys going through people's purses. Not in a clepto kind of way, I think she just has an interest as to what other people keep in there. I don't mind usually. It's not like I'm hiding a gun in there.

Items found in my purse:

Wallet. Keys. Siddur. Phone charger. Ipod. Ipod charger. Tylonal. Lipstick. Hand sanitizer. Tissues. A whole bunch of odds and ends, like an electronic card to an arcade place, old receipts, random business cards. Always a few pens. I used to keep a notebook there used for jotting stuff down when necessary. But that's gone.

Okay sounds pretty typical. I don't carry shoes or a change of clothes with me. I don't really carry much makeup since mine thankfully usually stays good until the end of the day.

How bout you? Any unusual wacky items you keep in your purse?

A woman's purse is a mystery to men. And that is how it is meant to be.

2 Strangers in the Rain

Rain falling down around me.
I'm not really sure I can feel it on my skin.
My glasses are dotted with raindrops.
Who needs an umbrella?

He stands next to me.
Quietly.
2 strangers in a city,
him and I.

Horns sound all around.
The noise just doesn't stop.
Ahhh, New York.
The city of Noise.

A bus pulls away.
A car comes out of no where.
They almost collide.
Oh it's on now.

They both beep.
Who will give in.
Who will go first.
The bus lurches forward, trying to get ahead of the car.

Slams on the breaks.
The car won't budge.
The bus stalls.
Engine fail.

Haha.
The car got ahead.
The bus was held up.
Restarted the engine and pulled away.

Typical day in New York City.
Waiting for the crash that didn't come.
I laugh to myself.
Cuz it's funny. Familiar.

The guy next to me says,
"So many horns beeping".
And I turn to him with a smile and say,
"This is New York. It's normal."

And for just a second,
him and I
2 strangers in the rain
Shared a moment. An inside joke.

Then the bus came.
We both got on.
Went our separate ways.
And that was it.

But there was still a small smile
playing on my lips.
New York.
The city I hate, the city I love.

Lucy?

A lady walked into the office and she didn't speak English. I asked her who she was looking for and she said Lucy. The only person in the office who I didn't know was the cleaning lady who comes on Tuesdays so I went to find her and said are you Lucy? She said yes so I let her know someone was looking for her. She started following me then stopped and said, "I'm not Lucy".

I went to the front to ask the lady who is Lucy, she pointed to herself saying "I'm Lucy".

Turned out she walked in randomly looking for a cleaning job, but alas we were not hiring. We already employ a Lucy (?) or whatever her name is.

2 Lessons to be learned from this:

1) LEARN HOW TO SPEAK ENGLISH!!

2) Don't follow me if your name is not Lucy.

I 'love' you (not) (Repost)

This is a repost. The original post was written on February 20 2009 and can be found here.

I'm standing on the train and across from me is a young couple, so obviously in love. they can't keep their hands and eyes (and mouths) away from each other. He keeps whispering sweet nothings in her ear, to which she responds with blushes. And their 'conversation', if it can be called such, is peppered with the phrase 'I love you' too many times to count, and usually ends off with 'baby', or some other endearment. So obviously in love.

Too graphic for you? Ya, I was there. My eyes were averted the whole time, wishing I was somewhere else. I don't understand why people feel the need to broadcast their 'love' for the world to see. Or maybe I do understand, all too well.

Love. Such a strong word. So complicated, and yet, so simple. A word with such meaning behind it, so much potential. It is a universal term, used in every culture and religion, though its form may change.

Life is dependant upon love. Without love you can not truly live. You may think you are living, but in reality, you are merely existing, being. your heart is pumping, your body is moving, you can think, speak, and simply be. But this is not really life at all.

If G-d wanted us to exist on our own, He would have created each of us on our own little independent planet, where we could command our own universe, and enjoy our singular company, and never have to see another face.

But He created this world with billions of people in it. He wants us to interact, to live together in peace and harmony. We each have a purpose here. We are each traversing our own specific path in life. But along the way, we will rub shoulders with many strangers, and have to learn how to live, and get along with them.

Every person was born with the amazingly powerful ability to love, and be loved in return. It's like a storehouse, where it collects, and sits, and grows. At the right time, we can let it out, and endow it upon those special people in our life who are deserving of it.

As we go through life, we need to decide to whom we give this love. Unfortunately, many times we make mistakes, or misjudge a particular situation, and give this love to undeserving people. They may actually hurt us, or use it against us, or disregard it entirely, and throw it back in our faces.

The outcome is different with every person. With some people, their trust may have been so badly shattered, that they lock the love up inside, and are overly careful to guard it next time. If this happens to often, they may never feel comfortable with sharing this love, causing people to make the incorrect assumption that they are incapable of loving, when of course this isn't true, since every human, living being is capable of feeling love.

Other people may decide that they made a mistake this time, so must try harder next time, and might keep throwing around their love and getting hurt time and time again.It is all a matter of trust.

A word represents the definition, the meaning behind it. The word itself is important because of what it means, and they way you use it will change the sentence, or the outcome.

The word 'love' has much meaning behind it. It represents feelings and emotions, caring, and kindness, and sharing, giving and taking, having and holding. If used the right way, this one word can mean the world to someone. It can be used to communicate how one feels towards another.

But people misuse this word. They drag it through the mud, they say it without thinking, thereby causing it to mean nothing, lowering it.

I love my family. I love my close friends. It is a love I am certain of, I don't doubt it. It is an unconditional love, and I am comfortable telling them I love them. I don't need to proclaim this love, because it is known. However, I will say it when i feel it. When you feel extremely close to someone, or you are in an emotional mood, you may tell someone you love them, because that's what you're feeling at the time. And that's healthy.

The problem is when people say it, and don't mean it. I do someone a favor. They tell me, 'thanks so much, I love you!' I bake really good brownies. they say, 'Oh my G-d, I love you!' I help a girl with an assignment. She says, 'your the best, I love you!'

And I want to scream, No you don't! You don't love me, you don't mean it, so don't say it!
Because they are abusing the term, the feelings that are meant to be had behind it, and it bothers me.

My friends know me. I am very careful with saying 'I love you'. Meaning, I hardly ever say it. We have this joke going. My friend will say, 'Altie I loooove you!!', and I answer back, 'I like you toooo!' Only it's not really a joke, its how I feel.

They tell me, 'Oh you know you love me!' Maybe. I don't know. Again, it's a matter of trust. If in the past I was certain that I loved someone, and then they broke that trust, it will take me longer to trust someone now.

I'm sitting in a restaurant, and at the next table over is an older couple, your typical Grandma and Grandpa. They sit in silence, no words exchanged throughout the whole meal. They don't even seem to be looking to each other.

I puzzle over this, and conclude they must have had an argument, or be bored in each others company. But then I notice something strange. they are each using only one hand to eat with, and the second hand is not in sight.

I look closer and realize, they are holding hands under the table, and have not let go once during the meal. The husband glances briefly at his wife, and there is a look of such utter and pure love in his eyes, I feel my heart twist, and a tear forms in my eye. this couple is so in love, and by the looks of it, have been for many years.

There is no need for words, or public gestures. The knowledge of it between them, alone, is enough. This love is like old wine. the longer it sits, the sweeter it gets.

When a couple starts out in life, there may not be love, per se. In real life, people don't meet and fall in love, and have sparks of feelings, and live happily ever after. Maybe in books, or movies.

In life, a couple gets married if there is attraction between them, mutual respect, friendship, feelings. Yes, there must be feelings, and you may like this person. But most often the love comes later on. After living with him for awhile, seeing his flaws and faults, enjoying his company, and getting to know him, then the love will come. There's a certain point in a relationship, and when you pass it, you just know. You feel it in your heart. That is true love.

In other languages, Spanish, for example, there is more than one word for the English word 'love'. You don't 'love' your car the same way you love your family, or even your dog. They have more than one word to express the different types of feelings.

In the English language, there is only one word. There are advantages, and disadvantages to this. On the one hand, it should cause you to think twice before you say it, and be careful to say it only when you mean it. But then there are people who abuse it, and use it for every situation, and in every context.

Sometimes they feel uncertain. they doubt this love so much themselves, that they feel a need to prove to the world that they are actually in love. Thus the behavior of the couple on the train.

If you are comfortable, and certain of the love, it won't matter whether other people believe you are in love, or see it. The only people it will matter to is you, and the object of your love.

If you view it as precious pearls, you'll be way more careful how and when you use it. Make sure to let those special people in your life know that you love them, even if it hurts you to admit it. You never know if this time may be the last time.

Don't horde it, or lock it up and throw away the key. But don't leave the door wide open for every stranger to come in and walk all over your heart.

'Love can touch us one time, and last for a lifetime'.

It is so powerful. Only you have the key.

Use it wisely.

The world we live in

"I Googled him, and it came up 'No results found.' So clearly, he is not a person."

When you meet a new person do you:

A) Google them.

B) Look them up on Facebook.

C) None of the above.

If you answered C, I would assume you are either old, or computer illiterate.

What are the benefits of NOT googling someone, and learning about them through actual contact and conversation? Like how they did it in the 'good ole days' and got to know someone by asking them questions about themselves.

I watched a show in which two people who met agreed to not search each other online before the date. One of them ended up breaking the agreement, and everything he found out about the girl put him off so much so that he couldn't talk to her normally.

The quote above is from a TV show. And while it is a funny sentiment, it is a sad truth about our society.

It is both a major benefit and a major hindrance, the way we as a society put our trust in the internet, believe what we read and judge people based on that.

Thoughts?

My Mama always said...

Did you always do what your mother told you to do? I mean as a kid. When my father told me not to pick my bowl up to my face to drink the rest of the cereal and milk, I waited till he left the room and did it anyway. Even as adults we hear our parents voices echoing in our heads. Don't touch that before you wash your hands. Its rude to point. Say excuse me. Hopefully we have come to internalize these messages.

Did your mother ever tell you not to cross the street by yourself? When I was a kid I was told I could cross by myself but only at the corner. This was very frustrating as we lived smack in middle of a long block and each corner was equally far away.

Did you always listen?

I saw a frum kid standing by the corner by himself. I ws thinking to ask him if he needed help. But he stopped a frum guy and asked him in yiddish to help him cross the street.

I thought this was cute. I guess some kids really do listen.

But what compels us to listen and obey the rules set forth for us? Because we understand them? A kid doesnt understand what danger is but he responds to the sound of his parents voice when he runs into the street. We hope that they have our best interest at heart and know what they are doing otherwise why are we following such stringent laws?

At what point do we stop taking it on good authority and decide for ourselves the rules?

There are always rules in life. Some we choose to follow, and some we disobey. If we disregard a red light, we will get a traffic ticket. Therefore most drivers will not run a red light. They can immediately see the repercussions of their actions.

But what about situations in which we can tell ourselves, it won't really affect us? Or further, it will only affect US so why would anyone else care?

That is in essence what we say every time we cross in middle of traffic, or don't pay taxes, or go to work late.

It is all about taking responsibility for your actions and realizing that there are rules for a reason.

That little boy was told to ask a grown up to help him cross the street. So he did. I wonder how long he would have waited for someone to come until he gave up and crossed by himself.

We were brought up with rules. But there comes a point in time when no one is watching you anymore, no one is telling you what is right and what is wrong. And at that point you must make your own rules, your own decisions regarding set rules.

And hopefully, by the time we get to that point, we will have been prepared enough to make the right decision.

Funny Friday

Found here

I particularly like #8 :)

People have added their own, such as:

Keep your foot between the doors, and say to others that you are expecting a friend... After a while, let the doors close and then ask loundly: Hey Derp, how was your day?..... Then smile to others and whisper: I'm sorry that i'm shouting, my friend is half deaf....

Open your purse/bag and ask "Is there air enough in there?"

Have any funny ones to add?

This was cute too.

Hope you had a good laugh. Wishing everyone a wonderful Shabbos (shawbis).

-Altie

Night owl

I am a creature of the night. I should ask my mother, maybe if I was born at night it would all make sense. I love being awake at night when the house is dark and quiet and everyone is asleep. Two years ago I had a wacky schedule and was up late pretty much every night. I kind of liked it.

But alas, now I have a job. Yup. I forgot to tell you. I got a job. And I pay my own rent and I buy my own food and do my own laundry. No I don't expect anyone to pat me on the back and say good for you, you're a grown up now. But you know what? It feels damn good.

Today I bought a bottle of beer (for a friend, I don't really like beer) and they carded me. I think cuz I walked up to the counter smiling. I guess I don't yet have the whole 'nonchalant' down pat yet. So I smiled in an innocent kind of way and said really, you need id? He said really. I thought he'd just glance at it but he took out his reading glasses like he was getting ready to read a book and he perused that license like he was looking for a fake.

He made some sort of comment about me only recently turning 21. I said ya I don't use my id much to buy alcohol.

When will I stop feeling like a kid and start thinking of myself as a grown up? I think maybe when I get my first credit card. I'll let you know.

I was just rereading old blog posts of mine. It is so nice to take a trip down memory lane. I think I will start reposting some of the better ones, for those of you who never had the time to go through my archives, and just because some of them were really good.

I had a feeling, it's hard to explain. But it kind of felt like that girl from 2 years ago and the me here and now are 2 different people. I feel like I have changed a lot since then, and not all of it has been good.

That's another reason I like having a blog, it is like a window to my past. I can read old posts and relive it and remember exactly what I was thinking and feeling when I wrote it. I love it.

Although there is a part of me that wishes I could reclaim some of the naivete? Serenity? More like, inquisitional, that part of me that always questioned and dove into myself and tried to find the answers. I'm not sure if I have already found some of the answers or I have just stopped looking.

So although I want to go back in time and reclaim those feelings I put into my posts, I can't. And like everyone, I have my good days and my bad days, and I have dealt with a lot of change in the past 3 years. A lot. I have grown up a lot and discovered things about myself and other people.

I can't entirely say that I am happy where I am right now, but if I did that wouldn't be good either. We can't be stagnant we need to be constantly going up. Not down.

I miss those days where I stayed up all night and slept all day and did nothing and my life was empty and carefree. Sounds nuts, right? But it's late and I have work in the morning (I love the sound of that) and it's a good thing.

Attention world: I've grown up! It's a good thing.

I feel bouncy. Honest to G-d, I hate mood swings. I really do. But I just spoke to my mother, and I feel like I can climb the biggest mountain and get to the top.

Enough rambling. Good night world, and look out for some of my old posts in the next few days. Like they say, an oldie but goodie.

My sister (I dunno if she still reads my blog) once said that my posts are fabulous and thought provoking. I don't know what she would say of them now, but I would like to try and reignite that style of posting. Any suggestions are welcome.

My wish to all of you tonight is that you find true meaning in your life. A meaningful life is one worth living.

Be well.

Subway Folly

I felt a tap
light as air
wasn't sure that it was there.

I turned around to see who
had the audacity
to touch me.

She looked at me
right in the eye
and asked to go by.

That's 3 mishaps I counted
Three!
That this girl has done to me.

She touched me!
Oh my!
I think I'll now cry!

She looked me in the eye!
Oh the glare!
Oh the stare!

she asked to go by?
She spoke to me?
How wrong! can you agree?

I let her go
all the while
thinking what a weird child.

The subway
no less!
She doesn't know better, I guess.

Shaken and confused
I let her go.
Maybe she doesn't know.

On the subway
you dont look
anywhere but in a book.

On the subway
you dont hear
besides the music in your ear.

On the subway
you dont touch.
Besides the pole which you clutch.

If you dare to deter
from the unspoken rule
beware, people are cruel.

It was nice not knowing you
it was nice to not talk.
on a subway full of people
I'd rather not get stalked.

Mystic

I like fog because if makes the colors of the traffic lights bleed. Like when you dab paint on a piece of paper and then drop some water on it and watch as the color spreads to the edges of the paper.

Fog makes everything look blurry. Shrouds everyone in a cloud of mystery. Is that a person or is that a ghost? I wonder.

Fog is like a sleepy blanket, covering the world in its film.

I would not recommend driving in foggy weather, but on a foggy night, I like to be outside, because it is such a cool sight.

I watch people fade into the distance until they are gone, swallowed whole by the creature of the night.

I breath out and my breath curls and I want to be the fog, light as air.

Though tomorrow will come and it will be sunny and the mystery will be gone, tonight the fog floats.

Mysterious.

Food for thought

I watch from afar with a small smile playing on my lips, knowing that these people's comments are all directed at me, only they have no idea who I am. It is kind of like an out of body experience.

You don't need many people to agree with you to know you are right. Although agreeable comments do fortify my opinion in that regard.

I am a simple person by nature. I like simplicity versus complicated, and I like calm as opposed to chaos. I try not to start arguments nor debates, not because I have nothing to say on the topic but because sometimes it is better not to unleash the demons you would like to remain hidden.

Some people might call me naive or say I 'have my head stuck in the sand'. But at the end of the day, when it all boils down and evaporates, what is left after all the steam? What exactly is the substance in life?

If I can say I am a good person and today I did something nice for someone and made them smile, then no steam in all the world can bring me down.

All I'm saying is, sometimes arguing will get you no where, but a simple kind word or gesture can bring people closer together.

Food for thought.

Little baby

Little baby,
look at me.

Light as air you rest
in the crook of my arm.

Little baby
can't you see.

I am here
to protect you from any harm.

Little baby
Your aunt I'll always be.

I'll always love you.
Even when we are apart.

Little baby
I feel your steady beating heart.

Little baby
open your eyes

Look into mine.
The beginning of your journey in time.

Little baby
Peace descends upon me.

I watch you slumber.
As I rock you gently.

I smile at you.
So little and fragile.

A new life.
A miracle.

A week and a day old.
As your story unfolds.

And for one short hour.
You are mine to hold.

Love you precious babe.

Tear drop

In the dark I let the tears flow.

I can't help it.

They drift slowly lazily down my cheaks.

It is the dark like a blanket that reassures me that nobody can see me
crying. That no one can hear me sniffling.

I clench my teeth and will it to stop.

I can explain away my emotions as a bad day. As discouragement.

But I know it is deeper than that.

As I watch the twinkling lights go by through the window I pull myself together and wipe my running mascara. I will move on like I always do.

Cuz crying will get you no where.

Even if it feels good to indulge.

I close my eyes exhausted and hope to G-d I have the strength to overcome all of life's challenges.

The sun will come out tomorrow

I always loved the song from Annie:

The sun'll come out

Tomorrow

Bet your bottom dollar

That tomorrow

There'll be sun!

Just thinkin' about

Tomorrow

Clears away the cobwebs,

And the sorrow

'Til there's none!

When I'm stuck a day

That's gray,

And lonely,

I just stick out my chin

And Grin,

And Say,

Oh

The sun'll come out

Tomorrow

So ya gotta hang on

'Til tomorrow

Come what may

Tomorrow!

Tomorrow!

I love ya

Tomorrow!

You're always

A day

A way!

Shabbos day the weather was so clear. I like winter days that despite the chill in the air the sun warms you and makes everything seem fresh and bright.

Last night the sky was so clear and the moon was so bright. I watched men saying kiddush levana on my way home from my brother's house.

It is funny how easy it is to forget that tomorrow is a new day. And yet every time I  talk to my mother she reminds me.

"Just relax and go to sleep and everything will be better in the morning."

She's always right. And it always is.

And if you ever feel like when will this misery end, remember, it is already tomorrow in Australia!

Unravel

Have you ever pulled at a loose thread on your shirt, or a carpet? Watch the thread unravel, as more and more pulls out.

Try pushing the thread back into the hole. It cannot be done.

Sometimes things unravel so much that they can't be fixed.

Sometimes we diverse so far from the truth that we forget where it is we started.

And when we see snapshots of ourselves, or read previous conversations, we cannot believe that that was really us.

Sometimes it takes something big to jolt us back to reality.

But the problem is when we have a hard time deciding what is reality, exactly.

Things change. People change. Sometimes for better and sometimes for worse.

We wish we could hold onto the past, but sometimes it is just better to let it go.

And move on.

3 years and 600 posts later...

A bloggaversary is much like a birthday in the sense that it is a time to celebrate an accomplishment. I stuck to something for 3 years. Funny. I always thought I have a hard time committing.

For this 3 year mark I want to answer 3 questions: Why I started blogging, why I still blog, and why I plan on continuing to blog.

I started blogging randomly. The who what where when and how of it is unimportant. But I liked having an outlet for all the brilliant thoughts that pop into my head.

I still blog because it helps me sort out my thoughts, I like that I have an audience, and it is a stepping stone G-d willing to my future career as a writer.

I plan on continuing my blog because even though I don't feel it every day, and even though not all of my posts reflect it, I know that I have something to share, and that there are people out there who are inspired by what I write. And I want to be able to inspire others.

The past 3 years:

I've made random weird blogging friends and acquaintances.

I've had practical jokes played on me.

I've evoked emotion in other people.

I've made myself question and think.

I've become a better person through my blog.

I hope to still be blogging in 3 years from now, despite the G-d willing constraints on my time that a husband and family will bring.

I do hope you all have enjoyed my blog, and feel free to leave a comment as to which posts you have particularly enjoyed or identified with.

Moving on :)

That's not my problem

Call me a New Yorker, (a title I am at times proud to call myself), call me obnoxious, call me whatever you want. But sometimes, I just don't care.

It is said that New Yorkers are always in their own little world, don't pay attention to anyone around them, and are deaf to the sound of a cry for help. While some of this may be true, it is evident by events such as 9/11 that as a people we all come together when it is really needed. Much like a family. Okay, a dysfunctional family.

I'd say this excerpt from a review on the new TV show '2 broke girls' describes New York City in a nutshell: "Subway indifference: When Max gets accidentally tasered on the subway by a sleeping Caroline, she collapses to the ground while the other train riders completely ignore her. When she gets up, she shouts, “I’m good. Thanks for the help, New York.” Sounds about right: The activities that subway passengers will not take out their earbuds for are boundless."

So we are indifferent. That doesn't mean when you need us we won't be there. But sometimes it's really not my problem.

Which brings me to favors. I am a sucker for saying yes. Ask me for a favor and I'd rather say yes than disappoint you. Does that make me a wimp? Or a really nice person?

But imagine this scenario:

Someone asks you to pick up something of theirs which someone else brought in for them from out of town, and drop it off at another person's house so it can finish its journey and end up at their door. They don't tell you exactly what the items are so you don't know if you will be able to carry them or not.  Then when you graciously agree to help them out you get to the address they told you and low and behold! It's the wrong house. Apparently the people who lived there are now dead.

Thankfully, the real and very much alive family lives 2 doors down. Next step: Knock on their door. No answer. Okay, call them. But no number. Their name is impossible to spell, not to mention you aren't even sure it's the right house.

Waiting, waiting, waiting. Confirmation of correct address, but they are not home.

After all this, you've wasted a good 45 minutes of your day and are rightfully frustrated.

And then the person asked you to try again another time. Really?

If I didn't like her so much I would have told her what I really thought.

If, (and I say if since it is a rare occurrence,) I ever ask people for a favor this is what I would do:

Call the people who brought in the package, make sure they are home, arrange a time when the person I have asked to pick it up can come, etc. I like when things are organized and coordinated so as not to put people out.

End of story: I finally stopped by there one day on my way home from work after much friendly cajoling on the friend's part. Annnnndddd.... (drum roll please) they told me the package was already dropped off at the person in mention's relatives house. And she never bothered to tell me. (Okay, I did keep telling her that I 'forgot' to arrange to pick it up but that was my nice way of saying, find another sucker to do it.)

A wasted stop.

Now if this is not the place where I can use all the obnoxious New York energy I have built up, I don't know when is.

I would like to believe that I am a nice person. Sometimes more or less than others. There are many ways to be nice to people, and it doesn't always involve putting yourself out on the behalf of others.

Ask me for directions, I'm happy to help if I can. Ask me for a ride and if I had a car I'd give you one. Ask me for money and I'll lend you some if you need.

You know that joke that says, a good friend would bale you out of jail, but a true friend would be sitting there next to you saying, oh no we messed up?

Well, if you ever call me from jail, you better be real sure that we are true friends, otherwise:

"Sorry sweetie, that's not my problem."

Groan

Not that I am not an advocate of change, but c'mon, what was wrong with the old version?  What happened to older is better? Aged wine, wizened old folks. And the fact that I have no choice in the matter. Taking away my free choice. Soon, Google will rule the world!

P.S. This is my 600th post! I think that's something to celebrate :)

Everything

Emotions run through your hand like a current.
You want them to reach her, like electricity.
You want her to understand what you feel without having to say the words.

Because sometimes words just arent enough.
Sometimes there are no words.

And so you squeeze her hand tight.
As a lump forms in your throat.
And you just hope that it is enough.

You hope that she will understand all that you do not say.
All that you will never say.
But you feel.

Relationships are not built on words.
Sometimes the words "I love you" mean nothing.
And silence speaks volumes.

So I hug her tight.
And silently thank her.
For everything.