I'm happy cuz

Enthusiasm
pumping through me
like a force.

Propelling me forward
smile on my face
bursting with energy.

Elation.

You told me to be happy.

Nay, you told me to believe.

I find it hard to believe,
so very hard.

Can you believe for me?

Can you be my anchor,
my drive,
my positivity?

But you are all that
already.

I smile because
with you I know
I will never fail.

You won't let me.

I yearn to be a better person
around you.

For you.
But more so for me.

I want to believe
as much as you do.

I want to find happiness
like you do.

I will.

In time.

But for now
I hold onto
and soar on your wings.

I'll grab on to your happiness
and hold on until
it becomes mine.

And one day
I will believe as much as you do
and it will become reality.

It will be crazy
and unbelievable
and "how did that happen"?

But for now
I am happy because you are happy
and I believe because you believe.

You expect nothing less of me
and I don't want to let you down.

One day...
one day.

Today,
I am happy cuz
I have amazing people like you
in my life.

And that makes me very happy.

G-d said No

Throw a glass across the room
and hear it shatter as it hits the wall.

Thunder and lightening war in the sky
deafening and blinding everyone in its wake.

Jaded.

What is the reason for all this
sarcasm?

Pessimism.

Cynicism.

Cuz I asked
and you said no.

They say to never give up hope.

They say to pray
and you will get what you ask for.

Cynicism is built on
experience.

Human nature is to try
only so many times.

Patterns tell us that
things repeat itself.

You learn to expect the same outcome
next time.

And subsequently.

People brace themselves for pain
when they feel it coming.

Inevitable.

You ask me why I am so cynical,
pessimistic, skeptical?

Because I asked,
and G-d said no.

So tell me then,
do you always get what you pray for?

Isn't it possible that
you won't get what you so wish for?

Isn't it true that
G-d says no?

So why expect a yes this time?

Mocking,
just out of reach.

Teasing,
tantalizing.

Only He knows what's best.

But I asked and-

G-d said no.

Sense of smell

“It smells like you”.

I know.

“Smell is a strong sense.”

It is.

It is a memory, as you pass the deodorant isle in the store.

It is a taunt, as you stop in Bath and Body Works.

You can forget.

Move on.

Truck forward.

And then, somewhere down the line,

it will invade.

Creep in.

Just a waft.

A smell.

It will remind you of someone.

Of another time and place.

Memories will resurface.

Maybe good ones, maybe not.

They might create an ache, a longing.

Or it might just feel familiar, like a hug, an old pair of pants.

You want to push it away.

To forget.

But smell- it stays with you.

For awhile.

And just when you think you have forgotten,

just when you imagine that time and place,

that someone

to be long gone-

The smell sneaks up on you, teasing you.

“It smells like you.”

And they are there.

And you have not forgotten.

Motzei Shabbos Blues

Shows watched: Check.

Dinner: Check.

Shower: Check.

Comfy pajamas, sweatshirt: Check.

Sleep: No.....

Places to go: No...

Things to do: None....

What do people do on a Motzei Shabbos? Go to sleep early? Hang out with friends? Watch a movie?

11:45 PM. Apartment moderately quiet. Eyes slightly droopy. Fighting sleep...

Not much else to do. A whole free Sunday, with not much to do.

What to do, what to do...?

Hello world. I think there is a word for this.

Boredom.

Sometimes it's nice to be an A

My phone rang today and it said my friend's mother was calling. This girl is actually staying by my apartment this Shabbos so I assumed maybe her mother was calling to check up on her. But it was a stranger on the phone.

She informed me that she found this phone in a parking lot of a mall, in Connecticut, (where this person is from.) She wanted to know if I knew whose phone it was since my name was saved as a contact. I told her I would take care of it, and thanked her. She let me know that she would leave the phone by the lost and found.

It was a really good feeling that she called me. Even though most people might look automatically for a contact named 'Home'. At least that's what I would do. But because my name starts with an A and was probably the first name in contacts list, she called me. And I was glad to help.

I grumble about having people send me stupid facebook requests just because my name is first in their list. Easy access. But this time it was a good thing and I am happy I was able to help.

Today the weather outside was gorgeous! Like Spring weather. Breezy, and mild, in the 50's.

As I stood waiting for the train going home after work, I closed my eyes and leaned my head back and it felt like I was lying on the beach. It was Sunny! Sunny sunny sunny sunny sunny sunny sunny sunny sunny sunny sunny sunny sunny. So nice for a change!

And this morning a girl said to me, "Wow your hair is so gorgeous! Are those natural curls?". I told her that yes, this is my natural hair with a bit of mousse. I laughed and said 'This? Haha. Today is a bad hair day for me but thanks.'

I was told to just say thank you for a compliment even if I don't agree with it. It is funny to me that someone can find my hair pretty when I am feeling bla about it today. I guess it's all about perspective.

My friend is staying in my itty bitty room for Shabbos. I am looking forward to it. We always have a great time together. And of course me being me, I bought a ton of breakfast food, and junk food and snacks so she won't go hungry.

Wishing everyone a really great Shabbos, continuous good weather, and lots of great friends in your life!

So alone

I wish you could see yourself
as I see you.

You look so alone.

As you laugh to yourself,
with your face pressed close against your phone.

The words, a secret joke between you and
someone.

But only you get the joke.

And where is that someone?
And why are you alone?

So alone.

Your phone, those words-
texts and emails,
whatever it is that is making you laugh in remembrance as you cross the street-
they are but an illusion of company.

Yes they make you laugh.

Yes they make you smile.

But to the world-
you are so alone.

And you look like a dork
laughing to yourself.

And that hidden smile
you have just for that special someone.

You say you don't care what people think.
Let them think.

But if you are not alone-
then why isn't that someone by your side?

Instead of miles away,
oceans separating you,
with just a phone screen to connect you two?

Alone.

So alone.

GIRLS! GIRLS! GIRLS!!

As someone pointed out to me, yes Crown Heights is getting filled up with lots of women and girls this weekend, for the annual women's convention in honor of Chof Bais Shvat which is the yartzeit of Rebetzin Chaya Mushka, the wife of the Lubavitcher Rebbe. Many Lubavitcher girls share her name sake, and are commonly called 'Mushkie'.

Two weeks ago, Crown Heights was pretty full with lots of men and boys, in honor of Yud Shvat, which is a very special day as it is the day the Rebbe accepted the leadership and became the Lubavitcher Rebbe.

The Chof Bais Shvat convention was a big deal in high school. All the out of town girls high schools came in, you got to see your long lost friends, there was a constant squeal of "ahhhhhhhh I haven't seen you in soooooooo loooooong omggggggg!!!" which was frankly quite grating.

I am so thankful I am past all that. Even though it was fun and exciting, now I go to work like normal, make dinner, etc. Not many of my friends are here from out of town. When you are older your friends either already live here, or are not coming in from wherever they live.

I do have a special friend in town whom I can't wait to see. I'm actually making dinner for her tonight. Gotta go check on my soup. And another friend who is staying by my apartment for the weekend.

For those of you in Crown Heights now, I hear they are having major shaitel sales. I personally am not in the market for one. Yet.

Tata :)

Marriage 101

Why do we get married? Because G-d told us to? Because we want to have kids? Because the world dictates it?

Is it because we are bored? Or lonely? What is it that makes us cleave to another person, share our life with them, give of ourselves and deny our own needs on account of someone else?

Why did you decide to get married? Why did you decide to start dating?

Yes, every sentence until now was a question. Ask yourself these questions. See what answer you come up with.

Why is it that just because I am at a certain age the question of marriage comes up automatically? It is natural. People start saying 'I"yh by you', and 'So, are you dating?', like it is their business.

I gave a dollar to a guy for tzedaka today. He started going on and on, giving me tons of brachos, telling me I should find the right one soon, and be happy, that I would be a tzadekes. He ended off saying, "Let me know". Sure, because I am going to come back to this very corner to find you to tell you that I got engaged.

I appreciated his brachos. Who knows, maybe he is a hidden tzaddik.

I've spoken to many people about this. They all say, don't rush into marriage, don't get married if you are not ready, don't feel pressured to just because everyone else is. And most importantly, do it for the right reasons. 

It is something I've thought about. What are the right reasons?

There is a Taylor Swift song with lyrics that go:

"Marry me Juliet you'll never have to be alone".

So is that a reason to get married? So you will never have to be alone? It is not true in any case. Being married does not guarantee that you will never be alone. Physically, definitely not. Emotionally, I would hope you would never be alone. But who knows what will be.

You have to be a complete person in order to marry another complete person. Yes, we say your neshama was split in half at birth and you have to find your 'other half' in order to be complete. But what does that really mean?

I strongly believe that you have to be okay with yourself, love yourself, enjoy your own company before you can invite someone else in.

In seminary a teacher said to us, "would you marry you?". I thought about it. Why would I want to marry myself? Yes, there are things I like about myself. Yes I sometimes enjoy my own company. But would I want to spend the rest of my life with me?

There is a scene from Grey's Anatomy where everyone in the hospital went through a traumatic experience. One of the Doctors was suffering from post traumatic stress disorder. A doctor whom she was dating came to her apartment. They liked each other but had 'issues' that they had not worked through. She was sitting in the dark scared and alone and crying. He came and said, "Marry me. I'll never leave you alone again."

Her reply? "Thank you. Thank you." Not 'oh yes I'll marry you!'. Not 'omg I've been waiting my whole life to hear you say that!'. No, in that moment she needed a savior, someone to pull her back from the edge. And that was him.

I doubt their marriage will last, based on that.

A spouse must be an equal. A friend. Someone whom you can respect. They are not your therapist, your rabbi, or your savior. (Okay, maybe if there is a mouse.)

Marrying someone because you don't want to be alone with yourself is not a good enough reason.

So what is your reason for getting married?

I'd like to think that when the time came I would go in with all the right reasons, and only good intentions geared towards making it work.

Don't worry, I will 'let you know'. :-P

Wake me up

I called home to say hi to my mother. My little brother answered and told me my mom was sleeping.

My mother called me back later. She told him, "If any of my kids ever call, wake me up."

It is nice to know that there is someone I can always rely on.

Bridal Shower

 Hello cupcake. "You know you want me".

So.

Tired.

And content.

Well spent.

Time given.

Money used.

Bride to be.

So happy.

And sappy.

So much stuff.

For entertaining.

Gifts galore.

Wrapping paper on the floor.

So.

Much.

Food.

And cupcakes.

Made by me.

So pretty.

Recipe?

Hello, my name is

Mr.

Dunkin

Heines.

Time saver.

My secret.

4 singles.

3 singles.

2 singles.

Just one.

"Im Yirtze Hashem by you".

Sure.

And lots of Mazal Tov's this year.

And only a few more showers to go.

Message in a Bottle

Check out this song by Matisyahu.

Just a castaway
An island lost at sea
Another lonely day
With no one here but me
More loneliness
Than any man could bear
Rescue me before I fall into despair

I'll send my SOS to the world
Send my SOS to the world
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my
Message in a bottle


This is MY message to the world:

I feel spring weather in the air and it is lovely.

I would like to wish everyone a good Shabbos. And hope that good things come your way.

God giveth and God taketh away

Hashem runs the world. I believe that with certainty. I trust Him completely to make the right decisions for the world, for society, for me specifically. We say everything is 'Hashgacha Pratis", divine providence. Everything happens for a reason, nothing by chance.

We don't have much control over what Hashem does. We don't have any control at all. The only thing we can control is ourselves. And how we relate to other people.

Someone once showed me this thing where you draw three circles on a piece of paper, one inside of the other. She explained that the innermost circle is you. That is where you are completely in control. The middle circle is people around you, situations that happen to you. There, you don't have control, but you can control your reaction to it. And the third outermost circle is nature, things like the weather, a car accident, death. There you have absolutely no control.

The point of the exercise is to realize that we control ourselves, our emotions, our reactions. If someone bumps into you or steps on your foot, are you the type of person to get mad and curse them out? Or will you forgive them, let it go.

When someone insults you will you let it bother you, or will you say never mind, brush it off, it doesn't mean anything to me.

The second you let someone else bother you, let them get to you- then they have won. And you are the one dealing with the pain, annoyance, or fall out.

If you let other people determine how you feel about them, then only you will get hurt in the long run. If you let people make decisions for you, if you let people step all over you- only you will suffer.

God gives and God takes away.

But why let other people, mere humans, do the same? Why let them have control over you?

Be better than that. Take control of yourself, your emotions. Stand up for yourself. Don't let other people bother you, hurt you, get to you. Decide for yourself what is okay and what isn't, acceptable or otherwise. You are your own and only defense against people.

Don't give them the chance to hurt you- be the stronger one and walk away first.

You are 100% in control of yourself, your emotions, and your reactions to other people. What will you do with that control?

Utilize it.

And never forget- Hashem runs the world, He knows what will be even if we don't. He has a plan for you. And sometimes we have to go through something not so great just to get to the better things in life.

I believe good things will happen. I believe that G-d runs the world. I believe that He has a plan for me.

And I also believe that I am a stronger person than I think.

And I am about to find out just how strong.

Imperfections

Experts say that even the slightest scratch can greatly lower the value of a diamond. "Once a Chipped Diamond, always a Chipped Diamond". You can't repair it. Who wants an imperfect diamond? Would you buy a piece of jewelry if the sales associate said, "Oh by the way, look here at this little chip, yes that is why it is so cheap, because your diamond has a great flaw and no one else wants to buy it"? I don't think so.

No person is perfect. That's the truth. People say to find the beauty in the imperfections. What makes us different makes us special. Where you come from makes you who you are. It is nice to say, really. It also seems like a consolation of sorts. 'If I can't be perfect, then I will at least try to embrace my flaws and find the good in them."

Are we our flaws? Do they make us who we are? Are they an extension of us, are they a part of us like a limb? Or are they removable, erasable? If we could erase them, would we? Should we?

If I would graph my life on a chart, the lines would zigzag crazily, up and down, lows and highs, no discernible pattern. To say "I try" would be false. I can be proud of my accomplishments while bemoaning the fact that I am no where near the person I want to be, the person I should be.

So where does that leave me? I am imperfect. I am flawed. I am honest. Will someone else understand where I've been? Would anyone be able to accept my flaws, and not just 'overlook' them, but really appreciate them, and understand that not only do they make me who I am, but they make me a better person for it?

The only way someone else can accept you is if you truly accept yourself. I am not talking false confidence, or egoism, or any other form of self empowerment used in a negative way to try to raise yourself above the rest. I mean fully accept yourself, forgive yourself for your mistakes, for your past, for your sins. If G-d can forgive us, then why is it so hard to forgive ourselves?

The subway platform smells strongly of urine. I can't breath. I can see mice and rats scurrying around, most probably looking for food. There is dirt and grime all around me, and I huddle inside myself trying not to touch anything.

My mouth forms words as people give me curious looks. I shy away from attention. I am not one who approaches strangers to ask them to light shabbos candles. I try to avoid public confrontations. I keep to myself mainly.

As the subway sways back and forth, I daven. I am standing anyway. So I grip tightly to the pole as I daven shemone esrei, all the while hoping no one is looking at me.

I wonder if this is considered a place unclean to daven in. Maybe. Probably. But if not now, I won't daven today. I am trying. I am making the effort. I hope G-d understands.

I know where I've been. To fall in the mud and get up again- that is a true diamond. I work to clean the grime and dirt. I shine it when I can. I hope that one day its value will be appreciated, despite the flaws, the hairline scratches, and the obvious imperfections.

To say, "You don't know where I've been" is implying that I've been somewhere that you may not understand, may not appreciate, and may judge me for. Some people have a need to unload, to confess all their mistakes and flaws. But we don't do 'confessions'. We, as frum Jews, believe in repentance, in teshuva. We believe in fixing our mistakes. Not wallowing in them, reliving them or beating ourselves up over them.

Does that mean that we can remove it, that it won't leave a stain? I don't quite know that. "Once a Chipped Diamond, always a Chipped Diamond."

I'd like to believe that all my experiences culminate in a beautiful colorful kaleidoscope that is me and only me. There is at times a desire to erase the past. But I realize, every single thing I went through brought me to this point. Leaving anything out will erase who I am.

I can't say that I am ready to embrace and love my flaws. But I am learning to be okay with my imperfections.

And I appreciate the beauty that is Me. Imperfections and all.

Temptations

It beckons to me from across the street. Calls my name softly. "Altie....."

No. Stop. Please.

But it keeps going. "You know you want me. Just come here. Just once. That's all."

No. No I can't. Keep walking, don't look back. Don't... Look.... Back....

But I turn my head. There it is, smiling at me for all it's worth.

And the smell... It smells so good. But I know, I know it won't taste that good. I know it won't feel that good.

A force pulls me forward, tries to get me to cross the street. But I refuse. I can't. I know I will regret it.

They should patent that smell, so potent is it. You can smell that bakery from a block away. I know it's there, and yet the smell gets me every time. I've tried stuff from there. It is not that great. They have some okay stuff but not wow.

And yet it tricks me every time into thinking that this time it will be good. Because it smells divine. It should be illegal.

It is every temptation in disguise. It is a distorted image, a blurred picture, a bleeding painting. The edges change colors, it makes you see what they want you to see, what they know will lure you in. And then once they have you in their trap, they reveal the false bottom. You realize it is but a mirage, a fake. And you are stuck. There is no where to go. Because they sucked you in....

So I cross the street. I never walk on that side. I tell myself many things to prevent myself from going inside. Most of the time it works. I'm logical, I remember that I didn't like it much last time. That it is not worth the calories and I can do without it.

But sometimes, once in awhile, my blinders are off. I see it... I hear it... I can't resist it...

What you have to realize about temptations is they won't stop until they have you. And by 'they' I mean whatever your vice is. Your inner struggle, your evil inclination, the little red devil that sits on your shoulder with a pitchfork and convinces you to sin.

He uses coercion, because he knows you have logic and reason. So he bypasses the front door. He slips in the back when he knows you are not looking. He gets by all your defenses, he stabs you right in the heart where it hurts. He holds you captive and makes you listen even as your eyes glass up, your brain gets foggy, and with your last ounce of strength you mumble no.... you won't get me this time.

And yet he does. Time and again.

But there is a way out. There is always a way out.

And next time, don't cross the street. Remember, it is just a trap.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

Who's the fool now?

Break

Because it used to mean something when I spoke.

The words I said held weight. They made an impact on people like a stone skipping the water.

The words I want to say are stuck inside, like peanut butter stuck to the roof of my mouth.

The things I really feel, the things I want so badly- they don't exist.

And one day I will wake up and wonder why I was lying to myself all along.

And then I will have to go back and do it all over again.

My compass- I shake it. But it is broken.

I sit down on the dirt road and let the dust settle because right now I need a break.

The problem is, everyone is watching.

Rush

From door to door I go, the morning commuter rush, it's all you need for a kick of adrenalin to last you the whole day.

I run off one train, pound up the steps, down the other side to the connecting train, I hear the anouncer "Stand clear of the closing doors please".

Almost there, almost.....

I get through the door as it's closing, collapse into a seat, clutching at my chest. I can't breath and my heart feels like its gonna beat its way out of my body.

As my nervous system slows down I tell myself, it's not that late, I could have waited for another train. My mother always says, never run for the bus, better to be late than dead. Okay. It's not the same thing here.

Yes, there will always be another train. Metaphorically, things pass us by in life. And it's not a big deal. So you move on. So there will always be another one.

But what if you miss THE train, what if you are stuck standing there staring at the retreating lights wondering why you didn't run for it, why you didn't push a little more, why you didn't try harder?

Yes there will always be another train. But that feeling of running and getting it- it's the greatest feeling.

I made the train. And maybe this is the train I'm supposed to be on.

Mr. Rain

There are so many songs about the sun.

"Oh Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun, please shine down on me."

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray, you'll never know dear, how much I love you, please don't take, my sunshine away."

"The sun will come out, tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow, there will be sun".

"I've got sunshine, on a cloudy day".

But there are no songs about Mr. Rain. Why not? Does nobody want to sing about the rain? Does no one love the rain, does no one crave dark gray rainy days? Umbrellas and yellow rain slickers and "Wellies".

So I caved. I finally did it.

I bought a pair of rain boots.

They are cute.

They are the most uncomfortable things I ever wore.

They do indeed feel like I am carrying houses on my feet.

I think they cut off all air to my feet. My feet were cold but sweating. They couldn't breath. I had to take them off at work and hope no one saw my legging clad legs under my desk.

And here is the best part- the day I wore them, it was completely dry outside, pretty mild weather, with no rain clouds in sight.

But hey, who wants to wait to wear something new?

I am now the proud owner of pink berry rainboots.

Take that, Mr. Sun. Mr. Rain is in the houuuuusssse.

So put your hands up- UH.

Untitled

How can I talk without speaking?

How can I make you understand without letting you know my thoughts?

Some things I don't ever want to tell anyone.

And some things I wish you would just know without me saying it.

Don't have a good day. Make it a good day.

Penny for your thoughts?

Who's Penny and why does she want my thoughts?

And are my thoughts worth anything? And to who?

Silence is golden.

So which is it?

And how come singing in the shower is so much fun? Late at night when you know no one is listening.

I wonder, sometimes I really wonder what happens to a person when they change. Where does the old you go? Or does it just get incorporated into the new you, like combining two bottles of milk.

All good things must come to an end.

And one day, they just do. Sometimes without warning, and sometimes you saw it coming all along. Maybe you denied it, maybe you ignored it.

But endings are an eventuality, are they not?

Cuz ask yourself, where exactly do you go from here?

Sleep awaits. And I wonder how many more tomorrows there will be. And when one day I will have sunshine on a cloudy day.

And when the sun will come out tomorrow.

Cuz I'm waiting. And I have no patience.

And it's hard to believe in something so intangible.

What if- I have it all wrong?

Let's pretend- I can be a fairy princess with beautiful dresses and you can be whatever you want to be.

Cuz in the world of make-believe anything is possible.

And words- they are just fickle. Cuz your mouth says one thing, but your eyes- they don't mean it.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhh- do you hear that?

That is life knocking on my door.

Gotta go. I think I'm gonna ask for a refund. Mine is defective.

Don't. Touch.

Please don't ask me, because I don't want you to know.

Please don't pry, because I don't want you to see.

Understand how I feel when you look where you are not welcome.

I cringe inside, hoping to stave off your questions, your inquiries. I know you won't quite understand, and so I choose not to share with you.

And yet you come looking anyway.

And I don't know why you have a need to know my secrets. I don't know why I have to explain my actions to you.

Some things are not meant to be shared. Some things work better when they are kept to myself.

Please. Respect my privacy.

And when I say don't touch, stay away-

 please listen to me.

(UN)settled

"Some settling of the contents may have occurred during shipment." Maybe it should say "unsettling of the contents". The contents didn't settle, they moved around, were jostled from side to side, top over bottom, around and around until they came to rest on a shelf somewhere in some store in some city.

Teachers like to say "settle down class" when students are being too rowdy or overexcited. They are in essence saying that the state you are in now is not conducive to learning, so let it all out and quiet down so we can learn properly.
 
I always thought routine meant boring. Doing the same thing every day, day in and day out. My father has had pretty much the same schedule for over 10 years. As a child if I ever woke up early I knew he was up. I knew roughly what time he woke up, what time he left for davening, what time he left for work. What he ate for breakfast, what time he got back from work. My father is, in a word, predictable. Boring. But somehow that is so reassuring.

Like a child who is asked in school, what do your parents do and he says, my mother stands by the bus stop all day waiting for me to come home. That is the routine. His mother picks him up from the bus. Every day. The same time. If she missed a day that would be deviating from the routine, which would unsettle the child.

I always wanted more excitement in my life. When I was a child and my friends would go away on family vacations I said why can't that be me. I wanted to be 'cool' and say I went to Israel, or France. I didn't even fly until I was 14. And it was cool. It was different.

If I stayed home during chol hamoade instead of going to amusement parks, or concerts, or hotels I thought what will I tell my friends? I have nothing to show for my vacation, it was so boring.

As a teenager and young adult we somehow get the message that excitement lies just beyond that door. Over there. A little further away. In Cancun, and Barbados, and the Caribbean. You are a 'sophisticated' person if you have traveled the world. The term 'backpacking through Europe' is used in awe. Yes, some people find it exciting to traipse around with nothing but a backpack and rolled up blanket on their backs, with no thought as to where they will sleep that night or how they will get their next meal. Some people enjoy that.

I am taught to enjoy it, but the very thought of it terrifies me. Here I am, 10:00 at night, doing nothing, thinking hmmm maybe I should just call it a night. ME! I never go to sleep before 12. And that is a choice, mainly because of what it represents, specifically the freedom to make my own decisions and that decision is no bed-time. Not a very wise one, but my own rules nonetheless. Power to the people.

I am 21. My whole life is ahead of me but I feel like it hasn't even started yet. There is so much I can do, there is so much I want to do, but I just want to stay at home, in the comfort of my room, and read a book. Watch a good movie. Put on pajamas and make popcorn. Yes, that is what I want to do with my Saturday night.

My friends said, 'let's do something', in that tone that suggests 'well, I want to go somewhere but I don't feel like planning it'. Which left it up to me to take charge. So I did. And the plans fell through. And I can't deal very well when things don't go smoothly. So we ended up in the middle of no where, on a deserted street of warehouses, freaking out that we would be kidnapped and killed, or worse. Yes, we are an optimistic bunch.

And the whole time I was thinking, 'I should have stayed home today'. (Reference to Arnold in Magic School Bus.) The night turned out fine, my friends had fun, it was an experience, but I came home very unsettled. Because as much as I want to be cool and exciting, running from party to party and every major social event of the year, that is not me.

And there you have it. I am boring. I like my comfort zone. I am nervous about trying new things, and meeting new people. I like what is familiar to me. I don't do very well in chaos. I like routine, or a variation of such.

After all is said and done, I want to come home every night to the same house, the same bed, and the same people. My house, my bed, my people.

But that does not exist. Yet.

And so I called my mother, and we talked about this and that, and there was an underlying 'Maaaa... when is it going to happen for me? When will things get better? When will my life start?'

And she of course said what she always does: "Poor Altie, everything will be okay. I went to the ohel and I prayed. For everything and everyone." And there are no prayers quite as loud as my mother's. I told her I'm sure she moved something up there and they are saying, oh boy, it's her again!

So G-d willing good things will happen soon. Not just for me, but for everyone who needs good things to happen, in whatever way it is needed. Hopefully I won't feel so unsettled for too much longer.

People ask me how I am and I answer honestly: "I'm okay, thank G-d. Things are okay."

And that is enough for now.

Withdrawn

It's when
you curl
into
yourself.

When you smile
at the people around you.
But it doesn't quite reach
your eyes.

When you are so cold
under a million blankets.
And nothing can seem to
warm you.

When you are starving
but your stomach is full
of lead.
And you just can't eat.

It's like a fog
where you can't see clearly.
Everything is slightly blurred.
Hazy.

When you want to stay in the shower
curled up under the steam.
Absorbing the warmth.
And never leave.

When you need a hug.
And your own two arms
just can't seem
to hold you.

Dining alone

He made me dinner tonight. I'm not sure what his name is. He didn't remember my name, although I've told him already twice before. I thought he would remember, my name is pretty unique.

It was dark and drizzling out, perfect for my mood. I tried not to project, but some people can't tell either way. It was noisy there, and too bright.

I ordered the same thing I did the last two times. He didn't remember.

It is sort of a defeat, really. It got late, I had no food, I didn't want to starve. There is no food waiting for me on the table. I walk these streets alone, and no one knows if I go hungry.

I drag my feet there and back. I do what I have to. To get by.

The sandwich has cooled. It tastes sad. And lonely.

I light a candle to set the mood.

Dinner for one tonight.

There is no freakin way I'm gonna let you get me down

You tell me I can't do it.
And I laugh in your face.
Because I know I can.
And I will.

You tell me what my chances are.
And you couldn't be more wrong.
Cuz above all
I am strong.

You try to limit me.
Tell me what I can
and cannot do.
Well heres some news for you.

You are not G-d,
and you dont make the rules.
You don't make the plan.
And nothing is up to you.

You don't know what will be.
You dont know where I'll go
from here.
And where I'll end up.

You try to confine me
to certain jobs and and situations.
You tell me I have little options.
But it is funny really.

Absurd actually.
How well you think you know me.
And despite what your limited small minded brain thinks
I have many options.

Nothing you say will get me down.
In fact I should thank you.
Your honesty has caused me to distance myself
from people like you.
And the nonsense you spew.

I will be fine.
And you will be gone.
Cuz you are wrong.
I hope you learn that.

One day I'll laugh.
And that day is today.
Cuz it takes people like you
to make me realize
just how strong I really am.

And to trust myself
above all.

Attack of the strollers!

The sidewalks are clogged with stroller traffic. That is because the area is made up mostly of young families with lots of children.

It is kind of hard to maneuver the streets and I, as a naturally fast walker, find it annoying to be stuck behind someone taking up the sidewalk and walking slowly. It is hard to get around them and I am forced to slow down.

Do you know that funny jig people do when they see someone approaching and they are not sure which side to move to so that the other person can pass by? One person moves right, the other moves to their left. It's like a mirror dance. It can be funny depending on the parties involved. After a few moves from side to side they figure something out and pass by.

I am a very calculated person. I like to be one step ahead of everyone else. When I see someone approaching I am already mapping out in my brain which side they are likely to move to and I make sure to stick to one side. The general rule is walk on the right side.

This works until I see two women with strollers coming towards me. They both fit on the sidewalk but I don't know where to go. I hold my breath because I'm sure they are both about to squash me. Death by a stroller, is the headline tomorrow's paper will read.

And then, they pass by, one on each side of me. They don't touch me, I'm not hurt. I'm alive!

And I go on my merry way.

I hate strollers, they take up so much space and are such a hindrance. Maybe I'll carry all my babies in a sling.

I was once in a really overcrowded frum grocery store on erev shabbos, it was packed with last minute shoppers trying to finish up before shabbos. There were people and shopping carts every, literally no room to walk.

And then in walked a lady with a huge double stroller. I looked at it and said haha no way that thing will fit in here.

Well, I'm not ready for strollers yet. So for now I can give people pitying looks as they shlep their huge stroller here and there, while all I have are keys and a phone.

Travel light, my friends. And if you see a stroller coming- believe me, get out of the way.

Music

Music calms me, keeps me sane, clears my mind of all thought. When I am nervous or tired or stressed or emotional or upset, I just turn on my ipod, or search youtube for my favorite song, and listen to different songs over and over until I am in a better mood.

I like slow melancholy songs, and fast upbeat songs, depending on what my mood calls for. I listen to songs with great lyrics, and really focus on them. Sometimes they really help snap me out of my mood.

When I am moody taking a walk also helps. Fresh air, physical movement, getting out. It helps me get out of myself, out of my mind, and clear things up.

And when all else fails- there is always chocolate :)

New Years Fireworks!!!

Between the lines

It's like an ache deep inside
that doesn't cease.
It's like a hot summer day
with no hint of a breeze.

It's like my heart hurts
but doesn't know what it's looking for.
It's like I'm waiting for you
to show up at my door.

It's like a sea of black hats
but none for me.
It's like my glasses are fogged
and I really can't see.

It's like a perfect smile
that feels like it's gonna crack.
It's like a journey started
where there's no going back.

It's like a fake laugh
and forced meaningless chatter.
It's like duck tape
for a life that's in tatters.

It's like two wholes apart
but not two halfs.
It's like sometimes
I forget how to laugh.

It's like an upward climb
with a pack full of stone.
It's like I'm blind
heading for a future unknown.

It's like a cunning game
that I refuse to play.
It's like I wonder how long
things will remain this way.

It's like a lump in my throat
and an unshed tear.
It's like is there anyone
even out there?

It's like a glass ball
that refuses to speak.
It's like I wonder if I'll ever find
that which I seek.

The world won't end in 2012

The best reason I've heard yet about why the world can't in in 2012: (as seen on Facebook)

"The world can't end in 2012 b'cos I have yogurt that expires in 2013"

Also, because the Mayans said the world would end in 2012 but they are long dead, so they can't be right.

Countdown to 2012: 

It is 1 day, 21 hours, 23 minutes, 9 seconds
until Sunday, January 1, 2012 (New York time)

1		day
45		hours
2722		minutes
163358		seconds

Dun dun dunnnnn..... Guess well soon see if those Mayans were right. Who has their floaties ready? 

Happy almost New Years!

Oh the pain (of beauty)

My feet are broken. I broke them! They hurt so much, and all for a pair of heels. Guys ask, why do women wear shoes that hurt their feet? And yet they expect us to look beautiful.

Well guys, beauty is painful sometimes.

And I hope you think it's cute when women take off their shoes and walk barefoot, cuz that is what we are resigned to.

Either that, or torture.

Oh ya, try wearing a pair of heels for an hour and tell me how it feels.

Oh the price of beauty...

For you

It is a weird night tonight.
The sky is cloudy, the air smells of rain.
But your face is aglow.

I want to slow down this moment
and be with you.
Celebrate with my whole heart.

It took a lot to get to this moment.
And this moment is worth it
For you, and me, and everyone involved.

Tonight I smile,
and don't cry.

Tonight I don't think of what is to come,
but live in the moment.

Your magic moment.
I hope it was everything you hoped for.
And more.

I will be with you
throughout it all.
Just text me, call me.

Tonight, your wish came true.
And there are no words to express
how happy I am for you.

I'll probably cry at your wedding,
and many times before then
and many times after.

Cuz you have been waiting for this day
for way too long,
and it has finally come.

May G-d's cup overflow with blessings,
for you and yours,
always.

Parched

I'm so hungry
but all the food in the world cannot sate me.

I'm so thirsty
but all the water in the world cannot quench it.

My stomach is empty.
Like a bottomless pit.

I want to cry out
but my voice is silent.

I keep searching
for something that I cannot find.

I breath in and out
but my lunges scream for more.

More air.
More something.
This is not enough.

Not enough.

Lips cracked and dry.
I sigh.

I can't breath.
Can't seem to catch my breath.

And right now,
nothing the world
can satisfy
my hunger.

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.