Occupation: Superstar

When I was little, I wanted to be British. When we played 'make-believe', I tried so hard to put on a British accent. I don't remember ever desiring a specific profession as little children tend to do, such as princess, fireman, nurse, etc.

When you were little, did you ever think about what you wanted to be 'when you grew up'? Or rather, what do you want to be when you grow up?

Some people in this society merely have jobs, not careers. Some go to school for a specific profession, some don't go to school at all. Some people start out with a plan, and others do not. Whatever the case, plans don't always work out. But there are bills to pay and food to buy, so people take jobs wherever they can get them.

Do you enjoy what you do? Once, when I was job hunting, my father said to me, "Take any job you can get, regardless if you are happy there. If you need the money, you are not at liberty to wait for the perfect job." While I understand his viewpoint, I thought that was kind of a sad outlook on life, especially considering that my father does enjoy his job. I don't think that a person should do something that makes them unhappy.

Ideally, it would be great if everyone could do what they loved to do, and get paid for it. For some people, that might mean shopping all day, or watching movies, or eating. So, there are personal shoppers, and movie critiques, and writers for food blogs. It may not be likely, but it is possible. Some people just enjoy being famous, and they get paid for that.

Whether you have a job, or a career, the main thing is that you have to enjoy what you do. If you are not happy there, it affects your performance, and your attitude, which can affect your health, and your lifestyle.

There was recently this 'quiz' going around Facebook. Personally, I think a lot of the Facebook apps are dumb, and a waste of time. They say things like 'Which Disney Character are you most like?', or 'What type of personality are you'? This one was for which profession you should have gone into. Not, could have, would have been good at, but should have been. Does Facebook think that people will drop whatever they are doing to start a whole new career because it is what they should have gone into? yes, these quizzes are meant to be fun and playful. But even so, do you really need to look back and say, "I should have done something else with my life"?

Ironically, my friend took the quiz 4 times, and got 4 different results. Guess it all depends on how you answer the questions.

I was speaking to a lawyer recently, and the topic of college came up. He told me he had majored in accounting for his undergrad, as many people told him that it would help him for law school. He said he got straight C's, that he should have majored in English because that is the subject he is best at, that had he majored in English he might have gotten into a better law school, etc etc. Then he stressed that he is happy with where he ended up, and he doesn't regret the path that he took.

But he obviously has thought about it. Do you want to go through life thinking, 'what if'? How would my life have turned out if only I would have done....

If you have a goal, or skills, or a desire to be something, then go for it. While not everybody can afford to follow their dreams, ambition will get you far in life.

But don't look back with regrets and say "I should have been...."

No Joke

So I was on the bus today, and this older lady was sitting there, talking on her phone. She looked to be maybe in her late 40's early 50's, no real way to know. She had a smartphone, meaning to say it was way cooler than my phone. It was a touch screen, no idea what make or model, but pretty current. Like, my mom would never be able to figure it out.

I see her start taking something out of her purse. It was a purple wire of some sort. I thought it was a phone charger, but that made no sense being that there are no outlets on a bus. At the end of the wire I see something big and bulky coming out of her purse.....

It was a phone! Not her cell phone. A hand held old fashioned big phone, one that you can hold between your ear and your shoulder. The kind that is usually connected to the wall in your house. Only, this one had a wire that connected to her... you guessed it. Her sleek small so-tiny-can-fit-in-your-shirt-pocket new and improved cell phone.

And I'm thinking, are you kidding me? The point of the cell phone was to unplug you, to make your burden lighter. The best simile I can think of- a pair of earbud headphones attached to a boombox. Why would you want to lug that around?

Here are some photos for illustration:

And there you have it Ladies and Gentleman.

And they didn't change their names...

I used to work at a dental office in Williamsburg. I found it funny every time a frum chasseedish mother walked in with her kids in tow, curly peyos at their ears, and said, "This is Barry, this is Joseph, this is Henry." Like, really? Who are you kidding?

Or when I call up a company that is run by frum guys and the guy who answers, in a heavy Yidish accent, says his name is 'Jake'.

I don't understand why parents give their children English names at birth. You should be proud of your Hebrew name. Maybe some people find it hard to pronounce the 'ch' sound, but so what. A name is the essence of a person. It connects to your soul. Does 'Barry' connect to your soul?

My brother adopted an English name for his job. My co-worker recently decided to introduce himself as Richard to customers. No idea why he picked that particular name.

Maybe when people do it they just want to fit in, they just want to make it easier for secular people to say their name. But in Egypt, one of the three things it says the Jews did not change was their names. So why should we? Especially these days, when freedom of religion is so accepted everywhere, we do not have a need to hide.

Be Yoel, or Yossi, or Yitchok, or Chaya, or whatever your parents named you. Your name is special, and you shouldn't change it.

Find Me

They ask me,
again and again.
I make up answers as I go along.

Different versions of the truth.

But the thing is, I don't really even know myself.

Did you ever have a dream in life?
A shining goal
that stares you in the face.

Did you ever fear failure
before you even began?

Fear.
It cripples you.
It immobilizes you.

It is a game stopper.

I want so much to play the game.
But my fears paralyze me.

They hold me back from
discovering
if I even have what it takes.

They say if you never even try
you have already failed.

What happens if you do try
and you fail?
Was it worth the effort?

It says, "yagati velo matzati - al taamin."
Does that mean if you fail
you have not truly tried?

That the goal should become the reality-
this is the dream.

Find me-
off the beaten path,
amongst the old twisted gnarly trees.

Find me-
around the bend in the road,
where no one thought to look.

Find me-
and take my hand
and help me across the finish line.

No one,
not even the strongest of men-
can do it alone.

Find me.

One less thing to worry about...

The good thing about Simchas Torah: Nobody can drink and drive. Please watch your alcohol consumption on Yom Tov. You are supposed to be besimcha, not stone cold drunk. Have a good Yom Tov!!

Growing up way too fast

How do you tell a 10 year old that she knows way too much? Too much about Hannah Montana, too much about boyfriends, and girlfriends. An 8 year old who knows what 'cheating' is, and not in reference to a board game. They tell me Selena Gomez and Justin Bieber are engaged. The 8 year old sings me a song, by Rhianna. About love, or broken hearts, or something.

She tells me she has her whole life mapped out. I listen, fascinated. She knows what kind of guy she wants to marry (Tall, handsome, rich, with a British accent because she loves listening to it.) She knows how many kids she wants to have (8, or however many Hashem wants.) She knows where she wants to live (Georgia. No idea why.) She wants to live in a big house with 3 floors, with a pool. She wants to make $5,000 a month. (She couldn't figure out how much that comes to a year.) She wants to be an artist, photographer, and producer. I asked her what she wants to produce. She said, I don't know, maybe movies.

I tell her she knows too much for her age, and she should go play with barbies. She tells me, in a voice that says 'you are so naive', that ALL her classmates know all this stuff too. That they all watch TV. She tells me, like I am an idiot, that she knows even more than what she is telling me. She teases her 18 year old brother that he has a girlfriend.

Then she asks me, in all seriousness, what kind of guy I'm looking for. Yes everybody, a 10 year old Shadchan. She asks me what he should look like, do I want a tall guy, short, fat or skinny, handsome or ugly. I respond, very diplomatically, that it is the inside that matters more, and that 'Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.'

I can't believe I'm discussing this with a 10 year old. Am I extremely naive, or has this generation deteriorated so vastly? I am discussing things with a 10 year old and an 8 year old that they shouldn't even know. That I shouldn't even know about. Where did it go wrong?

I tell this little girl (she claims she is already a teenager. Maybe THAT'S the problem) that if she knows all this stuff now, what will there be for her to know when she gets older? She scoffs and says, "I won't watch TV when I'm older. I will know like, science and stuff."

Good luck, little girl.

Pick a side, any side, I don't care which one you pick

 I decided long ago that I would never discuss politics with anyone, for two reasons.

1) What I believe is nobodies business.

2) A large majority of people are ignorant in this area.

Regarding my first point. A lot of people don't care what your opinion is and will not respect it. All they want to do is get the chance to bash it and try to tell you why you are wrong. So what's the point in discussing it with them.

Regarding my second point: why would I take advice from ignorant people? Additionally, it is often painful to hear the things people senselessly spout, without having any knowledge on the matter, or any real substantial facts to back it up.

So, I steer clear.

There's one thing I don't understand. Big Bird. He's cute, furry, yellow, innocent. Why must people put him in the spotlight for something he didn't do?

What about etch-a-sketch? They are a fun children's toy. Again, why must they get such negative media coverage?

It is funny the things people choose to focus on, for no real reason. Jump on it, actually.

What makes one guy better than the other guy? Let's just take a gamble and say, facts. The words they are saying, the things they are promising. Will they follow through?

You know what the President has done over the past 4 years. Many people view him in a negative light. Maybe they have valid reasons for that. But what about the other guy? The new kid on the playground? How much do you really know about him? It's a gamble, really. There's no way to know if he will be any better, if he will carry through on his promises.

I really think that for some people, it is not a thought-out process. Some people make the decision based on prejudices, racism, because they like the other guy's voice better. Maybe they have no reason at all. Perhaps many people make their decision based on what they hear from other people, from their parents, their friends, their co-workers. When it comes down to it- who do you like better?

Believe what you want to believe, but make sure that you have a good solid foundation beneath your beliefs, so they don't one day all come toppling down.

Happy voting!

T.G.I.O.

Thank G-d it's over.

Someone asked me how my Yom Tov was. My answer: too much food.

My sister did all the cooking. My father made some joke about how my sister said 'we have to eat again tonight'. Less than half my family was home for Yom Tov, and yet we still have tons of food. It's like none of us know how to cook in smaller quantities.

There should be a mandatory fast after every 2 day holiday. I think I'm going on a hunger strike.

There is something slightly melancholy about motzei Yom Tov. When I was little, the sukkahs would empty, everyone would go off with friends, to 'hang out', or 'do stuff', go to simchas bais hashuava. And it would get so quiet. Back to life, back to technology.

Then I grew up and it was my turn to get out as fast as I could the second yom tov was over.

Sure, I want to hang out. Sure I want to have fun, I will definitely go to simchas bais hashuava, I might even stay out all night. But I am older now. More responsible. I have to wake up tomorrow, for work, for life, for whatever it is that I have to do. I don't live life with such abandonment anymore. That is a good thing.

Concerts? Amusement parks? No thank you.

Wishing everyone a fun and healthy Chol Hamoade. Be safe, and stay warm!

So, is this how it's going to be?

Hello Sukkos, I've missed you, the holiday that comes only once a year. I was so looking forward to spending some time with you, for 8 days.

Then came the rain. Big, fat drops streaking across my window, lending the appearance of teardrops. But I'm not crying. Not this time. This was supposed to be a good year. This is going to be a good year.

So then, what is it you are saying? That you don't want us? Should we sit outside anyway, in the cold wet rainy night?

There will be those who say, "Women don't need to eat in a Sukkah", or "Women are not obligated to shake lulov and esrog". To them I say, how can you take away this special mitzvah from the ones who work so hard to prepare for this yom tov? You are basically telling them, no need to try harder, your efforts don't count.

But we know that is not true. We have higher standards. We go 'lifnim meshuras hadin', beyond the letter of the law. I have never sat inside on Sukkos, and I don't plan to start this year.

I don't know how this will work. I left my rain boots at home.

I always had a weird thought about Yom Kippur. The prayer of ne'ila, we say, is signifying that the gates of heaven are closing, and it is the last moment for us to pray for a good year. I always found that a bit sad, until I read on Chabad.org that the gates are closing, with us on the inside. We are not left outside the palace, in the cold and the rain. We are invited inside, to the warmth, to sit by the fire and bask in the presence of Hakadosh Baruch Hu.

And when the rain splish-splashes into your chicken soup, and you are huddled in a sweater for warmth, and all you want to do is go inside- go beyond your comfort. Enjoy your Yom Tov meal, along with the Ushpizin.

May we all merit to spend this Sukkos in Hashem's great Sukkah, in Yerushalayaim with Moshiach Now!

JustaGuy

Just a guy.

Passing through.

As they all tend to do.

They all like to assert themselves in different ways.

He refused directions.

Maybe is was a macho kind of thing.

It didn't impress me.

He called me 'ebullient'. I had to look it up in the dictionary.

I laughed. No one would ever describe me as such. e·bul·lient. Ha.

By now the details are fuzzy.

His face.

His name.

What was spoken about.

Just a guy,

Is all he was.

Soon, I won't remember him at all.

Maybe the next one will be better.

Or the next one.

Or the one after that.

No way to know.

I hope I can muster enough enthusiasm,

For The Guy.

In a weird way, I feel so... normal.

Normal is so boring.

Does that make me.... boring?

It's funny the things you end up remembering.

You can't erase an experience, even if you want to.

Do you want to?

Leave it on the Timeline of your brain.

Let it be a learning experience.

Call it Growth.

He is.

Was.

Always will be.

JustaGuy.

Until one day,

I'll meet someone.

Who will turn out,

Not to be,

JustaGuy

After all.

Stop calling me

I can't think of 8. All I can come up with is texting, or emailing. Maybe voicemail. Or chat. BBM if you have a Blackberry.

I hate when people call me when I am sleeping, or have recently woken up. The first thing they ask me is 'Did I just wake you up?'. That is a dumb question for many reasons. If you did just wake me up, what are you going to do about it? Hang up? I'm already up, so say what you called to say, and get it over with. If you did just wake me up and I lie and say you didn't to make you feel better, but we both know I'm lying, do you feel any better? And I still just woke up. So if my voice sounds fuzzy with sleep- don't ask me dumb questions, because that is when I have the least patience for it.

The first time I got a phone call and chose to ignore it- nothing happened. My phone didn't blow up. The person who called didn't show up at my door and say 'Ha! I knew you were ignoring me!'. I just looked at my phone and it felt so liberating. I am no longer a slave to my phone. You can call, and if I don't want to talk to you I won't answer. Maybe leave me a message if it's important. Maybe I will get back to you later. Maybe I will even say 'Oh I'm so sorry, I didn't hear my phone because _________________' (insert brilliant fake excuse here.)

Yes, I am a product of my generation. Yes, I fall back on texting way too often. If all you need to say can fit into 160 characters or less, than why bother me with a phone call? I got a call from someone once and all she wanted was the phone number of a mutual friend. By the time she made that clear, we were 5 minutes into the conversation, and I was grasping at things to say to keep the conversation going. All she wanted was a phone number. I ended up texting it to her anyway. Who writes down phone numbers anymore?

Sometimes I'm just not in the mood to talk to you. Or to anyone. So don't call me. Just send me a text. If it sounds important, I will call you back. If not, we can have a heated conversation via text, with emoticons and everything.

The only person I would pick up for anytime is my mother. Because, well, she can't text. She doesn't own a cell phone. And she would end up leaving me a 5 minute long message anyway, which I would listen to, and then call her back, and then she would just repeat the whole message. So let's just cut to the chase. (Hi Ma!).

First there were letters. Beautiful, handwritten, snail mail genuine letters. The kinds that are now preserved in museums. The kind that are mostly extinct.

Then came the phone. When you can have hours long conversations with your friends, laying on your bed with your feet kicking in the air, giggling about some gossip that is only important to a teenager. That is a bygone era as well. Like, waaaaay back in the 90's.

Then came the cell phone. The big, clunky, "I'm so cool I have a cell phone even though it's as big as a house" phone. Calling people on the go? You can always stay connected!

Then it just kept on improving. The invention of the text. A miracle. Now, we can both be sitting in the same room, not talking, not making a sound, and we can text each other. No need to look at you, I can see your smiley clearly on the screen. You said something funny? No problem. I'll just reply with an 'lol'. Get used to it, it's the new mode of dating.

You think I'm joking, but I'm not. No really. Don't call me.

Have a good Shabbos :-)

Boys will be boys

It's a universal thing, really. No matter the language, boys are pretty much the same. They act the same. They sound the same. Yes, there is definitely a cultural divide. But that does not change the fact that they are boys.

Car trouble? No problem. Even if they have never driven in their lives, even if they have never taken a look under a hood of a car, they will step up to help. Why? Because they have testosterone and a need to impress.

What did I think would happen when I had the radio playing on low, with a few Israeli guys in my car? My car, my rules. I was going to turn it off thinking, Erev Yom Kippur is not the best time to listen to secular music, when I heard them singing along to it. Ma ze shtuyot? I am not impressed.

Give them a little mashke, get a farbrengin going, and they really get into it.

There is something fun about driving with a car full of boys. Especially when they are talking heatedly in a language you can barely understand.

My Yom Kippur was exhausting and draining. And unfortunately, the kids did not save me any gushers from the children's program. Oh well. Maybe next year.

Looking forward to Sukkos! Wishing everyone a happy and sweet year.

The chicken thing

Sensory overload. That's all I can think of. Too many people, too many lights, too much noise. I feel the urge to curl up inside myself, cover my eyes and ears, and block it all out.

This year it is just me. My family is not here. That's okay, I'm a big girl, I can do this by myself. Except I don't want to. I hate doing this alone. Last year my friend swung the chicken for me. This year she is far away.

I call my mother and complain. Why are all these people here. I don't want to do this. I don't want to be around people. I don't want to celebrate Yom Kippur.

She throws suggestions at me. Stay home. Daven by yourself. She offers to call my brother to come swing the chicken for me. Or my sister in law's brother. I said no thank you Ma, I don't need their help. I don't shriek from touching a chicken. I'm not that kind of girl. But I'd rather not do it by myself.

In a crowd of people you kind of just do what everyone else is doing. So I get on the line marked 'women'. I wait in line. I pay for the chicken. I get a ticket.

Then I just stand there, in the middle of the street, in the middle of the noise, in the middle of the chaos, all alone, confused, unsure of what to do, where to go, how to do this on my own.

And Hashem sends me an angel, in the form of a little boy named Shmulik. He looks to be maybe 15. He is clearly Israeli, but speaks English pretty well. He says, 'Do you want me to do it for you'?

I am suspicious. I ask him if he knows English. I ask him if he will get me a girl chicken. I ask him if he is trying to scam me. He doesn't understand everything I'm saying. He takes my ticket and gets me a chicken.

Again, suspicion. How do you know it's a girl chicken. Will you run off with my chicken? I say the prayers, and he starts swinging it. All the while I'm thinking, what's his deal? Why is he helping me?

When I'm done, I follow him to make sure he is taking it to the right place. He tells me to get on line. He tells me to watch them shecht the chicken. I tell him I've never done this before and I'm completely lost. He tells me to throw sand on the blood and to say the blessing.

I asked him (skeptically) if he wants anything from me. He says I can give him a tip if I want. So I give him a dollar. I ask him his name. He says Shmulik. I say thank you very much for your help.

And then I run out of there as fast as I can. Away from the smell, away from the bright lights, away from the people.

But I felt so much better, and just a little less alone, thanks to the help of a kind stranger. Who make a buck off of me. Pretty good deal, if you ask me.

Wishing everyone a healthy and spiritual Yom Kippur, and may all of your prayers be answered for all of your heart's desires. I am hoping and praying for a good year, with Moshiach now.

Nostalgia

Sometimes I miss it a lot. The past. The people we have left behind. Sometimes that feeling hits me. Nostalgia. A familiar face. A familiar scent. Flitting memories, that we have pushed away, tried to forget. They come back to us, at odd hours. At 4 in the morning, when we should be sleeping.

And for a moment, a wistful feeling steals over you. For that time, that place, that person. The familiarity.

But only briefly. And then it is gone, replaced with the present. The here and now. The future.

Because the future stretches out, bright, and clear. And the past- it is no more.

Sometimes I miss it. But then I look back over this past year, and I remember how far I have come. I look forward towards the future, and I feel optimistic. There is so much that I have accomplished, and so much more that I still want to do. There are so many good people in my life, and so many more that I can't wait to meet.

And the places we have been and the people we have left behind- it doesn't exist anymore. A small smile plays at your lips, and your heart is light. Everything is okay, the world is silent, and it really is time to go to bed.

4 AM- we have got to stop meeting like this. Too much time to think is never a good thing.

'Our kind'?

There is an unfortunate close-minded mentality in Crown Heights. Frum people in general seem to have this 'closed group' attitude. Which is fine, I'm Jewish, you're Jewish, let's stick together. We try our best to keep outer influences to a minimum.

But what of Racism? It is prevalent in New York, and it makes me uncomfortable.

I was at the laundromat, and some guy came over to tell me that a lady wasn't feeling well. I went over to check. She was sitting on a chair with her head down, not moving. I thought maybe she was tired. I asked her if she was okay. She shook her head no. I asked her if she wanted water. She shook her head no. I asked her if she wanted an ambulance. She didn't really respond. Another lady was a nurse and tried asking her what her symptoms were.

I decided someone should do something, so I called 911. It is a weird feeling to have to call. I have only called them once before, thank G-d. They go through a whole process. What is the emergency? Address? Who is the patient? How old is she? They dispatched me to ambulance services. They asked me more questions. Then told me an ambulance was on the way.

20 minutes later it still wasn't there. The lady was laying on two chairs, moaning, complaining of stomach pains. I didn't know what to do, and I was getting nervous. So I decided to call Hatzalah (the Jewish ambulance service.) They came within 5 minutes.

The first guy attended to the lady, he seemed nice. The thing about Hatzala is they come in droves. About 3 more guys showed up, and an ambulance, even before the 911 emergency service came.

Here's where it gets a little uncomfortable. One of the guys was looking around. He saw me. I was obviously the only frum person there. The lady who was in pain is African American. I did the right thing by calling Hatzala. A person is a person no matter what, and I should do what I can to help.

The guy came over to me and said in a sort of whisper, "We try that Hatzalah should only be used for yidden." So I said, taken aback, 'The ambulance didn't come and I didn't know what to do.' He said, okay you should know for the future....

They took her in an ambulance to the hospital. The Hatzalah guys were great. In and out in like 7 minutes. I left the laundromat about 30 minutes after I called 911 and I still did not hear approaching sirens.

But that comment- it is so primitive. So uncalled for. Who cares if she is a 'yid' or not. She is a person. We as Jews are 'gomlei chassadim'. We help people. I was really bothered that he said that. Why do frum Jews feel the need to be racist?

Maybe I am taking this to an extreme, and I can understand in a sense where the guy was coming from. But if he called the police, would they tell him, sorry bro', we only help Mexicans?

Regardless, I hope she will be okay, and I am definitely learning how to stay calm in stressful situations, something I have a big problem with.

POST SCRIPT: I saw the lady again today, she is okay, and she thanked me profusely for helping her out.

New Beginnings

The warm sun smiled down at me as I left for the last time. I descended the steps with a bracelet clutched in my hand, with the word 'smile' on it. Fitting.

The weather outside was gorgeous, with a pleasant breeze in the air. It lifted my hair and whipped it about. My heart was light, my score was settled, and I was done. Time to move on.

Endings are hard, and so are new beginnings. But when it ends on a good note, it brings with it a good feeling. Onto bigger and better things.

Beginnings are a fresh start. Turn over a new leaf. Start again. No one knows you, and you can be everything you want to be. Leave anything negative behind.

It is the same with a new year. It is a time to leave old grudges behind, apologize to people you have hurt, forgive the ones who hurt you, and make good resolutions for the new year.

I have high hopes for this coming year. I pray for and I wish upon everyone lots of blessings in every area, be it health, livelihood, children, shidduchim. May everyone find only happiness in their lives, peace, good will towards their fellow man, revealed good in everything, and may you always have the strength and the courage to do the right thing.

I wish you and your families a happy and healthy sweet new year!

My worth

My worth
is not what you think of me.

Not what you give to me,
or what you take from me.

My worth
is not a gold star.

Or a red A+.

My worth
transcends the physical.

You cannot box me in.
Hold me back.

If you deem me unfit for you,
then certainly you are not good enough for me.

You cannot judge me,
for you have never been where I have been.

My worth is only
what I think of myself.

And I believe that
I am a pretty fine individual.

It does not matter what you think.
For I matter to myself.

And I will always be worth it.

My choice

It is that instant when you make a mental decision. There is much debate in psychology about the subconscious. Psychologist didn't use to believe that there was anything in our minds besides our conscious thoughts. But of course we know that to not be true. It is when you do something purposely to hurt someone and you say, 'I guess subconsciously I was really upset at her...' Or you have a major decision to make, and you say 'I don't really know what I want to do.'

Our minds have layers. Sometimes thoughts are clear and surface level. We are hungry. We are tired. We are sad. We know what we are feeling at any given time. Then there are the times when a thought lurks just below the surface and we don't quite know what it is we are really thinking.

It is that split second when your mind decides it does not want to be here. And then the rest follows. It is very hard to be somewhere when you have already decided that you don't want to be there.

Are you wasting your time? Is there a way to push through that mental barrier? Should you force yourself to stay when all you really want to do is leave? Get up off your chair, walk out that door, gasp the fresh night air, and run far away into the night.

I thought I had come far enough in life that I can make my own decisions and leave if I wanted to. But what of self-control? Sometimes, as grown ups, we need to make the decision that is best for us, even if it does not make us happy.

The desire was to leave, but I am going to stay, and prove to myself that I can do it. And I will make myself proud.

Deal again?

Yes please. Deal the cards again. There must have been some mistake.

No, these cannot be my cards. 'The hand that we were dealt.' No thank you. I don't accept it.

Why is it that just when things seem like they are going great- everything flips over. And I mean everything. All at once.

Okay, maybe not everything. But the essentials. The important things. It makes you stop and say, what now?

I hate it. It is so frustrating. I hate the feeling of not being in control. I hate that I can't do anything about another person's decision. I hate that I make plans, anticipate things, and they don't work out.

I hate saying, 'Well, it'll all work out.' Maybe it won't. Why must I always be positive? Why must I always console myself? What is wrong with wallowing and saying, 'This really and truly sucks'?

It sucks. I will not lie and say I'm happy. I will not pretend everything is 'just great'. I will not tell you that I am fine because that is what you want to hear.

No, it's not 'all good'.

Two steps forward, one step back. How many steps back can one take until they are just walking backwards?

Deal again?

Please. Because there must have been some mistake the first time around.

The end

Holding my breath.
Will I make it?
Just can't get to the other side.

The divide
is much too great.
And I alone can't.

Make it?
Or break it.
What will be.

Can't you see
how desperately
I wanted this?

Is it right?
Or wrong.
Who is to say?

Today,
it is cold.
Don't know where the sun went.

It was sent
away.
Don't witness the pain.

The rain
brings chill.
The fire can't warm.

Ride the storm.
The waves engulf.
No end in sight.

Take flight
and run.
For if you stay-

Today
will be gone.
And who knows what tomorrow brings.

Don't sing.
Your voice has broke.
And you are done.

You haven't won.
You lost more
than you ever had.

Are you sad?
But you are powerless.
So be gone.

And move on.
For if it is not meant to be
You can't control it.

Do as you see fit.
And let me be.
Can't you see

What you are doing to me?
My mind is numb.
No pain.

No gain.
No words.
No anything at all.

Can't stop the fall.
So I sit back.
And sneer.

You stare.
But I got it right.
All along.

Stay strong.
Keep away.
And you will never feel the pain.
Again.

The end.

...Aaaand We're Back!

Little girls walking, hand in hand with their parents, fresh new school uniforms, and backpacks that are way bigger than them. The buses and subways are packed with people returning to work after summer vacation. But I never got a vacation. How can you return when you were never away.

Today I felt the first chill in the air. Time to start thinking about pulling out the heavy blankets, the fall jackets. Keep tissues in your purse and have soup on hand, for when that cold springs up on you, unannounced.

I gaze in wonderment at my calendar and cannot fathom how it is Rosh Hashana in less then a week. People love to say 'It's that time of year again.' And it is. But not again. It is not that time of year again. It is new. It is fresh. This year was never before and will never be again. It is a fresh start, a clean slate, every other cliche of renewal.

I bought a book, hoping for inspiration. '60 DAYS: A Spiritual Guide to the High Holidays' by Simon Jacobson. I walked into the Judaic store, no idea where to find it. After awhile I caved and asked the clerk for help. Of course, he knew what I was talking about right away, and the book was right behind me.

He told me it is a seasonal item, and therefore it only has a one week return period. Thought I, do I want to return this item? I got home and started reading it. And then took a break. It is relevant, it is a short daily dose of inspiration, it doesn't take that long. But 'I have no time'. I want to soak up the inspiration just by holding the book in my hands. I want a quick fix, just like the rest of my generation. I want to sit down and say 'Inspire me!', and in a flash, I feel better.

I would like to go into the new year feeling prepared, and yet I never do. I always feel like I am rushing, like I am busy with everything else, like I am coming in to the holiday still putting on one shoe saying 'wait for me!'. Yes, that is usually how it is done.

I pray by rote, I say tehillim, all the while thinking, 'I should be feeling more. I should be crying. I should be praying harder. What is wrong with me, does this mean nothing to me at all?' I console myself by saying that at least I have a conscience that keeps me aware of what I am lacking. Reassuring thought. Not.

Well, this is what is wrong with me- I make time for so many other trivialities, and not the things that really matter. I have passing thoughts such as, 'I really should make a donation to tzedaka this year'. Or, 'maybe I should take some time to reflect on the past year and mentally prepare for Rosh Hashana.' And then I move on to other things.

And every year I show up to shul gasping for breath, running to do my hair and makeup in the 18 minutes, lighting candles late, thinking, thinking, thinking, trying to remember what I am forgetting and knowing that of course I must be forgetting something.

What is Rosh Hashana? I remember learning about it from the age of 6. Making cute honey dishes, bringing home arts n crafts, reciting dvar Torah's from a paper, putting the little inserts in my machzar so I would know what to say. And now, years later, I wonder, where is that bite-sized learning I am so used to? How come no one is teaching me about the holidays again? I have no arts n crafts, no dvar torah, no neat little package with a bow on it, with whatever the teacher decided to teach us.

Let's try this from the beginning. What is Rosh Hashana? Just as there are many resources and articles for people who know nothing, there are refresher courses for people who forget. But we never really forget.

It is the head of the year. It is the day Adam and Chava were created. It is a renewal of our relationship with Hashem. We crown Hashem as King. "The Kabbalists teach that the continued existence of the universe is dependent upon the renewal of the divine desire for a world when we accept G‑d’s kingship each year on Rosh Hashanah." We hear the shofar. It tells us to repent for everything we may have done in the past year. We eat an apple dipped in honey and other sweet foods so we should have a sweet year.

What I keep coming back to is a time of renewal. Here's the thing: Rosh Hashana happens every year. We apologize, we repent for sinning against Hashem, we ask for a good year, we tell Hashem that we are again accepting Him as king. It is like when a couple is having trouble in their marriage, so they go to couples therapy. They renew their vows. They remember the first time that they met, and that makes them forget the pain and fighting, and remember the love they shared. They are renewing their relationship.

It happens every year, but do you treat it with annoyance? Do you sigh and say, 'Oh that time of year again'? Do you fret and worry and say 'wow there is no way I can daven, because I have just done so many negative things this year'?

But we forget that, Hashem already loves us. He already chose us. He wants to hear from us that we love Him too, that we accept him, that we are sorry for hurting the relationship in any way.

Go into Rosh Hashana in a calm manner. Rejoice on the holiday, for it is a fresh start. It is a new year, a new you!

And make sure that you enter the holiday with both shoes on, and ready to say, Gut yom tov.

Cracked exterior

Throw me away,
because I'm cracked.
Discard me,
for I am damaged.

You see an ugly scar
running through me.
You ask not questions.
You think not reasons.

Look at the
broken glass
and see in it
yourself.

Look where
you deemed unfit
to be seen.
Understand that which you have dismissed.

Pick up
the shattered pieces
and fit them together
like a puzzle.

Where have I been?
Where have you been?
Where have we all been,
one time, long ago?

Is this a treasure,
or discarded trash
to be thrown away
yesterday.

One man's trash
is another man's treasure.
You forget that you too
were once pure.

Sullied,
in this dirty world.
We are darkened
with soot and ash.

Soap and water
cannot clean you.
Nothing
can scrub your soul.

Why doth thou slumber,
and how caneth  you awake
in the morn?
Doth thou not fear retribution?

Ah, but the sun does rise
in the East, every morn,
and set in the West every eve.
And our soul is renewed once again.

Would you throw away
a precious diamond,
for a hairline crack?
Great value it holds still.

Scars are a way of saying,
I have lived,
I have been,
I have seen a great lot of things.

Once expensive and new,
now- broken and, cheap?
But the value
never changes.

The crack may never mend,
but the inside
remains the same,
beautiful and sublime.

Y.O.L.O.

What is it, really?

When I first encountered 'LOL', I was chatting online with a friend. Feeling like an idiot, I asked, what does 'lol' mean? 'Laugh out loud'. At the time, I thought it was such a stupid abbreviation, and I vowed to never use it. I observed that most people abuse it, over use it, and don't actually mean that they are 'laughing out loud' when they say it. Unfortunately, I too have fallen prey to this short-hand generation.

There are so many abbreviations that have found their way into our every day use of the internet.

TTYL- Talk to you later.
BRB- Be right back.
TGIF- Thank G-d it's Friday.
IMHO- In my humble opinion
GTG- Got to go
ATM- At the moment
BC- Because
FYI- For your information
GR8- Great
OMG- Oh my Gosh
THX- Thanks
ROFL- Rolling on floor laughing (I'd like to see that.)

I'm sure there are many to be added to this list that I have not even heard of, or have no use for in a conversation. Whatever the case, this trend seems to start with the youth, as they have little patience to actually say what they are trying to say. Therefore, carry an urban dictionary when talking to teenagers. Unfortunately, this trend has become widespread in the adult world as well, and you have well-dressed respectable elders saying 'toats' (totally) and 'cray-cray' (crazy). A little self-respect, please.

This newest acronym, which by now is actually quite old, (February- like, so last season.) is YOLO- which stands for, 'You only live once.' It is similar to the old adage, 'Carpe Diem', seize the day. But in what context is it used, and should it be seen as a positive or a negative word?

"Its appeal to the youthful is self-evident. YOLO as a shorthand mantra defines youth, on a certain level. What is teenagehood if not the adventurous, often foolhardy, desire to test the limits of acceptable behavior—because hey, why not? YOLO!"

There seems to be a sense that it is used in a reckless way. The urban dictionary defines it as 'the idiot's excuse for something stupid that they did.'

"Let's jump off the roof- YOLO!".

"Ditch class and go to the beach- YOLO!"

“You want to park illegally in this spot? YOLO!”

“Should I buy these shoes or pay rent? YOLO!”

It can also be used as a verb!

“All the times I come home after a night of YOLO-ing, I crave a delish slice to soak up the booze and sober me up.”

Of course, as we are taught in Chassidus, anything negative can be seen in a positive light too.

Carpe Diem. YOLO. What if this is our only shot? So many of us go through life scared of taking chances. I don't like new beginnings. I find them bothersome, and a bit frightening. Everyone has situations that they would rather not get into. Some people have a huge fear of social interactions, and avoid public places. Some people might fear failure so much, that they don't even bother trying. What if you were so scared of failure that you didn't show up for an interview for an exceptional job that could shape your career? Or worse, a first date with a guy that may very well be your soul-mate?

I'm not saying that we should live life with the 'YOLO' motto as our guide. It should not be used as an excuse to get away with utterly foolish behavior. It should not be used as something to fall back on.

But if used in the right way, it is a refreshing realization that we must live in the moment, seize opportunities, for they may pass us by and never come back again.

"One wry elaboration [of YOLO], credited to the comedian Joe E. Lewis in 1952, is “You only live once, but if you work it right, once is enough.”

Y.O.L.O. You only live once. Get it right the first time. 

Like, what was she thinking??

There is a myth about not wearing white after Labor Day. It is considered a crime against fashion. There are many opinions about where the custom actually originates. Some people say that white was worn during summer because it is generally a lighter material, and come Fall, it is inadequate for the approaching cold winter months.

Another reason given is that in days gone by, only the rich people wore white during the summer, since they could afford a whole new wardrobe. The poor people continued to wear the same clothes they had all year. And once the rich people returned from their summer homes, they switched their wardrobe back, thus concluding the end of summer.

Whatever the reason, I think it is foolish and snobby. It is merely a chance to look down upon someone of lesser status than you. I never really followed fashion trends. That is not to say that I wear robes as they did long ago. I wear clothing of the times, but I do not follow what society dictates as being 'in'. I decide on my own style, and what looks good on me.

Never be a follower. Think for yourself, do what you please, and don't let society decide how you should lead your life, what you should wear, how you should behave.

Wear white after Labor Day if that's what makes you happy. Yom Kippur is coming up and we should all wear white.

What is the new black? I have no idea. 

Labor Day in Crown Heights

My family loves telling people the story of how we moved to Crown Heights on Labor Day. We came from a quiet little suburb that not many people have heard of. We had no idea what we got ourselves into. Labor Day in Crown Heights is- chaotic. To put it mildly. There is a West Indie Parade, made up mostly of people wearing very little clothing, who just want to eat, drink, party, and dance to really loud thumping music. The streets are packed, traffic is horrible, and cars have a very hard time getting through.

Here is the post I wrote last year at this time. It was not the greatest time for me. I had no job, no real idea what I was doing, I had just moved into a new apartment, my family moved away, and everything was changing. Now, it has been a year since I moved into my new apartment.

I always marvel at the passage of time. This year had many ups and downs, seemingly more downs than ups. But now, B"H everything is going well, and I can look back and realize that everything I went through was meant to bring me to this point in time. And from this point- on to the rest of my life.

This is not a holiday for me. In fact, I am working today. (Despite the fact that no one else, including my boss, showed up for work today.) But it is always a good time to stop and thank Hashem for everything. For things that are going well, and for things that don't seem so great.

I hope and pray for all of us, that we can all see only revealed good in our lives, that we will be able to recognize the Hand of G-d in everything, and may this year bring lots of blessings for everyone, materially and spiritually, things that you need, things that you want, and things you don't even know that you are lacking.

Raise your glass and say- Lechaim.

CALL YOUR MOTHER!

My little brother started basic training in the Israeli army. The first day, Facebook got a flood of pictures, him and his friends in their new spiffy uniforms. He looks good, but it's funny, when I remember the Chayalim from seminary, he just doesn't fit in. Cuz he's my little brother. How can he be a soldier. Of course I commented on the picture, 'The costume store called, they want their uniform back.'

When he went to Israel, my mother didn't hear from him for awhile. He called when he got there, and that's about it. I would ask my mom, 'So how is he, what's he up to?' And she would say, 'I don't know, my kids don't tell me anything.' I saw him tagged in pictures on Facebook, so I knew he was okay. (There is something horribly wrong with that sentence.)

He was in Israel for two months before he began training. Suddenly, when he got to base he started calling home every week. I don't know if it was the realization that he may be in danger G-d forbid at some point, or nostalgia that prompted him to call. My mother jokes that it is probably worked into their daily schedule, 'O two hundred hours, Call Mother.'

I never thought about it really, because I don't have kids. Why does it matter if someone knows where I am at all times. I'm independent. I can do what I want when I want. I make my own rules. When we were little, we were always told, if you are at a friend's house and leave to go to a different friend, you must call home to let someone know. And even when I was older, my mother would say, I don't need to know where you are, but please call me to tell me you are okay. She's my mother and I owe her that much.

I guess I'll never know the worry until I have my own kids. Your mother may not be sitting at home wringing her hands waiting for the phone to ring. But pick up the phone and say 'Hey mom, I'm okay'.

Wishing everyone a good Shabbos, and may this week be a good week for everyone, with lots of blessings, and only revealed good.

Thank you for your thank you card

When I was little, my mother would have us send thank you cards to my grandparents for the birthday cards/gifts they sent us. The cards were written 'from us' in my mom's beautiful curly penmanship. Right, like I could ever write like that. We were taught to say thank you, and to show appreciation to someone for the things they do for us.

I recently got a thank you card in the mail from a friend, thanking me for the wedding gifts I got her. She referred to them specifically, giving examples of how she is getting lots of use out of them. I thought it was a nice gesture, if a bit artificial. It took me a second to even remember what I bought her from her registry.

What is the purpose of a thank you card? Is it for the giver, or the receiver? Do I need acknowledgment for my gift? Does she feel the need to thank me for it? Is it just a formality?

I honestly don't care. Besides for the fact that I like getting mail which is not bills or junk, I don't need a thank you. I did something nice for the sake of doing it. The end.

My mom stopped writing thank you cards for us. My grandmother sends us birthday cards religiously every year for our birthdays. I take is as a part of life, I don't know any differently. This year, she included a note that embarrassed me. It said: "Don't forget to send a thank you card". I thought, is she insulted, does she need me to thank her for the card and check? Or is she trying to teach me a good value?

I dutifully sent her a glowing thank you card, in my own messy scrawl. I do appreciate the birthday card. I just forget to say it.

Saying thank you is for both the giver and the receiver. I give a gift because I want to and it makes me happy to get you something nice. You say thank you because you appreciate it and you want to show me how grateful you are for my gift. Your thank you makes me feel warm and acknowledged, and it is a good feeling. So it works for everyone.

"Thank you for your thank you card thanking me for my thank you card which I sent as thanks for the wonderful gift you sent me. I really appreciate it. I will be sure to send you a few more thank you cards, and I in turn await your thank you to my thank you card."

..........

And it can go on forever.

Thank you, and G-d speed.

I watered your stupid plants

I really didn't want to, but plants don't water themselves. I really wouldn't feel bad. Neglecting plants is not as bad as forgetting to feed your dog, or worse- your baby. (Now that is where child welfare services would step in.) I came home late at night so exhausted after a looooong day, and had to water the stupid plants. They are not even my plants.

When my brother asked me if I could take in his mail and water his plants for him while he, my sister-in-law and my niece are lounging in the hot Florida sun for the week, of course I said 'sure no problem'. They are always accommodating and invite me over for Shabbos meals. The least I can do for them is water their stupid plants.

Who needs plants anyway? I'd forget to water them and they would die. Which is why I'll never get a pet. Things that are not smart enough to figure out how to take care of themselves are not worth it. Tacky or not, fake plants are pretty, give your room a homey look, and they don't turn brown and die.

Don't give me flowers as a present. It is but a passing beauty. They will die in about a week. Then you will buy me new flowers. And those will die too. Just buy me something I can enjoy right now, like chocolate.  

So I shlepped myself over to their apartment and watered their stupid plants. I may have over watered them. They may be drowning right about now. Sue me, I've never had a plant. Don't ask me to water your dumb plants.

It is not something I even think about. It is such a minor thing. Like, I'm going on vacation. Turn off the lights, close the windows, and that's about it. Make sure someone feeds your goldfish? Water the stupid plants? People actually think about things like that?

But you have to think about it. Because if you don't, your dumb plants die a slow painful death. And really, what did they ever do to you?

I love going on vacation. I feel free, no obligations, just have fun, relax, enjoy. But as you are enjoying yourself, away from the hub of the city, away from the frum community you are always a part of, do you forget who you are? Do you go to the beach in a short sleeved shirt and flip flops, because really, its not like you will see anyone you know. And no one is watching you, or reporting it online. "Spotted: Frum girl in flip flops!! Shame on us all! A scandel!".

Just like those stupid plants cannot be forgotten, our relationship with Hashem is a constant and never-ending thing. It is not something you can forget about or neglect. Because Hashem never forgets. You can be on that beach dressed however you want thinking nobody is looking or cares, but He is always watching and He always cares. 

Plants can go without water for a bit and they may bounce back and they may be okay. But do you wake up in the morning and say 'Sorry G-d, not today, it's my day off'? What if He said that to you? Hashem could blink and we'd all be gone. He gives and He gives, and you can't give Him back a little in return?

I think I'm gonna leave them a sign, "Welcome home, I watered your stupid plants!"

Fluid

It runs through your fingers,
like water.
You can't quite grasp it,
hold on to it.

No, it won't let you.
Slips and slithers,
trying to get away.
Please stay?

It is air.
It evades you.
Like smoke.
It disappears.

Into the atmosphere.
Never to be seen again.
You tried
to hold it.

You tried
to contain it.
But air cannot be
contained.

Free.
Light.
Untethered.
As it was meant to be.

You can't train
the untrainable.
Clip their wings.
And birds will never fly again.

It twists and turns
to get out of your grasp.
Struggle ensues.
Let it go.

An invisible bubble
surrounds.
A warning sign.
Stay away.

It is fluid.
It is water,
wind,
fire,
air.

It is invisible.

How long
will you hold on
until you realize
there is nothing to hold on to?

Hold sand
in the palm of your hand
and watch the grains slip out
by the millions.

It will be gone
soon enough.
Can you learn to
let it go?

Baby-face

It is cute on a baby. You just want to pinch their cheeks.

But when the person in question is your superior and he looks like he could be in high school, with cute rosy cheeks, it is hard to treat him with respect.

We should have a guessing game to guess his age. I guess 19.

Hit the ground running

My favorite place to drive is on the highway. A big, rolling 4 lane highway, with hundreds of car going anywhere. I love it because it is open land, I feel like I can go anywhere I want to, and most importantly, I can drive as fast as I want (within the speed limit.)

When I first got my license my father told me to stay off the highway until I had more experience. But how will I get experience if I'm not doing it? So he took me driving on the highway. He stressed that when I get onto the entrance ramp I must get my speed up to those around me within a very short period, otherwise it would cause accidents.

My first few times driving on the highway were stressful. I drove leisurely in the left lane and got honked at. I got nervous whenever I needed to switch lanes. Once I almost missed my exit, so I swerved over 3 lanes, drove up on a huge mountain of snow and somehow landed back on the ground. (Note to self: next time just take the next exit.)

Driving on the highway is like a race. Some people can do it, and some people stay in the right lane driving at exactly 55 mph. But when you first get on, you really don't have time to think. You just have to do. You are entering a race in the middle. You have to catch up to those around you.

We don't always get a beginning in life. Sometimes we are thrown into a tumultuous situation and we have little time to learn how to deal with it. But it is all about rising to the challenge.

Do you have what it takes?

Can I have my change, please?

I don't like to owe people money. Which is why I rarely borrow money. But what happens when friends pay for each other, when they dine out, or 'grab me a soda', or one girl covers the cost and the rest pay her back? Is everything accounted for?

Let's try a riddle:

Three guests check into a hotel room. The clerk says the bill is $30, so each guest pays $10. Later the clerk realizes the bill should only be $25. To rectify this, he gives the bellhop $5 to return to the guests. On the way to the room, the bellhop realizes that he cannot divide the money equally. As the guests didn't know the total of the revised bill, the bellhop decides to just give each guest $1 and keep $2 for himself.

Now that each of the guests has been given $1 back, each has paid $9, bringing the total paid to $27. The bellhop has $2. If the guests originally handed over $30, what happened to the remaining $1?

(Read the in-depth solution here)

I am pretty good with numbers. People have suggested that I become an accountant. But I equate accounting with 'boooooring'. I was always good at math. I can add numbers in my head pretty quickly.

During one of my summer jobs, one of my responsibilities included keeping track of all the money coming in. I kept an excel table, and put all the numbers in carefully, and calculated it. It didn't add up. I kept trying, and the numbers just weren't adding up. There was an error somewhere, and it was killing me. My employer told me, let is go, it's not a big deal if it is a little off. But I couldn't let it go. So I kept at it until I finally figured out the miscalculation and corrected it.

Should one wait until they are being audited by the IRS to get all their taxes in order? That would be completely foolish. Which is why we must always be careful with money, know what we have, what we are bringing in, what we are spending it on. Sometimes I think it would be worth it to have a personal accountant, to take the headache off of me.

Spending money on other people is not a big deal if they are a close friend. So I buy a drink for myself and grab one for my friend too. There is no need for her to pay me back, the money disappears into a void and never gets accounted for. Or if we are going somewhere together and one girl covers the subway fare. It is petty cash, it goes no where. Only big denominations are noticed, such as if you take a trip together and one girl puts the expense on her credit card and the others pay her back.

In life, spiritually, G-d accounts for everything. He is not your close friend. He is not the IRS. He is the creator of the world, and there is no 'petty cash' to Him. He knows every little thing that goes on. Comes Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, and it is time for the accounting. And you do not have an accountant. Or a lawyer. It is just you and Him.

What will you say? Will you be ready to stand and face Hashem and explain to him every little thing that you did, where you erred, where you neglected, where you brush aside and said 'no big deal'?

We have to be prepared in all of our accounts. We have to own up to everything and be honest. No secrets. No hiding.

Hashem may not be out friend, but He is our father, and He loves us. Will He understand the 'petty cash'? The little things that you overlook because they are such small indiscretions?

We hope that He will erase our account, and that we can start off next year with a clean slate.

It's that time of year again. Rosh Hashana is fast approaching. It is time to prepare and make sure that you did all you can so that when you stand before Hashem, you know what to say.

(To my friends, this is not a request for you to pay me back, don't worry.)

Excuses excuses excuses

There are always so many excuses for why not. Why didn't I go to the wedding last night?

Because I was tired.

Because I was feeling sick.

Because I just got back from a long trip.

Because I had nothing to wear.

Because we really are not that close.

Would she really even notice if I wasn't there?

And on and on and on.

Late at night when I am being completely honest with myself I can admit that, all excuses aside, I didn't go simply because I was lazy. I selfishly decided to stay home when I could have gone and done the mitzvah of mesameach chosson vekallah.

And of course, the next day the guilt sets in. I should have gone. I could have gone. I had hours to prepare, why didn't I just get dressed and go. I agonize over that one little decision. Maybe I am just giving voice to my conscience.

B"H I have a conscience. But sometimes it kicks in too late.

Many of us make excuses for ourselves very often, in many areas of life. Why you just simply can't daven today. Why you can't spare some change for tzedaka. Why you are in a hurry and can't do a favor for another person.

The list of excuses goes on and on. They sound so convincing. But who are you really lying to? Are you fooling yourself? In retrospect, will you feel good about that decision, or will you beat yourself up for awhile in the hopes that it might change something?

I know what my problem is. I have every good intention to do something right up until the moment that it comes- and then I back out. I make an excuse of why I can't do it.

Do we ever make excuses for why we could do something? But then it wouldn't be called an excuse. Maybe instead of trying to find a way out of something, come up with reasons of why you should be doing that.

Because I will see friends.

Because I can wish her mazal tov.

Because I can get dressed up.

Because it is a mitzvah.

Because I told her I would come.

Now if only I can remember all those good reasons the next time I come against one of my good intentions.

Far from home

The sights and smells and sounds are overwhelming. I expected it. This is what I came for. This is my time to kick back, to have fun, to let loose, to enjoy, to live, to experience.

I write this from my hotel room when I should be sleeping. It was a long exhausting day and it is over. I am so tired.

They are sleeping. I always feel a little different than the rest. A little over-protective. Maybe they wouldn't like that, if they knew. But of course they know.

So I take charge, and I laugh with the people I am supposed to laugh with, and befriend the people you need to make nice with, and of course, I refuse to ask directions or help from anyone. That is how I am. It is dumb to ask for directions when you can figure it out yourself. It may take longer, but your pride will be intact.

So I let them ask. And I stand to the side and pretend not to listen and pretend not to care what the answer is. And I gave in today and asked for help, after a frustrating start to the day and many wrong turns and much money wasted on tolls and gas and taking out my frustration on my stupid uncooperative GPS.

But it is okay. It is all good. I had a great day today, we did all we planned to do, we had a lot of fun. Sometimes I forget how to have fun. And I did something daring, something I wouldn't normally do. No, I didn't get a belly piercing or a tattoo. Just something fun.

Of course I took pictures. Some. But lots of it is un-photograph-able. And that is okay too, because I will have the memories, for a little while at least.

It is funny how close to home you can be and still feel miles and miles away. A part of me, in a strange city, breaking my routine, having to be responsible for myself and for others just yearns for the comfort of my own room, my own bed, my own kitchen, my own comfortable familiar surroundings.

But if we never got away, we would never realize how good we have it.

Tomorrow is home-bound. And until then I will enjoy my own strange part of the world, with my friends, and live it up like only we know how.

Amen V'amen

I can hear the music playing in my head. I can imagine the crowd as they see me coming, and gasp, and oooh and aaah over how beautiful I look, and I will smile bashfully because I know it is true.

Sometimes, in my dreams, I can see the groom, but I never see his face. He is hidden in shadows, an as-yet unknown player in my game.

I have learned that it is okay to dream, to wish and to hope. I have learned that it is okay to be vulnerable. It is okay to take chances and to be unsure about what is coming next.

But I know what is coming next. Sort of. I would say that my life is on track. I am meeting the goals I made for myself, I am accomplishing things I once only dreamed of. My future is bright, and I can do or be whatever I want to be.

There is something missing. There is always something missing. Sometimes it is okay, and sometimes it is not so okay. Sometimes I don't think about it at all, and sometimes it is all I think about.

And those hopes and dreams- they seem far and distant, and unattainable. And the only thing that keeps me go is raw unwavering faith.

I stop to give a man tzedaka. He tells me I should grow up to be a tzadekis. He tells me I should meet the right guy at the right time, he pours brachos on me one after the other. And I just nod and smile. And say amen.

I give tzedaka to a lady that doesn't speak English. She blesses me in yidish, or maybe hebrew. I don't quite understand what she is saying, but I know how to respond. I say thank you, and of course, Amen.

Amen. I believe. I have emuna. Nothing in this world moves or breaths or happens without the hand of G-d. Every tiny little detail is orchestrated, from the beginning to the end of time. So how can I not believe that He knows what is to come, that He has a plan for me, that everything will work out as it is supposed, and it will be good?

Sometimes it makes no sense, and still I say, Amen.

Because deep down in my soul, I believe.

To be free

Oh the places I could go,
the people I could see,
if I were free.
If I were free.

The birds up in the tree,
they'd chirp down at me- at me!
And sing together playfully,
tell the world that I am free.

Oh to be free,
it's a glorious thing.
I stare around me in wonderment.
To see daylight again,
in middle of the day
I just want to say-
I'm free!

To feel the sand on the beach
as we lay in the sun,
oh the fun
we would have
altogether.

To have not a care
in the world,
let my hair
down my back
Wish we'd stay here like this
forever.

I'd like to dance
and to sing-
It's a marvelous thing.
For I am free
yes I'm free
at last.

No alarm
to awake,
no lunch I need to make
for I am free
yes I'm free.
It's a blast!

This thing
they call happy
I know what it is!
I can feel it,
this grin that won't leave.

And so
we will go
and have fun
for awhile.
All of this,
I still can't believe.

To quote Martin Luther King Jr. - "Free at last, Free at last, Thank God almighty I am free at last."

The Fortunate Ones

She looks at me with uncomprehending eyes. She doesn't recognize me. Nor I, her. Barely. Emotions and thoughts course through me, fighting to be heard. I admonish myself. Don't judge her. It is not your business. You don't know where she's been or what she's gone through.

Yes, I know all of that. But I know where I have been. I know what I have been through. Two people who start off on the same path and take very different turns...

My mother always jokes that her kids don't do drugs or anything bad because they are too lazy to look for it; That we are frum by default, because it takes too much effort to learn any other lifestyle.

Frum by default? That sounds sad. Rote. Mundane. Routine. No actual thought into it.

But that would connote that I don't think about it at all. Which would be false. I think about it every day. Some days more than others. It strikes me at the oddest moments, when I smile and look around me and realize what a wonderful world I live in and how lucky I am to be one of the Chosen Ones.

Yes, I think about it... I think about how I should really think about it more. I think about how much my efforts are lacking. I think about how much I used to do compared to what I do now.

Am I frum by default? I don't know. Maybe. Does it matter?

I look at her. And I look at me. And I try so hard to understand her, to not judge her. And it breaks my heart a little, what she must have seen to bring her to this point. And I wonder if one day she will ever come back home...

And whether it is by default or through my own efforts, I thank G-d every day that I am one of the fortunate ones.

ROAD TRIP!!!!!

Let's get in the car, you and I, and drive away together. I've always wanted to do that. No worries, no cares, no looking back.

We would drive for miles with the windows down, wind whipping our hair all about. We would blast the radio and sing along with it, in our slightly off-key voices. We'd talk for hours and keep each other awake as we took turns driving.

There is something so alluring about the vast open road. We can drive forever and go anywhere at all. It is one of those things that's on the bucket list. 'Take a road trip with friends'. We can do it. We are young and wild and free.

Stopping at rest stops and eating junk food from the vending machine. Stopping to take in the gorgeous mountain views. Taking pictures. Bonding.

Where would we go? Do you have a plan? I wish I could be spontaneous. I wish I could throw the rules out the window, say 'to hell with it', live in the moment, enjoy life, be exciting. But I need a carefully mapped out plan. I need to know everything before I take off.

But with you, it would all be different. Feet up on the dashboard, head back, mouth open with laughter. Hair streaked with sunlight, eyes shaded with sunglasses, the picture of happiness. You would bring that out in me. For you I would be spontaneous. For you, I would jump, because I know you'd never let me fall.

One day we will get in that car and drive off into the sunset together, on our very own road trip. And it'll be the journey of a lifetime.

Distractions

There is always something else going on. Always someone talking to you. Things to do, people to see.

I make an effort to daven on my way to work every day. It is not so easy with having to transfer, the train swaying, feeling like people are staring at me. But I got used to it, and it is a part of my daily routine.

I know myself. I know my schedule. I don't like disruptions. But some things are not fully in our control. Or are they?

She came onto the bus and smiled in recognition. She sat down next to me. We caught up. How is she doing, what is she up to now, how I am, what my job is, etc etc. I was holding my siddur in my hand, glancing at it from time to time. Thinking, I really should daven. But instead, I chatted with a friend.

My day felt very off balance. Empty, even. Like something was missing.

A few days later, I was standing on the bus davening. She came on. I smiled at her. I said hello. Then I said, I am going to daven now so I'll talk to you later. It felt so '7th grade', like I am better than you and holier than you. It was a little awkward.

Then I looked up and saw her pull out her siddur and begin to daven too.

Distractions are not easy but they are a part of life. Will you let them cloud your vision and take you away from what is important? Or will you stand up for what is right?

I never thought that would be me.

At least I didn't wear white today

They huddled under store awnings
and took shelter in building lobbies.

I didn't really understand their need
to stay out of the rain.

Walking, head down,
glasses so spotted I cannot see.

Rain so heavy and wind so strong
but it did not deter me.

I was drenched after a few minutes,
not a dry inch on me.

The faster you go the faster you'll get there,
but as fast as I went I missed the train.

Arms crossed,
conserving warmth.

In the midst of August,
it is cold.

The train arrives.
Everyone is wet.

I take in my surroundings.
I am the only one standing.

I try to remember details.
It is a blur.

The raindrops slide down the windows of the car,
slower the faster we go.

I am not sure if it is raining anymore,
when the doors open and I hear the downpour.

I notice it is steady,
not getting heavier and not slowing down.

I stare at my reflection in the window.
It is so gray outside I can barely see it.

In the flitting dark facades
I can just barely make out the shape.

Of a wet cold girl
on a rainy day.

Jello fail

My skills in the kitchen are pretty rudimentary. My roommate might disagree. She thinks everything I make is awesome and that I am a great chef. I know how to cook. I know how to bake. But knowing how to doesn't mean you have skills.

I particularly like to make soups and salads, and other foods where you can kind of play around with it and add whatever you want. I don't like following rules. I kind of just make it up myself.

Baking is more rigid in the necessity of following the recipe. I understand that it is partly a science, and if I do not add the correct measurements of ingredients it is bound to fail.

I am similar to my mother in the sense that I know I can make good simple food but I don't believe I am exemplary. My mother makes good food. I recall friends of mine often saying "My mom makes the beeeeest..... ______________" and I never said that. To me, the food somehow just appeared on the table. Only when I got older did I start asking my mother, how do you make this, what about that dish that I really like. And she would respond, I don't really cook, I kind of just throw it together. Well teach me how to 'throw it together' because that was amazing!

I ate by my brother on Shabbos day. He always has very interesting dishes. Never anything simple. Sometimes I like it and sometimes I smile and say wow everything looks great.

He brings out dessert and it looks so pretty. They say presentation is everything. Dessert is.... cubes of strawberry jello. He arranged them in pyramids in fancy cocktail glasses and the red with the glass gave it a very elegant effect. Of course, cold jello is refreshing after any meal.

This week I was craving jello. I have never made jello before, but of course it is so simple. Just add hot water. So I picked up a packet and decided to make it.

I always scoff at people who say 'I can't bake, I ruin every recipe.' And I say, "How can you ruin Duncan Hines?????" It baffles me. It's so simple. You follow the recipe. The end.

Of course I followed the recipe. It said to boil water. So I did. It said to measure out two cups. So I did. The water was hot. Some of it splashed on the counter. I of course added more water, because I wouldn't want to deviate from the instructions.... I mixed it, like it said to. I poured it into ice cube trays. So far so good. I put it in the fridge, and let it cool, anticipating my strawberry jelloey goodness.

I waited. And waited. And checked it. Still liquidy. Still not jello....

Of course I realized my mistake. Sometimes there is such a thing as too much.

That jello never did turn into much of anything. I put it in the freezer and made strawberry flavored ice cubes and told my roommate to eat them all because I wasn't interested. I wanted jello... Oh jello...

I may try again. My mom taught me that if you make a mistake you fix it. When I was may 10 I begged her to let me go to the store for her, telling her how responsible I was. She sent me to the meat store with instructions to buy a specific type of meat. I stood there staring at all the red meats, everything looked the same to me. I didn't ask anyone for help because, well, I don't do that. So I got something, came home and of course it was the wrong thing. So I cried. Then I went back to the store again.

Always fix your mistakes. And follow the directions more carefully next time. Despite the best intentions, there is such a thing as too much.

Never mix work with pleasure

This story is partly fictitious and a gross over exaggeration.

I practically skipped to work today, giddy with anticipation and nervous excitement. How should I do it? Casually? Make a big gesture? Modestly? I don't do modesty very well.

It is the feeling of excitement a child gets when they bring something special for their class. But I didn't know how it would go over.

I decided on a subtle approach. I left them sitting there with a note that said 'Please enjoy'.

Cookies. I brought cookies to work today. Moist, melt-in-your-mouth chocolate chip cookies. I love to bake. And that's where it stops.

Roommate- (While stuffing her face with cookies) "Ugh, you really can't bake anymore, I'm gonna get fat."

Eye roll. Girls.

Me: "There is something called self-control. Just because I make them doesn't mean you have to eat them."

Roommate: (Mouth still full) mumble mumble mumble "I hadn't thought of that." Please take them away from me I can't control myself.

So I decided to unload on my co-workers.

I work in an office full of guys. I'm the only female working there. I have never before done anything girly or personal (except spray perfume once in awhile. My co-worker gags and says he can't breath. Yet he comes in smelling like axe from a mile away.) So I had no idea if anyone would even notice or appreciate the gesture.

Here's how it played out in my head:

Skeptical looks at first, then they try the cookies and-

"Oh Altie these are amazing, the best cookies I ever had."

"You get a raise!"

"Please marry me." (Totally kidding.)

I imagined they would be filled with admiration for my baking skills, beg me to do it again, be so thankful, etc.

Here's what really happened:

A few mumbled thank you's. I watched the cookies like a hawk all day. Hardly any were eaten. Only one guy said thank you and they were really good. So at the end of the day when I didn't want to take them home with me, I gave him the rest.

I realize it is a selfish emotion to give for the sake of compliments and appreciation. That is obvious. But everyone likes to hear how good their cookies are.

Don't worry, when I came home the ones that I left on the table were almost all finished. My roommate and her friend ate them. (It is all your fault that I can't fit into my dress.....)

Moral of the story: never bring cookies to an office full of guys. They will not be appreciated.

Lesson learned.

Drama-free

You ask me how I'm doing. I give you the standard answer. 'Good, thank G-d.' To your question of 'What's up?' I reply 'Nothing much', which seems to be the acceptable response. There is a lull in the conversation. You ask me, 'So how are you, really?'

I'm good. Really, I'm good. Once upon a time I had so much to say, I needed advice on so many things. I believe that the best poetry is written out of sadness than of joy. Some people have extreme emotions and they cannot have a normal medium. I can be normal. But when I am normal, that means all is well. And when all is well, I don't need you anymore.

I am quiet for a time. You ask me 'What's up'. I am not ignoring you, I am actually busy working. I explain this to you. But more and more frequently these days, our conversations are filled with silence.

I think of all that I accomplished this year. It is funny. I set out goals for myself and I was not very optimistic about accomplishing them. I recently took a look at the paper where I wrote down my goals, and as it turns out- I have accomplished all of them, or some of them in part. And I don't feel triumphant. I am not jumping for joy or slapping myself on the back. Because I knew I could do it all along.

Life is good. It is. It is going in a good direction, and I made it for myself. I learned that not everything needs to be taken so seriously, not all my problems have to be aired, and that most of all, I can figure things out on my own. And I am so proud of that.

Sometimes we have to go through hard times to realize how strong we are. Tell me what you think is wrong with me and I can tell you all the things that are right with me. And I will make it. I know I will. I will become everything I dream of for myself. I will accomplish every goal I set out for myself. Because I can. I know I can. And I know that you know it too.

But I think this is goodbye. At least to that part of us. Drama. It is something I have no need for in my life, and it is all over B"H. The people who bring drama- you get rid of them. Live life simple and purely for the right reasons, not for anything or anyone else. I have rediscovered myself, and I remember me. I like me.

Give me my wings and let me fly. It is time.

One big piece of a puzzle

Many of my acquaintances seem to know many of my other acquaintances, and not through me. I notice this a lot on Facebook. It is always so interesting and weird to see so many of my worlds colliding. A co-counselor from summer camp is friends with my childhood neighbor, a classmate from high school is friends with a girl I met at random. I always stop and say hmmm you know her? Wow I know how I met her but I wonder how you guys came to know each other... It is like separate parts of my life converging and it is confusing.

'Jewish Geography' is a favorite came to many. When you meet someone you try to find some sort of connection. Maybe you know their aunt, cousin, sister, great-great-great-something or other. But what I find even more fascinating is when there is no connection at all.

And yet there is. A big one.

She rolled down her window and honked at me. I took this as a sign that she was offering me a ride. I felt their stares on my back as I made my way towards the car amid traffic. Wondering, do I know that lady? Was I waiting for her to pick me up? Are we related? How come I get a ride when they have to wait for the bus?

Her first words to me were 'I got to do a mitzvah today'. It brought a smile to my face. She proceeded to tell me all about an orthodontist appointment she just came from. We chatted. She didn't ask me my name until right before she dropped me off. I thanked her kindly.

I didn't know her at all. Of course she asked about my family and tried to place me, but we were two strangers who may never meet again.

But she did a favor for me simply because we are family. We are one. "Kol yisroel areivim ze lazeh."

And that is all that really matters.

Niggunim

They pull at my heartstrings like no other music does. They reach down into my very soul and fill it, surround it, like a warm embrace.

It is ironic, really. Years ago I gave up on Jewish Music completely. It bothered me a lot to know that many of the sources were impure. I figured, if the song anyway has a non-Jewish source, I may as well listen to the real thing.

I have no great attachment to music. I listen to it when I am sad, sometimes when I am happy and need a good beat going. I listen to music when I drive, and on long road trips to keep from getting bored. Sometimes I exercise to music. But I wouldn't say that it nourishes me in any way.

Some people have a deep soul connection to music. For other people it may be a beautiful painting, a moving poem, or captivating ballet.

No matter where I went or how far I strayed, niggunim always spoke to me. Their wordless melodies, ancient and pure, it does something to me like nothing else can. I always feel better after listening to niggunim.

I miss the farbrengins we used to have in high school. The feeling of camaraderie, everyone sharing stories or lessons they learned, good resolutions they made. But mainly, the singing. Around a table or a bonfire, it could go on for hours. Someone would start a tune and everyone would join in. Slow and soft at first, but rising steadily until it reached a crescendo. A beautiful melody crashing with the gates of heaven, bonding us together as one.

I close my eyes and try to recreate those feelings. Alone in my apartment on a Friday night. My surroundings melt away and only I and the niggun remain. Over and over it goes, bringing back memories, warming my soul. I feel a yearning, a desire for something. To connect to a higher source, to be a part of something so much greater than myself.

The niggun winds down, I open my eyes. I am in my own apartment. But for a brief moment, my soul was in another place, another time.

THAT is what a niggun does.

Here are a few selections that I like:

1. Reb Mendel's Niggun

2. Nigun L'Shabbos V'Yom Tov

3. Eilu Vo'eilu

4. Nigun M'yuchos

I also have great memories of falling asleep to the sounds of niggunim as a child. It stuck with me. If nothing else, it is something to take with me for the rest of my life, and keep me close wherever I go.

The little engine that Could

I've known my whole life,
they've always told me,
offhandedly,
that I can.

"You are so strong."
"You are so smart."
"You have so much potential."
They made it clear.

They expected more from me.
Me.
For no reason.
Just because.

It is a false security.
"I am smart."
"I am capable."
"I can do it if I try."

Like an alcoholic in denial,
"I just don't want to."
But I can.
I think.

Can I?
Maybe.
Will I?
I don't know.

If you want something
really badly
you try really hard
to get it.

You don't stop
until you have it.
The question is
how badly do you want it?

The little engine
that could
did.
Because it believed.

Can I?
Will I?
I guess time will tell.

1:01

"Hi, it's Altie. How are you? Happy Birthday! How are you celebrating, are you doing anything special for it?"

"I don't celebrate my birthday.

"Oh, okay. Well I hope you have a nice one anyway. Hope it's a great year for you, may you have lots of blessings and everything you need."

"Thank you."

"Hows your business going? Hows everything?"

"Good."

"Good to hear that.... (silence...) Well, happy birthday, take care all the best!"

"Thank you".

I hang up. Huh. 1 minute and one second. That's what I call progress.