I want to get better

When I get a cold, I get it bad. Really bad. Wake up with aches and shakes everywhere can't move no interest in anything bad. Boxes of tissues and bottles of cold medicine bad. Wondering if I'll ever get my sense of smell back and how many people I am annoying with my nose blowing bad.

I finally went to the doctor after the pain in my sinuses became too much. I was convinced that I had a sinus infection, having gotten them all the time when I was little. I remember once when I was about 5 years old, I was so sick I couldn't even put on my socks, I was sitting on the bed in a fog and my mother had to do it for me. Pain in my sinuses clogs my whole head, the pressure makes it feel like my eyes will pop out, like I'm underwater in a pool filled with chlorine, like something is compressing my face.

So I marched in there ready to tell the doctor that I already diagnosed myself and please write me a prescription for antibiotics, thank you very much.

But after a few questions she announced that I do not present with a sinus infection, I simply don't have the right symptoms. Damn, I knew I should have answered yes to 'Do you have a fever, sore throat?'. Just give me the drugs and let me be on my merry way!

She did give me drugs. She prescribed steroids as an antihistamine to dry up my sinuses and allergy medicine to prevent it from building up again. She said in a week I should be good as new.

She also informed me that what I have is common, and some people live with it for months before going to a doctor. This? I thought. Why, why would anyone want to live with such pain, such discomfort?

But we do it every day, we have an ache in the back, foot, an itch on the arm, stomach, we feel minor pain and we chalk it up to lifting boxes, or nothing, or something that can't be explained. We have twitching muscles and stiff joints and we shrug and say eh, that's life, what can you do.

Well, you can do something, if you want to get help, if you want to get better. I have found that it is seemingly much easier to do nothing then to attempt to resolve your situation, because as a pessimist I anticipate failure as inevitable. And why bother trying when you will fail anyway.

BUT what if you could make a change and help yourself, make your situation better? Shouldn't you at least try?

I could have lived without my sense of smell, or with a box of tissues as company. I've done it most of my life. My family used to make fun of me for blowing my nose so loud. But now when I wake up in the morning with barely any tissues on the floor beside my bed, and a clear nose that I can breath from, I am grateful to have gotten the help I needed to get better.

It's not always easy to change your situation, but imagine how good it will feel if you try, and instead of failing, think about this- what if you succeed?

After darkness comes...lightning?

I'm sitting in my car at midnight and I know all the stories of people being shot or jumped outside late at night, and despite the warnings in my head I can't go inside. I lock my doors, turn off the ignition and just sit there, listening to "Roses" by The Chainsmokers over and over again while I watch the most breathtaking lightning show taking place in the sky, and I can't go inside, if I could I would sleep out here, sleep on a cloud so I could be closer to the light, I would stay here forever to watch this sight that takes my breath away and makes my heart pound in awe of what the Creator has done.

I can't go inside, because I lied, I lied when I said that everything is great, I lie because you probably couldn't handle the truth and I probably can't handle the truth. The truth is, that you can change your job, your location, your situation, your friends, you can change all the facts about your life but you cannot change yourself, and as I already knew, wherever you go, there you are. It sounds depressing, right? What if you are so sick of yourself, what if you are so boring that a guy can't stand to talk to you for more than an hour and says "Let me know if you want to do this again sometime" which you know is code for "You are so boring and that was a waste of my time" so clearly you bore people to death, and the bottom line is that you will die alone.

Your mom says that isn't true and that you have a lot going for you, but what does she know, she's been married to the same guy for 35 years and she claims she only married him because he was the only Jewish guy she knew and she knew she was supposed to marry a Jew.

What do you want to know? What do you want me to tell you? I could tell you every single crappy detail of my new life, but what would be the point? You can't help me, and who the hell reads this crap anyway?

I had to say that.

I'm sorry. (Not really, but maybe that's what you need to hear. If you are reading this.)

My first instinct was to run to an 'ex' and beg for validation, please, tell me what you ever saw in me, tell me that I'm interesting, and funny, and smart and worth being around, tell me that I'm likeable, that I'm lovable, that I'm not boring as hell or broken, that I'm not gonna die alone. But what would that do? Best case, he'd probably say something lame and generic to try to make me feel better, worst case he'd be a jackass and say something mean. Or ignore me altogether. Then I would be left to peel my shame off the ground, the last little shred of dignity that I may have had left.

No, I'd rather stay up alone and wallow.

And sit outside watching the lightning, waiting for some creepy killer to knock on my window. Or do they even knock?

In an effort to try to cheer me up:

Thank you and goodnight.

My Bubby, with love

I'm sick. I hate when I have a cold, my body feels weak and tired and all I want to do is go to bed.

But my body is betraying me, because so many things are going right in my life. Thank G-d.

I have a new job, new car, new apartment, new city/state. I picked up and moved and started a whole new life all on my own, and with G-d's help everything is working out.

I woke up this morning to the most gorgeous view outside the window of my grandparents' condo. I love spending time with them, although when I was younger I did not appreciate it.

They are old, and they are wise. And they take care of their family. I felt that especially today.

My grandfather helped me with my new car, walked me through the whole process and was with me every step of the way. He was patient with me. He explained everything.

The more time I spend with them, the more I regret having brushed them off when I was younger. I thought they were boring. I thought their habits of saving everything, from plastic cutlery to peanut tins was funny. I thought they were old and slow.

It took time and patience for me to realize what a treasure I have, and how much I should appreciate them while I still can.

My father grew up in a house with 4 boys. If they did have any emotions, surely they never showed it. The only one who apparently 'lived freely' was Uncle Neal. He was the fun one, the adventurous one, the one full of life and laughter. He wrapped himself around a tree driving drunk when he was 25.

Growing up, I learned that tears meant you were weak.

I learned that saying "I love you" makes you vulnerable.

I learned that opening a door to trust brings pain.

I learned to stuff my feelings deep inside, to bite or be bitten, to put up a wall to keep others out.

A lot has changed over the years. We aren't the people we once were. We agreed to bury the past, make peace with it so we could move on. Things are different now.

I never saw my grandmother as a very motherly being. She was simply my grandmother. She sent me cards on my birthday. She came to every graduation. She called to say hello and see how I was doing.

I never felt anything. I didn't know how to feel, at least not to them.

I saw her in the kitchen today, wearing an apron, preparing breakfast. She left me a glass of orange juice in the fridge. She made me a bowl of oatmeal.

I noticed a tube of lipstick on the counter. Its girlishness seemed out of place in this kitchen.

Then I looked around. At the heart-shaped card from a student of hers, where she volunteers to tutor. At the pictures of all of us, her grandkids and great-grandkids. At her knickknacks, her 'Edith Bunker' cookbook, at the charm and personality of her kitchen.

I looked at all the patchwork quilts she made over the years, and all the lives she's touched. Sometimes I feel like I'm not good enough, that she could have done better in grandchildren. I wonder if she wishes I had gone to Harvard or Yale, instead of City College. I wonder if she is embarrassed to introduce me to her friends, because I am religious.

She blows me a kiss as I say goodbye.

It's hard to say "I love you" but I think she knows.

New York

My feet are freezing in my tights and boots, and my body is all confused. I should be in Florida right now, but here I am, in New York, the greatest city in the world.

I miss it, I really do. I miss the buses, the noise, the pollution, I miss the crowds, the NYPD Blue, I miss the comfortable feeling, like a favorite old sweater, that this place gets me, that it is me, and will always be a part of me.

I'm excited to tell people that I moved to Florida, and I'm happy there. I'm in New York for a visit, to see my friends and be here for Yom Tov. But then I'm going back, back to Florida where I live now.

Yes I live in Florida now. I have a job and  a car and an apartment with a pool. Do I sound all grown up? Cuz that's how I feel.

I will always be New York, you can't take that away from me. But right now I can't wait to go back to the Land of Sun.

Skating

My heart was in my throat for the first half hour as I relearned how to ice skate. It's not something I forget, but every time I feel the panic anew, the unsteady feeling beneath my feet, the fear of falling, the longing to be wearing shoes again on steady ground.

I'm not a pro in any sense, yet after going around a few times, I felt myself easing up, moving with the music, enjoying myself thinking, maybe I can do this without falling embarrassingly on my bottom.

I didn't fall once, thank G-d, but every time I witnessed someone else fall, I reminded myself to not be cocky because that could have been me.

The ones who fell almost immediately got back up and kept going, either for fear of being trampled of simply because they refused to admit defeat. We will all fall at some point in life, it is inevitable. What we must remember is to never stay down, to get back up as fast as you can, muster as much dignity as possible, and keep going.

I weaved in and out of skaters trying to avoid a collision. This is nothing like driving, I thought. I'm pretty confident on the road, and comfortable enough in the fast lane that I pass plenty of people, and get annoyed when people pass me because I'm slow. But on the ice I don't really know how to stop without slamming into a wall, so the possibly of bumping into someone in my path is pretty high. People will always get in your way, cut in front of you, try to trip you up, but you have to swerve, to avoid them, to not get tangled up and not let it distract you from your goal.

There were some pretty experienced skaters on the ice, some much younger than me. I tried to go faster, even considered doing some fancy tricks, but alas that was sure to make me fall and feel like a big idiot. So I stuck to the 'safe' route, simply skating in a circle. You won't succeed if you don't try, that may be true, but you also have to know your limits. When you first learn to swim, most often you don't do so in the deep end. You start slow in the kiddy pool. When learning a new skill, you start at the bottom and work your way up. Yes, it's often frustrating to see people far surpassing you, and wishing you could be as good as or better than them. And maybe one day you will be. But envy and self-pity will get you no where, but hard work and determination will.

If you want to be great at something, you have to give it 100%.

What I learned tonight is that skating is not for me, and I'd much rather sit it out and watch the kids have a good time.

Never Alone

I hold it/her in my hand and speak to it/her softly. Why must men use male chickens and women use female ones, I wonder. I no longer think of it as an 'it', but a shivering mass of fear. We have one thing in common, this chickie and I. We are both afraid.

I watch the blood and gore, the stench of excrement stifling, holding a paper over my mouth so as not to accidentally inhale any feathers. PETA makes a spectacle out of this every year, but I'd like to believe that there really is no suffering. That for these chickens, death is a cleansing process, a relief, that they meet their maker in peace, having served their purpose here on earth.

I hold the chicken in my hand as I swing, and I wonder where I belong. As much as this age-old ritual is for the purpose of atonement, for me it is also a family ritual. I recall years of going to kaporos the night before yom kippur in middle of the night, my brothers holding the chickens in their gloved hands and swinging it for us. I have never touched a chicken in my life until today.

But this year has been a lot about firsts for me. I earned my bachelor's degree. I will soon own my first car. I've moved cities. I took a rode trip. I held a chicken in my (gloved) hands. While some of these things may seem ordinary to some, to me it is a big deal. I am growing up. I am asserting my independence and conquering my fears.

Although I tend to be a 'loner', one of my biggest fears is being alone. Not physically. I don't mind being home alone, even enjoy the peace and quiet. But throughout everything I go though in life, I want to know that there are people I can share it with, be it friends or family or a special someone. I admit I have made foolish decisions at times, simply based on the emotion of loneliness. I do realize that it is better to be alone then to be with someone who makes you feel bad about yourself. But I also realize now that the feelings of inferiority come from within, not without. No one can make you feel anything that you don't already feel inside. Maybe their personality brings out the worst in you, but it cannot be attributed to them.

I sit on the floor with my back to the washing machine trying to get some privacy as the kids come in and out climbing over me. I am enjoying this, my new normal. I chose this. I am happy here. I chat with my father even as I hear him playing Word Whomp in the background and he denies playing a game while talking to me on the phone. We talk longer than normal, and it is nice, no tension, no pressure, no ulterior motive, just a chance to speak to my father and enjoy his company.

I get a call on the other line and see it's my mother. My father thinks she is calling me because she is worried that he doesn't want to talk to me anymore. I remember when I was younger people would ask me if I was closer with my mother or my father, and I remember thinking that was a dumb question. I am equally close with both of my parents, I have different relationships with each of them.

After I hang up with my father I call my mother and we talk for awhile. There's a comfort in hearing their voices.

Sometimes I think of G-d as a 'friend' in the sense that I have conversations with Him in my head and think we are 'good'. Then I start thinking how serious Yom Kippur is, and how holy it is and I get worried. Maybe I'm not worthy of good things, maybe I have more to atone for then I first thought.

Let's say it really is this simple: You are never alone. I am never alone. We are never alone. Sometimes I think G-d is 'out to get me'. I get mad at the way things turn out and wonder why He can't do for me what I think I need. But let's say I'm wrong. Maybe this is exactly what I need, this growing up and breaking free, this cutting my strings so I can fly. This letting go so I can move on and grow up and discover the world on my own.

It's scary, yes. I cried, I sobbed at the thought of having to buy a car by myself. The thought of going to a dealership by myself was terrifying. But then a funny thing happened and it all worked out. You might call that luck, I call it G-d's intervention.

We might think He's 'out to get us' but remember that He does know best. Remind yourself of that in a few months when everything is working out, when everything is coming together when just a few short months ago you could have sworn that your life was falling apart.

Sometimes things have to fall apart in order for good things to fall into place. Cosmic shifts. I don't know if I believe all those sappy quotes but what I do know is that I don't need you. I don't need you. I don't need you. I don't need you.

Maybe I don't believe that. There are days that I fall back into old patterns, fall back on old relationships, ones so old and covered in dust there are no good feelings to fall back on, no matter how hard I try to drudge them up. But I remind myself that it's okay, I don't need that anymore. Throw down your crutches, let go of your security blanket, ride out the storm on your own.

You are not alone.

Get up and go

The rain hasn't stopped in days. They wave their hands and say, "Well, it's hurricane season, you know". No, I don't know. I barely know anything about this place, I can't turn the corner without my GPS. Each morning I step gingerly over puddles to get to my car, and each evening I must wipe my feet thoroughly before entering the house to avoid muddy footprints.

I read about the earthquake in Chile as the walls shook from claps of thunder this morning, and I truly felt like it was a day to stay in bed. I wanted to call in "Not interested in coming to work today due to the gloomy weather" but I didn't think that would fly.

I love driving. I love the freedom of being able to get in my car and drive to work, or to stores or aimlessly, to be unchained. I left my old life behind and created a new one, and I'm happy. If part of that means leaving my friends behind while I try to figure things out, then I'm sorry. Sometimes when people ask how I am I really have nothing to say.

A professor with whom I was close recommended me for a research project and I am beyond flattered. He said that I stood out from all of the hundreds of students he taught, and then he made me promise that I wouldn't get stuck here. I wanted to play dumb and ask him what's wrong being here, but I think I know.

I know, because I am terribly afraid of failure. I know, because it is so much easier to lay low, stay under the radar, take each day as it comes, live off the grid, and any other term that is meant to describe not being active, not trying, not living the way life is meant to be lived.

Before, I was like a balloon filled with air, filled so much that I was ready to burst at any second, and coming here was like making a hole and letting the air out, getting rid of the tension, being able to breathe again. It was the best thing I ever did.

I'm here because of a friend, a person with whom I hope to be friends with for a long long time. But I also know that I can't stay here forever, at least not at this job or at this level in life. Soon I must move on.

I do want to promise that I won't get stuck here. I want to make a vow to myself, that I will set goals for myself and achieve them, that I will figure out what I want to do long term and work towards getting there, that I will find my passion and go for it, that I will go back to school if I have to and never stop learning.

I want to promise future me that I will not only try but that I will succeed, that in years from now I will look back at this moment and know that it was a turning point, that I made a decision to change things and then I did.

But although I know all this to be attainable, I also know I am too scared to try, too scared of failure to do anything.

I did try. In my own way. I drove to an abandoned looking building and circled the block twice, didn't go inside. Turns out it was the wrong place so I gave up and went home.

This is comfortable, this waking up in a new place, this going to a job where I barely have to think and there isn't much for me to do and still I get paid, this having dinner be cooked for me, having everything I need at my fingertips, having new family and friends to annoy and enjoy. I love it.

And yet, I know I'm hiding from life.

I don't want to break the news to him because I know he'll be disappointed when I leave. He's so happy to have me on board, so excited to show me what his plans are for the place, how much the company will grow in the next few months, years even. We're partners again and I love that. But this is holding me back from really living. I'm just pretending right now. Laying low, taking it easy, not thinking.

I think a part of me knows that me staying is not for him, but for me. Because sometimes, it is so much easier to stay, then to get up and go.

Confessions from someone who's never been in love

I've never been 'in love'. I abhor the term, as it conjures up romantic chic-flicks where guy meets girl, guy falls in love with girl, guy and girl live happily ever after. Or something equally as purge.

I've come to some realizations. I used to think of relationships as 'real' or 'fake'. If a relationship ended, especially if it ended badly, I labeled it as a 'fake' and claimed it basically never existed. It was easier to look at it that way then to deal with the pain of liking someone, or someone liking me, and then those feelings disappearing. My mind would go through mental stress of 'why don't they like me' or 'what did I do' and that was what hurt me, cut me down, made me feel like I wasn't worth it. But despite those feelings, I can now acknowledge that to get to that hurt place, there must have been a 'real' relationship to begin with, at least to some extent of reality.

Here are my life's lessons:

* You learn something from every person, no matter how shitty they treat you. Years down the line you will be doing something or thinking something and suddenly remember who taught you that. You will silently thank them for adding something to your life.

* When it's done, it's done. Walk away, don't stick around for more pain.

* Be with someone who wants to be with you.

* No relationship is better than a dysfunctional one.

* Food is never the answer.

* Don't start the year with them if you can't finish it with them.

I don't believe in 'settling'. You will meet a guy, and he will be perfect for you. Not perfect. Perfect for you. Sometimes they seem so perfect on paper, or they have all the qualities you are looking for but you just can't stand them, or they make you feel bad about yourself, or every time you think of them you get jealous because of the life they are living which seems so much better than yours. Sometimes a guy can seem perfect and you really really want it to be him but you know that it is not and will never be him.

Because somewhere out there is your perfect, and if you just hold out a little longer... I know you will meet him. And all the waiting will have been worth it.

So we all had burgers

We sit on bar stools at night
eating burgers
and sausages
the juice dripping down my chin
trying to keep the onions from sliding out of the bun,
thinking
THIS
this is it,
these people
this time
this place,
here I have found a home.

So we all had burgers late at night,
my third dinner
I think,
can't quite remember
it was an exhausting day
but I get to come home
to family,
not by blood
but by choice.

Tomorrow is September 11,
I think wistfully of the towers,
kinda miss seeing them
on the horizon
I see them in pictures now
and old TV shows
and once a year on the news
and media
telling us
screaming at us
begging us
to never forget.

And although it's a day
that some among us were not around for
and many cannot remember
because fourteen years have now passed,
it's a day that we cannot
will not
won't let us
forget.

So we sit up late at night
eating burgers,
complaining about the traffic jam
responsibilities
exhaustion
menial day to day conversation
that mean nothing
and everything
just an all-American burger
in an all-American land.

A celebration
dedication
commemoration
of freedom.

Every Day

She always used to cut her hair
really short
said she liked it better that way,
more comfortable under her shaitel.

I always had the feeling that
she didn't mean it
that she just said it
because she stopped believing she was beautiful.

She finally decided to grow it out
was excited to see how long
it would grow,
to get it cut and styled, colored.

But then she cut it all off
when the cancer came,
decided not to wait for it to fall out
in tufts.

Said she's okay with it,
she's losing weight
because she can't stomach anything
she sees that as a plus.

I watch her fumbling with her mask,
she has to wear it on the plane.
I wonder what the other passengers think,
if they're dumb enough to think they could catch her germs.

I wonder about the air she breethes
and if it's killing her slowly,
or if the cancer is doing that
all by itself.

I see her eyes
above the mask
they're smiling at me,
telling me that she is okay.

For once I want to be the one
to comfort her
and not the other way around,
tell her everything will be okay.

I lay next to her trying to sleep
the TV flickering
she asks if it's bothering me
if I can't sleep.

But her presence is comforting,
I fall asleep wishing
I could wake up next to her
every day.

Super Girl

He offered me a Hello Kitty sticker.

I told him I hated Hello Kitty, did he have anything else.

He informed me that all the other stickers were boy stickers.

Despite trying to explain to him that stickers are gender neutral and I can like a 'boy' sticker, he didn't agree.

Then he dug this from his stash:

I put it on my laptop to remind myself that no matter what the world tells me, I don't have to be a 'girl'. I can be anything I want to be.

#BreakingStereotypes

What will it take

Open up your heart, and feel.

Open up your mind, and think.

What will it take to put yourself aside and appreciate the beauty around you?

It is hard to listen to a piece of music that touches your soul, when you are attracted to the one who sings it but can never have him.

It is hard to appreciate an artfully written essay when you are entirely jealous of the one who wrote it because she isn't you. Or you aren't her.

It is difficult to open yourself up and feel, to allow life to come inside, when you are mad that you aren't more like __________, that you haven't accomplished _______ yet, and maybe never will.

It is hard to watch someone else living the life you were meant to have, to see your dreams slipping away, and do nothing to catch them. 

Rain

They said the rain would stop, but I didn't believe them.

We walked along the canal, watched the flock of birds eating lunch. The fat waddling turkeys, the sad skinny-looking pigeons, ahhh a taste of home. The iguanas, and the pelicans. They moved aound each other peacefully, no pushing or shoving, a far cry from New York birds.

It was peaceful by the water, a nice breeze keeping us cool. We sat for awhile, talking as the winds got stronger and we felt the first rain drops. I thought we had awhile to get back, but they didn't. As we started walking the sky opened up and the rain came pouring down, soaking me instantly, my glasses a mass of spots.

We ran. We laughed, breathing hard, my wet curls falling in my face, no chance of seeing properly through my glasses, but it was glorious. We slowed to a walk and enjoyed the spray.

They said the rain would stop, but I didn't believe them.

Five minutes later is was gone, the sun coming out and drying us up, as if it had never rained at all.

The price of freedom

He said I could pick any car that I wanted.

Any car?

I made a beeline for the red one.

It drives beautifully, I was going 55 and it felt like I was floating.

I feel like I'm bleeding money, spending it faster than I'm making it. Which makes sense, since I'm not working at the moment, and good things in life cost money.

I used to scoff at people, the ones who wanted the best job, the best car, the best phone, everything costs money so instead of resigning themselves to spending less, they simply found a way to spend more. I guess I saw it as arrogance, but now I'm learning that it's mostly about lifestyle- you want to live and spend a certain way, you have to find a way to do that. I'm just used to being content with less, so I see it as money-hungry.

You can't beat freedom, the freedom of getting in a car and driving away, the freedom to have a phone and not worry about cell reception, the freedom to swipe a card and buy yourself food.

I'm high on freedom.

Now I just need to find a way to pay for it.

You can lead a man to the water...

But you can't make him drink, you can't even help him, you can't force him, you can't hold his mouth open and shovel it in...

Why am I doing this, I wonder, as I make a ticket to fly 6 states away... I have a job, it's a start, some people don't even have a job...I don't have a car or an apartment or any real idea if it'll work out or how long I'll be there for...I shudder at the thought of signing a one year lease because who knows where I'll be in a year...then again, does anyone really know where they will be tomorrow, let alone a year from now?

So far most of the people I've been in contact with are nice and helpful, or at least polite if not helpful, my brother, my own flesh and blood, everyone tells me he will help me, but of course family is usually more of a headache then a help.

Life in New York was so easy, I didn't need a car, apartments were a dime a dozen, I didn't need anyone. I was Miss Independent and it was okay. Suddenly, I need other people to help me get around, to navigate this strange new city, and I am mad, not at them but at myself for needing other people.

I asked my brother to come with me to check out a used car for sale, he said I don't need him...but I do, I do. Until now I was basically going in with my eyes closed, not thinking about it, just going, just doing, I figured at some point the dam would break, and I guess tonight it did.

I need someone to hold my hand, to walk me through the scary parts in life. For me, that's buying a car when I have no idea what a car is. Yes, like a girl I chose one based on the color...

I want someone else to do the thinking, to explain the legal jargon, to make sure I'm not getting myself into anything shady.

I can be a strong independent person, I have been until now, only now I am finding myself in deeper water, unfamiliar territory, more real world then ever before...

I came down with a horrible cold last night, maybe from the air conditioner, or lack of sleep, or change in weather...or maybe it's my body's way of telling myself that I can't do this after all.

#Hashtag#

In the world of hashtags, apparently anything goes.

#lolololololololol

Despite Justin T and Jimmy Falon's obvious hilarity and chemistry, mile long hashtag sentences are truly annoying.

#whydon'tyouwriteasentencewithspaces?

The sound my phone makes

My phone pings as I walk down the frozen food isle in the grocery store and my heart jumps, it always makes me think of you. It's not you, these days it barely ever is you, but I can't help wondering, thinking, wishing that it were.

My phone is a third hand, it is not just a part of me, it is me, I check it right before I go to sleep and the second I wake up, I tell myself I should live more in reality, what is going on right in front of me but even in company I find myself checking texts, emails, Facebook updates, living in my virtual reality and wishing I could live inside my phone.

They call it an addiction, saying that we have to learn how to detox and ween ourselves off of technology, make more time for the people in our lives that we can see, exercise more, go outside, breath the air, leave our phones behind. But it is hard when that is the way you learn to connect with people, when text has replaced real conversations and people thousands of miles away are closer to us then people sitting across from us.

I hate how the sounds my phone makes automatically sends my mind in your direction, I hate that I expect a text to be from you, or an email, or a Facebook post. I hate how much I depend on other people to make my life complete, I hate that my phone has become my prison.

I hate the sound my phone makes, but mostly I hate that it is never you.

I'm happy for you

Every time a guy I dated gets engaged, I don't know why but I feel the need to reassure other people that I am okay, that I am fine, that in fact I am happy for him, and it feels like closure, that now I know for sure that I made the right choice saying no.

This is especially true regarding someone with whom I had a longer relationship. It is obvious- he has moved on, and I am still single. So what does that say about me?

I saw him recently, he works in a store near where I live. I thought about going in there, saying hey, remember me, or maybe acting all nonchalant and seeing how he reacted to seeing me. But I decided not to do that, to spare him the pain and trauma of seeing me again after all this time, seeing as I was the one who ended things with him, and he obviously still carried a torch for me.

What a good person I am, thought I.

Imagine my horror when I saw he got engaged last week. How can that be? I thought I broke him. He pined for me, I told him it was over, I thought he would never love again. But there are pictures, evidence that he has moved on, that he is in fact happy. How can that be?

My friend texted me to ask if I saw that he had gotten engaged, she said "I guess he could love again".

I guess so.

I smiled a soft smile, and in my heart I wished him mazal tov. The part of me that once cared about him is truly and genuinely happy for him. To know that he has found happiness with someone else. Sometimes that's all the closure we need.

Open Road

You run, you know, but you don't what you're running from, or where you're running to, but it gets so easy when you don't have to think about it, simply get in the car and drive for 4 days straight, stopping to see the scenery and to sleep a little, just a little, you are so tired but it's fine because your body adjusts until you can't tell anymore. All the driving makes you tired but you can't admit that, you can't stop because stopping means thinking and you can't think right now. So you jump from state to state, you take pictures and smile and share memories on Facebook and you are not faking it, you are genuinely having a great time. During the day you are fine, the driving is thrilling as you navigate the highway and try to guess everyone else's next move, it's a game to you, trying to get ahead and stay ahead. It's the nighttime that gets to you, suddenly the streetlights are gone and the road is wide open and pitch black, the lights from the oncoming cars are bright and glaring, you can't see the road, the windshield is foggy, you drift lanes and you know it's time to stop. She offers to take over driving but you can't admit that you are terrified and trembling, probably because the air is on full blast so you don't fall asleep and drift lanes, but the dark worries you because it is unfamiliar, it is unknown, it is terrifying but you can't relinquish control. She finally takes over so you can sleep and you try but you can't, you watch the road, you watch the speed, you watch the windshield and you worry, she says she's fine but you worry, you can't stop trying to control everything. But it's okay because you are having a nice trip and the constant moving helps distract you. But you get to your destination and your body starts to shut down, it is ready to crash and suddenly you are so exhausted and not moving and not sure what to do next, and no idea what comes after next.

Like the dark, the uncertainty worries you, but maybe if you can just keep going, can you keep moving forever and never stop?

Don't let them...fall

The balls are thrown about the crowd, hitting heads and hands and arms as kids and people chase them, throw them, try to keep them in the air, keep the game going for as long as they can, don't let them touch the ground, don't let them fall.

We all wear masks around friends, family and even ourselves. We share some but not all of our thoughts, perhaps because some thoughts are not meant to be shared, or some things we simply don't want to admit.

So we lie, we say things like "I'm happy" when we're really not, or "I'm excited" when everything feels horrible.

We feel the pressure to put on a face for society, show them that we are alright, that we are holding it all together, when inside all we are thinking of is how everything is falling apart.

I am with child

I met a friend of mine tonight for dinner. She didn't let me know her buddy would be coming too.

I guess there's a new friend in our circle.

He's about 25" tall, and weighs under 20 lbs.

He is healthy looking, but carries around some extra weight in the chin area.

He drools a lot, and likes to grab my hands when I extend them in greeting.

He is respectful when others are talking, and only makes noise to alert others that he is hungry, tired, thirsty, or has soiled his undergarments.

He is 5 months old, his initials spell YAY, and he answers to the nickname 'chiller'. He has a shmushy face and looks like he could be a Gerber baby.

I didn't realize that friends getting married means they come with husbands now.

I didn't realize that friends having kids means they come with babies now.

I didn't realize that things changing means they would never again be the same.

A conversation that once would have been about haircuts, bang length and styling is now about sheitel brands, coloring and hair texture. "Feel how soft it is!" she tells me. Um, no thanks, I really don't want to touch your hair, home grown or otherwise.

What once may have been a steamy conversation about guys and dating now centers around husband, baby, job, sleep or lack thereof, schedules, free time (which is never) and hurried conversations whilst rocking a baby stroller to and fro anxiously trying to calm a baby's cries.

Babies are cute. I like babies. I like holding them, and playing with them, I like when they smile and laugh and clap their hands, I like when they are asleep, I like it less when they cry but don't mind changing diapers.

I like babies.

But I don't have any.

Which is not to say that you can't bring your baby along when we go on an outing.

Which is not to say that you can't talk about your baby all the time.

Which is not to say that I won't smile or laugh at the cutest thing your kid just did, marvel at the fact that he is crawling already at 5 months (gasp, no way!), discuss the pros and cons of breastfeeding vs. bottles, like the pictures you share online, or be understandable when you are late or can't come because your child/husband/thing came up.

But you have to understand that when we single girls go on a spontaneous outing to Brooklyn Bridge Park, share laughing pictures online of the fun times we had and you are insulted that we didn't include you: please know that we didn't do it intentionally. We didn't stop to think about if you would be free at that particular time, how much time you would need to get you and your baby ready, how difficult it would be for you to schlep a stroller with a child up and down the subway steps, maneuver it onto a subway car, feed a crying baby in public, how awkward it would be for you to run/walk/skip/jump/hop the way we do on a whim.

Which is not to say that we won't include you in the future.

But we are single.

You are with child now.

Things will never be the same.

The internet is not safe anymore

I know it never was. Before people really knew about the dangers lurking online they felt relatively secure. When webcams first became popular no one knew of the possibility that someone could hack in and spy on them. I call it, before and after. Before, people didn't know. Now they are too scared to know.

The internet as a whole may not be safe but people find places where they feel a certain sense of security. Maybe forums (a dying breed) or blogs (almost completely dead) or Facebook or instagram or Twitter, somewhere where they can just BE without anyone else infringing.

But now it is not safe. Bloggers bring trolls and stalkers. Facebook suggests named of people I most certainly do not want to be friends with and would rather never be reminded of again. They take advantage of my momentary weakness, I searched for you and I found you and I remembered why I didn't want to know you existed. I wish I could unknow. I wish I could unsee. I wish Facebook didn't track my every move.

When relationships used to take place in the physical realm, it was possible to delete all traces of someone. Burn their letters, chop up their pictures, get rid of any mementos and eventually the memories fade.

Today, it is much harder. Delete the emails. Delete the texts and pictures and even phone number. Unfriend them. Delete their email address. You think you can forget and move on but I guarantee you it is not over. It may never be over.

You can run, but you have no where to hide from the clawing cloying conniving hand of the internet that is intent on reminding you everything and everyone you long to forget.

Not quite done yet

There's something about joining pre-existing family life that is like jumping on a moving train. When everyone is pretty much settled in and you are the last one to join. When everyone knows the rhythm and you are clearly the newby.

Family is safe. They are familiar. They love you, they hate you, they make jokes at your expense, they fight over rooms and places at the table and last pieces of pie.

We have a motto in my family: "You snooze, you lose", which in Latin translates to "Tu dormis, tu perdis" (which incidentally I just read in a book called The Sellout and exclaimed excitedly to my father that the author stole our motto). This motto applies to anything, really. It's the answer to all questions, solicited or otherwise.

There's a learning curve. I've only been here since Thursday night and it's been years really since I've lived at home. So I watch, and I learn. One stays up all night and sleeps all day. One does the food shopping and cooks dinner, the kitchen is her domain. One stays out for weeks at a time, I've been told he's living at home but I've seen no evidence of it. The baby who is now legally no longer a minor works all day and hangs out with friends at 2 am, he smokes, and has no idea if or where he's going for yeshiva next year. My parents don't tell anyone what to do or how to live their lives, so even though I'm itching to parent him, I know it's not my place.

Life moves at a slower pace here. If you've accomplished one thing today it's a good day. On Friday I spent half the day with my nieces and came home exhausted. On Shabbos I walked over to my sister (40 minute walk) and arrived just as the kids were going to bed. The kids thought it was hilarious, their parents did not.

I asked my siblings what there is to do around here, they said not much. I hear kids hang out by the local 7-Eleven but I hate slurpees plus I'm not 17 anymore. Which I'm being reminded of constantly, and it hurts because part of me still feels like a teenager and the rest of me is 25 and wishing I knew what it meant to 'act my age'.

I'm trying to figure out my new normal. I'm wrapping up school this week and that's exciting, plus I know I did all I could to set myself up for success in the future. My GPA is great, I'm part of an honors society, I have quite a lot of work experience, and a nice sum in savings. For all intents and purposes, my future looks bright.

I was walking today and taking in the scenery, the fresh breeze, the trees and grass and peace and quiet, and thinking, I could get used to this. But my sister says I wouldn't last very long here. She predicts that I will gain 50 lbs, be bored and miserable living at home.

I'm not done yet. I know that. This is not the end for me. My story doesn't end with me single at 25 moving back home with my parents having a degree but no job, and chillin like a villain. I wasn't made for this. So the question is, what's next?

The crickets and the dropping night temperatures, and the darkness outside that makes you wonder if there is anything out there- and the smell of brownies.

What is normal, really?

Men + Women = Friendship?

There are differences when it comes to friendships amongst men and friendships amongst women. We are talking primarily about same gender friendships, as opposed to cross gender.

It may appear that men have more friends than do women, as men tend to have larger social networks or groups, whereas women spend more time in dyads, or pairs, and form closer one-on-one connections.

The reasons for friendship amongst men and women are also different. Men tend to have more activity-based friendships, while women spend more time in conversation with friends. Men assert more dominance and knowledge display in conversation, and women focus on conversation maintenance- establishing and maintaining relationships.

Women are more agreeable in their language, using disclaimers like "I may be wrong, but..." or hedges, "sort of", "kind of", and intensifiers "very", "really", "seriously". This may reflect on their level of confidence in their own opinions or knowledge base, or it may show a desire to be compliant with the person they are talking to, to avoid conflict.

Men generally avoid personal disclosure. They see it as a weakness to open up to friends and share personal thoughts or feelings. Women engage more in self-disclosure, tending to share their feelings and emotions with close friends.

Although there are difference between friendships among men and women, there are more similarities. Ultimately, the reasons for friendship between men and women, either same gender or cross gender, are the same. From The Psychology of Gender by Vicki Helgeson, "Both men and women want the same things from friendship and view self-disclosure, empathy, trust, and expressions of support as the most important features of a friendship."

30 before 30

I read an article today that I liked. Here's the link, and I'm posting it in below. I have taken the liberty of bolding the ones I can check off:

"30 Things All Women Should Have in Their Arsenal Before 30"

Turning 30 is a big milestone because you finally feel like a real adult instead of playing one in your early 20s. Here are some things you probably have accomplished in your 20s:

1. Eyeliner and mascara that doesn't smudge. 
2. A bad relationship that will make you treasure the good ones. (Too many to count.)
3. The experience of negotiating a raise or asking for a promotion. Because you deserve it.
4. A love for yourself — flaws and all.
5. A good mattress. (One day...)
6. Enough self-respect to not put up with an unhealthy relationship and friendship. (Ya, after it gets so bad I can't take it anymore.)
7. A home that looks lived in and not like a rental. Which includes a piece of furniture you splurged on that's not from Ikea and an original piece of art you love. (I'm waiting for the perfect home to decorate.)
8. One international trip experience that took you to another continent.
9. Wild stories of past shenanigans that you love reminiscing over with your friends. And zero urge to relive it all.
10. A résumé and LinkedIn profile that you had to struggle to shrink.
11. Six months of living expenses in your emergency fund and a robust 401(k). (savings: Check.)
12. A friend that makes you laugh, lends an understanding ear when you need a shoulder to cry on, and tells you things you need (and not want) to hear.
13. Forgiveness and letting go of past hurts and grudges. Life's too short for that. (Letting go sucks...)
14. And the realization that forgiving doesn't mean accepting that it was OK. Forgiving means accepting the fact it happened. (This I can do.)
15. Go-to recipes for key occasions, from a fancy dinner party to leftovers night.
16. A backup system for your important documents and photos. (Check. Learned that the hard way.)
17. Something you can take care of, be it a plant or a pet (or maybe even a baby!). (I've killed plants before...not sure what that says about my chances with kids).
18. The ability to enjoy things alone, whether it be a trip, a dinner out, or a show.
19. A coffee machine so you stop wasting your money at Starbucks.
20. A good skin care routine, which includes applying sunscreen.
21. The confidence to go without makeup, wear a bikini, and have an opinion. (Um, ya, never gonna happen.)
22. A sewing kit and a set of tools that you've actually used.
23. A reliable dry cleaner and a tailor.
24. A chic outfit that you can transition from work to play — not to mention, a high-quality bag or purse to bring to work every day.
25. A safe place for you to relieve your stress and recharge — be it your reading nook or yoga studio.
26. The resolve and discipline to kick at least one bad habit. Bye-bye, soda and Cheetos.
27. The satisfaction with what you have and not worrying about if you're missing out on something better and newer.
28. An exercise routine beyond cleaning your home or commuting to work. (Gym...check.)
29. A credit card that you pay off in full every month. (Ding ding ding!)
30. The realization that life just gets better.(Well that's a relief.)

 

Going Home

My biggest accomplishment today was taking a shower (after the fast ended) and switching from the pajamas I was wearing all day to clean pajamas. And still I am proud of myself. Not for today, but for the big steps that are coming.

This week is the last week in my apartment. I don't want to get sentimental, but four years is a long time. As I progressed in the work force and my jobs changed from menial to management, I became more and more confident in myself and my abilities. I went back to school after a 2 year hiatus, and managed to finish school in 3 years while working full time. I dated. I met guys. (Two separate things.) I fell in and out of relationships, I got hurt, I grew up.

I'm 25, graduating from college, no job, and I'm moving back home with my parents. Well, not really. I see it more as a stop along the way. I will tell you this: I don't see it as a failure. Between going away for high school and seminary, being a dorm counselor for a year and then living on my own for 4 years, I really haven't lived at home in a long time. To say that my relationship with my family when I was younger was tumultuous would be an understatement. Things have finally ironed themselves out, and for the first time I am looking forward to going home as opposed to dreading it.

I've mentioned before about how hard it is being a single girl living in a 'single girl's apartment' and having to be responsible for everything from finding Shabbos meals, to making havdala to creating an atmosphere that is conducive to yidishkeit. There is something about living in a household, where dinner is made for you, Shabbos tables get set, things just happen around you and you don't have to make much of an effort to be a part of it. I'm not talking about being lazy, I'm talking about the comfort of being surrounded and enveloped by family and family life. That is what I am looking forward to.

First up is a 2 week road trip from NY to Florida with my mom, sister-in-law and niece. We will have a loose itinerary, traveling through Philadelphia, DC, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia taking the scenic route over 2-3 days, and then traipsing through Florida for a week before flying home. Then my grandparents are hitting the East Coast for a visit. After that I'll be home for 2 weeks until Rosh Hashana, and I have plans to go out of town. So basically, I will be occupied until after the holidays.

I spoke with my mom about joining a gym with her, maybe hanging out with my sister and helping with her kids. I think I will take it easy and use the down time to figure out what I want to do next. Maybe it'll come to me while I'm not looking for it.

Although I have some job offers waiting for me, I don't have any solid plans to move back to New York. And that's okay. I know that my future will find me wherever I am. I hope I will be ready.

A frum guy walks into a gym...

Sounds like the start of a bad joke.

I decided to start going to the gym, now that I have all this free time, it's right on campus and so am I, and I pay for it in student fees anyway.

There is something so convenient about having a gym in the same building as my classes. It is cool, quiet and pretty empty.

I'm a gym virgin. I used to hate gyms, calling them evil places of torture. I did exercised, just on my own time and with my own routine. But there is something so easy about using a machine and just letting it think for you.

I wear a skirt on top of my leggings, and usually a long sleeved t-short. I feel comfortable being in a mixed gym, it doesn't bother me. But today, while working out a frum guy with a kippa came in. Something in me suddenly got self-conscious, like oh, this is weird. Being around other guys in the gym didn't bother me, but maybe with our mutual faith it hit closer to home.

Separate story:

In Chabad we are known for 'Shliach Mitzvah gelt' which is basically, give someone money when they are leaving on a trip, tell them to be your messenger and put it into tzedaka when they get to their destination, and that will ensure that they will have a safe trip because it says that no harm will come to the messenger.

I was doing laundry today (yes, during the 9 days) and I use a suitcase to ferry my laundry to and from the laundromat. As I was coming home with my suitcase of freshly laundered clothing, a nice young Lubavitch guy passed me by, holding out a coin in his hand and said 'Here, Shliach mitzvah money'. I was startled, so I took it and said 'Oh wow, thank you.' He said 'Have a safe trip' and walked off.

Part of me thought maybe I should tell him I was only going home from the laundromat, but then I remembered that I am going to be taking a trip in a few weeks, and it was comforting knowing that I was being sent on my 'journey' as a shaliach, that I was going not only for myself, but as a messenger. Who knows where I will go or what I will discover, but it is better to go as a messenger and not just for myself.

I hope I do have a safe trip, and I'm wondering if punching a hole in that coin and turning it into a necklace is taking the analogy a little too far.

Books For Sale!

I decided to start packing up my room tonight. I don't think I have a lot of stuff but I have lived here 4 years so I should get a head start. I am officially moving out in 2 weeks.

I realized I had a lot of books. Some are from school, some are 'self help' books, and some are novels I bought for pleasure. I do hang on to stuff, which I'm trying to work on. But books are a good thing to have around because if I haven't read them yet, I may get to them later. (Who am I kidding, I'll probably never get to them, but my choice of books will make me look smart.)

I've been getting advice from different people lately about what to do next in my life, and I still haven't decided. Some people think that just getting away will help 'clear my head' and I will come back refreshed and ready to jump back into life.

That's not the way I see it. I'm not getting away for a vacation. I will not have a job, apartment or life waiting for me when I get back. I have barely any responsibilities right now. Most of this is my choice. I don't know that I am necessarily making good choices for myself, but all I know is that I need to leave, to close the door on this chapter of my life and figure out what the next one will be.

For the past few years I've just been waiting for my future to come to me, and I'm so sick of waiting. So I'm taking charge.

If I lived in Park Slope I might put some books on the sidewalk with a 'free' sign. As it is, the only books I'm giving away are part 2 and 3 of the Hunger Games series. I bought them when they were really popular and I just had to read them.

If you are reading this and you are worried about me, don't be.

If you are reading this and you think you can offer advice: it is welcome.

However, this is my life, my choices and only I can make it or break it.

I Remember

I remember,
you know.
I remember
that it's okay to ask for help,
it's okay to admit that you are scared
and feel alone
that you have no idea what you are doing in life,
and that scares you like sh**.

I remember,
you know.
I remember
that I have friends to turn to
that understand
that may even be going through the same thing,
that can make be feel better
and less alone.

I remember
what it's like
to feel okay,
when the bubble of anxiety bursts,
I can breath again,
laugh again,
remember that things do always have a way 
of working themselves out.

I remember now.

What the F

The cold, smooth feel of the beer
as is slithers down your throat
yet a minute later
slams into your taste buds
bitter, making you gag.

You remember that
you hate beer
and you wonder what the f***
you are doing here
at midnight.

You watch them
talking and laughing
is that flirting?
Not even sure,
you watch her

loosely standing close to the guy
beer in her hand
you swear it hasn't gone down
an inch,
maybe she hates it just as much as you do.

The lights are bright
and twinkly,
and no you're not drunk
yet,
but you wish you were.

A guy offers to buy you
another drink.
he asks if you want to
get out of here,
but you can't.

you won't go.
you butt into a conversation
two guys are having nearby
thinking you have something smart to say,
but they're just not feeling it.

And you wonder
what the f***
you are doing here
this time of night,
he asks you what you are looking for

and honestly,
you just don't know.

Fish Bowl

It all looks too familiar,
all the same
everything as it should be
but never changing,
like The Truman Show,
living a lie
your whole life,
wash, rinse, repeat,
always repeat
day in, day out
until you feel
the walls closing in
suffocating
wave your arms
until they touch glass
you can't get out
and the more you try
the more you tug at your constraints
the tighter they get
like the Chinese finger trap
it's a trick, really
but there is no humor
only atmospheric pressure
that can't be relieved
without breaking the glass,
but you just can't seem
to break free.

Disposable Friendships

People, like water, are fluid
they come and go
you cup your hands
and try to hold
the flow
between your palms
but it seeps out
and drips down
in a trickle,
emptying out until not a drop is left
leaving your hands damp
and empty.
The water bleeds from your
hands like blood,
the cool air drying them
stiff
until they crack
break the water lines
that once held a cool, wet stream.
People come and go
they are there laughing
and talking one day
and the next they are gone,
dried up, distant
pulling away until they leave no trace behind.

~~~

Keep your pack on your back

and be ready to leave at a moment's notice.

You see expressions change

from minute to minute

so small you might miss it

but it is there,

you feel it

you sense it

pulling away

drifting away

there,

and then

gone

and you know

it's time to go,

you've done this before

you know the drill

all safety hatches in place.

Three, two, one,

it's time

go go go!

you do what you have to do

leaving no trace behind

that you were ever even there.

He's gone,

and so are you.

Maybe you are turning it the wrong way

I felt like that lady in Eat. Pray. Love who found herself on her bathroom floor in middle of the night, talking to herself.

Yes, it was indeed the middle of the night. about 1:30 am. I haven't been sleeping through the night lately, sometimes it will be a strange dream that wakes me and then I can't fall back asleep.

I stumbled to the bathroom without my glasses, but could clearly see that the toilet seat was askew. I'm the 'handy' one in the apartment, and changed the toilet seat myself previously when it needed changing, so I knew how it worked.

I tried tightening the screws but it wasn't connected properly so that didn't help.

Frustrated, unable to see properly, tired and not in the mood, I sat down on the floor to figure it out.

I unscrewed the bolt, got the seat back into place and then tried to screw the bolt back into place.

I turned and turned it and nothing happened, it wasn't tightening at all. I tried turning it upside down but that didn't work. I just kept turning it, using the maxim 'Righty tighty, lefty loosy'.

Then it hit me, maybe I'm turning it the wrong way. So I turned it to the left and finally it started tightening.

By this time I was wide awake and no way was I falling back asleep. So I used the time to think, to figure things out. I've been having doubts lately about a lot of things. The problem is, as a 25 year old single girl in a frum society, you are not supposed to have doubts or questions. You are simply supposed to follow the rules, accept that which you do not understand, stay on the course, and do what you are supposed to do.

But I have never quite fit into the mold, and I'm not happy trying to push myself back into it, or follow the rules simply because I am told. For the first time I asked myself: What do you really want? And I didn't know the answer.

I remember a book I had bought, called The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. I bought it hoping it could help me in life, but alas it cannot help you if you do not bother to read it and instead stuff it onto a shelf in your closet.

So I sat there at 2 am and started reading it, and a lot of it made sense.

We all have inner paradigms, maps with which we use to see the world. Just as if you have the wrong map in a particular city there it will be difficult to get to where you are going, so to if you have the wrong view of the world you won't see things the way you should.

The first habit talks about being 'Proactive'. There's a diagram of 2 circles, one is the Circle of Influence, and one is the Circle of Concern. Influence is what you have control over, and Concern is things you have no control over. If you choose to focus your energy in Circle of Concern, you will be pushing yourself inward, limiting your sense of control. If you choose to focus on your Circle of Influence, you push outward, broadening your world into the things you can control.

None of us can control the weather, understandably, but you can choose to be upset by a stormy day, or you can carry around your own sunshine thereby choosing to not let it affect you.

I'm only one chapter in, and I know I'm not big on follow through. We'll see how far I get. It was just refreshing to read something that actually makes sense, and to feel that maybe I can take control of my life instead of saying 'everyone else makes the rules and I don't want to follow them'.

By working on yourself from the inside-out, you can reach a true sense of independence and hopefully find inner peace.

Here's to bathroom floor revelations in middle of the night, and to new beginnings.

How Life Works

It's funny how things never seem to turn out how we expected, but always work out for the best.

Things came to an end at my job, and not by my doing. It's kind of like "who will show their hand sooner" because I was planning to give notice and be gone in a few weeks. That timeline was simply shortened by a nasty person whom I'm ashamed to call one of my (now ex) managers. There will of course be two versions to the story, and as things go I don't think they handled the situation properly.

I didn't expect to be crying in the parking lot with my (other) manager whom I call a friend. He's leaving in about a month and I knew we would be parting ways, but this was sooner than expected. He told me comfortingly that everything will work out, it is all up to G-d. I know he's right.

I've been telling people that I will be leaving in a month, going off the grid. They don't understand. Maybe I don't even understand.

"For how long?" They ask me. I have no answer.

The first step after finishing school is moving my stuff back home to my parents house. It was either that or public storage and I have no idea if or when I would come back for it.

Next is taking a road trip down to Florida. Then maybe hanging out there for awhile.

I don't know what's next. And though normally that would be majorly stressing me out, I'm calm. I'm okay.

I see things as a chain, after one link ended I always found my next. Things have always worked out for me thank G-d. And yes it's easier to realize that in hindsight. But right now I'm okay with taking things as they come and not knowing what comes next.

I'm finally free for the first time in awhile. It's a very calming feeling.

Baking

Ear buds in, music on loud, moving to the beat enjoying the sound of my own little world.

I'm happy here. I'm in control. I'm creating something beautiful.

Tonight it was black & whites, just cuz. Because I wanted to try something new, give myself a little challenge.

I have to say, it is a lot of work, more than they make it seem. I used this recipe courtesy of browneyedbaker.com. Making the dough is not that hard. Shaping it is fun, a little messy and a little gooey.

It is the icing part that got me. It is stressful. Really. First you have to make sure the icing is thin enough to spread but not too thin. You have to get the line just right, you have to try to not drip any chocolate icing into the pristine white icing bowl. Picking up each cookie, icing it and then trying to gently put it down without messing up the icing... oy.

Well, I'm exhausted. They look good, they taste good, but I am definitely going to buy one in the bakery next time I get a craving.

Depressed

Sometimes you just have to call it like it is.

My mother is really funny. When I'm excited about something, she gets excited. When I'm negative about something, she reflects that negativity. It's all about feedback.

Sometimes we are in a good mood, we see the world through rose tinted glasses and everything you see and do at that time is positive. You impart those feelings to other people and they reflect that.

Sometimes I second guess myself. It took me a long time to learn to trust my instincts, but I'm realizing that that niggling feeling I get when I'm trying to make a decision that sounds like it is trying to tell me something and which I usually tune out- it is usually on point.

Some people can remain impartial. It is always good to have objective people in your life. But some people will mirror the way you feel or the way you tell a story. If you have a job interview and you tell someone how exciting it is and how you really want the job, they will encourage you to take it. Tell that same person your inhibitions and reservations about said job, and they will tell you it is not for you. So is the job really for you? Do you need to get over your negative feelings or realize that your excitement may not stem from a place that is best for you?

I don't know. I hate making decisions, I really do wish things can work themselves out.

When your job hunt, apartment hunt and guy hunt are all going south, you think it's time for you to quit?

In other words, who can suggest a great vacation spot?

Just Go

You broke my trust, you know.
It hurt.
But it hurt in places where it should not have mattered.

He got in between us,
he ruined what we had,
what was for months already eroding.

I made the mistake of believing him
when he said you and I
were not friends,

In fact could never be friends,
and I should not have told you something
expecting you to keep it to yourself.

I tried to ignore you,
I really did,
knowing that you were leaving

Maybe if I blocked you out
it would hurt less
but you were you

You joked and drew me in
and I laughed,
I coudn't help myself.

I told you to go away,
just go
and don't come back.

You didn't apologize.
You told me some cryptic message
of how you did it for my own good.

With time, you said
I would realize why you had betrayed my trust
But you wouldn't tell me why.

I told you the most hurtful thing
was that HE said we weren't friends
and in that case it shouldn't have mattered.

You called him a jerk,
said he was wrong,
said that you have my back.

I wanted to believe you,
still do,
I would trust you any day more than him.

But you're leaving, you know.
And I'll miss your dumb corny jokes,
your arrogance.

I'll miss your stupid face
He's wrong, you know.
About us.

When I'm mad at you and you try to tell me something
I say "I don't care"
and you say "Yes you do".

You're right,
of course.
I do.

All About S*x

It took me a long time before I stopped stumbling over the word 'sex'. Even now I still feel a pang, an uncomfortable feeling at this "forbidden" word. I'm taking a personal health and nutritional science course, and recently we learned all about sex and birth control. These are things I am aware of, and as mature adults it is normal to sit in a classroom with illustrative slides showing one how to put on a condom. But growing up as a religious girl, I do have a certain reservation when it comes to discussing sex, even in clinical terms, as if I have to try to be nonchalant about it.

Recently at work a new manager was hired to replace one who is leaving. He is ultra-orthodox, a Chassidisher guy with white shirt, black pants, curly payos, the whole nine yards. He is not someone I would ever look at twice on the street, and based on our backgrounds our paths would probably never cross besides for the fact that we work together. When I first met him, I had a misgiving that I would corrupt him, simply by being myself. I grew up in a closed-minded community, and in the process of trying to "find myself" I have attempted to break out of that mold, by rejecting some of the rules I grew up with. That meant looser with my language (cursing), and being more open and free with topics that were previously not discussed.

I overheard a coworker mention to some of the guys that he may have gotten his ex-girlfriend pregnant. I piped in and it turned into a full conversation between joking that he should go on the Maury Povich show, insist on a DNA test, and me saying lamely that he should never have gotten her pregnant. Thus followed a conversation about safe sex and the rate at which protection actually prevents pregnancy.

The new guy was listening avidly. Then he started asking questions about sex, protection, what actually works, etc. I started realizing that this may have gotten out of hand, especially when I saw other people passing by and overhearing the conversation. Talk about inappropriate work conversations.

There's a reason some kids like to 'educate' their more innocent friends. Usually one kid ends up blurting out all the details about sex and sharing it with all their friends before they should actually be discussing it. I'm not saying this guy was completely ignorant, however I feel bad encouraging the conversation, as if I had a hand in opening his mind to the world around him.

The question is not whether these things should be discussed. The answer to that would be yes, in the right setting, with a professional, for constructive purposes, once you are mature and old enough to have questions and want answers, and not just because you are showing off to your friends.

In this case, besides the fact that the setting was wholly inappropriate, I don't think this guy needed to get sex ed that way.

Just because I chose to expose myself to things which I was taught to stay away from, doesn't mean I should rip down his blinders, even if I disagree with being sheltered.

You have to be sensitive to other people's choices and upbringings, regardless of your personal feelings or attitudes on the issues.  

Free

I watch the fountain as the water rises
higher and higher
the squeals of the children in delight
as if guiding it
commanding it
controlling it
saying more! more, we want more!
Higher it goes still
ten feet in the air
splashing back down with a plop
and disappearing into the cracks
it is no longer visible
the water,
yet a second later
it shoots out again
the kids laugh,
they dance
they run near the spray
in the hopes of getting wet
I watch
and want to be the water
want to fly free,
but there is always something tethering me
to the ground
no matter how long I try
the fountain stops
for a moment
I hold my breath
wondering if it is done for the day
time for the kids to go home
but suddenly the water starts up again
the children scream
I feel a pang,
sad that I'm still here watching
that I'm not the water
that I'm not free.

Therapy

Why pay for therapy when you can get it for free?

I sit in the chair at my hairstylist and before I know it she knows my whole life story and yet I have no idea what kind of cut she gave me. I find myself telling her all my woes about my job, school, life, etc. It's a great way to release. I'm sure they are sworn by oath to not revealed the secrets they hear in the chair.

The bakery is another beautiful place, filled with pleasant aromas, and scrumptious looking delicacies. This is where I come on a bad day, or a good day, or any day. The bakery guy smiles at me as I make my selection, I try not to look him in the eye, I wonder if he knows I've been stress eating lately. He recognizes me by face and I know it's time to find a new bakery.

While some people close up like a clam and share nothing with anyone, others can tell everything to their bus driver, bank teller, taxi driver, etc. Really, there are therapy outlets all around us if you just look for them.

No time to go for an appointment? Don't want to spend money on a copay? Just sit on a bench in the park and wait for the next person to sit down next to you. Then start talking.

Your session has begun. 

Hiding

I can't make eye contact.
I try to appear normal but it's difficult.
I know she's talking to me and my brain is telling me to respond but I can't.
I smile, I hope not in a creepy way, and speak in my most normal voice possible.

My whole being is screaming danger! danger, get out,
and I wonder if this is what it feels like to have exposed nerves.
Why are you looking at me?
Why are there so many people in this store?

I keep my voice light when I speak to you,
everything very chilled and nonchalant
what's the point of worrying you
instead I pretend.

Pretend that everything is okay
I don't want to have to explain
you won't get it
and maybe I don't either.

Things are changing
I'm not sure how
I just know it's time
to go.

I can't make eye contact
I may appear to be shifty
I just can't let you see
inside my eyes.

Then you'll know.

Too little too late

I hate you.
I hate you for believing in me, for encouraging me.

Where were you when I doubted myself, when I thought I wasn't good enough and never would be?

I hate the ones who rejected me, who turned me away and made me give up.

I hate the voices in my head, the ones that tell me to stop pretending, to let it go, to move on and abandon my dream.

What dream?

Once I was young and eager, so young and full of something, was it attitude, was it aggression, I don't know that it was passion, but it was something more then this passive-agressive-non-believing lump of discouragement, and though she disgusts me now, that me of years ago had more desire to succeed than this give-up-and-go-home attitude.

I hate you for making me feel again, for making me want it, for using my finger nails to claw at the mountain of dirt to pull myself up and try again when I just want to lay down and admit defeat.

I hate you all.

But you most of all.

I hate you for the lump in my throat which you caused, you must have known it would invoke a reaction. Admitting that your first impression was wrong and that you were glad you were proven wrong.

Maybe you saw something in me that I no longer saw in myself, refused to see in myself because the glass mirror once shiny and clean is now smudged with dirt and blackness to the point where I can't even see myself clearly.

Did you see me? What did you see in me? I know you wouldn't lie.

But why???? Why now. Why when you are leaving and flying miles away, why when I am at the end of the line, why when I am so ready to give up and call it quits, why must you make me feel??

I hate feeling. I hate how you crack my numb exterior, the one I use to protect myself from getting hurt, from people like you.

Once I wished to be seen, to be heard, I thought I was G-d's gift and it was my duty to let people know what they were missing.

A few Youtube videos and articles later and I was put in my place. I was no longer special, I would never make it in this tough world so why bother trying.

I was fine lying to myself. I was fine!

I love how you just assume that I'll do great things. I love how you say it so casually as if it could actually happen.

Can it?

Is it possible that maybe you are right about me?

Is it too late for me to see in myself what you have seen?

I don't hate you. I can't even tell you how much your words mean to me, how much they hurt me but at the same time give me hope.

Maybe I'm not done yet.

Maybe I will do great things.

Maybe it is not too late for me.

Mine

He runs down the stairs, hair wet from a bath and I just want to gather him into my arms and inhale his baby scent. It's his upshernish tomorrow and I can't part with his baby face and his gorgeous golden curls. He tells me something that I struggle to understand and then says, with eyes wide, 'is that cool?'. Of course, everything he says is cool.

I lay on the couch with the baby on my lap after the other kids have gone to sleep. She keeps trying to grab my glasses so I hold up my hand in defense. She grabs my hand in both of her tiny ones and pushes it out of her way. Then goes back to grabbing. I was there the day she was born, and here this little beauty is growing into a mischievous little bundle of cuteness.

I'm exhausted and mom rolls her eyes and asks me why. Well, I may not be a mom but watching her kids is stressful. Don't do this, don't touch that, eat your lunch, no you cannot have candy until you eat, wash your hands, go to bed, give that toy to your brother, etc etc. I can't relax around kids. She tells me I'm too stressed, I should just chill.

She wouldn't mind if I moved into her house, she thinks I'm nuts if I buy food or do laundry anywhere else, cuz I should have come to her, I'm not considered a guest and somehow I've become part of the fabric of their lives.

But there's a part of leaving and going home to my place that makes me realize that they are not 'mine'. Maybe I'm very possessive. I used to get insulted when a kid would tell me 'you're not in charge of me' as they are wont to say when they challenge authority. But this time I simply said, you're right and thank G-d for that. (Plus I responded that it's fine, if he didn't want to listen then I didn't have to read him a story in bed.)

Some kids run to you when they see you and love to be held, and some kids break your heart by turning away when you just want to gather them up in your arms.

One day there will be kids with my name on them, they will be mine to smother, to mother, to baby, to screw up or get it right or simply keep trying thinking there is nothing I can do right. But they will be mine, and no amount of 'going home' will change that.

If you were a picture

"Don't judge me"

* She held a bag in her hand, it said "i'm lovin' it". I assumed that was her dinner. 

* * *

"Once, I was scared of you, but now it is you who are scared of me. That's good, I know you won't come close to me. This is my bed tonight."

* Her scarf looked dirty, no amount of her picking at it would ever get it any cleaner. She started to cough and I wanted to offer my water bottle until I remembered it was empty. I wouldn't want it back anyway. She closed her eyes and blocked out the world and no one came close to her.

* * *

"I'm not crazy"

* She muttered to herself over and over again "no, no I can't do this, no this isn't right" before snatching her bag and leaving the classroom. I wonder if she'll be back.

< 3 Hearts < 3

Voices murmuring around me...
each absorbed in their own...
tired & hungry
and not done yet
2 more hours to go
till the midnight hour
till my paper is due
but I won't be done
no fun
three more finals
this week will never end.

I left my flowers behind
hand-picked by my niece
first for her mother
and then for me,
it's my birthday,
or was,
she says I'm a little old
but I don't feel old
I feel...

I feel like a grown-up
and yet every time they say
"get a grown-up"
I look around frantically
until I realize that
they are all looking at me,
I'm a grown-up now
and yes I stole that line.

Did you know that
monarch butterflies are called
Danaus plexippus
their color is primarily orange and black
they are poisenous to other animals,
and every winter they migrate 2,000
miles to warmer climates?

My favorite colors are purple and pink
they are not actually,
or maybe orange
depends who you ask,
but I got to spend today
with 3 adorable little girls dressed in
that's right
purple and pink
or maybe red,
depending on who you ask.

Did you know
that little kids
can have such big personalities
can give the biggest hugs
can make grown men cry,
did you know?
It's crazy how much you can love a little person
that isn't even yours

She says
"quick, catch me I'm falling!"
every time she goes down the slide,
I wonder what she'd do
if I didn't come running
with my arms outstretched
ready to catch her
but I'll never let her know.

#questionsformen

Do you avoid eye contact with women to prevent unwanted come-ons? Do you wish they wouldn't whistle at you?

Do you avoid a certain street corner because the friendly crossing guard wants to give you his number, maybe have dinner sometime?

 Do you wonder what you did, what you said to make them think that you were interested?

Maybe if you didn't smile at them...

Maybe if you weren't so friendly...

What would you do if a married women said you made her nervous and she thinks she is in love with you?

What would you do if a married women flashed her abs and told you she's been working out lately? (Don't answer that one.)

Is the world as vulnerable a place for you as it is for women?

What would you do if someone made you feel uncomfortable?

Barriers

When, on the last day of class you are reluctant to leave, lingering, hoping for one last bit of wisdom, one more acknowledgment that you exist, that you matter because in this classroom you mattered... And you don't want to let that go... Perhaps once in a lifetime you will have a teacher who will make you feel that way... Lucky are those who've had more than one... You know he's one who has touched you, made an impact on your life, and this leaving, this goodbye cannot take away what you have gained.

He's moving to California. He's told us more details about his personal life than one should. But it's comforting, in a way, to know that he is human.

'If you want to give me a hug, or fist bump me, you can.' I tell him I can't hug him, he asks if we could pretend so we 'air hug'.

We show affection in physical ways, some of us do. Languages of love, it's called. It's easier to hug someone than to simply tell them that you'll miss them.

But this barrier, invisible though it is, is restricting, getting harder and harder to maintain. One day I will tear it down and it won't matter anymore.

משנה מקום, משנה מזל

Standing in the frozen section in Target contemplating the refrigerated cookie dough, just take it home and bake it yourself, hmmm I think I may, as this one has an OU and is dairy-free... Funny thing is, I can bake better than any prepackaged cookie dough, and although the package says "Do not eat raw dough" I open the package as soon as I get home and try the raw dough and instantly regret it, as it's not that good. Nor do the baked cookis taste very good. Ah well, I'll know for next time.

Things are moving around at work, people are leaving, new people are coming, they are moving me upstairs to a different office, and although 'moving upstairs sounds like a promotion, it is not. It is simply a way for a man in power to exert said power and to not have to give a reason for doing what he does. After numerous trips up and down the stairs moving all my stuff, my chair, my computer, everything that I need to keep me sane, I am settled upstairs in silence.

My office was fun, used to be fun, we all know the kind, it happened in high school too, one year it was fun and the next year there was a new principal and the fun was over. There is a new guy in the office, he makes it his job to shush us when it's too noisy, the music is too loud, we are fraternizing when we should be working, etc. He hasn't been here that long and he's a buzz kill.

Upstairs in the new office they tell me it's a quiet office, don't talk unless it's work related, all my friends are downstairs and I am not happy. I know at work you are supposed to work, but healthy socializing is a big part of it, and what with most of the people I started with on their way out, I am holding on to the few familiar faces that are left. When everyone you know starts clearing out, you know it's time to go.

They say that changing one's place physically can change his mazal, and although U don't know if the same can be said for a desk in an office, but maybe this is a good step. I'm trying to figure out what's next for me in life. I'll be graduating in a few months and although that is exciting, I'm not satisfied at my job anymore and I want to move on. Problem is, I don't know what's next.

משנה מקום, משנה מזל.

I hope to figure it out.