It would be absurd if I told you that today I was granted one wish from an enchanted genie. (Yes the genie was enchanted, it's my story and I can tell it however I want.) It would be even more absurd if you believed me.
Well this genie rubbed her lamp and told me to wish whatever my heart did desire. So I thought and I thought, (it took me awhile cuz my heart desires a lot of things) and I finally came up with the perfect wish.
A new year is coming. Everyone complains all the time. Oh boy, we gotta pray, gotta ask for forgiveness, yadayadayada. What shall we do. So I wished that everyone would disappear, that I would live on my own universe all alone, and peace would rain upon the land.
Selfish? I think not. I'm doing all of you a favor.
As someone told me, I'm a misanthrope. Look it up.
You know what? Someone offered me a ride today. Two people did! And I thought, how nice, there are actually kind people in this world.
And then, after emailing tons of people about jobs, and not hearing back from any of them, I emailed them all again, and kindly informed them that I'm waiting, and I want an answer. And a guy called me, and said, 'You're aggressive. I like aggressive. Come in for an interview.' Yay! Thanks to my aggression, I might get a job!
I saw an almost drug bust, and an almost car chase. Ya, I know, almost doesn't count. Well, as I overheard from one of our very own, 'I really hope there's gonna be a car chase!' Too bad for you buster! It was just a quiet ole night out on The Avenue of Kingston. And as usual, I was watching...
Oh, and just in case you'd like to know, I told the genie to forget about it. I decided to give people another try. I hope they don't fail me again.
So, I got another wish. And I can't tell you what it was.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
And I am still here
They are all leaving. Finally. The house will be quiet once again, Sister will be away in high school, brother will be away in Yeshiva, and I will still be here. Alone. Well not really. My house is never empty. But you get my point.
For the 1st time EVER a new school year is approaching, and I am not packing, or shopping for new school supplies, or making a bus reservation, or scheduling a flight. Because I am not leaving! And I don't even know what to do with this freedom.
Okay I do. I stayed in PJ's for the whole day today. It felt great! I really have no idea what direction my life is taking now. I signed up for Touro. I'm looking for a job. I haven't found one yet. But other than that, I'm just home, not going anywhere, and it's the weirdest feeling!
I don't know whether to laugh at the absurdity of it, or cry. As usual, I choose to laugh.
It's all good.
For the 1st time EVER a new school year is approaching, and I am not packing, or shopping for new school supplies, or making a bus reservation, or scheduling a flight. Because I am not leaving! And I don't even know what to do with this freedom.
Okay I do. I stayed in PJ's for the whole day today. It felt great! I really have no idea what direction my life is taking now. I signed up for Touro. I'm looking for a job. I haven't found one yet. But other than that, I'm just home, not going anywhere, and it's the weirdest feeling!
I don't know whether to laugh at the absurdity of it, or cry. As usual, I choose to laugh.
It's all good.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
What are you supposed to do
What if I told you that I found a place, where I can spy on you, and see all that you do. Every step you take, every move you make, I'll be watching you. Wherever you go, I will know. Whatever you do, good or bad, will be seen by me. How would that make you feel? Scared? Freaked out? Cautious? Would you change what you do just because you knew someone was watching?
Did you ever see a one way mirror? There is one in a shul I used to go to. On the men's side it's a mirror, and on the ladies side it is glass. We had a good laugh watching the men fix their hats, smooth their beards, and even check their teeth in the mirror. And the whole time they were unaware that we were watching. Otherwise, I'm pretty sure they would've behaved differently.
Well there is no such place. For the only One who can truly see everything that goes on is G-d. I can pretend to know stuff, but no one will know everything you do except you, and Him.
On shabbos, while sitting by a friend's window, I had a pretty good view of Kingston Avenue. I noticed people on the roof of a building across the street. They were frum guys, white shirts, kippas, and a few married ladies. While I think it's stupid behavior to hang out on the roof of a building, the number one factor being that it's unsafe, I say, each to his own. So I didn't pay them much attention, until I noticed that the guys were smoking.
Hmm, I thought. It's Shabbos afternoon, they are wearing white shirts, and kippas, so they are obviously observant, at least somewhat. So why can't they wait till after shabbos to smoke, why do it purposely now, and desecrate the Shabbos?
Then I remembered that I'm not supposed to be judgemental, so I tried to let it go. But it still bothered me. And of course, there is nothing I can do about it.
What are you supposed to do? Look the other way? Make believe it's totally fine behavior? Remind yourself that it could be YOU that is smoking, so don't judge at all? Say, if you can't help them, then forget about it?
I wish I didn't have to see that. But I did. And now I don't know what to do about it.
Did you ever see a one way mirror? There is one in a shul I used to go to. On the men's side it's a mirror, and on the ladies side it is glass. We had a good laugh watching the men fix their hats, smooth their beards, and even check their teeth in the mirror. And the whole time they were unaware that we were watching. Otherwise, I'm pretty sure they would've behaved differently.
Well there is no such place. For the only One who can truly see everything that goes on is G-d. I can pretend to know stuff, but no one will know everything you do except you, and Him.
On shabbos, while sitting by a friend's window, I had a pretty good view of Kingston Avenue. I noticed people on the roof of a building across the street. They were frum guys, white shirts, kippas, and a few married ladies. While I think it's stupid behavior to hang out on the roof of a building, the number one factor being that it's unsafe, I say, each to his own. So I didn't pay them much attention, until I noticed that the guys were smoking.
Hmm, I thought. It's Shabbos afternoon, they are wearing white shirts, and kippas, so they are obviously observant, at least somewhat. So why can't they wait till after shabbos to smoke, why do it purposely now, and desecrate the Shabbos?
Then I remembered that I'm not supposed to be judgemental, so I tried to let it go. But it still bothered me. And of course, there is nothing I can do about it.
What are you supposed to do? Look the other way? Make believe it's totally fine behavior? Remind yourself that it could be YOU that is smoking, so don't judge at all? Say, if you can't help them, then forget about it?
I wish I didn't have to see that. But I did. And now I don't know what to do about it.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Every day is a winding road...
Up and down, and up and down. It's like a seesaw.
Every day is a winding road... and sometimes you make it around the bend, and sometimes you land back where you started... and sometimes you don't move from your place at all.
Everybody gets high... everybody gets low... You can't control it. You just gotta take it.
Well I finally took a step forward. I applied to Touro, so IY"H I will be taking classes next year. A step in the right direction. Now I just need a job...
I know there are people who don't 'approve' of my decision. What am I supposed to do about that? You can't please everyone, so learn to please no one but yourself. In the end of the day, only YOU have to be happy about your decisions, because you are the one that has to live with them.
No one knows where they will end up. No that's not true. We know what the end is, we just don't know when to anticipate it. But life is full of decisions, and it's okay to switch tracks, even very quickly. If you let yourself feel like you are stuck, you won't go anywhere at all.
And what do we learn from all of this? 'Live life.' Cuz that's really all we CAN do.
Every day is a winding road... and sometimes you make it around the bend, and sometimes you land back where you started... and sometimes you don't move from your place at all.
Everybody gets high... everybody gets low... You can't control it. You just gotta take it.
Well I finally took a step forward. I applied to Touro, so IY"H I will be taking classes next year. A step in the right direction. Now I just need a job...
I know there are people who don't 'approve' of my decision. What am I supposed to do about that? You can't please everyone, so learn to please no one but yourself. In the end of the day, only YOU have to be happy about your decisions, because you are the one that has to live with them.
No one knows where they will end up. No that's not true. We know what the end is, we just don't know when to anticipate it. But life is full of decisions, and it's okay to switch tracks, even very quickly. If you let yourself feel like you are stuck, you won't go anywhere at all.
And what do we learn from all of this? 'Live life.' Cuz that's really all we CAN do.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Let me go!
Ever saw those leash thingys that people use with little kids, to keep them from running into the street? You clip it to the back of the kids shirt, and hold on to the end of the string, and voila! You are walking your child. Brilliant invention.
I always wondered how the child felt when they are rudely yanked back, how frustrating it is to them when they are trying to run into the street, but the adult won't let them. Why not? Why are you stopping me from having fun? But of course we, the knowing adult, are aware that we are doing it for the child's benifit, to keep them away from danger. The child may not know it, or acknoweledge it, but it is really in their best interest.
I went driving today, with my instructor. I'm a good driver, if I do say so myself. And though the instructer has a break on his side, for the same purpose as the child leash, he rarely uses it, because I drive safely. The times that frustrates me are when I'm trying to park, or make a 3 point turn, and he steps on the break, when I am just about to do it myself. I feel like saying, stop! Let me do it by myself! But of course I don't. I grit my teeth, and continue driving.
My father was telling me about something I did that he didn't approve of. So I said, 'It's all part of growing up. You have to let your kids figure it out themselves, and they won't always do what you think is best, they will decide it on their own.' His response was: 'Did you think up that line all by yourself, or did one of your friends text it to you?' He didn't agree with my theory.
Give me a manual, and I'll be stubborn and try to figure it out on my own. Tell me what to do, and I'll dig in my heels, and refuse. With most children, they rarely like to listen to instructions. They are excited to jump right in and figure it out by themselves. The whole wide world is open to them, and they are itching to discover it. And then they are rudely yanked back to reality and told, 'Bedtime, sweety. You'll play more tomorrow.'
How unfair it is. How annoying it is when people tell you what to do and how to do it. If only they would leave me alone and let me figure it out.
But no one said life is fair. No one said anything is supposed to be fair.
And it's all a part of growing up.
I always wondered how the child felt when they are rudely yanked back, how frustrating it is to them when they are trying to run into the street, but the adult won't let them. Why not? Why are you stopping me from having fun? But of course we, the knowing adult, are aware that we are doing it for the child's benifit, to keep them away from danger. The child may not know it, or acknoweledge it, but it is really in their best interest.
I went driving today, with my instructor. I'm a good driver, if I do say so myself. And though the instructer has a break on his side, for the same purpose as the child leash, he rarely uses it, because I drive safely. The times that frustrates me are when I'm trying to park, or make a 3 point turn, and he steps on the break, when I am just about to do it myself. I feel like saying, stop! Let me do it by myself! But of course I don't. I grit my teeth, and continue driving.
My father was telling me about something I did that he didn't approve of. So I said, 'It's all part of growing up. You have to let your kids figure it out themselves, and they won't always do what you think is best, they will decide it on their own.' His response was: 'Did you think up that line all by yourself, or did one of your friends text it to you?' He didn't agree with my theory.
Give me a manual, and I'll be stubborn and try to figure it out on my own. Tell me what to do, and I'll dig in my heels, and refuse. With most children, they rarely like to listen to instructions. They are excited to jump right in and figure it out by themselves. The whole wide world is open to them, and they are itching to discover it. And then they are rudely yanked back to reality and told, 'Bedtime, sweety. You'll play more tomorrow.'
How unfair it is. How annoying it is when people tell you what to do and how to do it. If only they would leave me alone and let me figure it out.
But no one said life is fair. No one said anything is supposed to be fair.
And it's all a part of growing up.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Nothing says it better than...
Quotes, cuz I'm too tired to come up with some of my own, and some of these say it better than I could. But only some. Enjoy, tell me which ones are your favorites.
Always end the name of your child with a vowel, so that when you yell, the name will carry.
California is a fine place to live - if you happen to be an orange.
Curiosity killed the cat, but for a while I was a suspect.
Drawing on my fine command of the English language, I said nothing.
Every man has his follies - and often they are the most interesting thing he has got.
Go to Heaven for the climate, Hell for the company.
Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city.
Do not go where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path, and leave a trail.
I am not afraid of death, I just don't want to be there when it happens.
I bought some batteries, but they weren't included.
I don't think anyone should write their autobiography until after they're dead.
Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end.
I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we'll never know most of them. But even if we don't have the power to change where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there.
When I say LOL I'm not laughing out loud, I just have nothing better to say.
Believe that everything happens for a reason. People change, so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong, so that you can appreciate them when they are right, you believe lies, so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart, so better things can fall together.
A good friend will bail you out of jail; A TRUE friend will be sitting there next to you saying, "damn... we f$%*#^ up!"
Life will make you fall, but you gotta be strong enough to stand up again.
Life is too short to wake up in the morning with regrets. So love the people who treat you right, forget about the ones who don't, and believe that everything happens for a reason. If you get a chance, take it. If it changes your life, let it. Nobody said that it'd be easy, they just promised it'll be worth it.
Be the kind of woman that when your feet hit the floor each morning the devil says, oh crap, she's up!
Sometimes when I say, 'oh I'm fine', I want someone to look me in the eyes and say, 'tell me the truth'.
We hide because we want to be found, we walk away to see who will follow us, and we let our hearts get crushed to see who cares enough to fix them.
Life is a winding road- don't get lost around the bend.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Life moves on
Thump.
The ball hits the pavement. Bounces. Lies still.
The kid picks it up. Throws.
Hits the backboard, swishes through the hoop.
Basket. Score.
Laughter. Applause. High fives.
People happy. Proud.
Kid beams from ear to ear.
Success.
Silence. Wind swishes through the trees.
Bugs crawl in the underbrush.
birds chirping, quietly.
Silently, they move.
These people, defending their country.
Boom. Noises, shouts, fire.
Gunshots. Worse. Bombs, exploding everywhere.
In 2 minutes it's all over.
Silence once again.
No men survived.
Ice cream, dripping down his arm.
Giggles.
Children, frolicking in the sun. Swimming, on a hot day.
Giddy, happy to be alive.
Life moves on.
Waking up in a hospital bed.
Knowing your family is gone.
You will never walk again.
Your arm was amputated.
Life moves on.
No money. No food. No clothes.
Shivering in winter, sweltering in summer.
No job.
Economy, that evil word.
Country has failed you, after all you gave to them.
Life moves on.
President, trying to lead the people into better times.
'Yes we can.'
What does he know? Can we, really?
Soldiers dying at war,
families without money,
so much sorrow.
Just a typical Sunday,
shooting hoops with the guys,
happy, carefree.
No worries at all.
If the kid was the child of the soldier,
or the son of the President,
if he was touched by poverty,
or understood the ways of the world,
things might be different.
But such is the world we live in.
People dying,
babies being born,
happy,
sad,
sorrow,
laughter,
destruction,
construction,
ice cream,
and basketball.
And life moves on. It always does.
The ball hits the pavement. Bounces. Lies still.
The kid picks it up. Throws.
Hits the backboard, swishes through the hoop.
Basket. Score.
Laughter. Applause. High fives.
People happy. Proud.
Kid beams from ear to ear.
Success.
Silence. Wind swishes through the trees.
Bugs crawl in the underbrush.
birds chirping, quietly.
Silently, they move.
These people, defending their country.
Boom. Noises, shouts, fire.
Gunshots. Worse. Bombs, exploding everywhere.
In 2 minutes it's all over.
Silence once again.
No men survived.
Ice cream, dripping down his arm.
Giggles.
Children, frolicking in the sun. Swimming, on a hot day.
Giddy, happy to be alive.
Life moves on.
Waking up in a hospital bed.
Knowing your family is gone.
You will never walk again.
Your arm was amputated.
Life moves on.
No money. No food. No clothes.
Shivering in winter, sweltering in summer.
No job.
Economy, that evil word.
Country has failed you, after all you gave to them.
Life moves on.
President, trying to lead the people into better times.
'Yes we can.'
What does he know? Can we, really?
Soldiers dying at war,
families without money,
so much sorrow.
Just a typical Sunday,
shooting hoops with the guys,
happy, carefree.
No worries at all.
If the kid was the child of the soldier,
or the son of the President,
if he was touched by poverty,
or understood the ways of the world,
things might be different.
But such is the world we live in.
People dying,
babies being born,
happy,
sad,
sorrow,
laughter,
destruction,
construction,
ice cream,
and basketball.
And life moves on. It always does.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
A rather disconcerting thought
A whole new world of driving has opened up to me. It is so awesome!
And no, I haven't hit anyone or any cars yet. Unfortunately. I had a thought to jam into the car in front of me, but then I decided it might not have good results. Oh well.
Did you know there are actually people up at 9 am?? I did not know this! Maybe I should start waking up earlier to enjoy this phenomenon, instead of the hours in the noontime. Or not.
And no, I haven't hit anyone or any cars yet. Unfortunately. I had a thought to jam into the car in front of me, but then I decided it might not have good results. Oh well.
Did you know there are actually people up at 9 am?? I did not know this! Maybe I should start waking up earlier to enjoy this phenomenon, instead of the hours in the noontime. Or not.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Friendship
'I can't claim to know you, because to know someone is to know their soul, and you have not let me in.'
Why is friendship so hard? You think you know someone, but then you realize, you don't really know them at all.
You care about a person. When they cry, so do you. When they are happy, you can't help but smile. A true friend has a piece of you in them, as you have a part of them in you.
When they go through hard times, you wish you can take their problems on your shoulders, take their hand, lead them through it. You want to make their problems go away, because it hurts you to see them suffer.
But what do you do when they don't let you in? When you know they are going through hard times, but they brush you off, and tell you that everything is fine. But it's not fine, you know that. And they know that too. They just don't want to share it with you. What then?
Do you childishly stalk off in a huff, and say, if they don't need me, then I won't care at all? Do you laugh and make believe everything is fine? Do you stay by them through the hard times, and make sure they know you are there if they need you, even though you are standing out in the cold, on the other side of the closed door?
Is it selfish to want to help them? To want to feel needed?
I read a story once.
There was a girl who went to camp to be a counselor. She never felt needed or wanted. In camp, she met a lovely little girl, and they became close. She felt needed and loved by someone finally. Once, the campers were swimming in the pool, and this little girl started to drown. The counselor, seeing this said, please G-d, let me be the one to save her. She jumped into the pool, and saved the little girl. After that their bond became so much stronger.
Was she selfish in asking G-d that she be the one to save the little girl? To want to be the hero, to be the person to have that special bond with her?
When people go through hard times, they turn to people for help. Friends, and family. They share a bond with the ones that helped them, because they were there for them when they needed someone most.
So is it selfish to want to feel needed, rather than just being a friend no matter what?
But friendship must be a two way street.
And it hurts when they don't let you in.
*That* subject, revisited
http://from-the-holy-land.blogspot.com/2009/05/that-subject.html
Remember this post, dear readers?
Things change. People change. What can you do?
Someone once said, 'Life is hard.' And I say, no, life is not hard. It is the situations in which we find ourselves, and the individual decisions we are forced to make, that make things hard.
Remember this post, dear readers?
Things change. People change. What can you do?
Someone once said, 'Life is hard.' And I say, no, life is not hard. It is the situations in which we find ourselves, and the individual decisions we are forced to make, that make things hard.
Untitled
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
-I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
-Robert Frost
I wait and I wait and still I wait for that time where I can say these lines, and look back to this time, and know that I chose well.
So many decisions.
And still I wait.
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
-I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
-Robert Frost
I wait and I wait and still I wait for that time where I can say these lines, and look back to this time, and know that I chose well.
So many decisions.
And still I wait.
Plans, life, more plans, no plans, no life, it all intertwines
'What is this with us meeting at midnight all the time?' Says my Computer to Me. And Me answers back, 'Well, it has something to do with separation anxiety, a little to do with boredom, and a lot to do with the fact that I have nothing better to do.' 'Oh', says Computer. 'Well then, sit down, enjoy the music, stay awhile.' 'Thank you, kind sir. I think I shall.'
Yes, dear invisible (and quite possibly non-existent) audience of mine. Once again it is after the G-dly hour in which humans are meant to be awake, and slowly approaching the red zone, and yet I'm still sitting here. Some of you may ask why. Others realize that is a dumb question.
My life was very happening recently. Or not happening. A lot happened, but I didn't get much farther. Get it? If I was one to gossip, even about myself, I may fill you in. But I have a strict policy against gossiping, which is, never gossip at an unG-dly hour, because quite possibly you will say stuff you will later regret.
There is this rule of social propriety that says, when you see or speak to a friend or acquaintance that you have not seen in a while, you must ask that number one annoying question. 'So what are you doing next year?' And the number one answer, 'Oh I'm still figuring it out.' Really. Does no one realize that we are all in the same boat? Why do people still ask??? I feel like wearing a sign on my head that says, 'NO! I DON'T know what I'm doing next year so DON'T ASK ME! Come back in a few months, and maybe by then I'll have it all figured out.'
If they ask, do they REALLY expect me to give them the full picture? 'Well I was gonna do shluchus but then I changed my mind. Then I changed my mind again. Now I'm looking for an office job. I got an offer but I don't think I want to take it. And then I changed my mind again. Yes, I know I do that a lot. I was thinking about college. Yes! That evil place that Chassidishe girls don't go to! I'm thinking of going there! Ah, but who ever said I was Chassidish?'
And so the conversation goes. By that time the person regrets ever asking. Why bother?
The clock is ticking, and 'next year' starts in 1 week and 5 days. Oh boy.
Yes, dear invisible (and quite possibly non-existent) audience of mine. Once again it is after the G-dly hour in which humans are meant to be awake, and slowly approaching the red zone, and yet I'm still sitting here. Some of you may ask why. Others realize that is a dumb question.
My life was very happening recently. Or not happening. A lot happened, but I didn't get much farther. Get it? If I was one to gossip, even about myself, I may fill you in. But I have a strict policy against gossiping, which is, never gossip at an unG-dly hour, because quite possibly you will say stuff you will later regret.
There is this rule of social propriety that says, when you see or speak to a friend or acquaintance that you have not seen in a while, you must ask that number one annoying question. 'So what are you doing next year?' And the number one answer, 'Oh I'm still figuring it out.' Really. Does no one realize that we are all in the same boat? Why do people still ask??? I feel like wearing a sign on my head that says, 'NO! I DON'T know what I'm doing next year so DON'T ASK ME! Come back in a few months, and maybe by then I'll have it all figured out.'
If they ask, do they REALLY expect me to give them the full picture? 'Well I was gonna do shluchus but then I changed my mind. Then I changed my mind again. Now I'm looking for an office job. I got an offer but I don't think I want to take it. And then I changed my mind again. Yes, I know I do that a lot. I was thinking about college. Yes! That evil place that Chassidishe girls don't go to! I'm thinking of going there! Ah, but who ever said I was Chassidish?'
And so the conversation goes. By that time the person regrets ever asking. Why bother?
The clock is ticking, and 'next year' starts in 1 week and 5 days. Oh boy.
Monday, August 17, 2009
kids, the subway, and misc
It's like being invaded by an army of little people! I thought camp was over. I was done with all of that. I came home, the house is quiet, and then- bam! It is filled with kids! B"H. They are very cute. (I have to say that, their parents are reading this!)
My bathroom is filled with hampers of kids clothes, the bathtub has little boats floating around, and it's an obstacle course in my room just to get to my bed.
They smile at me, and give me shy looks. They don't know me yet. But I'll bet that by the end of the week I will have made four new friends. Ah, the joys of having kids around again. I have almost forgotten. And yet I thank G-d that I don't have any of my own. I'm not ready for that just yet...
On another note: I was on the subway today. Yes, the pride and joy, the heart even, of New York City. The glorious smells, the heat, the rats, and the people. So many people. If it's not rush hour, and you are lucky, you might get a seat. If you are EXTRA lucky, you won't have to sit near anyone.
Otherwise, you get squished next to someone anyone, and get their glorious sweat all over you. Or their bad oder in your face. So you jam your earphones in, listen to your blasting music, try to look bored and disinterested, like all the other robots riding the subway, and pray that the ride is over very soon.
There are certain codes in the subway system. If you know them, you follow them. The number one rule- you do not make eye contact with any other train goers under any circumstances. This can spell bad results for you.
Rule number 2: when a preacher for Jesus comes into the car, you feign sleep, or read a newspaper, or listen to music. If you appear interested, he will realize he has an audience, and he won't be quiet.
If people are selling snacks, don't take out money. If they are collecting money, don't take out money. You never know if there is a purse snatcher near you.
I love reading the billboards on the subway. Sometimes they have very good quotes, or interesting adverts.
All in all, the subway is a whole world on it's own. And I always say, I'm never really home until I've taken a ride on the subway.
My bathroom is filled with hampers of kids clothes, the bathtub has little boats floating around, and it's an obstacle course in my room just to get to my bed.
They smile at me, and give me shy looks. They don't know me yet. But I'll bet that by the end of the week I will have made four new friends. Ah, the joys of having kids around again. I have almost forgotten. And yet I thank G-d that I don't have any of my own. I'm not ready for that just yet...
On another note: I was on the subway today. Yes, the pride and joy, the heart even, of New York City. The glorious smells, the heat, the rats, and the people. So many people. If it's not rush hour, and you are lucky, you might get a seat. If you are EXTRA lucky, you won't have to sit near anyone.
Otherwise, you get squished next to someone anyone, and get their glorious sweat all over you. Or their bad oder in your face. So you jam your earphones in, listen to your blasting music, try to look bored and disinterested, like all the other robots riding the subway, and pray that the ride is over very soon.
There are certain codes in the subway system. If you know them, you follow them. The number one rule- you do not make eye contact with any other train goers under any circumstances. This can spell bad results for you.
Rule number 2: when a preacher for Jesus comes into the car, you feign sleep, or read a newspaper, or listen to music. If you appear interested, he will realize he has an audience, and he won't be quiet.
If people are selling snacks, don't take out money. If they are collecting money, don't take out money. You never know if there is a purse snatcher near you.
I love reading the billboards on the subway. Sometimes they have very good quotes, or interesting adverts.
All in all, the subway is a whole world on it's own. And I always say, I'm never really home until I've taken a ride on the subway.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Why be a follower
You go with the flow,
you move like they do,
talk when they talk,
walk when they walk,
mimic them.
When they say jump,
you say how high.
When they tell you to swim,
you jump right in.
Cuz they seem to know what they are talking about.
You look to them for direction,
when you are lost.
You turn to them for answers,
when you have questions.
Cuz they are smart like that.
Or so you think.
But now you are not sure.
You question.
You observe.
You see that things are not as they seem.
They are not who you thought they were.
Cuz really, they are just like you.
One big question mark,
disguised in a body.
Stumbling along, same as you,
looking for answers.
So why follow them?
Why follow the blind when you are blind yourself?
Why turn to others for answers?
Who needs them?
They can't help you.
So you stop.
You turn.
You leave.
You find your own path.
Cuz you were following people all along,
until you realized,
that they were just following you.
you move like they do,
talk when they talk,
walk when they walk,
mimic them.
When they say jump,
you say how high.
When they tell you to swim,
you jump right in.
Cuz they seem to know what they are talking about.
You look to them for direction,
when you are lost.
You turn to them for answers,
when you have questions.
Cuz they are smart like that.
Or so you think.
But now you are not sure.
You question.
You observe.
You see that things are not as they seem.
They are not who you thought they were.
Cuz really, they are just like you.
One big question mark,
disguised in a body.
Stumbling along, same as you,
looking for answers.
So why follow them?
Why follow the blind when you are blind yourself?
Why turn to others for answers?
Who needs them?
They can't help you.
So you stop.
You turn.
You leave.
You find your own path.
Cuz you were following people all along,
until you realized,
that they were just following you.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
What to do
You mock other people when you see it happen to them. You pity them, the fools that they are, to think that something like that is actually real, that they will be happy from it. You swear to yourself that it will never happen to you, not in a million years. You will never be one of those blubbering fools, you will not be that stupid, you won't ever go down that road, because you know where it leads, and you know you don't want to go there.
The path is not straight. There is no straight path. Maybe in the land of make-believe, but here in reality, the path is crooked as sin, and it is up to us humans to stumble along, in the dark, and try to figure it out.
But what if you can't? What if you are leaning so far over the water, and you can't return to dry land? What if there's a branch hanging down, but it is just out of your reach? Nothing can save you now.
What if you used to have it right, it was all so clear, but then your vision blurred? Society mocked you. You changed your mind. No, it just changed of it's own accord, gradually, you never even realized it was happening.
In the end of the day, it is no one's fault but your own. There are never enough excuses you can give, nothing that will defend your actions, or condone them.
In the beginning of the day, what are you supposed to do about it?
You can be smart, you can be logical, you can be analytical, or all three- and there is no way it's gonna help you in the long run.
The path is not straight. There is no straight path. Maybe in the land of make-believe, but here in reality, the path is crooked as sin, and it is up to us humans to stumble along, in the dark, and try to figure it out.
But what if you can't? What if you are leaning so far over the water, and you can't return to dry land? What if there's a branch hanging down, but it is just out of your reach? Nothing can save you now.
What if you used to have it right, it was all so clear, but then your vision blurred? Society mocked you. You changed your mind. No, it just changed of it's own accord, gradually, you never even realized it was happening.
In the end of the day, it is no one's fault but your own. There are never enough excuses you can give, nothing that will defend your actions, or condone them.
In the beginning of the day, what are you supposed to do about it?
You can be smart, you can be logical, you can be analytical, or all three- and there is no way it's gonna help you in the long run.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Nothing is forever
I wrote this story, a few weeks ago. Some of you may have read it. This is a work of fiction. It reflects my thoughts on the matter of death, but in no way is it suicidal. Don't bother me about that. Just enjoy the story.
I watched, from a safe distance, because I was curious to know what would happen, how they would react. At first, there was a lot of confusion. They didn’t know who I was. That was obvious, and expected, but still, I always wished I was some famous person, and they wouldn’t even have to look, they would just know it was me.
They tried administering CPR. The EMT was really cute, I might have hit on him if I was conscious. They tried to save me, I know they did. He would not have let me die. But it was useless. I was already gone, because I was here.
They searched me, looking for identification. They found my wallet, my license. That horrible picture of me, that I swore on the day I got it that no one but an officer of the law would ever see it. And even then, I’d try hard not to have to show it unless necessary.
They noted my home address, and phone number. Now would come the hard part.
They slowly pulled the white sheet up, over my body. I watched in awe, in shock, confusion. So that was it. That was how it all ended. I wasn’t ready to go, not just yet. But it was too late.
I was loaded onto the ambulance, and they gently shut the doors. They didn’t rush me to the hospital. There was no need.
An officer reluctantly knocked on the front door of my house. That perfect, yellow little house, with the flagstone path, the white picket fence, the tree that I had fallen from, and broken my arm. It was too perfect for my liking. That house that I was never really happy in.
Dad opened the door. His face registered annoyance, apprehension, suspicion, anxiety, in that order. The officer politely asked if he could step inside, and Dad, being the gracious host that he was, moved aside and let him in.
They sat there together, Mom and Dad, hands clasped, knowing there was bad news, but not wanting to hear it. Mom twisted her fingers, like she does when she is nervous. Dad sat still as a stone, being strong for the both of them, as always. So picture perfect. Except I was missing.
‘There’s been an accident’, the officer said. ‘A car came swerving out of no where, and hit Ella’s car full on. We tried to save her, but were unable to. I’m sorry. Ella is dead.’
No. That single syllable was whispered by Dad. Mom was frozen in place. Her face was a mask of shock, and denial. She offered the officer a drink. Cake. Food. Anything. He just stood up, and apologized, then left. Ya, he said he was sorry for dropping the news on my parents that their only daughter was dead. Gone, forever. Sorry? Too little too late.
Dad cried. Dad. A solid rock. I’ve never seen him cry, ever. There were tears coursing down his cheeks, but no sound came out of his mouth. Mom still hadn’t moved from her chair. She just kept whispering, over and over, ‘it can’t be true. Ella’s supposed to be home soon. No. it can’t be.’ Again and again she whispered. And I wanted to shake her. For once, Mom, stop denying the truth! Yes, bad things do happen, even to perfect little families like ours.
And Dad, he did the one thing I really wanted to do at the moment. He screamed. Dad never screams. ‘She’s dead! Ella is dead! Why can’t you believe that? She’s not coming back. Not today, not tomorrow. Ever! Stop kidding yourself. You’ve lied to yourself your whole life. Maybe that’s what got her killed.’
No, no. Don’t fight now. Not at a time like this. Please, just stop! They never stop. Always fighting. Always screaming. Maybe I am better off dead. I wanted to scream, but of course they couldn’t hear me.
And then Mom cried. And cried. Loud, wailing, soul rending sobs, that went on and on, and never seemed to stop. Dad pulled her into a rough embrace, and together they cried. He held her so tight, and she clung to him, her life saver, as it always was.
And me? I cried with them. The rain poured down, hit the window pane, and slid down in slow, mournful tracks. Yes, I cried too.
I caused them pain in life, and now, I caused them grief in death.
Life is hard. Sometimes it is so so hard, there seems to be no way to go on, and ending it looks like the only way. But death is harder. It is not so simple. It does not solve anything.
I was scared of what would come. I was sad to be leaving. Yes, souls can feel emotions in death too. Who would come to my funeral? Would anyone show up at all? Who would feed my dog, Foxy? Would Mom stop buying Reeses puffs, my favorite cereal? Would anyone else ever sit in my chair at the table? Or sleep in my bed? Would a stranger take down all my posters, the one of Harry Potter, and Will Smith, which I kiss every night?
I knew there were a lot of changes, but I wasn’t sure what to expect.
I went to my funeral. I watched as they lowered my coffin into the cold, hard earth. I felt like screaming. No, stop. I’m, still here. Don’t let me go. Don’t leave me. I didn’t want to be buried, I hate tight, small spaces. They creep me out. But of course, they couldn’t hear me.
I tsked at their choice of attire. Black. So boring. I always imagined people in bright, gay colors by my funeral. I imagined balloons, flowers, maybe chocolate.
There was a big turnout. My best friend, Rachel was there. I wanted to apologize. We just had a huge fight last week, and I never got a chance to say I was sorry. I was waiting for her to say it first. Well, she seemed regretful enough now, as she cried and cried.
Big nosed Billy came, and we hated each other since first grade. Max was there. He used to bully me, and steal my lunch. And of course, Andrew, my secret crush, he was there too. They all came. And that made me happy.
But it also made me realize, there is no going back, no chance to fix things. After it is over, it is really over.
Mom cried, but it seemed liker Dad was all cried out.
Afterwards, in the house, I watched as they tried to get back into daily schedule, resume normal activities, tried to move on, and forget. That’s what scared me the most. That they would forget. That I would slip away from them, fade, until I became just a distant memory.
I was scared that my scent would fade, that my face would blur, and my voice would become distorted. That they wouldn’t remember me anymore, or wouldn’t be bothered to try.
One night, a week after the accident, I saw Mom take out a picture of me. She sat there, staring at it for hours. She traced the lines of my face, my eyes, my smile. She kissed it. She smiled, through her tears. She whispered, and I leaned in close to hear her.
‘A gift. G-d gave me a gift. I thank Him for the years we had together, and don’t regret a minute of it. Just know, wherever you are, that I love you so much. I’ve always loved you, even when we fought, and you thought I hated you. I’ll always love you, as long as I live. So go in peace. Sit by G-d’s throne. Say hello to Grandma Jill, uncle Joey, and everyone else. I’ll never forget you, you will always be in my heart.’
I wanted to cry, but no tears came. I leaned in, and embraced her. I think she felt my presence, knew I was here with her. And though I’ve left, physically, I never really went anywhere.
No, death is not easy. It is a painful thing. It makes the living realize how short life is, and how little control they really have. It makes the dead realize their regrets, and know they can never go back.
Life isn’t easy, love isn’t easy, none of it is. But it is something we all must go through.
I felt at peace for the first time. I said goodbye. I knew everything would be ok now. And though I missed them so much, missed being alive, doing things only a body is capable of, I knew that a soul is more free. Uninhibited.
The dead are gone, and the living, well, they have to learn how to deal with it, and move on.
I’ll be back sometime. I know I will. Nothing is forever.
I watched, from a safe distance, because I was curious to know what would happen, how they would react. At first, there was a lot of confusion. They didn’t know who I was. That was obvious, and expected, but still, I always wished I was some famous person, and they wouldn’t even have to look, they would just know it was me.
They tried administering CPR. The EMT was really cute, I might have hit on him if I was conscious. They tried to save me, I know they did. He would not have let me die. But it was useless. I was already gone, because I was here.
They searched me, looking for identification. They found my wallet, my license. That horrible picture of me, that I swore on the day I got it that no one but an officer of the law would ever see it. And even then, I’d try hard not to have to show it unless necessary.
They noted my home address, and phone number. Now would come the hard part.
They slowly pulled the white sheet up, over my body. I watched in awe, in shock, confusion. So that was it. That was how it all ended. I wasn’t ready to go, not just yet. But it was too late.
I was loaded onto the ambulance, and they gently shut the doors. They didn’t rush me to the hospital. There was no need.
An officer reluctantly knocked on the front door of my house. That perfect, yellow little house, with the flagstone path, the white picket fence, the tree that I had fallen from, and broken my arm. It was too perfect for my liking. That house that I was never really happy in.
Dad opened the door. His face registered annoyance, apprehension, suspicion, anxiety, in that order. The officer politely asked if he could step inside, and Dad, being the gracious host that he was, moved aside and let him in.
They sat there together, Mom and Dad, hands clasped, knowing there was bad news, but not wanting to hear it. Mom twisted her fingers, like she does when she is nervous. Dad sat still as a stone, being strong for the both of them, as always. So picture perfect. Except I was missing.
‘There’s been an accident’, the officer said. ‘A car came swerving out of no where, and hit Ella’s car full on. We tried to save her, but were unable to. I’m sorry. Ella is dead.’
No. That single syllable was whispered by Dad. Mom was frozen in place. Her face was a mask of shock, and denial. She offered the officer a drink. Cake. Food. Anything. He just stood up, and apologized, then left. Ya, he said he was sorry for dropping the news on my parents that their only daughter was dead. Gone, forever. Sorry? Too little too late.
Dad cried. Dad. A solid rock. I’ve never seen him cry, ever. There were tears coursing down his cheeks, but no sound came out of his mouth. Mom still hadn’t moved from her chair. She just kept whispering, over and over, ‘it can’t be true. Ella’s supposed to be home soon. No. it can’t be.’ Again and again she whispered. And I wanted to shake her. For once, Mom, stop denying the truth! Yes, bad things do happen, even to perfect little families like ours.
And Dad, he did the one thing I really wanted to do at the moment. He screamed. Dad never screams. ‘She’s dead! Ella is dead! Why can’t you believe that? She’s not coming back. Not today, not tomorrow. Ever! Stop kidding yourself. You’ve lied to yourself your whole life. Maybe that’s what got her killed.’
No, no. Don’t fight now. Not at a time like this. Please, just stop! They never stop. Always fighting. Always screaming. Maybe I am better off dead. I wanted to scream, but of course they couldn’t hear me.
And then Mom cried. And cried. Loud, wailing, soul rending sobs, that went on and on, and never seemed to stop. Dad pulled her into a rough embrace, and together they cried. He held her so tight, and she clung to him, her life saver, as it always was.
And me? I cried with them. The rain poured down, hit the window pane, and slid down in slow, mournful tracks. Yes, I cried too.
I caused them pain in life, and now, I caused them grief in death.
Life is hard. Sometimes it is so so hard, there seems to be no way to go on, and ending it looks like the only way. But death is harder. It is not so simple. It does not solve anything.
I was scared of what would come. I was sad to be leaving. Yes, souls can feel emotions in death too. Who would come to my funeral? Would anyone show up at all? Who would feed my dog, Foxy? Would Mom stop buying Reeses puffs, my favorite cereal? Would anyone else ever sit in my chair at the table? Or sleep in my bed? Would a stranger take down all my posters, the one of Harry Potter, and Will Smith, which I kiss every night?
I knew there were a lot of changes, but I wasn’t sure what to expect.
I went to my funeral. I watched as they lowered my coffin into the cold, hard earth. I felt like screaming. No, stop. I’m, still here. Don’t let me go. Don’t leave me. I didn’t want to be buried, I hate tight, small spaces. They creep me out. But of course, they couldn’t hear me.
I tsked at their choice of attire. Black. So boring. I always imagined people in bright, gay colors by my funeral. I imagined balloons, flowers, maybe chocolate.
There was a big turnout. My best friend, Rachel was there. I wanted to apologize. We just had a huge fight last week, and I never got a chance to say I was sorry. I was waiting for her to say it first. Well, she seemed regretful enough now, as she cried and cried.
Big nosed Billy came, and we hated each other since first grade. Max was there. He used to bully me, and steal my lunch. And of course, Andrew, my secret crush, he was there too. They all came. And that made me happy.
But it also made me realize, there is no going back, no chance to fix things. After it is over, it is really over.
Mom cried, but it seemed liker Dad was all cried out.
Afterwards, in the house, I watched as they tried to get back into daily schedule, resume normal activities, tried to move on, and forget. That’s what scared me the most. That they would forget. That I would slip away from them, fade, until I became just a distant memory.
I was scared that my scent would fade, that my face would blur, and my voice would become distorted. That they wouldn’t remember me anymore, or wouldn’t be bothered to try.
One night, a week after the accident, I saw Mom take out a picture of me. She sat there, staring at it for hours. She traced the lines of my face, my eyes, my smile. She kissed it. She smiled, through her tears. She whispered, and I leaned in close to hear her.
‘A gift. G-d gave me a gift. I thank Him for the years we had together, and don’t regret a minute of it. Just know, wherever you are, that I love you so much. I’ve always loved you, even when we fought, and you thought I hated you. I’ll always love you, as long as I live. So go in peace. Sit by G-d’s throne. Say hello to Grandma Jill, uncle Joey, and everyone else. I’ll never forget you, you will always be in my heart.’
I wanted to cry, but no tears came. I leaned in, and embraced her. I think she felt my presence, knew I was here with her. And though I’ve left, physically, I never really went anywhere.
No, death is not easy. It is a painful thing. It makes the living realize how short life is, and how little control they really have. It makes the dead realize their regrets, and know they can never go back.
Life isn’t easy, love isn’t easy, none of it is. But it is something we all must go through.
I felt at peace for the first time. I said goodbye. I knew everything would be ok now. And though I missed them so much, missed being alive, doing things only a body is capable of, I knew that a soul is more free. Uninhibited.
The dead are gone, and the living, well, they have to learn how to deal with it, and move on.
I’ll be back sometime. I know I will. Nothing is forever.
Finally!
In my tirednessness state of mind, I must now venture into the world of driving. That's it folks!! In a half hour, I will be having my 1st ever driving lesson! Stay off the roads!
Just a tip: don't tell the driving instructor that you went to sleep at 3 am, and you are extremely tired. It might not work very well in your favor.
Wish me luck. Au revoire!
Just a tip: don't tell the driving instructor that you went to sleep at 3 am, and you are extremely tired. It might not work very well in your favor.
Wish me luck. Au revoire!
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Why?
If your own life is so miserable that you see no way out, if you are so depressed that there seems to be no other solution, if no one understands you, and you are locked in a prison of misery and pain, then go ahead, and take the easy way out. Pick up the gun and shoot yourself. That is your own choice to make, though it is a stupid and cowardly one. But of course, no one said we must do the right and honorary thing in this world.
But to take someone else's life as well- that is just plain selfish. Who gave you the right to kill? To murder innocent children, teachers, students? Who told you that it is ok, in your anger, to pick up a gun and shoot, to run and hunt, to search until there is no one left but you? And in the end, you finish your own life too. So why? Why must you be so selfish?
Let them live. What have they done to you? Looked at you in the wrong way? Sneered when you walked by? Or worse, looked through you as if you were not there at all. No one likes to be ignored, least of all you. It hurts, yes. And you have this need for revenge. For that ultimately satisfying feeling of making someone else share your pain. You do not want to be alone in your suffering. So you force others to feel it too. To hurt so bad that they have blood pouring out of them. To kneel on the floor in excruciating pain, till the life drains out of them. And that makes you feel better?? To watch someone else suffer, as you have?
For you it is already too late. If you do not want to get help, to stretch out a hand and let someone know that you are in pain, then that is your decision. You must account for your own actions, and no one can help you but yourself.
But to take someone else's life too- who gave you that right??
But to take someone else's life as well- that is just plain selfish. Who gave you the right to kill? To murder innocent children, teachers, students? Who told you that it is ok, in your anger, to pick up a gun and shoot, to run and hunt, to search until there is no one left but you? And in the end, you finish your own life too. So why? Why must you be so selfish?
Let them live. What have they done to you? Looked at you in the wrong way? Sneered when you walked by? Or worse, looked through you as if you were not there at all. No one likes to be ignored, least of all you. It hurts, yes. And you have this need for revenge. For that ultimately satisfying feeling of making someone else share your pain. You do not want to be alone in your suffering. So you force others to feel it too. To hurt so bad that they have blood pouring out of them. To kneel on the floor in excruciating pain, till the life drains out of them. And that makes you feel better?? To watch someone else suffer, as you have?
For you it is already too late. If you do not want to get help, to stretch out a hand and let someone know that you are in pain, then that is your decision. You must account for your own actions, and no one can help you but yourself.
But to take someone else's life too- who gave you that right??
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