Scars on my body, scars on my soul

This article has been published in The Jewish Press

The scars on my body you can see.

The one on my arm where I burned myself. And on my chin, from the hot tomato sauce that splashed.

The one over my eye where the door banged into it.

The one on my elbow from when I fell off my bike.

The one on my leg I got from cutting myself while shaving.

The one that I believe I got as a child from an operation.

The scars on my body you can see.
They don't make me who I am,
but they are a part of me.

The scars on my soul are hidden. I can hide them with a smile, or a laugh.

I can cover them up with a life well lived.

I can conceal them from my friends and family, sometimes even from myself.

The scars on my soul are so well hidden, sometimes even I don't know that they are there. I would have to look at my soul under a microscope to determine where I got each scar from, and how deep they are.

The scars on my body you can see.

When I am in pain, you know it. You see it clearly on my face. You can offer a comforting word, a hug, or just ignore it, as you yourself would wish others to do.

But what of the scars on my soul?

When my soul is in pain, you do not see it. When I am crying inside, you do not know.

Do I wish that each and every thing I go through every day, and throughout life, were stamped on my face? Do I wish that you knew how I was feeling without me telling you so?

But some things are not meant to be shared.

The scars on my body you can see.

But the scars on my soul may run so deep, and from looking at me, you would never know that they were there.

The month of Cheshvan

I wanted to know why the month of Cheshvan is called "MarCheshvan". Why is it referred to as bitter? I googled it and came up with this:


It is known that the month of Cheshvan is known as “Mar” Cheshvan, bitter Cheshvan, because of its lack of holidays. Why is it that this month is so empty of holidays?

Rav Kook, in Meged Yerachim, writes for the Month of Cheshvan: “When the soul is illuminating, even a cloudy sky can give bright light” (rough translation).

The message is clear. After the intense month of Tishrei where almost every day has special significance and where we continuously grow, now we are put to test. What are we going to do in a regular, day to day, life? How will we react in a month devoid of holidays?

We can look at that month as a cloudy and dark month. Or, we can recognize the fact that its cloudy but also that it hides some deep light behind the clouds. And when our soul is illuminated after such an intense month of growth, we can attain this light even through the clouds.

The light of the Month of Cheshvan is very deep. Most of the time, the deeper the thing, the harder it is to get to it, the less obvious it is. May all our preparations of the month of Tishrei give us enough strength to find the light inside the month of Cheshvan. Chodesh Tov!

Written by: Dan Illouz


I am of course saying the prayer "mashiv haruach umorid hageshem" in shmonei esrei, even if I don't really enjoy the rain so much. I think it is meant to benifit Israel more then us, but even so it has been a rainy past few weeks.

Today I went shopping for a winter coat. As I drove home I noticed how the leaves had changed colors. I don't usually pay attention to that. They are a very pretty shade of red now, as opposed to the generally green color. But it is a dreary feeling.

The cold weather, coupled with the fact that I am tired and coming down with a cold, makes me want to curl up in bed with a sweatshirt and socks on and a hot cup of tea.

Tomorrow morning, each girl will get a cup of powerade on her desk with a label that says: "Good morning! Today is Yud Zayin Cheshvan. The day the mabul started!"

Happy rainy season.

Interview with G-d

That little fish

I say goodnight to him every time I pass him in the hallway. He may be a she for all I know. I never call it by its name. I don’t even know if it has a name. So I keep it gender friendly and say “goodnight little fishy”. I don’t know if it is a boy fish or a girl fish. I suppose I could make up a name for him, maybe call him Fred, or perhaps Thelma. But for some reason Fishy seems to suit him just fine.

He watches me with his eyes wide open. Sometimes he turns away like he doesn’t want to look at me. Maybe he is moody. Or maybe he is lonely. In any case, I bet I know what goes through his mind every time he sees me walking by. “So why is she at school this late?” Well, I could explain to Mr. Fishy that it has something to do with the fact that the dorm doesn’t have internet, plus I have things to do, but I don’t think he would quite understand, or care for that matter.

They told me that there used to be more fish in the tank. But I guess they died somewhere along the way. Now it is just Mr. Fishy. When the lights are all off and the school is quiet, it is just Mr. Fishy and me. And then I leave, and he is all alone. But I tell him I’ll see him tomorrow. I wonder how long Mr. Fishy will be around for.

When I was little I had a pet goldfish. We gave him away to a family friend who had lots of other fish. I suppose that fish died sometime in the prime of his life. And that is why I don't want to have a pet fish.

I hope all of you find a Mr. Fishy to go through life with.

Three doors down

No more of my 2 am posts, as much fun as those were. I am a night owl at heart. My natural instinct is to stay up until the late hours of the night, and then sleep. in. But no more, because I have a job now.

I used to wish that I could be anywhere else in the world than where I was. Florida maybe. Or California. Or Hawaii, or for a change of pace maybe even Switzerland. All very appealing destinations, the main reason being that they were not here. That was in the days when I couldn't stand being in class, couldn't wait to get out of school, wanted tomorrow and next week and next year to come faster.

There is a point in your life when you have to stop wishing for your life to go by faster, and just learn to take each day and each moment as it comes.

I no longer wish to be anywhere else but here. Right now, I want to be here, because here is where I am meant to be.

10/10/10

Today is 10-10-10. The 10th day in the 10th month of the year 2010. It is a cool sequence when you stop and realize it, and it only comes once every year. The first time someone pointed it out to me was in the year 2003, when the sequence waas 03/03/03. That was seven years ago.

Someone told me that every time the clock is at 10:10, or 11:11, or 12:12, (I don't know if it works for 1:01, or 2:02, etc.) you can make a wish. Of course, this sounds like one of those made up teenage shtus, and I doubt it even has a proper source. Then again, you can make a wish anytime you want, that doesn't mean it will come true.

But if it were true, then I'm pretty sure a day like today would have more power.

I recently passed a milestone. It has been a year and three days since I got my license. I am a good driver, if I do say so myself. Oh how much has happened this past year...

Sometime in November it will be 2 years since I started my blog. And I am almost up to 400 posts. Not too shabby.

Today we are going hiking. I will enjoy myself. It is nice weather out.

If any of you believe that you can truly make a wish today, then go ahead. And have me in mind.

I know what I would wish for.

Glorious cupcakes

Winter, and other stuff

The air is fresh and I breath in big lungfuls of it. This is heaven to me. It rained last night, and it is still raining lightly today. I stand outside on the wet grass in my boots and sweatshirt and smile. I stand under the trees, mostly shielded from the rain with little droplets falling on my face. I can sit here forever. This is bliss.

I am not looking forward to the winter. Winter is a depressing time for me, when the sun sets early in the day, when the trees lose its leaves and turn brown and bare, when everyone stays inside huddled by the fireplace, instead of going out and having a good time. It is a time of hibernation, a time of sleep.

The only thing I like about winter is the snow. Snow is a beautiful thing. It is pure and fresh, it makes everything look clean and new, and it is so silent. Whenever it snows it feels like the world is hushed, holding its breath.

I look forward to the spring again. Spring, a time of renewal, of revival.

I always wonder what it would be like if I lived in a place with a warm climate all year round. If the winter had no meaning to me, if my life wasn't ruled by the weather outside, if I didn't have to wear a winter coat and boots when I went outside, or a sweatshirt and socks to bed. Would my life be so boring if I had nothing to complain about? Would humans have anything to talk about?

(Guy behind counter at starbucks): "Sure is cold outside today."
(Customer): grunts "Sure is. Took me forever to git ma car out of de snow. Ya know. Sure wid be nice not to have te git up early every day to shovel ma car out and warm it up. Ain't no fun driving to work freezin ma buns off."

What would they have to talk about if it was sunny and warm all the time?

In other news: I got promoted to chef. Now I will be cooking dinner every night for the dorm girls and I. It is fun, I enjoy cooking, and if gives me something to fill my day.

In addition, I will be the davening monitor once a week for the 7th and 8th grade girls.

Life is good here in Orange Connecticut.

Stripped bare

Simchas Torah is a guys holiday. So don't ask me how my Simchas Torah was.

I brave the streets, weaving in and out of groups of guys singing enthusiastically, trying not to bump into them or worse, be bumped into 'by accident'. Every once in awhile, all heads turn at the sound of some extremely drunk guy breaking into song, or jumping on his friend's back for the fun of it. The word 'lechaim' is on their lips, and the smell to go along with it.

I walk on Eastern Parkway and gingerly step over piles of throw up. I sit on a bench and watch Hatzalah go by with their sirens on, and then return speeding in the opposite direction and I wonder, who's father/son/husband/brother/friend is passed out this time?

I attempt to go into 770 to watch the dancing, but I don't get very far. The place is packed with Israelis, and lots of other girls. I stand on my tip toes, but even then I can hardly see above the heads of the girls standing on benches. I see a swarm of black hats, and hear the singing, which is very loud. It's hard to explain how I feel. This is familiar to me, the scene, the color scheme, (black and white being the predominant colors). I feel at home here, and yet I hate being a spectator. It is just for holidays like these that I wish I was a little girl again, on the shoulders of my father or brothers; or better, that I was born a guy. They always seem to have more fun.

My claustrophobia kicks in and I have to leave. Reluctantly, because I do wish I could be a part of this experience. I stand on the plaza until even that is too much for me. I cross the street and sit on a bench with my friend, watching scores of guys standing around outside 770.

It strikes me as ironic that the loudest guys, the guys who are standing on the street corner linking arms and singing ani maamen, the guys who stand out the most, are the ones who are not dressed so conservatively, the ones who shallow people (I admit to sometimes being in that category) would be quick to label as 'not so frum'. I wonder if they are trying to get attention, or if they are truly expressing their inner feelings and beliefs, namely, that they do believe in G-d and all that is holy.

It is times like these that I abhor the labels we tend to stick on everyone. Imagine if we could see everyone like a negative- a photo before it is developed. We would all look eerie and weird and creepy, like when you tilt a picture and it looks like an x-ray. But that is when everyone looks the same. We are all equal on the inside, are we not? Maybe not, but that is not for you or me to judge.

If we were all stripped bare, then how would we be able to judge each other? Outer appearance constitutes so much of how we label each other. Sometimes it is so tedious and takes up way more time then just saying, "Hi I'm Altie nice to meet you, what's your name?". I have to remind myself constantly to not jump to conclusions about people.

Back to the topic of guys- I am happy that they get a yom tov where they get to let out all their energy in a positive way, where they get to strip their inhibitions, take off the masks and just show their true selves and feelings. If music is the pen of the soul, then singing is the souls way of communicating. It is a beautiful concept to sing and express what you can't say in words. (If any guy wants to step in and veto me here feel free to. I can't say that I've ever been a guy.)

Maybe I will be different next year. No, I don't mean that I will turn into a guy. But maybe I will be able to internalize the yom tov so that it won't be 'just a guys yom tov' in my head. Or maybe I won't change my way of thinking, but I'll have someone on the men's side to keep my eye on and smile proudly and say "he's mine".

My sukkos, etc etc etc

This is how I started my post Sunday night:

Here's how I know I'm growing up- it's 8 PM, I'm dead tired and craving my bed, I've been up since 7 am, it's chol hamoade and I have no interest in going to the simchas bais hashuava, or a concert, or an amusement park, and above all- I've dealt with kids all day and I've had enough. There is that niggling doubt every once in awhile that says 'hey, if you can't even deal with kids now, how are you going to have your own?' But these are not my kids, and I hope G-d will give me the strength when I have my own.

This is how I would have started it Monday night:

Oh what a day. Five kids, and some food, in a car, going on a chol hamoade trip to Fun Time America. I get to play Mommy for a day. We got lost and looped around the same highway three times until I realized we weren't lost and that was indeed the right way. Finally we got there only to see that the place was packed with.... Jews!!! Frum Jews of all sizes, with kids kids kids. Oh boy, but I was so not gonna stuff the kids back into the car to go find somewhere else to go. So we waited on line for half an hour, me having to hear that people were skipping us and not being able to do anything about it. Finally we paid and went inside...

Now I am watching only one kid, leaving the 2 younger ones to go around with the 2 older ones. So me and Child go to jungle gym, and I can't go with him cuz it says kids ages 2-12 only... He goes in by himself and a little while later I see Child crying his eyes out cuz he got lost inside the jungle gym and can't find his way out... my throat constricts with tears, and I feel anxious cuz I can't get to him. I look around for a kid, maybe to ask them to go help Child get out. I contemplate going in myself, but then Child comes down the slide. Trouble averted. I give him a sandwich and he is happy.

Some rides and arcades and lots of prize tickets later I am exhausted and ready to call it a day. Food, drinks, bathroom. Time to make our way to the prize counter, another hurdle I am not looking forward to. I leave it up to the oldest kid, who is 10. Tell him, make sure everyone gets a prize and no one cries. Finally, back to the car.

It is raining out, I realize I forgot to print directions back to the house, I don't have a GPS. Luckily, we figured out how to get home, in considerably less time then it took us to get there, and we didn't get lost.

Along the way: I have to hear how "how come she got 3 prizes and we only got one?" in a whiny voice. One kid unbuckles his seat belt, they are having a merry good time back there, I can't drive like this. I pull over, left him on the side of the road, demand that the kid put his seat belt back on, get back in the car, drive off.

I told the parents maybe I'll come back to visit in, oh, two years. Oh what a day.

(Disclaimer: I do love these kids and I love going there. Of course, I have to say that cuz if their mother or any of her sisters read this, they will call up the mother, ask her what she did to me that was so horrible, she will call me and I will never hear the end of it.)

Monday night I went to Simchas Bais Hashuava in Crown Heights, my first time this year. I stayed until 6 am, which was good because I didn't have a bed to sleep in at home, what with all the people there and all.

I was gonna go away for the second days of Yom Tov, but now I'm not, cuz the family I was going to is sick with strep. My family is going to Monsey to stay with my sister and bro-in-law and niece. So I am going to be home alone. I am quite looking forward. (My father already warned me: no parties, no people over, no guys or girls... I said, I'm gonna be anti-social, read, relax, sleep, you know.)

I have not done much with my Sukkos vacation, besides all of the above, plus chillin with my niece the first days. She is awfully cute. My whole plan for chol hamoade was to get glasses, and even that I didn't do. I go back to Connecticut on Sunday, and then I'll be there for about a month.

So there's a little update on my life. I felt you deserved to know since I haven't blogged in 2 weeks. Bet you missed me.

Have a good yom tov everyone, and watch the alcohol consumption on Simchas Torah. I don't need any guys bumping into me 'by accident' cuz they are inebriated.

Now raise your cup and say- lechaim.

Turkey in the yard

A view from my window

How great are Your people

Hope y'all had a great yom tov.

I decided this year I am not going to write a post-Rosh Hashana post, as I did in previous years. I am not going to exclaim how I don't want to look at food anymore in my life, I am not going to say whether the davening was moving or not, whether I now feel cleansed and refreshed and ready for a new year.

No- all of that I didn't feel like writing about this year. So why then am I writing a blog post? Because I have one thing to say-

G-d, how great are your children, the people of Israel.

In shul on yom tov, a man was standing at the bima for his aliyah to the Torah. He was standing there quietly when his cell phone rang. He took it out sheepishly and turned it off. I was struck by the irony of the two extremes.

That's how great Your people are. They know how important Rosh Hashana is, and so they come to shul, cell phones, cars and all. But they come. That is the main part.

And if they could be there, then who am I to complain how long and tiring the davening is?

Happy new year.

Happy and spiritual Rosh Hashana

Yes, the holidays are coming.

Since I don't have my own home, this doesn't mean much physical preparations for me. I don't have to cook, I don't have to clean, and since I am going to be a guest at someone's house for yom tov, I don't have to do much of anything.

So I sit here and reflect on the past year. And I am scared.

I consider my relationship with G-d a good one. Perhaps I am fooling myself. Most likely that is the case. This is not confessionals, so I don't have to spill my guts to you, but I know what I have done, or not done in the past year. I know that some days I have not davened. Is talking to G-d one on one in English considered praying? When I say Oh my G-d, or thank G-d, does that mean anything? Yes it does. Why then is it so important to pray the words in Hebrew, the special prayers that great men have created long ago? I don't know.

I wonder what G-d will inscribe for me in His book this year. I wonder about everything the new year will bring. Will He choose life for me, or (G-d forbid) death? Good fortune, or bad? I have no idea. But for some reason, I have a cocky confidence that I will be alright.

I don't know for certain, because no one but G-d can know, but I am confident.

Yes I know it is foolish. I share the same confidence as the man in the song 'isn't is ironic.'

Mr. Play It Safe was afraid to fly
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye
He waited his whole life to take that flight
And as the plane crashed down he thought
"Well isn't this nice..."
And isn't it ironic... don't you think

How can you know if this is your last day? How can you know that you won't have bad fortune? You can't. But at the same time, who walks around thinking, today I will die? The assumption is that we will have many more years on this earth, which is why so many people waste their time here, and end their lives with nothing much to show.

The point is, there is no reason why I don't daven every day. It does not come from a place that says, me and G-d are tight, so there's no need to thank Him and ask Him for special things, they will just come to me. No, it comes from a place of neglect.

I am scared because when G-d comes to my name in His big book, what will He see? Not much. So why then am I still here? I assume it is because I still have a lot more to accomplish here, and G-d is giving me some more time to discover what it is. Hopefully I will not let Him down.

I want to wish all of you and your families a happy and healthy sweet new year. May it be a year that brings only good and happiness and blessings in abundance. May your spirituality reach great heights, may G-d grant all of your hearts desires in all areas, and may we all celebrate the ultimate redemption with Moshiach now.

I hope that every one of you takes some time for introspection, and to ask yourself, am I ready for this Rosh Hashana, am I ready for G-d to judge me, and am I ready for what this new year will bring?

The places of my mind

I stand here
a little midget next to this vast mountain
cowering in apprehension.
In just a minute
it can lean over
way over
and crush me.
Should I stand still
or should I run?

This is a place I love to come to-
yellow daffodils,
the deep blue of water
with a glint of sunlight.
A hint of autumn in the air,
a chill, but not enough to
overpower the warmth.

I lay here,
the smell of grass permeating my senses,
the blades cool between my fingers.
It is bliss on earth.
The sound of birds chirping,
the noise from cars and traffic far away and faint.

This is peace.

But then-
words, they haunt me.
They follow me.
They don't let me rest.
They knock at the recesses of my brain
and beg to be let in.

But I refuse.

My emotions can't deal with them today.
Words, so powerful.
Poetry, meant to question and discover,
to study human nature
and delve deep into the echelons of the universe.

But this is not peace.
This is a fear of discovery.
For when you question-
you have to be prepared for what you will find out.
and for this I have no patience.

And so I leave this place,
this place of mind,
and I amuse myself with a spider web
or counting the sounds of the cars
as they whiz by.

And I tell myself someday I will return
one day when I feel ready,
older and more mature.

But in my heart I know
that day may never come.
Maybe I don't want to go back
to that place that challenges me
frightens me
makes me feel so small and meaningless.

So goodbye
I need to go chase a butterfly.

You are special

You are special. Yes you. And you, and you. Every single one of you is special in your own way. I may not know you, I may not know what you are like, where your talents lie, how smart you are. But I know that you are special.

I have a poster on my wall, it is a motto from Mr. Rogers. It says, "You make each day special just by being you." I see that every time I walk into my room. It is a good reminder, especially when I am feeling particularly un-special.

I want to thank you, oh anonymous people, whoever you are. Some of you may know me, and some of you may have never met me. But you are dear to me. You give me the opportunity to share my thoughts, my goals and dreams with you. You let me broadcast my feelings, my experiences, and my day to day life. To you this may mean nothing. Maybe you read my posts, and maybe you don't. But to me, this feels like I have someone with me the whole way through.

Don't get me wrong- I have friends. Real live friends whom I see most of the time. But this is different.

I hope to make you proud of me. My journey is far from over. It may never be over. So thank you for sharing it with me and being a part of my life.

Good Shabbos!

Tis almost Shabbos in the dorm; our first one here. I am making cookies for breakfast. It gives me pleasure to make the girls happy. I am starting to get a taste of what being a mother feels like.

I am content. And life is good.

Something funny:
I hung up my birthday cards on my wall. One is a singing card from my family. It hangs half way open, and sometimes when I make my bed, or randomly, it swings open and suddenly I hear my family singing me happy birthday. It scared me once. Now it makes me laugh. It's like having them right there with me.

Have a good Shabbos, and don't forget to smile :)

Skeptic at heart.

Would you take a free water bottle if it was offered to you? I would too. Everybody likes free stuff. But where's the catch?

No catch??

I'm a skeptic at heart. So when the guy at staples offered me a free ice cold water bottle as I was walking in, I said no thanks and walked right by. Then I paused, turned around, asked him, 'is it really free?' To which he laughed and replied "yes". Then I took one.

AND they were offering a free tune up for laptops, any day.

What do you say to that? No one expects free things in life, so when they come, you gotta be a little skeptical.

Tis the day

The dormies are coming.


And it all begins.....



DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNN.....

Free wifi!

It sucks not to have internet. Luckily, the library has free wifi. The internet in my house is down and I felt very panicky for awhile. It's like withdrawal symptoms. That should tell me something...

Everybody's leaving. My sister's friend whom I shared a room with the past 2 weeks left for Israel yesterday for seminary. My sister is leaving today to Italy. I'm leaving on Sunday. And my older sister claims, now she'll have the room to herself, but apparently she's not gonna be home this year either.

My little brother is gonna be the only one home this year. He is my baby. Soon, the nest will be empty, and my parents could fulfill their dreams of moving to Alaska and living in an igloo. Guess holidays will be squishy.

That's all for now folks. Until the next time I make my forage out to the library to use their wifi.

What has facebook done to me

When you are in a room full of people, do you just blurt out whatever thoughts are going through your mind? I should hope not. You know in movies when you can 'hear' a person's thoughts? "She is wearing way too much make up". "That dress is hideous". "Wow did she lose weight?". It's a good thing in real life people can't just hear your thoughts.

So why then do people feel the need to share every little thought they have on facebook? Facebook is just like a room full of people. Anyone can read your status, comment on it, and 'like' it. People write dumb things like, 'wow I love coffee I could drink 10 cups a day". Or, "There's nothing like the pain of getting your eye brows tweezed." (Okay that was my status.) Or just, "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" Now why would we want to 'hear' you scream?

See here's the thing: facebook statuses enable people to share stuff with other people. Like to tell them you are engaged, that your sister had a baby, that the sky is really blue and the grass is green. But people use it and abuse it and write whatever dumb thoughts come readily to mind.

I'm afraid I too have fallen prey to this phenomenon. I find myself under pressure to write a good status instead of (gasp) leaving it blank. So I end up writing something stupid like "I got a haircut", and "one more week..."

Tonight I went to my friend's sister's lechaim. (Mazal tov). When I got back I wrote something as my status, half joking, and someone commented on it and wanted to know why I wrote that, was I joking, it was weird and seemed so wrong for 'a girl my age' to write that, even as a joke.

For a second I felt robbed. Like someone reached into my brain, ripped out my private thoughts, and colored all over them with markers. I felt violated, like why can I not think whatever I want without you commenting on it, don't I get any privacy anymore?

Until I realized that this was my own doing. I myself have laid my "dirty laundry" out there for the world to see, to 'like', and to comment on. So why am I complaining?

I deleted that status. It has taught me a lesson that some things are meant to be kept private, not all thoughts have to be shared, and it's okay to leave a status blank.

Sometimes I get so sick of facebook and want to just delete it. But for now it stays.

Oh, and how come after all these years 'facebook' is still considered a misspelled word??