An ethical question

If someone hires me to type something up, but I don't type so fast, and it takes me X amount of hours to finish it, should I log less hours than it actually took me, since it might have taken someone else half the amount of time it took me? Or perhaps should I charge less per hour than originally discussed?

Irony

It's funny how
you told me
but I didn't listen.

Because
it wasn't
what I was looking for.

I brushed you off.
Said "no thanks"
to your suggestion.

I didn't even
really listen
when you spoke.

Because
it wasn't
what I was looking for.

And I said
That's nice of you
to think of me.

But I stopped listening
when you said
summer job.

Because
it wasn't
what I was looking for.

And it's ironic
that I saw you
two days later.

And I got the job
the one you told me about
the one I didn't even listen to.

And I think
I got my sign
after all.

To hug or not to hug

There is a split-second awkward moment whenever I see a friend of mine I haven't seen in awhile. Or rather a friendly 'acquaintance.' In those few seconds before we are face to face I think, hug or no hug?

Are we close enough that this reunion warrants a hug? Or maybe a simple 'hello' will do? What if I lean in to hug her but she wasn't planning to hug me? That would be awkward for me. Or perhaps the opposite, and then I will feel bad for not opening my arms.

And then there is the question, when I lean in to hug do I go to the right or the left? How do I know which way she will go? I don't want to end up in an awkward embrace, or worse, with a mouthful of someone else's hair.

Someone I know does not hug as a rule. She shakes people's hands. Which I find a bit unusual, but I guess that solves the problem.

So the question remains, to hug or not to hug?

A sign

I wish it were as simple as that. "G-d, please give me a sign if I should go ahead with this or not." And thunk, there is a glowing neon sign in front of me that says YES.

Or a super magic 8 ball. Just ask a question, shake it, and you get your answer.

But life doesn't work like that. I say, "Please G-d send me a sign." And then I wait. And wait. I hold out my arms, like He will actually drop something right into them. And yet that has never happened. So I wait some more, and then I sigh and walk away.

But then I wonder, what if that waving tree branch was my sign? Or that flashy red car that drove by? What if the phone call I got was the clear answer I was waiting for? How do I know that my sign didn't come, and I just missed it? Or misinterpreted it, or didn't see it.

G-d has many ways to tell us what we need to hear. Sometimes it comes from a parent or a friend. Sometimes it is a voice whispering from inside of ourselves. We don't know when or where it'll come from.

So I say, "Listen, G-d, I think this is the decision I'm supposed to make. But I'm not sure. So if it is wrong, please place a root in front of me that I will trip over."

I haven't tripped yet. And generally I look back and say, that was the right decision.

Little man

He was wearing sweats and a wife beater.
He looked good for his age.

A little pudgy around the middle,
but that is to be expected.

He had some baby fat around his cheeks.
And he was kind of bald.

He smiled at me.
I smiled at him.

Then I sat down with him in my lap.
He leaned back against me.

I nestled my chin against his head,
and breathed in the smell of his shampoo.

I wrapped a blanket around his bare shoulders.
He lay there contentedly.

I watched him fall asleep.
And placed him gently in his crib.

He is so cute,
my little man.

No status

Now that I have Facebook, my life seems to revolve around my status. The ability to be able to say in 420 characters or less how I'm feeling. Sometimes it just doesn't seem enough. Facebook gives the option of writing it as a note instead, if it exceeds the 420 characters. But who wants to write a note about how they are feeling?

And sometimes, like tonight, my status remains empty. 420 characters is way too much for what I want to say. I don't want to say anything. Nothing of significance comes to mind.

And so I sit and stare at the screen, and I contemplate writing a 'fluff' status. But really, why write empty words? So I don't write anything.

And it is hard to describe what I am feeling, and I also don't know if you will understand. But tonight, my status remains blank.

Not because I have nothing to say. But because my insides are mute, my brain remains frozen, and I don't want to think tonight.

Tonight, I want to forget.

Friends

There's tension inside me
Something bursting to come out.

I can't explain it.
A rush of anxiety.

Teeth clenched.
Moving fast.

Part anger.
Part desperation.

Why did I go.
I hate going.

But it wasn't for me.
Some things we do for other people.
For the sake of doing it.

But now I'm wound up tight.
Like a rubber band about to snap.

I need to put distance between me.
I need to get away from there.

I'm moving fast.
My feet pound the pavement, mirroring my anger.

Angry at what? At who?
At no one and nothing.

I see them in the distance.
Two black shadows, with a hint of flesh-colored legs.

I walk faster.
My heart is pumping.

My fists are clenched.
The block shortens.
Almost there.

They are sitting on a bench.
I think they don't see me.

But then they look up.
I tilt my head.
I walk a little jauntier.

They see me.
They stand up.

I am almost there.
And then-
I am in their embrace.

And nothing else matters.
And no one else is there.
And my anger dissipates.

And I sit and talk.
And they get it.
In the way that only friends can.

And my problems don't disappear.
And the world is not magically 'right' again.

But everything is just a little better,
Things seem a bit more bearable,
Because I know my friends care.

And right now, that is all that matters.

Chicken noodle soup

"Xcuse me, do you mind if I sit here? It's really busy today and the whole train is full..."

I mumble a "No problem!", flash a smile and move my purse off the seat next to me. Then I turn my attention back to my phone, emailing, texting, whatever it was that had me so engrossed. The plan was to listen to music and play games on my phone the whole hour and 40-something minute ride.

A few minutes later: "Does it smell like chicken noodle soup?"

I take a sniff. "Hmm you're right it does. Wow. I wonder why someone would bring soup on a train."

"Ya that is kind of weird." We laugh.

"At least it's not tuna," I add, hoping this conversation is winding down. I add something about looking for the person who has the soup, she says something about maybe they would have crackers to go with it.

I look back down at my phone. Then:

"This is a pretty good price for the train. Do you take it often?"

To which I explain that no, I'm just going in for the weekend. Then I politely ask her where she is going and if she lives there.

There went my quiet ride. I had a very pleasant conversation for an hour and a half with a random girl on a train. Which for me is interesting since I always envied those people who can strike up a conversation with their seatmate on a train or plane or wherever, while it never really happened to me.

I learned all about her boyfriend, the new dog they were getting together, how they were finally moving in together after being a couple for two years. I learned how they met, which was a really cute story. She told me where she had gone to college, where she is going for law school, why she is going to law school now as opposed to going to med school which she originally wanted to do.

She told me about her parents, her family, her childhood. Her roommates, her friends. I learned that she was German, I told her that I was Jewish. She said she has a lot of Jewish friends. We spoke about religion, about the danger of intermarriage. We spoke about marriage in general and shared our ideals.

She told me she sees herself marrying her boyfriend but wants to have her life and career set up first. He wants to marry her soon but she says if he's the one then they have their whole lives together so what's the rush.

I told her there are 8 kids in my family, to which she displayed shock. Too bad I didn't tell her I know of families who have 16 kids. I told her a little about my life, my family, where in life I am right now.

It was a very interesting ride, to say the least. I learned so much about a stranger in a short amount of time. She was a nice person, we crossed paths randomly, and I will most likely never see her again.

As the train pulled in and we both got off, ready to part ways I said, "By the way, I never asked you your name."

"My name is Laura."

I think Laura is a pretty name. And thank you for making my trip so interesting.

And to think it all started with a cup of chicken noodle soup...

In memory of my grandmother

How can you miss someone you've never met?

I miss her. It's like I know her. My mother talks about her and she comes alive.

My mother tells me how she loved to shop. She had closets full of clothes she never wore, but she liked to find bargains. She was very chatty. My mother tells me, she didn't say hello when she called you, she just started talking. She was beautiful, and she had a great smile. She was young, and energetic, and vibrant. She would stop people on the street to say hello. Strangers did not remain so for long.

I wish I had met her. I think we would have been great friends.

She is forever frozen in my mind, an image from a photograph I saw of her. I thought about going to the cemetery, but that would be confining her existence to a plot of land. She was so much more than that.

I wish she was around now. I wish she could be at my wedding. She would have loved to meet my niece. And I would have wanted her to meet my children.

It's hard to think of what might have, could have been.

When my mother talks about her, it is like she is really here. But she is not here, and will not be here, until the coming of Moshiach.

Sometimes people talk about loved ones of theirs who passed away. I thank G-d have never been touched by death directly, so I couldn't really understand it.

But now I think I get it.

Today is her 25th yartzeit. Twenty five years ago the world lost a special person.

And even though I never met you, I miss you, Bubby Doris.  

UN-communicative

I just-
...
I don't know, it's like-
...
I can't explain it-
...
My mind has clear thoughts-
...
But my mouth-
...
It's like-
...
It's wired shut.
...
I feel-
...
Defenseless-
...
To your onslaught-
...
Please stop talking-
...
Because-
...
Well-
...
I haven't formulated a comeback-
...
Yet.

Life's lessons

I have so much to learn about life, and I can't even say that I've lived that much till now. But life has taught me some things throughout my short journey here.

1. If you fall, no matter how long you lie there, you will always get back up again.

2. Eventually, someone will offer you a hand, and it is your choice to take it or reject it.

3. It really does all work out in the end.

4. And because it does work out, worrying is just unnecessary.

5. Better to laugh than to cry.

6. No matter how long you cry, you will have to stop long enough to breath. So you might as well stop altogether.

7. A little prayer goes a long way.

8. Look around you, and you will see who in your life really matters, and who is just taking up space.

9. G-d always knows what's best.

10. A week really is a long time, especially when all decisions are made a week before camp/school starts.

11. Wherever you are, that's where you'll be, and wherever you are there is always a Walmart. (Or some equivalent.) So pack light.

12. Talking to friends instead of dealing with things on your own really does make the burden lighter.

13. Some people aren't so bad once you get to know them.

14. Dealing with difficulties makes you a stronger and wiser person.

15. Running away solves nothing. But vacations are nice once in awhile.

16. Never ask G-d to test you, because He will. Be happy with the easy things you have to deal with.

17. No matter what happens today- there will always be a tomorrow.

18. Everything really does look better in the morning.

19. Trust in yourself, because G-d put you here for a reason, and only you can do the job that was assigned to you.

20. Never do a half job, because you will have to do it again, and then you will be doing a job and a half.

21. The only approval you need is your own.

22. Ask not "why me?" but rather, how can I be the best me I can be?

23. Bad hair days will not kill you.

24. Laughter cures all.

25. And lastly, "It's all good", because you know what? It always is in the end.

Feel free to add your own.

The man at the ohel

I don't know him, but he is a dear friend of my mother's. She knows his number by heart. He knows every single detail of our family, everything that we've been through, all of our deepest secrets and requests.

And yet, he has never met us.

He is the man at the ohel. My mother calls up for a bracha all the time. And I mean all the time.

You are flying? Call the ohel. Job interview? Call the ohel. Cut your finger? Call the ohel. Surgery? Ohel. Getting engaged? Okay, we go to the ohel for that.

It is convenient for people who do not live near the ohel, they can call up and ask the Rebbe for a bracha and submit their name, and someone will read it at the kever.

It is a strange concept though, that this man hears everything about people. Details. Names. Things people may not even tell their friends. And yet this man knows it all.

I sure hope he can keep a secret.

My mother said maybe one day she will go to him and say, hey man at the ohel, I'm so-and-so who calls all the time. I can just imagine his eyes lighting up in recognition as he gives my mother a look and says, "So how's the family?"

To kill a mocking bird

I hate driving in New York. I can drive in New York. Since I learned to drive here, I can hold my own pretty well. But I hate it. I hate the congestion, I hate the constant beeping, I hate the swerving cars, and the double parked cars taking up lanes, and the cars turning left that hold up the whole lane. You get my drift. I hate it all. Although I don't mind driving at night or early morning when the streets are empty.

Today I sat on a street for fifteen minutes because there was a hold-up ahead. I couldn't tell what was happening. Neither could anyone behind me. But of course it started. Beeeeeeeeep!!! Beeeeeeeeeeeeep! I wish there was a horn in the back of my car to beep at the driver behind me. Really? Do you think I'm just sitting here because I have nothing better to do and no where else to go? That I want to annoy you? I don't understand what beeping accomplishes when there is no where to go, except to release your annoyance and bother other drivers in the process.

Me? I put the car in park, reclined my seat, and listened to music. No need to stress when you can relax just as well.

When the traffic finally let up, you can bet everyone sped up to catch the light, after being held back for so long.

So there I was driving along, the street was clear so I was trying to cover as much ground as I could before the light turned red. And there in the street were two birds, seemingly unaware that I was about to bear down on them.

I have never hit or killed any animals before, thank G-d. (Nor people.) Oh my G-d! I am about to kill a bird!

So I did the only thing I could: I beeped.

Well guess what? It works as well with birds as with cars. They flew away, the road was clear and I kept on going.

And my track record of never having killed a bird is still clear.

I guess beeping has a purpose after all.

Like it's 5 am

It's 5:30 AM and I am awake. Not because I woke up early, but because I haven't gone to sleep yet. I just drove my little brother to the meeting place for his class trip. They are going to Hershey Park. I guess it's considered a graduation trip, since he's graduating eighth grade this Sunday. (Can I interject an 'awwww' moment here? My little baby is graduating!)

It's a weird feeling to walk outside at 5 am- and be greeted by complete daylight. It could be any time of day out there. But my brain knows it's still night time for me, as is evident from my constant yawning, and my tired eyes.

I went to a friend's lechaim last night, and it was really nice to see my classmates whom I haven't seen since the last wedding. And another friend whom I haven't seen in a few months.

There are a lot of changes happening in the near future. My parents are moving, I'm looking for an apartment, and a job. I'm going to be on my own and independent. Yes, I've been independent since I went away for high school when I was 14. But this is different. Then, I went home every so often. I always had a base to return to. Of course I will still go visit my parents once in awhile, but I don't think it will be 'home'. Once you reach a certain age, home becomes wherever you lie down to sleep.

I don't like change. It makes me nervous. I want to be settled and know where I'm going. I want my future to be clear and certain. But it's not. And that scares me.

But I realized two things.

1) Attitude really does matter. Yes, the situation will turn out however it will, and I don't have full control over that. But what I have full control over is how I react to it. I can freak out and sit on a bench on Eastern Parkway and mope about how my life is falling apart- or I can calm down and say, this too shall pass. Everything will work out. "It's All Good". And you know what, I am happier, calmer, and more at peace when I think that way.

And 2) There is someone much bigger than me who is controlling the world. And as much as I worry about what comes next, what I should do, He knows. Hashem knows that I am here, He knows that I am looking for a job, He knows that I need an apartment. He knows, but I didn't tell Him. I didn't turn to Him, I didn't ask Him. I forgot. I forgot that it's not just me, little Altie who makes the decisions. Hashem runs the world. He knows, He sees, He hears. And He listens when you talk to Him.

And I know that G-d won't let me down.

What next

It's like a wind machine blowing in my face.
I can't breath.
It lifts my hair and tumbles it around my head.

It's like the Big Bad Wolf from the story of the three little pigs.
Who huffs and puffs and blows my house down.
Only now it is down to the ground.

Down in shambles and pieces.
I can't put the pieces back together.
It is like a puzzle that doesn't fit.

A book with a page ripped out.
A street with no signs.
No direction at all.

Standing at the crossroads
in the middle of the night
no idea where to go from here.

And no one prepared me for this moment.

Rain

I couldn't fall asleep. Probably because I was in bed earlier than usual and my body said, no this makes no sense. It was 2 am and my eyes were wide open.

The steady sound of rain reached my ears. I couldn't sleep anyway so I got out of bed, threw something on and went outside. It was raining hard out there and as I stood on my porch in pajamas in middle of the night with rain streaming down on my hair and outstretched arms- I felt at peace. Giddy, even. It was exhilarating.

I watched the rain illuminated in the headlights of passing cars. A part of me felt safe.The street was quiet and empty.  But then I thought, what if a car drives by and starts shooting at me? Unlikely, but then again this is New York, anything is possible.

So I went inside and locked the door hoping not to wake anyone in the house.

I went back to bed but didn't fall asleep till 6 am.

I love rain, it makes me feel so alive.

What is love

Seriously, nobody falls in love in 2 days!!!! That's not how life works.

The way books depict love is so unrealistic. Meet, fall in love (sometimes 'the first time they lay eyes on the person') and live happily ever after.

Gag.

I can't claim to know how love works. But one day when I find out, I'm going to write to Nicholas Sparks to tell him... you got it all wrong.

Shavuos prep

This picture is for illustration purposes only. I did not make this cheesecake, I don't think I would have the patience for something this fancy. Thank you Google for the image. 

Some people prepare by learning. Others, by doing soul-searching or praying.

But this is how I prepare for Shavuos:

Ipod blaring, dancing to my own beat, making cheesecake in the kitchen at 2 in the morning. This is what I call fun.

Perhaps I'll post some pictures of my cheesecakes. One is a no-bake-triangular cheesecake, one which I've been making since I was in sixth grade. Simple, tasty, you can't go wrong. The second is a new recipe I am trying, thanks to The Professor of Lifeonacottonball for the recipe.

A freilechin Shavuos to everyone! May it be meaningful, filled with learning and growing, and may we all be in Eretz Yisroel with Moshiach this year to accept the Torah!

Oh, and enjoy the cheesecake!

Diversity

It had a documentary feel to it. I was an observer in a world that was foreign to me. I was the stranger. They stared at me wondering what I was doing in their world.

We walked until he decided to stop. A good place to take pictures, he said. I was his 'assistant'. He zoomed in and focused his lens. He was taking pictures of letters today. An experiment, he told me.

Williamsburg had lots of Hebrew letters. On the buses, on the storefronts, on the entrance to shuls and yeshivas. People stared at us at they walked by. They had suspicious looks on their faces. And interest. Why was this man taking pictures in their neighborhood?

No one stopped us. No one ran out screaming at us to 'please leave Williamsburg'. I heard Yidish being spoken all around me. I wasn't sure how well they can speak English. I know some yidish, but their accent is different.

We stopped in a park to sit down. I smiled at the kids as they rode past on their bikes. They stared at me, the stranger in their midst, with curiosity and hesitation. Perhaps I was akin to the man whom their parents warned never to take candy from.

We are both Jews, yet we are worlds apart. We come from the same nation, we serve the same G-d. But we dress differently, we talk differently, we act differently. I am not welcome in their world, because I am different than them. I am not so sure how welcome they would be in my world either.

It is an odd feeling. Like brothers who have never met. We feel like strangers. We treat each other like strangers. But at the end of the day, if you strip away the clothes, the speech, the customs, you discover the heart and soul, the neshama. We are both Jews.

So tell me, are we really that different?

Flame

It’s gone now

I don’t know where it went.

First it was there, then

Up to heaven it was sent.

Glowing orange and blue

It clung to the wick.

To its source of life

It had to stick.

The heat

It burned my hand

Had to pull away

The feeling it could not withstand.

Fire so pretty

Yet can cause such grief.

Can end a life

That was so brief.

I stare at the flame

It beckons me

Where there is no light

It helps me see.

Candle, yellow.

Flame so bright

Wax so soft

A beautiful sight.

I stare until

It is no more

The flame is gone

Called to heaven’s door.

That little wick

Is now so bare.

The flame that fought so hard,

It is no longer there.

I watch to see if it will come back, but it doesn’t. 

The last vestiges of the flame died, 

and a wisp of smoke ascended. 

A flame represents so many things. 

Life, a soul, a yearning. 

To me it is mesmerizing. 

But now the flame is gone, and it’s time for me to go to bed.