Spiritual Cleansing

Cleaning for Pesach means little to me these days. My cleaning consists of trying to decide if I should sell my chometz or throw it away, which cabinets in my apartment to sell, whether I should use this opportunity to thoroughly clean my room, or enjoy the fact that I don't need to.

I always enjoy introspection, to a degree. The best places to think are sitting by the water, or on a mountaintop, reveling in the beauty that G-d created. But I will not be waking up every morning at 3 am, to climb a mountain, to reach it by Sunrise, to sit there and take in the view, and meditate on my life. As tempting as that sounds.

We have many opportunities for cleansing and introspection, most importantly Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. But we learn that as we are physically cleaning our homes for Pesach, it is a good time to clean our souls as well.

Tonight and tomorrow is Yud Aleph Nissan, the birthday of the Lubavitcher Rebbe. It has even become a noteworthy day by the US government:

Education and Sharing Day USA (1978-Current)

 

To emphasize the vital role of education in society, the United States annually marks "Education and Sharing Day U.S.A."

Established in 1978 by a joint Congressional resolution, Education Day U.S.A. focuses on the very foundation of meaningful education: instructing our youth in the ways of morality and ethics, and teaching them an appreciation for divine inviolable values.

The Presidents designate annually Education and Sharing Day U.S.A. on the anniversary of the birth of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, of righteous memory, who dedicated his life to the cause of education.

The Rebbe is the one who implemented special Mivtzahs for ones birthday, and he taught us to celebrate it and use in as a special day of prayer and introspection.

As the Rebbe is a Nasi Klali (general leader) and contains a part of every Jew, we celebrate his birthday in a fitting way. It is also a time to give a 'gift' to the Rebbe, and the things that were most important to him were working on our avodas Hashem, and most importantly, Ahavas Yisroel.

How can I make the Rebbe proud of me?
How can I better my Avodas Hashem?
What am I not doing now that I should be doing?
What am I doing now that I should not be doing?
How can I become a better person, a better Jew, a better friend, a better daughter, a more helpful member of society?

Being that this is not a diary, I will not answer these questions here. I find that I have little time, or rather little opportunity to look inwards and think about change. But if you never change you will always remain the same. If you are not constantly growing, you will fall. I have learned this the hard way.

I will not be home in time to physically help clean for Pesach, but I know my soul can use some scrubbing.  

I may not have a mountaintop, but I know that if I 'close my eyes and take a ride inside', I will remember what it felt like.

(Real Picture taken with my camera in Eilat)

Paranoia

Conspiracy theories,
With truths right under our noses,
But we don't see them,
Because they hide it from us.

They want to control us,
They want to destroy us.
Population reduction,
Workers camps.
All this right on our soil.

Or so They say.

Looking around furtively,
Not sure who to trust,
Who is real,
And who is part of the lies.

And who created these lies?
And who is trying to feed you the truth?
Because they try to control your thoughts too.
So many theys,
That trust becomes hard to give.

Everywhere you look you start to see things,
People that are not as they seem.
Is that simply a man in a suit,
Or is he someone sent to watch you?
Are They listening right now?

You say the Holocaust can never happen again,
Will never happen again,
But They tell a different story.
Open up your eyes, look around you.
This place is not safe.

And so, the doubts start creeping in,
And with it, the fears,
So many fears.
And reality starts to blur,
With what They say is lurking out there.

But somehow, no one else has heard of this.
Or only a small group.
Is it because no one cares,
No one fights back,
No one knows.
Or simply because none of it is true.

 Paranoia sets in.

And as they take you away,
White white walls surrounding you,
'I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy!'
But nobody hears you,
They don't hear you
Because they won't listen to what you say.

I huddle on the Subway,
Let it rock me into a false sense of security,
Is that a homeless man,
Or an agent in disguise?

I close my eyes,
And try to block out the images,
And the words,
The words that just keep coming.

And I look inwards,
And try to remember what I believe in,
Who I believe in.

I hate it when They make me doubt everything,
Because sometimes I'm just not sure what I believe.

It's official!

Today is the first official day of Spring!

Ironically, it snowed this week.

I am sick with a cold.

It doesn't feel anything like Spring.

It is 34 degrees F outside.

Last year I was in sunny Orlando for Pesach, and this year... Not in Jerusalem.

I still can't decide if I like Spring or Summer better.

With Pesach a few days away, I wish everyone an easy time cleaning, cooking, preparing, shopping, worrying, stressing, freaking.

I can't wait for the day when I can switch from a coat to a sweater, when the sun will shine down and the air will smell sweet and fresh and I can inhale deeply and say, "Ahhh, I can feel Summer coming."

Happy Spring!

They got me too

What gets me out of bed at 9 am on a Sunday? Not much.

Ping. My phone tells me I got an email from my bank. I get these every day. Usually they just tell me my daily available balance.

This one said: "We detected irregular activity on your debit card".

Oh, B of A. I thought you had my back. I thought I was exempt from fraud. It was happening to everyone else lately, but no, it could never happen to me.

Dragging myself out of bed, I call the fraud department. They go through each transaction that I did not make, and put a stop to the card.

"Did you make a purchase for World of Warcraft?". No sir, I did not. I don't really know what it is. Some video game?

This reminds me of an episode in F.R.I.E.N.D.S where someone stole Monica's identity. Instead of pressing charges, she joined the same tap dancing class that the woman/thief used her card to purchase. Monica decided that the 'Fake Monica' was living her life better than she did. So she lied about her name, befriended the thief and went to all these fun exciting places with her. (She was probably fitting the bill for both of them.)
In the end, the thief gets apprehended, Monica is sad and returns to her own boring life.

These days, credit card fraud is so intricate it is very hard to trace it. I always assumed I would feel more violated and upset if I ever got credit card fraud. (This is called impact bias for any psych majors.) But I'm actually a little sad for the person who feels they have to stoop so low in order to get what they want.

I'll get my money back, and I hope it never happens again. You can't exactly stop using a credit card in the fear that it may be stolen. Then again, if you only had cash and it was stolen, it is very unlikely that you'd ever see it again. At least credit cards have some measure of security.

I have some weird desire to try out World of Warcraft.

Beauti-Full

They say that
"Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder".
But what if you don't behold
The same beauty that I see
Staring back at me
every day?

They say that
You can study a poem
Or a beautiful painting
For years, without really seeing it,
Without understanding
Its very essence.

G-d is my sculptor.
He is the brilliant artist
That crafted me
From His very being
In every fine detail,
And every blemish.

Your eyes are not my eyes,
As your heart will never beat
Inside my chest.
We may never be physically one.
But the other half of my soul
Would feel the void.

You may see false beauty
'At first sight'.
You may never see it at all.
But 100 years down the line
Will you still find beauty
As you did that very first time?

Beauty is subjective.
I cannot wait around,
For you to 'come around'
And see the very beauty
That has existed
Since the day that I was created.

What do you do?

What do you do?
Is a question you will come across
Over and over again
As strangers struggle to define you.

I want to tell them that I am a writer,
But there are negative connotations that come along with it.
Oh, so you're a writer.
Dot dot dot.

Fill in the blanks.
Will they even understand
What I think deep inside
Will they see it as I do?

Will they interpret the humor,
The poetry, the pain?
Will they tear up when I cry
And rejoice when I smile?

When they ask what type
And I don't quite know how to answer that
Will they know that I write a little of everything?
That I just can't categorize me?

When they ask if I've been published
And I cite magazines they've never heard of
Will they take me seriously?
Or will they dismiss me out of hand?

Will they care of the internal struggles I go through?
When they ask to see my writing
And I so want to show them
But I fear what they will think.

Will they scorn, will they mock, will they ridicule me?
For something they think is nothing,
And I used to think was everything,
But now I'm not so sure.

Fear and security

Next week Tuesday, President Obama will be leaving the country to visit Israel for the first time during his presidency.

Next week Tuesday, Vice President Joe Biden will be leaving the country to go to Rome for the new Pope's inauguration.

It is uncertain whether their trips will overlap. It may leave the country with no physical presence of a leader in charge.

That leaves John Boehner, Speaker of the House, 'in charge' in case anything were to G-d Forbid happen to either the president or vice president while they were away.

Then again, previous presidents have been assassinated on our very own soil. So what is the difference?

Most people won't even notice or care. Very few people think about or anticipate every small danger before it happens. It is when we are thrown into tumult that people feel scared and look towards a higher authority for guidance.

We have that every day. We have a Higher Authority every second of every minute of every hour that we are alive. It is amazing how much trust we put into the hands of mere flesh and blood.

We trust doctors every day. We trust that there are (some) politicians looking out for our best interest. We trust lawyers with our freedom and our lives.

Not everyone likes or trusts or respects the president. But that is how it is during every presidency. The fact is, if we were to find ourselves suddenly and swiftly without a leader, many people would be scared enough to realize that the very security which they took for granted is missing.

I don't trust very many people. Trust must be earned, never given freely. But the only one we must trust, and in fact we are commanded to, is G-d. 

So really, Tuesday will be just like any other day.

Backwards thinking

Why would you choose to be poor?

This family is living with no money, only the good will of other people, "as activists who are on a money strike to protest what they call our “excess-consumption society.”"

In short, they take favors from other people to protest the fact that our society is wasteful and spend-thrifty.

Yes, we are a wasteful society. Yes we have way more than we need, and we waste a lot of it. But how is it a solution to- make no money have no money spend no money- but TAKE from other people who have and make and spend money, on you? As the wife put it: “As consumers, we support the system, and we are all responsible for making a wasteful society,” Raphael Fellmer, 29, told Yahoo! Shine. “This strike is to inspire other people to reflect about our other possibilities.”

What other possibilities? Living off other people? Draining their resources? The man in question took a trip around the world "simply depending on the goodwill and excess resources of others".

So, hmmmm... Instead of maybe, making a billion dollars and sharing it with other people, or using it to help the environment, you abstain from money altogether, unless it comes from someone else's pocket? Smart.

What about this guy? 

Matt Damon is protesting the fact that there are people in various developing countries with no clean toilets. He says that we can give $25 for one person to have clean water for life.

His solution:

"In protest of this global tragedy, until this issue is resolved, until everybody has access to clean water and sanitation, I will not go to the bathroom."

So, Matt Damon? How much money do you have? Maybe give some of that money to buy people toilets, instead of causing yourself bodily harm. The same way that "eat your vegetables, there are starving children in Africa" will not feed those starving children, refraining from going to the bathroom will not solve the global problem you so kindly pointed out.

As one great commentor put it: "So should I flush the $25 down the toilet? Will it reach the right people?" (Beck Beck)

Apparently, Damon was joking, and merely trying to spread awareness. You sure got my attention.

On to Rosa Parks. Yes, the woman who started the Civil Rights movement, and helped African Americans gain equality. We all know the famous story of how she refused to get off a full bus and give her seat to a white person.

On December 1 2005, exactly 50 years to the day that Ms. Parks refused to budge, there were signs on all public buses throughout America stating that she changed history and inspired us all. "It all started on a bus... Please reserve this seat in her memory."

So, there were many many empty seats that day, causing old and young people alike to stand in the isle, in order to commemorate the day that Rosa Parks refused to stand? Does that not sound backward? Maybe they should have put EXTRA seats on the bus, and said, whoever is tired, come rest your feet!

Sometimes it makes me laugh when I see supposedly smart people doing incredibly stupid things.

Maybe they just don't have a 'Yidishe Kup".

Slipping away

I so want to write,
but don't know what to say,
and I'm slipping, slipping away.

The crowd disappears,
at the end of the day,
and I'm slipping, slipping away.

I'm so scared,
of that moment,
when you realize time moved on.

And there's no turning back.
No more yesterdays.
No more familiar laughs.

You tell yourself that you're busy,
that life comes first,
so many things to do.

But the words trickle out,
and the fans have gone silent,
The arena has closed for the night.

Onto bigger and better things,
that never came.
and time keeps fading away.

I miss those days,
when I talked and had no care
as to who was listening.

But times have changed,
Have I?
Is it time to say goodbye?

But I'd miss it so,
With no where to go,
and I'm slipping, slipping away.

Oh drama drama

Pity me, pity me,
for I am to be pitied.

In this world, pity abounds,
at the sound of
another's misfortune,
Do you pity,
or feel glee
that it was not 'me'.

Do you feel happy,
when someone else succeeds,
where you have failed,
over and over again,
when will it end?

Do you care?
Care not,
Tear not,
"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free"
Alas, to where will you flee?

There is no where left to run,
to hide,
do you cry inside?
Do you laugh,
What do you do?
What is expected of you?

I just find it funny,
so funny,
and you may think I am crazy,
though you'll never understand.
But I want to laugh
and sing.
At someone else's good fortune.

And what of me?
Do I deserve pity?
Oh no, no.
No drama.
No pain.
No gain.
No hurt.
No growth.

So they say.
What do they know?
What do I know?
Maybe I know nothing,
and You know it all.
You. As in, Capital Y-O-U.

Not you.
Or me.
For we
know naught
For we are fraught
with pitfalls.
At every turn.

We yearn to
return to You
Every day.
But today,
I speak words,
words words words,
that mean nothing.

Giddddddddy.
It's funny,
really.
And as the world turns,
here I sit,
in my own little corner,
in my own little chair,
and the fear
has gone.

For "It's all good".

Haha.

It will be.

Memories

I want to have those kinds of memories where you say, "Remember when we were little and we used to do those crazy things?" And even though they groan and say, "Oh G-d don't remind me, I can't believe we were that stupid", you love that you can share that with someone and be able to reminisce about it years later.

New relationships are great, but old relationships are like fine wine. And you will always share the memories, that time and distance cannot erase.

I just want normal

I have an urge to throw my phone across the room because I don't want to hear you talking anymore. Aggressive? Me? Not usually. I'm just tired. And frustrated. Because I hate this game. And you know it. And yet you force me to participate.

I love that you are trying. Once upon a time you left it upon my shoulders alone, and refused your help. Now, I don't care. It's just a game to me, a cruel game in which I seemingly have many disadvantages, and I am trying to make you understand why I am just so sick of playing.

They may think I am ill, because my hands are shaking, my foot is tapping, and I can't sit still. Nervous energy, they call it. Mostly because you called and left me 3 long messages, and I don't have the time or mental capacity to deal with it right now.

I just want you to understand that what might be okay for you might not be fine for me. What might be 'good enough' for you is not acceptable to me. We are very different. You may not understand me but I am trying my best to explain.

And when I am tired and frustrating, I just stop talking. Because I can't explain myself. Sometimes it is just too hard. 

I just want normal. I want it so badly. Yes, normal has many definitions. Normal is subjective. But please, let me have my own form of normal. Let me define myself, my needs, my desires. Do not tell me what you think is good for me, because as well as you know me, I think I may know myself a little more.

You tell me it's okay. It's okay. You understand. I hope you do. But if not, you decided to respect me and not push it. And I appreciate that.

Because I just want you to understand my definition of normal.

In Debt We Trust

We watched this video in class. Quite long, but very informative. As you can see, the National debt has grown in the last few years by a few trillion. Most likely it will keep going up.

We discussed how credit card companies push credit on people that they know cannot afford to pay it off. I was shocked to hear how young college students around my age are 15-20 thousand dollars in debt. It baffles me. How can you spend money that you don't have?

I have seen both sides of the coin. Growing up, in my house I knew what the word 'creditor' meant when I was very little. They were the 'bad' people who wanted money that we didn't have. When we got caller id, we learned not to answer when they called.

Talking about money usually makes me very uncomfortable. I hate owing people money, I hate borrowing money from people. I usually don't have a problem lending people money, but I feel bad asking them to repay me.

Understandably, growing up in a household where money was tight, one can go one of two ways- either follow in their parents' footsteps, and spend what they don't have. Or make the smart choice and budget well.

Here's the other side of the coin- my grandparents are very smart with their money. I know that they bought a house straight out. They don't believe in mortgages.

Contrary to what the video portrays, no one was throwing credit cards at me. In fact, I was denied the first few times I applied. The reason- I had no credit. 'Derrrr'. How can I get a credit card to build up credit if no one will give me a credit card because I have no credit?

I do now have one credit card. I pay it off regularly. I don't treat it like fake money. I only use it if I know I can pay it off within the month. I B"H have a nice sum of money in savings. I am proud of myself.

My mother said it is a great thing that I am doing. I don't think so. I think it is just common sense.

Then again, common sense isn't all that common.

With G-d's help, I hope to never know what it is like to be in debt, or, as a classmate put it, to be so 'Po' that I can't even afford the o and r.

Pro·fan·i·ty

Old man,
Stop embarrassing yourself,
and us,
When you 'cuss'
like a drunkard.

You sound like a fool,
not cool,
We don't talk like that.
At least not I.
I try.

Do you want to fit in?
Though not a sin,
you sound like the 'younguns'
with their pants half off.
Makes me cringe.

Does self-respect
mean nothing anymore,
You have tenure,
and a position of authority,
Professor at a University.

Yet you curse like,
you are one of 'us'.
Except you are not.
And never will be.
And we don't talk like that.

Please stop.
Get your mouth out of the gutter,
and start talking
as expected of
a man of your stature.

As old as
my grandparents,
and yet you curse like
a bum
from the slums.

And it doesn't make me
want to listen to you
very much.
No sir.
It does not.

When you curse like that.

Hangover

I think I'm drunk.
Not on happiness, or love.
No, none of those for me.
Not this year anyway.

I think I may be drunk.
As I watch the road blur in front of me.
Is the road wet?
Or are those tears in my eyes?

And why do I cry?
And why?
As the anger pours forth from me,
And I feel the wrath.

At Haman's name,
I stamp my feet,
And think of all the evil in the world,
And wish it to be gone.

Yes, even the evil that has touched me,
And I think that must be selfish,
But I want so very badly,
To be rid of these demons once and for all.

I think I may be drunk,
The lively music still playing in my head,
The gorgeous faces of the children,
The sticky cotton candy.

And the crumbs, oh the hamentashen crumbs.
They are everywhere.
Even on the dance floor.
And as I show my moves, the room blurs.

I wonder if this blackness
Which engulfs me on the
Supposedly happiest day of the year,
Can be drowned out in any way.

Will alcohol take off the edge?
Will it make the darkness that much lesser?
Will the evil in the world be gone,
along with my senses?

The music blasts in the car,
And I can't hear my own voice,
And that is probably for the best,
Because I think I may be screaming.

And as the barrier looms ever closer,
And I realize I may hit it,
I know it would be of my own doing,
Because alas, I am stone cold sober.

It started with a whisper...

It always starts with just a rug. And then it grows into a whole house.

I like buying things for other people. It makes them feel good, and consequently, I feel good about it. But I am really not that great at remembering birthdays or special days. Once in awhile I will get a burst of inspiration, a thought that I should send someone a gift, or a card. A wedding present, or maybe just money, since I am horrible at gift ideas. How much money should I give? Is it too late to give someone a wedding check 4 years later? Welcome to my brain.

Once I decide to do something nice... then I start thinking about every single person that I know whom I haven't sent a card or bought a gift for in awhile. I am an extremist. Either all or nothing. Everyone, or (usually) no one. So instead of sending just one Shaloch manos to one friend, the list grows bigger and bigger, more elaborate, more people.

Hmmm... should I give that lady who invited me to her Shabbos meal that one time? My first grade teacher? The crossing guard?

If I think to send my grandmother a birthday card, then it reminds me of all the relatives I have neglected over the years.

So I will either be sending many gifts with notes saying, "10 years too late but... Happy Birthday!".

Or I will save myself a headache and do nothing.

Happy Purim, and if you get a Shaloch Manos from me, just know that you hold a special place in my heart.

My (everything home-made even the frosting) Shaloch Manos:

Depth perception

When your hand misses the light switch by a few feet...

When your pen somehow never makes it to your desk...

When you almost walk into a door because it looked closer than it was...

When your brain is tired you cannot accurately perceive depth.

When you are tired it is hard to translate your thoughts into words.

When you are tired the world seems to move in slow motion.

When you are tired your reflexes are slow.

Your guard is down.

Something that used to bother you may not even receive a passing thought.

Something that shouldn't bother you makes you so mad.

You can't explain it. The second you wake up and look at your clock and realize you are an hour late for work...

The whole day is thrown off.

When the person drinking coffee says 'I'm so tired', and you do not ever drink coffee nor can you drink coffee since it is a fast day and you just want to tell them- "You don't know what tired is".

When you have an urge to cry for no reason- I think it's time to get some sleep.

No good deed goes... unrewarded?

Good job, little boys and girls. Put away your toys, don't fight with your siblings, respect your parents, don't steal.

Don't steal. We are taught that at a young age. One of the commandments in Jewish law is to return a lost object that you found to its rightful owner. The law is so intricate, in fact, that if you see a loaf of bread lying in the street, you can not just pass it by, you must take it and find its owner. Only if you are certain that the owner has given up all hope of ever finding the lost item may you keep it.

Read this article about a brother and sister who found a large sum of money on the street, and returned it to its rightful owner. Clap clap clap. Yay them. Except, they weren't little kids. They were 21, and 25 years old. So what is so special about doing the right thing?

They were rewarded, they were praised, they were offered jobs and given $200 gift cards each, and an anonymous person bought the girl a laptop. All for doing something that is morally correct, and halchically required. The children's father even said that he 'was "in awe" of what they did.' Why? Why is it so shocking that 2 people would do the right thing instead of, say, keeping the money for themselves?

I think I will go around doing good deeds just to get noticed. And hey, a new laptop wouldn't hurt.

A tiny sliver of truth

I wondered when the words would dry up,
the page would go blank,
and my mind would stop thinking,
my heart would stop dreaming.

I wondered when I'd freeze up in fear,
paralyzed, unable to move.
Unaware, of the world out there,
shrunken to my tiny reality.

I hold his little body close to me,
as he drifts off to sleep.
I gasp, and he jumps,
startled awake.

I rock him gently and pat his back,
and tell him that everything will be okay,
that we are going to be just fine.
I know he believes me.

I believe it too.
I know I will be okay.
I know, because here I am,
years later, strong as ever, and still going.

I know, because every time life kicked me down,
I got right back up,
and laughed in its cruel face,
And steeled myself even more.

But sometimes,
I don't want to be just okay anymore.
Sometimes,
I don't want to be just fine.

Sometimes,
I want to scream to the world,
how I'm feeling,
Spray it on the wall for all to see.

Sometimes,
I want to get mad at how things turned out,
except I'm not really sure
where to address my anger.

I will be okay.
I will be just fine.
Sometimes,
that's a bitter pill to swallow.

Be Mine

Like putty in my hands
I move you, shape you
into something
that works for me.

I want you to be
my every dream
the one who completes me. 
And sets me free.

But we
were never meant
to be together
you and I.

We try
over and over again
but then
we destroy each other.

Together
we are good.
And bad.
We make each other mad.

I'm sad
knowing that we
will never be friends
again.

But when
time moves on
and I'm able to see
more clearly.

I know that the best thing for me
is to let you go.
We both know
that we hurt each other.

Like a mother
who watches her child
walk away.
It's okay.

I know now
that without me
you will shine.
We will both be fine.

Because you were never meant to be Mine.