Oh baby

He comes in smelling like smoke
that acrid stench that I hate
the one I'm coming to like
cuz it hangs around a lot.

Hey, I say, what's up,
it's been awhile since
I've seen your pretty face around here
what's new.

I'm good, he says,
I'm getting married.
Just like that.
Like a punch.

Ouch.
Isn't he like, 18, I whisper.
Office gossip.
That little kid that used to work here?

Oh ya, he's getting married.
I jokingly ask him if he's marrying a real girl.
What else can I say.
Hey baby, good for you.

It feels bitter every time,
like, hey kid give me a chance.
Oh ya and
you stink like smoke.

And we don't miss you around here. 

Entitlement

Do you own your life? Or do you walk around feeling like everything you have is borrowed, that it doesn't really fit you?

I recently applied for a new credit card. I've had a credit card for a few years but the limit was pretty low and they didn't want to raise it. In the interest of building up my credit, I opened a second credit card and was approved.

I waited for my card to come in the mail. It didn't arrive in the promised time. I thought, maybe it wasn't meant to be. But I called the credit card company to see why it didn't come. I expected them to tell me that I was never approved, that it was a scam and I wasn't getting a credit card. They merely told me that they saw the card was mailed out and I should have received it.

I waited a couple more days and it finally showed up. I excitedly followed the steps to activate it online, and looked forward to making my first transaction with my spanking new shiny credit card.

I tried it twice today in two different stores, and was declined. Again I thought, there must be something wrong, it wasn't meant to be, it's not my card, their gonna take it away.

I called the 1-800 service, and they were very nice and helpful on the phone. They explained to me that the card was declined because it wasn't activated. I tried to tell them that I thought I had activated it online. They said no problem, we can do it for you right now, and you are good to go.

I keep looking in my wallet at my new card thinking, is that really mine? What if it gets declined again? It is so easy to write it off and say, it was never mine, I don't own it, it doesn't belong to me.

I do that with knowledge too. When I explain something to someone, if I don't feel that I own it then I will always feel unsure in what I am saying.

The best way to go through life is to own what you have, what you know, what you are. Be proud and be confident in it, and everyone else will know that it is you, instead of something you are just trying on for size.

Comfort

This sweater
will never
be the same as the feel of your arms
around me.

It's cold
in that place
I no longer call home
but that's the way you like it.

You remind me
that I don't live there anymore
and I can go "home"
and make it as hot as I want.

But where is "home"?
My mind is tired
I'm cold
The hour is late.

I want to go to sleep
but need to drive there first
and it's so far away
and this place is tempting.

But I have to go back
to my life
and my little room
cuz this is not my "home".

I hug my Abba
I'll never be too old to hug him.
I drive back
trying to keep my eyes open.

I hug my mama
she's not that far away
but I miss her
and the comfort of her arms.

I buy myself a warm sweater
and stay in it all day.
It warms me
but it will never be the same as "home". 

Bye bye birdie

It's a bird, it's a plane, it's... Gone.

One second you are cruising up in the air and the next second you are gone.

It's been days and no one knows where you went.

It's a mystery. It's baffling, they say.

Scratching their heads. Hmm, where should we search next.

There are pictures of relatives with signs that say 'Have hope'.

The cynic in me wants to say, give up. They are gone.

But my family was not on that plane.

Days will pass and the search will dwindle.

Months will pass, and there will be few people left still looking.

Years will pass and some investigators in a dusty office in the basement will pore over all the information, and replay it over and over in the hopes of finding something that may have been missed.

One day in the far off future people will ask each other, remember that story, will the plane, the one that went missing?

Their companion will say, ya that was a real head scratcher. I wonder what really happened to it.

And then they will resume drinking their coffee.

And those 239 people will remain missing.

While I call it a mystery and go on with my day, families of those 239 people remain in mourning, never knowing what happened to their loves ones.

And one day even those last few will stop looking. 

One person can change the world

A shlucha passed away last night. She was 37 years old, and left behind 8 children. She comes from a family of 17 kids. I can't imagine what her family is going through right now. While I didn't know her personally, from the outpouring of comments and tears I know she was an amazing person who touched so many lives. 

BD"E... Her friends and family should find comfort. 

Today's Hayom Yom is eerily fitting: "Before embarking on a journey from your place of residence, arrange a Chassidic farbrengen and receive a parting blessing from your good friends, and as the familiar expression goes: Chassidim never say farewell, for they never depart from each other. Wherever they are, they are one family."

May this Purim be so joyous as to break through all the boundaries and be the last one we ever have to spend in Golus.  

Afterthought

I'd pick up a pen to write, but who writes with a pen anymore? Does anyone write at all? Once upon a time I thought I'd be a writer. Haha. I am majoring in English and I haven't written anything significant in a long time. I don't want to think about it.

The weather has turned nice and suddenly people are outside, sitting, talking, walking, playing ball. It's light out and I'm happy. Winter depresses me. I can't wait to shed my winter coat.

A group of kids were huddled in the park, playing some sort of game. It's fun to watch kids play. I don't want to be a kid. I want to watch them in their natural habitat. Maybe learn from them how to be carefree.

I'm tired. I've been baking. Cupcakes, cake, brownies, cookies. Some for Purim, some for birthdays, parties. I'm not much of a baker but I can figure it out. I don't take pride in what I make. I get nervous until people put it in their mouths and say how good it is. And even them I know I could have made it better.

I got a costume for Purim. It's a secret. We'll see if it works out. I decided it would be fun to dress up. Get in the spirit of things.

I have a confession to make. My life is very routine lately. Boring, even. I can't think of anything to write about because nothing inspiring ever happens to me. My thoughts run a mile a minute and the conversations in my head are funny. But nothing seems worthy to share with the world.

Oh hey, I forgot about you. Are you still out there? Ya you. In that creepy only-happens-in-movies kinda way, imagine me pointing at you through your computer screen. Why do I have to do all the talking? Why don't you share something for a change?

I'm tired. Going to sleep now. I'll be back. (Just as soon as I can think of what to say.)

Here comes the Sun

I close my eyes and feel you,
caressing my cheek like a lover might.
You surround me, but more, you fill me
and reach every empty space inside of me.

My eyes search for you,
I see you peeking through the clouds,
struggling to get out.
You crack the sky in half.

The glow spreads
until a ray reaches through
stretching out to earth
because you miss us as much as we miss you.

I smell you
fresh cut grass on a summer day
the scent of new clothing
smooth feel of bare legs.

You cushion my head like a pillow
seeping through my closes eyelids
turning the world orange
bright spots in my vision.

I'll forgive you sunburn,
and sweat
and discomfort
if only you would return.

Children sing about you
and ask you to shine down on them.
Well Mr. Sun, I've seen you
and you can hide no more.

Do you need a man?

Walking home from work today, some guy said to me, "Hello, how are you? Do you need a man?". There are unsavory characters in the area near my office. Stare straight ahead and keep walking. Repeat silently over and over, 'please don't follow me, please don't follow me'.

Um, no. I don't need a man. Particularly, I don't need you.

I'm not trying to fool myself. Yes, eventually I will meet a great guy and get married. Someday. But I don't need a man. I am learning more about myself each day, and what it takes to be the strong confident woman I know I am meant to be.

My mother is on a trip in Florida with my sister. My mother doesn't have Facebook but my sister is a serial poster. She keeps posting pictures of them on their trip. Here they are at the beach, visiting my grandparents, eating food, in the warm Florida sun. Yay. good for you. It's freakin cold here.

My mom looks so relaxed. She looks happy. I spoke to her last night, and she told me she is learning who she is away from her kids. My youngest brother is 16. We are all growing up. While I will always need my mother in my life, she has more free time now, and she is connecting with herself. My mom became a Baal Teshuva years ago, before she got married. I think the whole 'yidishkeit' thing was kind of thrust upon her, and by the time she was married and having kids, she just ran with it. Jump on the moving train, and all that.

In Chabad most married women wear sheitels outside the house. We consider it to be the most mehudar- the highest form of tznius for a women in covering her hair. There are many different kinds of acceptable head coverings, and while I respect everyone's decision, I was brought up being taught that a women wears a sheitel outside of the house.

Lately, I noticed that more and more my mother is wearing tichels (scarves) outside of the house. It is weird for me, because I always saw her putting on a sheitel to go out. But in this picture of her in Florida, she looks so beautiful. She's wearing a purple tichel that gives color to her cheeks, she looks relaxed and happy, and younger. She looks different. She says she is remembering what she was like before she became frum. My mom was talented. She acted in plays, she made up songs, she played musical instruments. She gave all that up when she became frum. Now she is trying to find a way to combine both parts of her.

I don't suppose people live their whole lives as one stagnant entity. No one wants to be stagnant. I'm young. I never thought beyond marriage, I can barely imagine myself having kids, let alone a life 'after kids'. I think it's nice that my mother is rediscovering herself now that she has an 'empty nest'.

I don't need a man to be me. I am learning how to be me on my own. How to be the best me that I can be. And when I do G-d willing find the person I will spend my life with, we will be two complete wholes joining together as one.

About a Boy

With Valentine's day coming up, I've been thinking about boys. I think about them a lot lately. Mostly in the 'will he make a good husband' way, but sometimes 'he's cute' kind of way.

I hate any word related to 'shidduch, shadchan, profile, shidduch resume', etc. It annoys me. I hate putting myself on paper, fitting myself into a little box. I want to be free.

A family friend sent me a profile of a guy. I glanced at it. I hate having to determine 'is he what I'm looking for? Can I see myself with him?' like I have some sort of vision. Sometimes I don't see myself with anyone.

Long story short: the guy was interested. I was not. I have my reasons. But I am also proud of myself. When I first started dating and my self-esteem was kind of low, I felt like I had to go out with every guy who was interested in me because I probably had no shot with the guys that I was interested in.

But now I am able to determine if it is worth the trouble and stress of dating, or if maybe it is really 'not for me'.

I can say no. That's okay. I don't need to or want to go out with every guy that comes up. I have no interest in serial dating.

Ahhh, but Valentine's day. I hear in the secular world little boys and little girls are encouraged to give heart shaped cards to each other with a sweet Valentine's poem on it. No one wants to feel left out.

Too bad I can't stick a heart-shaped card in the locker of a secret crush and say 'I think ur cute'.

I did make my own fudge though, so I am way ahead of the game.

Happy shtusy love day.

Fudge

I want fudge.

I want to make fudge.

I want to create this beautiful thing called fudge.

All I can think about is getting that delicious chocolaty peanut butter sweet bite in my mouth, and every second that I am away from it, it feels like I am dying.

Okay, snap out of it, I tell myself. It's just a little craving. It will pass.

But in my mind I am already planning to buy the ingredients tomorrow and make the fudge. Even though I know it is a really bad idea. I tell myself, it's cool, I'll just eat one piece and bring the rest to work. They'll love me.

One piece. Ha.

My brain is screaming, stop! Don't do it! Don't go any further. Drop the fudge, and no one will get hurt.

I wish it were that simple. I wish I could turn cravings off as quickly as they start.

On the cover of one of my textbooks stands a tiny little man at a crossroads. There are many arrows in front of him, each pointing in different directions. The subject is ethics, and the arrows must represent the many decisions one can make in life. To be moral, or to be immoral. The choice is up to you.

But it is not a choice, really. We, who got the Torah. We, who were told not to lie, told to be honest and just and good. Do we need a textbook to teach us to be ethical? It is laughable. And yet I sit in a classroom once a week, listening to these people discuss right and wrong like it is really a choice. It is torture.

We always have a choice. We can choose to be honest, or greedy. Ethical, or immoral.

I can choose to have the fudge, or resist temptation and let it go.

What will it be?

Leap of faith

The world is one big puddle. People slip and slide down the street, trying to find dry places to walk, only there are none. Their feet struggle for purchase, as they pray that they don't fall.

My boots are waterproof and my feet are dry, and for that I thank G-d and my good sense to spend money on well made winter boots. Two days ago when it snowed I thanked every person who shoveled the sidewalk, so I could walk by on snow-free ground.

Some people took the lazy way out and didn't bother to shovel, or even to put salt down. Maybe they figured that they could get away with it, after all the snow will melt eventually. But alas, it rained today. And not the pleasant rain that washes away all the snow, but the kind of rain that pelts at you in icy prickles, thudding on the roof of your umbrella (if you're lucky) and turned the hard packed snow into a dangerous ice rink. It makes those people who have no jobs grateful to be able to stay home, and for the unfortunate souls who must work for a living pray that they get there in one piece.

I learned quick enough that it is better to embrace the ice than to try and fight it, so I slid my feet along the sidewalk in a way that must be similar to skiing, except I've never been skiing. The sidewalk was not so bad, and it was a pleasant surprise every time I got to a relatively dry patch. I even saw a few guilty souls out there shoveling, scratching their heads like, 'oh ya, did I forget to do that 2 days ago when it actually snowed?'

You have to learn the etiquette of a narrow strip of shoveled sidewalk, when you see someone walking towards you. You both dart left, then right, then one  sucker (usually me) reluctantly steps aside to allow the other to pass.

Behold, the corner. A flood. It is comical. You see many a people make it to the corner, thanking G-d that they did not slip on the ice, only to find out that there is no where for  them to go. Straight? Maybe try to cross the street? It doesn't matter. You are on an island surrounded by water and there is no where to go but forward. Or backward. You must make a choice. Give up and go home, after you've come this far? Or keep going to reach your destination?

In life we are faced with so many challenges, big and small. Just when we think we have figured it out, we are gliding along tentatively thinking, 'I got this', I can do it, then life throws you a puddle and says, just wanted to test you to see how committed you really are.

Well, life, this time you will not see me fail. I remember the game of belts we used to play as kids. The aim of the game is to see how few leaps you can take to jump from one point to another. The one with the fewest strides is the winner.

I eye the puddle, and although my boots are water proof, I don't want to test them that badly.

So I back up a few steps...

I start running forward...

I leap, and hope I'll make it to the other side.

Dry and in one piece, I'm still going strong.

When life hands you a puddle, you take out a paddle and say, 'I got this'.

We Can

There is no I in team.

I never really thought about it nor did I care.

I don't consider myself a team player.

But give me a responsibility and I will thrive.

I trained a new person in this week. I barely recognized myself, the amount of patience I showed was unlike me. Today my coworker said jokingly, "Work is changing you". To which I retorted "You mean because I'm a nicer person now". She laughed. They all laughed. But it was the truth.

Working with people, especially training in new people can be extremely grueling, and sometimes I want to snap at someone, or ignore them, or brush them off, or tell them to figure it out themselves. But every time someone says "Altie I have a question, do you have a minute?" I say Yes, how can I help you. Because when you start saying no they will stop asking.And it feels nice having people come to you for advice.

I reached that point where I stopped wondering when I would move on to the next stage in life and leave this 'temporary' job. I stopped counting the months I've been here. I used to dread the thought of committing to one job for a long period of time. But now it is a great feeling to be able to say that I've been working here for over a year.

I may have a bit of team spirit in me after all.

Oh Joy

We hired a new guy in the office. I got to train him in. Oh joy.

It can be used in a sarcastic way. I have 25 pages to read for tomorrow. Oh joy.

Today I slipped on the ice on my way to work. Oh joy.

Or literally: I am loving my new class this semester! Oh joy.

I left my familiar building behind to broach into new territory. I'm taking a psych class. I'm not majoring in psych. The professor had us each say our name, what we are majoring in and what our job is. Everyone said psych, psych, psych, psych. I said, English major. He said, interesting, how did you end up here? I told him there were no English classes available. The honest answer. I got some laughs from that.

Psychology fascinates me. This particular class is industrial psych. The prof poses a question: Someone calls you up to ask about an employee who is not that great a worker. They ask you, how is he as an employee? What would you answer. Some people said, say the truth, don't hire him. I said, say good things to get him off your hands. Professors response: You will all be sued. The employee will come after you and sue you for slander. Never say a word, you send them to HR and say you can neither confirm nor deny that the peson ever worked for you.

Lesson one in the corporate world.

I am taking another class called business ethics. The book has a picture on the cover of a little guy standing at a crossroads with many arrows. I feel like that right now. I am majoring in one thing but interested in another, and not sure what I really want to do. I can't think past graduation and even then who knows which degree would help me more in life.

In work-related news, I trained in two new people in the last few weeks. Which means I am officially no longer the newbie (after working there almost a year and a half).

Good things are happening. Spring is right around the corner. (I always wondered why they call it Spring semester when it starts in the heart of winter.)

Hey man, stay warm.

Where we go to get away

The snow obscures the ground. I cannot tell where the sidewalk ends and the street begins. I am not in control tonight. You are. And so I follow you.

These low lights and high stools and soft chatter. I've been here before. Well, not here, but places just like it. The haze that confuses you, you squint at your surroundings, but still you cannot see clearly. You wonder if that is the effects of the dimness, or too much alcohol. Then you don't care.

Tonight we are here not to drink, but to have fun. And we do. I laugh at the dirty jokes that are in poor taste, and the sorry people who make fun of themselves for a living. They get up there awkward and try to make a crowd laugh. Some people laugh. Some people titter. And some are just too drunk to care.

It's late and I'm too old for this. That's what I'm thinking at the beginning of the night. Too cold, too much snow, too tired, too sober for this.

But I didn't come just for the laughs. I came to say I did. And to see you.

I come home with a smile and a lighter step. I had a nice time. The snow will soon melt but tonight will stay with me.

Museum Muse

People come here to get inspired. To experience culture firsthand. They come here for hours. They come many times as once is simply not enough to take in all this beauty and splendor.

What of me? Why do I come? Rather, why did I come. Because I won't be back. Been there, done that, got the sticker. I'm a one time kind of girl. Culture just isn't my thing.

I gaze at the paintings and try to care. Sculptures and statues and photographs. Drawings and masterpieces. Furniture. Quaint dining room sets. Gorgeous old jewelry. Musical instruments. Asian culture and Greek culture and Arabic culture and plain ole American culture. So many things in one place. One maze that takes you from room to room with guards that are always watching. Look but don't touch. No flash photography. No eating. Getting lost until it feels like one will never find their way out.

I want to lay down on the ground and soak it up like a sponge and see if it will seep into me. If being around all this culture will make me cultured as well.

But I'm not a sponge and I'm lost in a maze and claustrophobia sets in and I have to get out. Where's the exit, sir? How do I get out of here, ma'am? Air. I need fresh air. I need to be gone from all these paintings staring at me haughtily saying you naughty girl, you barely saw anything. Stay awhile, don't go now.

But I must go. Like a caged bird I yearn to be free. So I run and get outside in the fresh air and the sunlight and I walk until I see a sight worth stopping for. The sun shines on the reservoir as swans swim peacefully; the sun shines on the water in a cloudless sky. The air here is clear and fresh and I breath it in in large lungfuls. I would trade this for all the museums in the world.

I may not appreciate fine art on canvases in famous museums. But pure nature is G-d's greatest creation.

It feels good to be free.

I thought you didn't care

Some people say, 'hey I'm coming home, bake me some cookies'.

I asked you to hide the cookies.

I didn't know that you listened.

Instead I heard what I wanted to hear. Disinterest in your voice. Distance. Like you didn't care.

So I didn't show. And you didn't call. And I thought you didn't care.

But cell phone reception was bad. So I didn't know that you called. Twice. And left  two messages. And texted. To say that you thought I was coming and you missed me.

I thought you didn't care if I came, but maybe that was my own insecurities talking.

And thanks for hiding all the junk food.

My opinion

You think you know what I will say before it leaves my mouth. Funny. Sometimes I don't even know what I will say when I open my mouth.

I say I don't discuss politics or religion, but what I'm really saying is that I want to be able to have an opinion without you disputing it on the basis that you disagree. We can disagree. That is what an opinion is. But don't try to change what I believe.

I surprise you sometimes. I know I do. You look at me shocked by the things I say, claiming that I used to leave the room when you would discuss those topics. Not true really. You would gossip, which I hate. I was merely reading an article that someone else wrote, which I don't even agree with.

There is a buzz going around Facebook. When is there not. You think I'm the type to jump on board, to add my voice to the melee, to call for blood. You don't know me. I would rather stand in the corner and watch everyone running around like headless chickens and smirk because I know better.

I may not know better. But why are you making an outcry? Why are you pointing fingers? First you accuse people of paying no attention to a story and then when they do, you complain that they are giving the story negative coverage. Well what do you expect? Negativity sells. And all they want to do is sell a story.

I am not heartless. Maybe we simply have a different understanding of the same subject.

It's funny how you think you know how I will react. I say I will not get involved, I would rather keep my opinion to myself.

Sometimes that is simply because I have no opinion on the matter. And sometimes it is because I know you will crucify me for what I believe, and I don't need that.

We can discuss Kim Kardashian's latest pictures if you want. I have an opinion on that.

Last Chance

2013 was a pretty good year. I have no regrets.

Let's talk about goals. I made a goal and I didn't reach it. Tomorrow is New Years. But that doesn't mean that the goal is over. It's one of those goals that can extend beyond the time set out.

So I am filing for an extension. I will keep at it, and G-d willing reach my goal soon, and set new goals and reach those as well.

2014 feels weird in my mouth, but I never really liked 2013 anyway. I don't like odd numbers.

G-d willing this year will be a good one.

Glass ball, is there a tall handsome man in my near future?

Best wishes for all of you in the secular new year.

Dear Notebook

I've missed this. I used to write in you all the time back in sem, when I didn't have a laptop and my thoughts would run and I had to write them down or lose them forever.

Lately I've stopped thinking so much. Or I got so busy I had no time to think. Or I didn't let myself think. Which is good because sometimes when I think too much bad thoughts pop into my head, sad depressing thoughts, and lately my thoughts have been normal and happy and stable.

But I'm not sure what day of the week it is. I'm gonna say Monday, but it doesn't feel like Monday. It feels like this week has been going on forever and so tomorrow must be Wednesday which means pizza day in the office, only it's not Wednesday and I don't eat pizza.

Break time means free time which means boredom or an all-consuming need to fill up the silence with noise, preferably the kind that quiets your thoughts and makes you stop thinking. Only, TV drama is way worse than real life. It sucks you in, and suddenly you find yourself loving/hating/involving/investing yourself in fake relationships you see through your computer screen, and when you turn off the show you can't stop thinking about it, and when you go to sleep you can't stop thinking about it, and when you work you can't stop thinking about it, and it consumes you and you know it's time to stop but you just can't turn it off.

You want someone to shut it off for you and tell you to stop watching shows that suck you in so much and make you sick when the characters fall in love or out of love, and you know it's all fake but you can't help it.

But no one comes to shut it off.

12:00 AM comes and you find yourself standing in the kitchen thinking it's time to make a lunch and go to sleep and you can't move.

So you call home and listen to your father's voice on the phone, which is weird because you hardly ever speak to him for so long at a time, and then he says hold on and so you hold on for 3, 5, 7 minutes but he doesn't come back and you know he's forgotten about you.

So you do the mature thing and drag yourself to bed and vow that tomorrow you won't watch that show anymore. But you know you can't stop.

You can't wait for break to be over and life to go back to normal, while wondering what it is about the TV drama that makes your life seem so boring. But that's what TV does to you.

And you wonder if somewhere out there is someone who will know when to pull you back from the edge.

Six Word Challenge

Hemingway was asked to enter a contest: write a meaningful book that contains only six words.

He wrote: "For sale. baby shoes, never worn." - an entire world in those six words.

What would yours be?



(Credits go to a Facebook friend for posting this.)