Xenophobia

I hate Russians.
And French.
And Canadians.
And Israelies.

I used to have a list, of nationalities I would never consider marrying.

I, like every other pompous American, hear a foreign accent and assume that they are stupid.

Oh, your from Russia? Do they like, have toilets there? I heard they only have outhouses and use leaves as toilet paper.

I know Russian:
"я хочу домой, пожалуйста." 

Ya, that's like the only sentence I can say.

Oh, you're from Ukraine. Isn't that like, part of Russia?

Why would you live there if you could just live in America? Oh, we don't want you... Too bad you weren't born here.

Let me impress you with the--limited-- amount of knowledge I have of your culture. It's not much. We're in America now.

Madrid airport. No English. "I have no idea what you're saying. I don't speak Spanish". Why don't they speak English? Just why. Everyone speaks a little English. In Israel they try to impress you with it. In Spain they get impatient with you. Um, hello, isn't English like a universal language? 

no necesito español.
"Life can be bright in America...
If you're all white in America."

There's a big world out there. America is not the only way.

The Unsaid

Mind abuzz with thoughts, waiting to spill out
he says
who wants to share
your hand shoots up
he says
please relate it to the text
your hand slinks down
lower
timidly
till it rests on the desk
he says
who wants to share
your hands lies flat now, palm down
mind abuzz with thoughts, waiting to spill out
he says
anybody?
as a question
but your voice is silent now
all those words left unsaid. 

Six-Pointed-Star

Fingers closing around the hard points,
her eyes shift to stare at me.
Look! I silently shout. Look at me.

She wears a cross around her neck,
and I a Jewish star.
We discuss antisemitism and she glances at me furtively.

What is she expecting?
Should I raise my voice forcefully
and proclaim my undying faith?

In my heart I know it,
on my neck I show it,
must I say it?


We discuss the passages in the book.
The "white Jew" is a paradox, it says.
The kids were wrong to pick on the Jew, I state.

The one with the cross, she smiles
in that way that says she thinks your wrong.
"What about the Jew who yelled at the little girl, she just wanted to buy a pickle".

I stand firm.
Antisemitism was rampant,
the Jews merely reacted to the abuse they received.

She shakes her head,
tries to find the words to say
the Jews were doing the "opposite of antisemitism".

I wonder if that's true.
But they are my people
and I will always side with them.

The word Jew comes up many times,
I feel eyes on me
as I finger my star.

I don't know quite what I am expected to say,
I don't feel like saying much at all
in response to their stares.

I'm not insulted,
this is merely a conversation
in a classroom.

I was brought up as a "white Jew" as they say,
and I was lucky not to feel the cruel arm
of antisemitism.

I am proud to be a Jew
to be the example that they can stare at
as we discuss literature culture and diversity.

I sit silently,
nodding my head as the discussion goes on,
and let the star do the talking.

I'm glad you came

He never called me by my nickname.
I thought that was weird.
But now it feels special.

We never talk.
I hate the silence.
I can't carry a conversation alone.

I tried, oh I tried.
I thought he didn't care.
So I stopped trying.

There was that summer, long ago.
Bike riding, colliding,
crashing through the undergrowth in the woods.

Skinned knees, and bee stings,
root beer popsicles,
and pacts not to tell.

He taught me to read.
Morris the Moose goes to school.
My first book.

He knew I was smart before I did.
We were pals.
For a time.

Suddenly I'm that little girl again,
yearning for his affection.
Why don't you like me, I silently scream.

I try to make conversation.
He barely responds,
staring at me like I'm insane.

Why won't you talk to me.
Tell me about yourself.
What's going on in your life.

They are buddies now.
They snicker at me when I talk.
Whatever I said must be mighty funny.

I tag along to the pool,
the third wheel.
Oh, to think I once filled that coveted spot.

Anger seethes inside of me,
the unfairness of life.
My only fault was growing up.

They sing me happy birthday,
and he says my name.
My real name.

We may not talk
but here he is
on my birthday.

We may not talk
but there he was
in the ambulance after my car accident.

We may not talk
and I hate that
and I wish it weren't so.

But isn't that what family does?
They show up.
And that's as good as saying I love you.

Daily Thought- Chabad.org

Become Truth

There is no truth about G‑d.
Truth is G‑d.
There is no one who learns Truth.
You become Truth.
There is no need to search for Truth.
You have inherited it and it is within you.
You need only learn quietness
to listen to that inheritance.

Happy Birthday to me

It was a great birthday. There was cake. I'm in Florida. I'm 'tuckered out' as they say. If someone put me to bed I would go willingly.

I'm happy for the people in my life, and the memories I will cherish. Family is important, even if they annoy you. Sometimes just showing up says a lot.

I'm growing up. Last time I was here visiting my grandparents I was 16. Now I am old enough to actually appreciate them and their wisdom. They may be old and slow but they are sharp and wise. And healthy. If I could be as healthy as them when I am in my 80's... well there's the tiny portions of food I couldn't get used to. And the 'early to bed early to rise'. My grandmother wakes me at 8, and they have already finished breakfast.

Yes life will be waiting for me when I get back, but this has been a much needed respite. Relaxed, renewed, rejuvenated. A year older. A year smarter. A year more mature. Ready to take on life's challenges.

This will be the year of good things.

Wishing all of you lots of blessings in your life, only revealed good, and Moshiach Now!

Reject

Back in the day, we were on a first-name basis with our mail man. Back in the day it was also acceptable to say mail 'man'. Now the correct term is mail carrier, or mail person. But if the problem is the gender prejudice, then why say 'mail' at all. Why not say, "Person who delivers my bills and credit card offers", or in short- DOBN- Deliverer Of Bad News. Ya, my DOBiN just dropped something off today. That is so gonna catch on.

Oh great, more bills. Um, no thanks. Reject. Reject. Like a dating website where a guy who you are totally not into tries to chat you up. Reject. Um, sorry but no. I would not like this please of mail. Please return it to the post office.

An essay you have to submit by midnight and no interest in doing it? No thank you, I reject it. Bad grade on your test? Reject. Delivery refused, return to sender.

Yes, all bad puns connected with shipping. I have experience at a shipping company.

Another birthday, another year older? Na, send it back. Not interested in 2-4. Anything else, please?

Well, I actually do have an essay due tonight. Procrastination.... oooooh procrastination. But then I'm home free! Going to Florida for a few days vacation.

Vacation? I'll sign for that. 

Cold World

I'm waiting, but I'm not sure who I'm waiting for.

He says goodnight and starts to walk away.

I want to call after him, tell him I need his advice.

But what's the point? What could he tell me that would make me feel better?

I turn away, the chill hitting my body.

My jacket hangs useless over my arm.

I call my mother and hear the silence and wonder why she isn't saying something to comfort me.

I see a billboard for some chocolatey goodness, but I swore off food long ago.

I wonder why no one is looking at me, talking to me.

The cop stands idly, and I want to be stopped, if only for conversation.

I try to calm down, forcing the tears away.

I tried to make it in the world, but who am I kidding.

My safe secure insular frum bubble has not prepared me for this.

I sit at a bus stop, pretending I have somewhere to be.

It's a cold cold world out there.

In the light of day

It seemed like a good idea at the time.
Witty conversation flowing,
eyes glowing in the mirror,
They like me,
they like me not.

In the light of day
the magic disappears.
The excitement dies,
the idea seems dumb.
Reality crashes back.

All the colors that were once
vibrant vivid pulsating
creating a pounding in my chest
that made me wonder, what if.
They are gone now.

Replaced by the truth.
Truth that it was nothing,
that the wine and company
clouded my judgement,
made me see what was not there.

In the light of day
I realize how silly it must seem
to like a boy
who is promised
to another girl.

I see his name in print
and smile in relief
following the belief
that he may be
the one for me.

But alas,
it was not meant to be,
you see
G-d had other plans for me
and I can feel them coming.

Freedom

And then some decisions are simply made for you.

G-d handed me the Universe on a platter.

Took the decision out of my hands.

It's reassuring, knowing with certainty that it's time to move on.

Cuz that's what He decided.

Don't question the Universe.

Just say thank you.

And then figure it out.

Nothing can stop me now.

I'm free.

Minefield

Like a minefield,
I walk gingerly
wondering
when this will all fall apart.

Every step I take
brings fear
this may be the end
wrong move, game over.

I trust,
yes I trust in You, G-d
but I never got a map
You sent me in blind.

Guessing,
feeling,
hoping,
wondering.

Is this the way to go
or will the next step
explode
wishing for a do-over.

Yes, You have a plan,
One I know nothing about.
Stumbling, trying
not to make the wrong move.

Every step uncovers
another piece of road
the journey unfolds
before me.

Second-guessing myself
comes naturally,
always wondering
what if.

Show me the way.
Tell me that I'm doing fine.
Let me know
that the end is near.

Instead I wander
uncertain
leaping without knowing
where or if I will land.

Healthy living

The day just keeps on going and going
and I look for the strength to get through it.
Shopping, funny how I need strength to go shopping.
Something that brings great pleasure
can be so... tedious.

My mind, my body aches
I haven't sat down in hours,
the subways are screwed up today
genius MTA.
And it's not over yet.

Buy food for the week
and make dinner for the week
and prepare a lunch for tomorrow.
All so I can be healthy
and lose weight.

It's like my body forgot what food tastes like,
it's been so long.
An invite to a Rosh Chodesh gathering,
I agree to go if I can find a ride,
please G-d let me not find a ride.

But haha, the one person I call is happy to take us,
my friend really wants to go,
I need more spirituality in my life,
all of that wins out over my tiredness.
And so I go.

The topic is health.
The month is Iyar.
It stands for 'Ani Hashem Rofecha'
I am your G-d who heals you.
So we learn about physical, mental, spiritual health.

I'm smug.
I know all this.
I didn't get to lose all this weight doing nothing.
She talks about healthy eating,
about homeopathic remedies.

Thank you lady, I want to say.
But 'I got this'.
Maybe I'm arrogent
Or I hate advice.
You have to find what works for you.

I listen politely,
ask some questions,
store it in the back of my brain.
Go on with my life,
because I'm already doing the best I can.

My snacks lined up on the table
my lunch is detailed
I'm spoiled, need everything to be prepared.
Cut and peel the orange,
citrus wafting up to me.

My mom calls.
Two nights in a row.
What's up.
She tells me how much she admires the changes I made.
She wants to do the same.

She called me for advice.
For tips.
I used to blame my mother for my problems
Until I took responsibility
and made the changes on my own.

And now
She wants to know how I do it.
I tell her, find what works for you.
Start small.
Make the changes.

She's proud of me.
She's turning to me for advice.
And it was all worth it.

Hello, Goodbye

Does this parting require a handshake,
or a hug?
Or a pat on the back,
or a polite smile
or none of the above.

I think of appropriate music to play at a time like this.
The Beatles have said it all
and they don't disappoint.
"You say goodbye and I say hello
I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello."

I've said many goodbyes over the years,
hated most of them
tolerated some of them
rejoiced at a few
and beared the rest.

This is no different.
One day you're here
the next you will not be here
but somewhere else
and now who can I joke with every day?

The difference is
you are leaving and I am not.
Moving on, as they say
to greener pastures
and good luck to you sir.

But what of me?
All of them gone, gone, gone
and only I remain.
The last of the lot.
Well.

I'd love to move on as well.
Bigger, better,
the NEXT in my life.
Instead of stuck
in limbo.

But should I jump
before I have a place to land?
Hope you enjoyed your pink girly cake,
yes it was quite good.
Bittersweet, as they say.

For tomorrow you won't be there,
and though we've had our differences
I was kinda starting to like you
when you upped and left.
Oh well.

The thought of you leaving
makes me sad,
but the thought of me staying
makes me wonder
what's next for me?

You say goodbye and I say hello
I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello.

My first time

How was it, your first time?
When you slipped into something a little more snug,
a little more comfortable.
Did you pose in front of the mirror, turning this way and that,
thinking, would he like me in this?

Did it feel weird, that first time?
Like a betrayal,
like you were in someone else's skin,
Or did it feel natural,
as if your whole life led up to this moment.

Did your heart beat fast
when you stepped outside,
did you wonder if the whole world was staring at you?
Did you feel the empty space between your legs,
and try to cover up?

With your converse sneakers
and ripped skinny jeans
you kept walking
and never looked back.
Tell me that I'm wrong.

"You didn't tell me that you went tznius," she said to her friend.
I wonder if she realizes how fat her thighs look in those leggings.
And not just her, but all legging clad women.
Her friend said, "yes I did! They wouldn't accept me otherwise.
So I put on a skirt."

So it's all about acceptance, then.
Otherwise you'd be showing off your be-
hind like every other All-American girl.
Was that your dream, when you were little?
To grow up and show it all off?

There was a store in LA
with half-naked models outside,
and so we went in,
even as we scoffed at how crude it is
to lure people in with naked men.

It was dark inside.
I could barely see in that dressing room,
but somehow I managed to take a picture of my reflection,
in form-fitting jeans
that looked great on me.

We giggled,
oh wow look at us wearing pants,
so scandalous,
what if we could actually go outside like this,
and hey, we look good.

But then it was back to our skirts
that just covered our knees,
and who would know
that for just a moment
we wanted to be somebody else.

I think how fitting it is that today
as I walk behind these girls
I'm wearing my skirt that actually covers my knees,
instead of just brushing them,
as 'bad' as that sounds.

I don't look down on them.
I feel bad for them.
That they had to look outside
instead of inward
to find what they were looking for.

I can still see the inside of that dressing room
and the way those jeans looked on me.
Even stepping outside for a second felt weird,
like the whole world would know
my dirty little secret.

Fortunate am I
that something inside me
kept me straight all these years.
Call it my 'pintele yid'
or just dumb luck.

But hey,
Skirts look great on me.
And besides, 
I can walk much faster
than waddling in stiff skinny jeans.

Perfection

There will be moments in your life that you will regret forever. Times when you say the wrong thing and wish that you could take your words back.

They handed me my graduation gift, beaming that they got me what I wanted. They asked me if I liked it. Stupidly, I said that it wasn't the exact model I wanted. So they took it back and said they would try to get the one I wanted. I should have just said thank you. I am embarrassed every time I think back on that moment.

Midnight, the night before Pesach. I sit back and listen to the sounds of home. Each person yelling louder than the next, trying to get each other to do various jobs that need getting done. I try to yell above them to tell them to STOP SCREAMING but I give up and just watch.

My father is putting up curtains for my makeshift room in the living room. We are all grown up and you'd think everyone would have moved out by now, but somehow the house is tiny and everyone is home and as usual, I have no room. No one wants to share with me. I'm used to having my own room anyway.

This curtain hanging business is serious. My father bought string, and screwed nails into the wall to hang a curtain across. He spent time on it. I got bored and wandered upstairs to find entertainment. He called me downstairs to take a look when it was done.

He asked me if I liked it. I smiled and said it was perfect, and thanked him for doing it for me. I hi-fived him. My own room with a curtain in the living room.

Sometimes we'll regret what we say and sometimes we'll say the right thing at the right time.

And sometimes we'll scream at each other just for the heck of it.

Erev Pesach. The beauty of being home with family.

A kosher and freilechin pesach to everyone.

From the safety of my umbrella

The rain pitter patters on top of me, streaking down from heaven in a continuous flow. I forget that it is raining, in the shelter of my umbrella. People duck for cover under awnings and in banks, but I keep going. It can't touch me.

I like to stay informed so I read, I traverse the news sites, stay 'in the know' and current, so if anyone says 'hey what's up with the missing flight MH370? Did they find it yet?' I can tell them that the search team is still looking, and they think they found the black box.

Or what about baby Prince George in Australia? Fort Hood shooter, Kardashian wedding, Pistorius trial, Obama Selfie ban, just a few among the current headlines. And what does it matter? What if you could stay under a rock and not know anything? Who would care? But hey, that would make for a boring conversation. So I make fun of the fact that my coworker gets her daily news on www.dailymail.co.uk while I read the drudge, and ya that makes me cool. Or whatever.

I'm not very much into selfies, or at least not posting them to Facebook. Narcissist, anyone? That's what we encourage. Hey, let's make a whole gallery of selfies and call it art! Or what about a song called '#selfie'? Really? Today music has died.

Do you care how the world sees you? Is it possible you are really a psychopath masquerading as normal? Or maybe it is the normal who are crazy.

I wonder what you see when you look at me. Your eyes follow my umbrella as I walk away, and what is going on inside your head? Do you simply wish that you too had an umbrella as big as mine? Or is it the person underneath it that you are interested in?

Ever seen this quote:

Mine would go more like: "There's a writer inside of me, but I'm too scared to let her out". I wouldn't call myself a 'writer' because I hate the connotations that come along with that. I'm not weird or artsy or insane. Gross generalizations, maybe. But what is it that sets you free and allows you to speak your mind without fear of what people will say?

I was once young and didn't care. Or maybe I did care. I don't remember. I'm old now. Older, and slightly more wiser, and a lot more reserved. Every time I think of sitting down to write, something better comes along. Something like TV shows. But my TV shows are on Spring break, so it's just you and me....

You know those people that say, "there's so much that I want to tell you but I can't"? Well, ya. Imagine all the things I could tell you if I didn't have so many barriers. But we'll try anyway.

.....Well it was worth a shot.

Being a grown up

She asks me how I manage school and work together. she's thinking of going to school. When do you do homework, she asks. I tell her, I go to work and go to school and come home, eat dinner watch tv and go to sleep. When do you have time for a social life, she wants to know. I don't, I tell her. I haven't seen my friends in awhile. And what does that say about me?

2:30 am. Just finished a paper for school. It was due by midnight. I gave myself an extension. My contacts are glued to my eyes. I'm tired. Today was a good day. Someone commented on my change of hairstyle. It was simply up in a ponytail instead of down as usual. I'm surprised guys notice that kind of thing. I was wearing my bright blue skirt today, the one I like. It looks good on me. When I wear that skirt, I walk with confidence, like hey world, it's me you've been looking for.

I didn't like class tonight. My teacher used the time to say a lot of inappropriate things and curse words. He blamed it on the subject. He laughed and said "I love how I can say @$$ cuz I'm an adult. We're all adults." That was definitely not the worst thing he said tonight. I cringed. I thought about leaving the room. Does that make me a prude, I wondered. Does it matter? What's wrong with being a prude, compared to these secular people with potty mouths who definitely need to was their mouths out with soap? Is that what being a grown up is all about? That now you get to say bad words and talk about explicit topics? Wahoo. You've made it.

We in the office were reminiscing about seminary/yeshiva, the 'good old days' in Israel. Who got into what, and I am referring to the 'naughty' behavior. Well, I was a prude. I didn't do anything bad in Israel. Not for lack of trying. But it didn't seem worth it, to screw up a year like that. One guy in my office said, oh so you were chassidish. Again with the labels. We leave high school but the labels follow us wherever we go. I want to be labeled as None. As in, what does it matter? I am not just a label. I am many different things.

The world is changing every day, and it's a beautiful thing. Some are sad changes, like the Fort Hood shooting. I say, if you want to kill yourself, go for it. Why take many other people down with you. Missing flight MH 370- still not found, and in my opinion probably never will be. Miley Cyrus is crying about her dead dog. James Franco is accused of flirting with an underage 17 year old. Chris Brown was arrested. Oh yes, all this is quality news stories. What I mean to say is, April Fool's day came and went, I read an article about a new reality TV show that would throw people into the wild with only the clothes on their backs, and they would have to learn to survive, all televised of course, for the viewers at home. As believable as it sounds knowing the junk reality shows these days, I did acknowledge the date on the calender, and since then have not been able to read a news story without trying to figure out if it was a prank or not.

Such is the world we live in.

In other news, I made cupcakes for a coworkers birthday. I hate surprise parties. After setting up the cupcakes and trying to find the best possible time to yell surprise, he walked in and said 'ooh cupcakes! Who's that for?". We all responded a weak, surprise... and everyone enjoyed the cupcakes. Would there be a way for me to send a cupcake in cyberspace, I would. Until then, feast your eyes on the pictures, and imagine the sweet vanilla cream cheese frosting, the soft and fluffy vanilla cupcake with a crispy top, and wish that you were eating one right about now.

And with that I say, goodnight.

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".