Too little too late

I hate you.
I hate you for believing in me, for encouraging me.

Where were you when I doubted myself, when I thought I wasn't good enough and never would be?

I hate the ones who rejected me, who turned me away and made me give up.

I hate the voices in my head, the ones that tell me to stop pretending, to let it go, to move on and abandon my dream.

What dream?

Once I was young and eager, so young and full of something, was it attitude, was it aggression, I don't know that it was passion, but it was something more then this passive-agressive-non-believing lump of discouragement, and though she disgusts me now, that me of years ago had more desire to succeed than this give-up-and-go-home attitude.

I hate you for making me feel again, for making me want it, for using my finger nails to claw at the mountain of dirt to pull myself up and try again when I just want to lay down and admit defeat.

I hate you all.

But you most of all.

I hate you for the lump in my throat which you caused, you must have known it would invoke a reaction. Admitting that your first impression was wrong and that you were glad you were proven wrong.

Maybe you saw something in me that I no longer saw in myself, refused to see in myself because the glass mirror once shiny and clean is now smudged with dirt and blackness to the point where I can't even see myself clearly.

Did you see me? What did you see in me? I know you wouldn't lie.

But why???? Why now. Why when you are leaving and flying miles away, why when I am at the end of the line, why when I am so ready to give up and call it quits, why must you make me feel??

I hate feeling. I hate how you crack my numb exterior, the one I use to protect myself from getting hurt, from people like you.

Once I wished to be seen, to be heard, I thought I was G-d's gift and it was my duty to let people know what they were missing.

A few Youtube videos and articles later and I was put in my place. I was no longer special, I would never make it in this tough world so why bother trying.

I was fine lying to myself. I was fine!

I love how you just assume that I'll do great things. I love how you say it so casually as if it could actually happen.

Can it?

Is it possible that maybe you are right about me?

Is it too late for me to see in myself what you have seen?

I don't hate you. I can't even tell you how much your words mean to me, how much they hurt me but at the same time give me hope.

Maybe I'm not done yet.

Maybe I will do great things.

Maybe it is not too late for me.

Mine

He runs down the stairs, hair wet from a bath and I just want to gather him into my arms and inhale his baby scent. It's his upshernish tomorrow and I can't part with his baby face and his gorgeous golden curls. He tells me something that I struggle to understand and then says, with eyes wide, 'is that cool?'. Of course, everything he says is cool.

I lay on the couch with the baby on my lap after the other kids have gone to sleep. She keeps trying to grab my glasses so I hold up my hand in defense. She grabs my hand in both of her tiny ones and pushes it out of her way. Then goes back to grabbing. I was there the day she was born, and here this little beauty is growing into a mischievous little bundle of cuteness.

I'm exhausted and mom rolls her eyes and asks me why. Well, I may not be a mom but watching her kids is stressful. Don't do this, don't touch that, eat your lunch, no you cannot have candy until you eat, wash your hands, go to bed, give that toy to your brother, etc etc. I can't relax around kids. She tells me I'm too stressed, I should just chill.

She wouldn't mind if I moved into her house, she thinks I'm nuts if I buy food or do laundry anywhere else, cuz I should have come to her, I'm not considered a guest and somehow I've become part of the fabric of their lives.

But there's a part of leaving and going home to my place that makes me realize that they are not 'mine'. Maybe I'm very possessive. I used to get insulted when a kid would tell me 'you're not in charge of me' as they are wont to say when they challenge authority. But this time I simply said, you're right and thank G-d for that. (Plus I responded that it's fine, if he didn't want to listen then I didn't have to read him a story in bed.)

Some kids run to you when they see you and love to be held, and some kids break your heart by turning away when you just want to gather them up in your arms.

One day there will be kids with my name on them, they will be mine to smother, to mother, to baby, to screw up or get it right or simply keep trying thinking there is nothing I can do right. But they will be mine, and no amount of 'going home' will change that.

If you were a picture

"Don't judge me"

* She held a bag in her hand, it said "i'm lovin' it". I assumed that was her dinner. 

* * *

"Once, I was scared of you, but now it is you who are scared of me. That's good, I know you won't come close to me. This is my bed tonight."

* Her scarf looked dirty, no amount of her picking at it would ever get it any cleaner. She started to cough and I wanted to offer my water bottle until I remembered it was empty. I wouldn't want it back anyway. She closed her eyes and blocked out the world and no one came close to her.

* * *

"I'm not crazy"

* She muttered to herself over and over again "no, no I can't do this, no this isn't right" before snatching her bag and leaving the classroom. I wonder if she'll be back.

< 3 Hearts < 3

Voices murmuring around me...
each absorbed in their own...
tired & hungry
and not done yet
2 more hours to go
till the midnight hour
till my paper is due
but I won't be done
no fun
three more finals
this week will never end.

I left my flowers behind
hand-picked by my niece
first for her mother
and then for me,
it's my birthday,
or was,
she says I'm a little old
but I don't feel old
I feel...

I feel like a grown-up
and yet every time they say
"get a grown-up"
I look around frantically
until I realize that
they are all looking at me,
I'm a grown-up now
and yes I stole that line.

Did you know that
monarch butterflies are called
Danaus plexippus
their color is primarily orange and black
they are poisenous to other animals,
and every winter they migrate 2,000
miles to warmer climates?

My favorite colors are purple and pink
they are not actually,
or maybe orange
depends who you ask,
but I got to spend today
with 3 adorable little girls dressed in
that's right
purple and pink
or maybe red,
depending on who you ask.

Did you know
that little kids
can have such big personalities
can give the biggest hugs
can make grown men cry,
did you know?
It's crazy how much you can love a little person
that isn't even yours

She says
"quick, catch me I'm falling!"
every time she goes down the slide,
I wonder what she'd do
if I didn't come running
with my arms outstretched
ready to catch her
but I'll never let her know.

#questionsformen

Do you avoid eye contact with women to prevent unwanted come-ons? Do you wish they wouldn't whistle at you?

Do you avoid a certain street corner because the friendly crossing guard wants to give you his number, maybe have dinner sometime?

 Do you wonder what you did, what you said to make them think that you were interested?

Maybe if you didn't smile at them...

Maybe if you weren't so friendly...

What would you do if a married women said you made her nervous and she thinks she is in love with you?

What would you do if a married women flashed her abs and told you she's been working out lately? (Don't answer that one.)

Is the world as vulnerable a place for you as it is for women?

What would you do if someone made you feel uncomfortable?

Barriers

When, on the last day of class you are reluctant to leave, lingering, hoping for one last bit of wisdom, one more acknowledgment that you exist, that you matter because in this classroom you mattered... And you don't want to let that go... Perhaps once in a lifetime you will have a teacher who will make you feel that way... Lucky are those who've had more than one... You know he's one who has touched you, made an impact on your life, and this leaving, this goodbye cannot take away what you have gained.

He's moving to California. He's told us more details about his personal life than one should. But it's comforting, in a way, to know that he is human.

'If you want to give me a hug, or fist bump me, you can.' I tell him I can't hug him, he asks if we could pretend so we 'air hug'.

We show affection in physical ways, some of us do. Languages of love, it's called. It's easier to hug someone than to simply tell them that you'll miss them.

But this barrier, invisible though it is, is restricting, getting harder and harder to maintain. One day I will tear it down and it won't matter anymore.

משנה מקום, משנה מזל

Standing in the frozen section in Target contemplating the refrigerated cookie dough, just take it home and bake it yourself, hmmm I think I may, as this one has an OU and is dairy-free... Funny thing is, I can bake better than any prepackaged cookie dough, and although the package says "Do not eat raw dough" I open the package as soon as I get home and try the raw dough and instantly regret it, as it's not that good. Nor do the baked cookis taste very good. Ah well, I'll know for next time.

Things are moving around at work, people are leaving, new people are coming, they are moving me upstairs to a different office, and although 'moving upstairs sounds like a promotion, it is not. It is simply a way for a man in power to exert said power and to not have to give a reason for doing what he does. After numerous trips up and down the stairs moving all my stuff, my chair, my computer, everything that I need to keep me sane, I am settled upstairs in silence.

My office was fun, used to be fun, we all know the kind, it happened in high school too, one year it was fun and the next year there was a new principal and the fun was over. There is a new guy in the office, he makes it his job to shush us when it's too noisy, the music is too loud, we are fraternizing when we should be working, etc. He hasn't been here that long and he's a buzz kill.

Upstairs in the new office they tell me it's a quiet office, don't talk unless it's work related, all my friends are downstairs and I am not happy. I know at work you are supposed to work, but healthy socializing is a big part of it, and what with most of the people I started with on their way out, I am holding on to the few familiar faces that are left. When everyone you know starts clearing out, you know it's time to go.

They say that changing one's place physically can change his mazal, and although U don't know if the same can be said for a desk in an office, but maybe this is a good step. I'm trying to figure out what's next for me in life. I'll be graduating in a few months and although that is exciting, I'm not satisfied at my job anymore and I want to move on. Problem is, I don't know what's next.

משנה מקום, משנה מזל.

I hope to figure it out.

The Bird Lady

They were hungry,
is all,
that's why they came so close,
that's why they weren't afraid,
as the bits of stale bread,
rejects by any other name
came tumbling down out of the sky
as if by God himself,
but nay a mere mortal
who took pity
on the birds,
they came in flocks
cacawing
fighting each other
for one tiny scrap of food,
that's why they came.

Night

People go to sleep,
normal people go to sleep,
some stay awake
and wait for those normal people
to wake
so they can play.

Oh morning.

Leave

After trying to come up with all the reasons why I should stay, I didn't come up with much. The answer I kept coming back to was: leave.

"And my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play. My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you, about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around dear friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves, about learning oneness as a way of understanding God. We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn’t it?

It might be time for you to go. It might be time to change, to shine out. I want to repeat one word for you: Leave.

Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn’t it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don’t worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed.”
Donald Miller, Through Painted Deserts: Light, God, and Beauty on the Open Road

I asked myself if leaving was a form of running away, perhaps from a job, an apartment, a life of responsibilities. But exploring is not running away. It is looking for a reason to keep going.


"One fine day, it will be your turn. You will leave homes, cities and countries to pursue grander ambitions. You will leave friends, lovers and possibilities for the chance to roam the world and make deeper connections. You will defy your fear of change, hold your head high and do what you once thought was unthinkable: walk away. And it will be scary. At first. But what I hope you’ll find in the end is that in leaving, you don’t just find love, adventure or freedom. More than anything, you find you."  
The Staying Philosophy

My hope is that in going, I will find a reason to come back.

Whole

We've gone

our whole lives

missing parts of us,

parts we weren't aware

that we were missing.

Until

one day

we've grown into the strong

man, woman

that we strove to be,

and suddenly we're incomplete.

So we search

on buses, trains,

crowded subway platforms

for some small glimpse

of that elusive missing piece.

Not sure what we are looking for,

we keep trying,

maybe next time,

maybe somewhere

nearby

we will find it.

We don't find it,

yet we keep trying,

something in us keeps pushing,

hoping, waiting

maybe, maybe

don't give up yet.

Hello,

is it me you're looking for,

no, not I?

What is it you recognized,

maybe the same face of desperation

you wear yourself.

Like looking in a mirror,

the face of loneliness

looks like you

clothed in someone else.

Now you have two missing pieces,

and no wholes.

Replaceable

It's quiet, the kind of quiet where you hear the hum of traffic from one block over but you can't actually see it, the air is kind of still and kind of warm, it says 50 but feels colder. You know Spring is coming and that's a good sign but we are not quite there yet. Your feet echo on the pavement as you walk, they make clicking sounds and you like that, you walk hard, you always have, and some people turn their head when they hear you coming, you imagine they expect to see a guy with perhaps expensive Italian shoes and instead they behold you. But you are just as good as any man, you are as strong, as smart, as practical, maybe more so. But there are times, times when you are as feminine as any woman, times when you feel weak, you wonder why weakness is attributed to women, also known as the weaker sex, and what makes a man strong and a woman weak, but that's just the way it is. You're all woman when you get mad at your boss for having you stay late and wasting your time, sometimes so mad that you want to throttle him or stab him with a knife. Ya, not really that mad but then again you made a deal with Patrick from work that he would warn you before he shot up the place and you would do the same. Of course, there are days when you hate it so much you threaten-- in your head of course-- to quit, to just leave. You imagine them panicking saying what will we do without her, how will we survive, but of course you are replaceable, everyone is.

Oh Where

He wishes me good night and says, "I hope you get married soon."
Why, I think, why is he saying that,
he says "So you should be going home at 6 to a husband and a family,
not staying here at the office."
Yes, that would be nice I guess,
I say Amen as I always do,
thank him for his bracha.

He has good intentions
I'm sure,
but it's the message that is being sent,
that I cannot be a strong independent woman
who chose a career over family,
no, it must be that I am a sad helpless single damsel in distress,
that I must be saved from myself,
how sad my life must be that I'm still at work at 6 pm.

Cynical much?
But then again, it's hard not to be,
yes sometimes I work late,
yes sometime I wonder what it would be like
to go home to a husband
instead of a quiet lonely room,
but tonight is not that night.

Working late, then class, then homework,
midterms to study for,
at least I'm not making someone wait
anxiously for me at home,
no I am creating my own future,
taking control.

I go home close to midnight,
cold and tired and drained,
choice between the train or the bus,
neither option is great
this late at night.

Some guy stands at the bus stop alone,
he looks dark skinned, perhaps Arabic,
or Israeli, I must have missed his tzitzis,
 or neither, by the sound of his voice he's American like me,
maybe foreign parents in there somewhere.

We talk all the way home,
he walks me to my door
though it's a block out of his way,
I stand outside talking, prolonging,
not wanting to go in.

He asks if I want to keep in touch,
I'm flustered,
we just don't do that
but the second I shrug awkwardly
I think I've made a mistake,
he says goodnight and walks away
and all that's waiting inside
is my sad lonely empty room.

The second I get inside
I google him, search facebook,
try to figure out who he is,
we call it stalking.
I laugh at that strong independent woman
inside of me,
it didn't take much
for her to disappear.

Away

Sometimes you come home
and dream of
never going back
it's so stressful
sucking every ounce of
personal space and time,
it takes everything
and gives nothing,
it's just too hard
now, it's too hard.
You salivate when you think of
going far away, a different
country perhaps, and maybe
never coming back,
you don't want people to worry,
your mom thinks
it's a good idea
you explain your reasoning
your desire to explore
the world, see what's out there
get your wanderlust out of your system
before settling down.
It's the settling down part
that gets you,
you have no idea when or who or how,
you don't like the
lack of control,
you don't know
but this, this you can decide
you can plan
you can fly or drive or walk
away, and choose to come back
or not,
someday there'll be a storage space
with your name on it,
with all your worldly belongings,
you'll leave it all behind
and simply go
wherever
you're not sure where
but anywhere must be better than
here,
you kind of know
that you're too scared, too comfortable,
too -- too to go
maybe you'll surprise yourself,
maybe you'll do it,
quit your job,
leave this life behind
go away not knowing
if or when you're coming back,
maybe you'll do it.

Pain

I don't like the pain,
but I miss the drama,
the highs
and lows
that come with not knowing
or knowing too much
or feeling too much,
and now I simply don't feel at all.

I wanted this,
I know
I asked for it
to feel normal
but what does normal mean
and why do I hate it so.

You and I
try to figure it out
in that tiny little room
shutting the world outside,
but it doesn't stop for me,
all still waiting
when I come back.

And I hate it
and love it
sometimes want to run
and sometimes never want to leave.
I wanted stable
and this isn't it
but it's close to normal.

But why are there days
when I feel so numb
wishing to pinch
pull
cut
until I bleed
something, anything,
to feel pain again.

Is it better to hurt
or to be so numb
that you feel
absolutely
nothing
at all?

Sleep

I don't want to go to sleep.
It's not that I fear the dark,
Or I feel like I would miss out on life,
In fact I crave the dark
And life can wait.

I'm scared of going to sleep,
As the icy hand of night caresses my cheeks
And drowsiness sets in
I try to fight it
To stay awake
To play some more.

I'm scared of
Going to sleep with the quiet
And waking up
Once more
Alone.

The night presses in
My eyelids droop
Begging for respite
Craving sleep
But I fight it
I fight you
Kicking and screaming
But you just don't get it.

Sleep will come,
I know it will.
I can't fight it forever.
If I could just hold on
A little longer...

Take

Take
my memory
of you
with you when you go
I don't want it
anymore,
when I'm all alone.

I try to learn to trust myself
as you trust me,
responsibility,
they give me
more and more each day
that I stay.

You keep talking
about the day you will be gone,
you'll be leaving
so you say,
I keep waiting
not wanting it to come.

I lean on you,
oh how I do,
pretending that I need your help,
but do I,
or is it just the child in me
refusing to let you go?

You watched me grow
I hope I made you proud,
but as they crowd
in the doorway to watch you leave
I hope you'll remember me.

You tease me
that I will be calling you every day
with questions,
I ask them now
while you're around
cuz one day you'll be gone
and I'll have no one to ask anymore.

I don't need you,
not really,
not anymore,
but I ask so that you'll stick around,
cuz one day I'll need you
but you'll be gone.

And I'll be on my own.

Static

Shhhh...
do you hear that?
Quiet...
Shhh...
But they don't get it,
they just keep talking,
your lips are moving
and all I hear is
bla bla bla
your lips are moving
and you lie lie lie,
I wish you'd stop
but maybe it's me that needs to
stop trying,
stop caring,
stop doing,  
stop being
what you want
because what you want
doesn't matter
and what I want
hasn't mattered in too long.

Shhh...
I wish you'd stop talking,
my head craves the silence,
I want to hide in the closet
where no one will find me,
turn off my radio
rip out the plug,
make it stop
all that static
all that chatter,
make it disappear
into the silence.

Shhh....
turn off the TV,
turn off the light,
everyone stop talking,
pretend I'm not here
I pretend like you're not talking
like you don't need something
like the phone's not ringing
and the people aren't demanding service.

I pretend the world is still and silent.

Shhh...
do you hear that?
It is the sound
of a million voices
hushed,
still,
breath frozen
waiting for the signal
to start up again.

But just for a minute,
shhhh.
be still, will you,
and let me enjoy the quiet.

Number 2

I just keep seeing that number 2

that number 2

it's just not number one,

its no more fun

and I just want you to go away

and yet you stay

I hear your voice inside my head

I want it to stop

but you never stop

you're always there

you're everywhere

and I don't want to hate you

but I do.

Because you're that number 2.

Word Salad

Step up and take control
of the show
for if you know
how much power you hold
they will fold
and you will win.

You want to win, don't you,
and winning's not a sin
don't let them in
just keep pushing
just keep doing
just keep being you.

Everyone is leaving,
moving on, going away,
not just for a day,
they will not be back.
And you rejoice for them
but not for you.

For you,
you want more,
you want bigger, you want better
you want brighter and greater and MORE--
so why hold back, why not take it
grasp it and run with it
and never look back.

You feel like a prisoner in this palace,
but who is keeping you here
no one is stopping you
there's the door,
just go, GO why don't you.

But no, they need you
they will always need you
or so you think,
and you want to feel needed
you NEED to feel wanted
and so you stay.

For now.
But when he leaves
so will you-- so you say,
that day will come
and you wonder if he'll call
and you wonder if he'll even remember your name.

You sleep the morning away,
phone on silent so you can't hear them call,
and they do call
but it's okay, they were okay
everything was okay
they can manage without you.

One day they won't need you
and you will be useless to them,
you want to leave
before they realize
how much little value you hold.

The snowflakes hit your face,
this wonderful white world
trees adorned with snow
like a furry white coat
and you are outside in middle of the day.

You are a slave to the job
and you know it.
Don't jump, don't be rash
bide your time before you go
just wait.

Don't hate
the ones
who hold you back
for you realize
there are no bindings
tying you down.

You're free to go
if you please.
The door is wide open.
Why are you still here?