Just a wink

I was backing out into traffic, looking both ways as I was taught. Paused twice as two cars went by right behind me. Kept inching out, looking, waiting for a safe gap in traffic. Paused again for another oncoming car. It stopped, their lights went off for a second, then a quick 'on-off' signal, letting me know they would wait for me to go. I waved in thanks as I drove by.

Something so simple, and yet among this harsh world, a quick wink from a stranger is a kind gesture that will keep me going, reminding me that there are still good people in the world.

Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

It's like that. A hostile work environment, as they say. I work with all guys who have no filters. With every word I say, I am walking right into a dirty joke. It got to a point where I have to censor my words all the time. It's exhausting. I finally got fed up and told everyone to stop talking to me.

To end it off, I decided to bake a parve cheesecake for my shabbos hosts, and I almost dropped it right out of the oven, and it ruined.

Conclusion: I need more sleep.

Also, I hate people.

Baking & Sibling Rivalry

Although I fall somewhere in the middle in my family, I never thought of myself as being overshadowed by my older siblings. Until I learned how to bake.

I have an older sister who went to culinary school, and is considered by all to be the resident baker and chef in my family. Which is all well and good, I freely admit that she makes good stuff. 

I enjoy baking too, mostly the enjoyment of having people sample and enjoy what I make. I don't think I'm very good at it. I like making simple easy recipes, with as few steps as possible. I like embellishing recipes and putting my own touch on it. I don't like being confined by rules, so I will usually never write down the changes I make, and most often will not be able to recreate it.

Once in awhile I will post pictures on Facebook of what I make. I get many comments oohing and aahing and asking me to send them some. (But they never ask for the recipe, they just want ready made goods.) 

My sister is a serial poster, she will post pictures almost every night of what she makes for dinner, every Friday what she cooks for Shabbos, and every time she bakes, believe me Facebook will hear about it.

So it should come as no surprise that when I posted the pictures below on Facebook, someone mistook them for my sister, and wanted to ask her to save some for them.

One Friday, she was busy so she asked me to make one of her cake recipes. I of course 'loosely' followed the recipe, which she didn't care for. I think it came out better than hers, if I do say so myself. 

They say too many cooks spoil the broth, but in this case, I think two chefs living in different states are pretty safe.

I just can't show up to her party with anything, or I'll never hear the end of it.

Suspended

Sometimes I feel like my life is on hold. Like everyone else has moved on, relationships, careers, families, babies, illnesses, but for me life has stood still for the last 6 months. It's perpetually summer here, I feel like I'm on vacation all the time. Like winter never happened.

I can't blame someone for being sick, for dodging my calls, for being too tired, too dizzy, too weak, or just not in the mood to talk to me. I should have been thrilled to hear that my mother is in remission, but selfishly all I could think was, when will things go back to normal? Why is she not calling me? Who am I supposed to talk to?

I met this interesting woman who told me all about the book she is writing, debunking medical myths. That taking vitamin D is a myth, all we really need is sunlight. She told me about crystal healing she does, using crystal light energy to heal the body. About how sickness begins in the mind, and we could cure ourselves. I sarcastically countered with, what about people with cancer, or who have diabetes? She claims she knows a way to cure them. She thinks western medicine is just a bunch of pharmaceutical companies trying to make money, that we can't find 'cures' for diseases such as cancer, because otherwise there would be no money in drugs.

I don't believe a lot of what she says, but that is not really my point. I do believe that our mind has the power to harm, or to heal. I know that when I am physically sick, most often I am feeling depressed or down. So which comes first?

 

There are times when my mind goes on a loop, when there are things, events, people that I can't get out of my head no matter how much I try to tell myself to forget. I always wonder, where is that magical portal, the one that transports you to a beautiful place that makes it all better, that heals the wounded and cures the sick, that takes away all pain, that allows our minds to rest? For me, it is not sleep, because my dreams are haunted by the thoughts which in the daytime I refused to allow myself to think. I wake up with a feeling that I can never escape it, no matter how hard I try.

It's not our hearts that feel. The heart is just a muscle. It is our brains that feel pain, joy, anger, jealousy, sadness. 

I finally got around to watching the movie Inside Out. Despite all my aversion to cartoons and Disney movies, I liked it. I liked the way it portrayed emotions, showing that it's okay to have a wide range of emotions, it's okay to feel. 

Sometimes I just wish I could shut it off.

It's not the world that's the problem

In this week's episode of Chicago Med (another spin-off of Chicago Fire), there is a mass shooting in a movie theater by a 17 year old gunman, and a high school teacher shoots the gunman thus saving a lot of people. Everyone hails the teacher as a hero and congratulates him on his quick thinking. He instantly goes from being a nobody to being an internet sensation, gaining 96,000 followers in one day.

As the episode progresses, the doctors realize that the only gunshot victim they treated was the 17 year old 'shooter', and the rest of the victims were simply victims of trampling. After investigating, the detectives find out that the shooter was no shooter at all, rather an idiot kid with a leaf blower pulling a prank. The teacher, swearing that he saw the kid holding a gun and that he heard gunshots, finds out that he shot an unarmed victim. Suddenly the internet turns on him and makes fun of him for shooting the kid. Feeling guilty, or humiliated, he ends up committing suicide by stepping in front of a car. His last message left behind on his phone is "It was an honest mistake."

The closing scene, in a bar between two doctor discussing the events of the day:

"Think he killed himself 'cause he felt guilty? Or because he was humiliated?"

"I don't know. I mean, does it really matter?"

"The time we live in, it's crazy."

"No. Look, The Crusades, the Mongol Conquest, World War I, World War II, that was crazy.
We're actually living in the most peaceful time in human history, but not that you'd know it. You know, every dumb, mean, stupid, vicious thing gets a light shown on it. The world would be a much better place, a much safer place if people'd just shut up."

A couple of days ago I woke up to the news that there was a 'terror attack' in the London Undergound. A guy pulled a knife, screamed 'This is for Syria" and stabbed 3 people before being subdued by the police. I wanted to go on a rant on Facebook, explaining why, in my opinion, this was no terror attack. France, that was a terror attack. Israel, they've known quite a few terror attacks. America, 9/11, San Bernardino, Boston bombing, all those were acts of terror. I wanted to laugh, in London a crazed man does not set off a bomb, does not pull a gun, he pulls a knife. By the time the police arrive the station is pretty much empty. It's like, so sorry mate, please, I want to cause some terror, please, so stand still while I stab you, please. (Phoebe, in The one With Ross's Wedding part II).

Of course, I hate controversy, especially anything political, so instead of posting my rant I turned over and went back to sleep. But I think the reason I felt so strongly about this is because, out of everything going on in the world right now, how can anyone call that a terror attack? Simply because the guy said it was for Syria? As one on-looker shouted, "You ain't no Muslim bruv". You don't represent Islam, or Syria. You are a crazy individual, and perhaps no one will ever know why you did what you did.

These aren't peaceful times, but perhaps it is true that the terror is simply broadcasted more widely than ever before, faster, instantaneously, you can watch an attack as it occurs in real time, the soldiers are taught to shoot and not to think first, assume that every shady character is a terrorist, it doesn't matter what the skin color is, because these days anyone can be a terrorist.

So what do you do? Do you live in fear? I thought, how weird for those 14 people who woke up in the morning, went to work and probably never even thought 'what if today is my last day on earth?' And then bam! They get shot and killed, and for what?

I can't explain it. I can't explain any of it, I can't explain the humor in a Facebook post that says, "I'm asking Santa for better presidential candidates", I can't explain why people spew hateful messages towards the current leadership, or why that leadership does not seem to be able to give the people what it needs right now, I can't explain why I get mad about the 'stop and frisk' rules in New York because I think it's racist, or why people call me a Liberal when they feel that the rise in crime is a direct result of the removal of that law.

The world is not the problem, the world has problems. People create problems, people create war, adversity, terror, hatred, racism. It all starts with man.

How can we combat that? How can we feel safe when the world feels like a terrifying place?

Here is a beautiful article I saw, addressing just that.

"15 things to do when the world feels terrifying".

Among the 15, here are my favorites:

6. Leave a copy of your favorite book in a public place.

Trust that the right person will find it.

10. Buy an extra box of tampons the next time you're out shopping.

Leave them in the ladies' room of your workplace for anyone to take. (If you're a dude and this weirds you out, talk to this 15-year-old kid about it).

*Author's note: I'm sure females can identify with this one. I was in the bathroom on campus one day, and I heard a voice from the stall next to me say, excuse me, do you have a tampon? I didn't, because I don't believe in tampons, but I was able to supply the anonymous voice with a pad (or "sanitary napkin"). It was a strangely elating feeling to be able to help out a stranger in a restroom, and I never even saw her face.

12. Go to a diner.

Order a milkshake. Tip 10 dollars.

13. Buy a pile of index cards and a sharpie.

Write down, "You are Important" or "Breathe." Carry them with you as you go about your day, leaving them in waiting room magazines, on car windshields, in elevators, in bathroom stalls. Keep one for yourself. We all need the reminder sometimes too.

14. Dig up an embarrassing photo of yourself from your teenage years.

Post it online. Laugh gently at the person you were, and celebrate the human you are now. If you're still in the process of living through your teenage years, take lots of pictures. You're doing great.

And the one that touched me the most:

15. Think. Think about the fact that the world can sometimes feel like a flaming cesspool of garbage.

Think about everyone in your zip code who is homeless and hungry, cold, terrified, and lonely. Think about global warming, handguns and assault rifles, violence on television, rape statistics, domestic abuse. Think about terrorism, both domestic and abroad. Think about petty cruelty. Think about your childhood schoolyard bully. Think about the times that you won the argument but lost the friendship.

Think about all the times you got too busy and didn't visit your relatives like you said you would or didn't give the dollar in the checkout line because times are rough and who even knows what the March of Dimes is. Think about how you don't want to think about who grows your food or makes your clothes or pieces your iPhone together, because in the world we inhabit, it's virtually impossible to exist without making some kind of ethical compromises. Think about the 7 billion other people people out there in the world. Think about the average 318,000 births today or the 133,000 deaths.

Think about how enormously complicated all of this is.

Think about how Mother Teresa accepted funds from corrupt embezzlers, how George Bush is an oil painter, a husband, a father, and a war criminal. Think about Princess Diana's life's work of charity and goodwill; remember also that she was depressed, lived through bulimia, and self-harmed. Name five celebrities, and then imagine them in the morning, with horse breath and red-rimmed eyes, stumbling to splash water on their face, just like you and me.

And remember, amidst all this, there are tons of incredibly easy, tiny ways to make the world a slightly less shitty place for everyone.

Take a deep breath of gratitude for the people out there who actually do make the world a better place. Challenge yourself to be that person, in whatever small way you can manage right now.

Photo via iStock.

Close your browser window. Shut down your laptop. Silence your cell phone. Just for a minute, before you go back to Netflix, before you text someone, before you answer more emails or meet friends for drinks or order a pizza or whatever it is that you're doing today: Just for a second, take a moment to remember that the world can be pretty magical sometimes, and you're really lucky to be alive in it.

Do what you can.

~~~

That's how we will combat the 'crazy' that is the world today. By remembering that darkness is simply the absence of light. By reminding ourselves every day that there are still good people in the world, and by making small efforts to try and be those people. 

Every time I get off the highway, there are homeless people with signs asking for money. I get nervous, because I am paranoid that the second I open my window they will try to carjack me. It bothers me that I lost the ability to trust in the goodness of humanity, that maybe these people are simply hungry and really do need the money for food, or to take care of their children. Unfortunately, there are many less-than-honest people who will break your trust and cause you to fear them and anyone like them. The key is to find a balance between complete paranoia and distrust, and being overly trusting and naive.

I had an idea that I could keep little 'to-go' bags in my car, a ziplock bag with a granola bar, mini water bottle, maybe mouthwash, gum, a few dollars, and maybe a note with some inspirational words. I could give it to these people when they walk by my window. Maybe they won't go hungry that day.

I'm sure you have ideas like this too. So go with it. Instead of thinking, it's probably a stupid idea and they will laugh and throw it back in my face, think that maybe out there, someone will get your message and feel touched, and grateful for the kind stranger who helped them out. 

Maybe you will be the one to restore someone's faith in humanity. And along the way, maybe you will even restore your own.

Turn that frown upside down

Tacky, I know.

I seem to always write when I have a cold, like "hey world, I feel like crap today, just thought I should let you know!". Not sure how you can get a cold in warm climate, but it happens.

Things haven't been going so well for me lately, or rather, I have let my control slip and things got into disarray. It is all how you look at it. Is my world falling apart, or am I just not holding it together strongly enough?

I'm part of a 'get fit' facebook group (who isn't?) The moderator is posting small exercises to do each day, to get people moving. Today it was simply, go outside, enjoy the beauty. So I did.

First, I went running. It was raining all morning, so I thought, how appropriate, I will run in the rain like in all romantic movies. But by the time I got dressed and went outside it had stopped raining. It was still nice and breezy, and I had a good run/jog/walk. There was a moment there when the wind picked up and I was running, it felt like I was controlling it.

I lit the menorah and enjoyed some chanuka songs.

Then, I went to an awesome outdoor free Avraham Fried concert, did I mention free? The music was so beautiful, and like I've heard mentioned before, Avraham Fried is such an aidel yiddishe guy, it's a pleasure to watch him sing. I felt like, hey there's Avremel Friedman, I see him all the time in Crown Heights, we're practically neighbors. It was nice to see tons of Jews in one place.

Then, I sat around drinking tea feeling sick and sorry for myself. But that's not the end, my friends.

My sister texted me for my address, and I'm pretty sure she's gonna send me chanuka cookies. Then we texted back and forth for like 45 minutes, and she was being really nice and supportive about what I'm going through. Which is, as my mom would put it, 'a miracle' because we used to hate each other and could barely say anything without throwing out nasty words. So ya, I guess family is not that bad.

All in all, I think things are looking up. And I attribute that to my attitude and my mindset, since nothing really changed since yesterday. But I feel different. More hopeful, more positive, like I actually want to move forward, and instead of waiting for things to fall into place, I will actively take the reins and make it happen.

Out of place

Trust. It's a fragile thing. It is easily broken.

Did you hear, Mark Zuckerberg and wife had a baby girl? Mazal tovs are in order. I mean, she is half Jewish. Just not the right half.

He and his wife wrote a letter to their baby daughter, expressing their wishes and hopes for what the world would be like when she grows up. I think it reads politically, rather than a sweet letter from dad to his daughter.

Regardless, I thought I would try one.

Dear unborn children of mine,

I want to say nice things like, I am so excited for your future, or I will be the best mom ever and love you the most. But I know that is not true.

I will try not to scream so much, like my parents did. I will try not to get annoyed at you when I am overtired and you are not listening, or when you wipe your grubby little hands all over the nice clean counter I just wiped down. I want you to understand the value of money, but also to never worry that we can't support you. I want you to call me in middle of the night when you screw up, even if it makes me feel like I didn't teach you right. Realistically, I know I may not be the most patient person, I know I may very well say things I will regret, I know I may not screw you up like my parents did to me, but with my very own errors, and I know there will be times when you will want to run away. So will I. Sometimes it is so tempting to leave when things get tough, but my mom never did that to me, and I promise not to do that to you. Every time I wanted to scream at my parents, "I hate you, and you never should have had kids!" my mother reminded me that apparently I chose them. So my advice to you, kiddo, is don't choose me. Run the other way!

I don't think these letters mean anything, because they are all unrealistic. You can say anything you want to a baby or an unborn child, but you will never truly know how things will be until they are.

I know how sucky it feels to answer the phone when my brother calls, thinking maybe he is interested in my life, but of course he only calls when he needs something from me. And then to do everything in my power to get him what he needs, thinking maybe then he will love me.

I sure showed him, showing up at his thanksgiving dinner where over 40 people attended, many of whom did not even know my brother personally, and yet he didn't think to text me to invite me. I said "thanks for inviting me" and he said "I didn't invite you but come again." I showed him, rifling through his kitchen, drunk and trying to find and steal (is it still called stealing if it's from family?) the green tea kettle my mom left there which I asked him if I could have because I was sick but had no burner to heat up water for tea, but apparently they "misplaced" it. If I were a tea kettle, where would I be? I never found it. I strutted around telling everyone 'that's my brother' like it actually meant something.

Ah, family. Sometimes I get homesick and tell my father that I want to come home, but then he reminds me that every time I come home I end up being miserable and wondering why I made the same mistake again.

I chase after these things respectfully called love, acceptance and belonging, knowing very well that they must come from within, not without (and picturing Will Smith saying, "without what?").  


I've been trying to get back into writing, so I tried some writing prompts. One was called, Out of Place. "When have you felt out of place? How can you capture that experience in words?" This is what I came up with:

~~~~~

She told me to ask for "The Firehouse", so feeling like an idiot I made my way to the front of the bus, and asked with uncertainty to be let off at the firehouse. I was sure the driver would tell me he's never heard of it, and I wouldn't know how to respond because I've never been there and I'm not very good with directions. But he simply nodded and said sure, it's along his route. Like, he knows. He's been there. They've all been there, I'm the only outsider in this little town. The bus slowed down and I gripped the back of the seat, trying very hard not to go flying through the front window. Definitely not the best way to exit a bus. I looked around me trying to locate #17, feeling lost and confused. Everyone had a chance to settle in, but I've never even seen the place. There are boxes with my name on it somewhere in the basement, but that's about it. The house looked so small from the outside, which is why they called it the "little green house". Definitely not big enough for 5 occupants. Six, now. I didn't bother knocking, I know they never lock their door. They never ask me to call first, they know we all just come and go, showing up and leaving when we please. Literally an "open home", but not in the meaningful sense. I tried to smile when I walked in the front door, to appear curious, enthusiastic, or simply interested in seeing their new abode. But I hated it the second I walked in. The clutter, the mess, the walls closing in on me reminding me why I left in the first place. Not this house, I didn't get a chance to leave yet. But I will. And soon. This definitely didn't feel like coming home.

~~~

To be fair, it did get easier after that first time. I still don't think of it as home, but merely "the place where some of my family members reside", only that's way to long to say. Also, after being away for so long it is nice to seek comfort in my parents' arms. The child in me wishes it could have been different, but the adult in me reminds myself that it is my turn now, to create my own home, my own world. 

You'd think I would be psyched, living in 80 degree weather, with my own apartment, a car, a pool in my backyard, living 15 minutes away from the beach and getting to watch magnificent sunsets every day. 

But I feel out of place. Like I don't belong anywhere. Like something is missing. Like I'm searching for something. It's not like looking for a lost object, because then you'd know what you were looking for, you just wouldn't know where to look. In this case, I don't know what it is, or where it is, or how to find it. 

I hope one day I will be driving home, and turn onto my street and feel a familiarity, like this is where I belong.

Just breathe

I inhale slowly, like he told me to, letting it flood my senses. It burns my throat slightly, but I don't cough. I am in control. I feel it spreading through me, my tongue tingling, I take another hit, but I feel nothing, or everything, I feel too much and I can't stop, I can't turn it off ever, I sip some wine and swirl it around on my tongue, swallowing, my head feels pressurized, everything is magnified by ten, but still I can't forget, I can't shut off my thoughts. I suggest more wine but he says I've had enough. I mumble under my breath, I think they can hear me but I'm not communicating, I can barely hold my head up, my thoughts coming faster than usual, melancholy, depressed, they say this is a downer, oh I feel it. I am ruining their vibe, but I can't help it. He tells me to go watch a funny movie but I don't want to be alone. I stare at the moon and mention its brightness, they laugh at me, I don't know why I didn't mean it to be funny. They carry on a conversation but all I can think about is G-d, what my purpose is in this world, and how I can be a giving person without getting hurt. I am aware that I am saying too much, I should stop talking now, I really should. I know I should just go to bed, but I don't want this weird night to end, and yet I know I will wake up tomorrow and pretend it never happened. He asks me "Are you good?" and I smile and nod and tell him yes, I'm good. And in a strange way, I think I am. 

On Body Image

I thought it was just me. But it isn't.

I sit on the couch with an old classmate looking through high school pics and reminiscing about the 'good 'ole days'. After all, it has been quite some time since high school. But the more we talk, the more it seems that we had a very different high school experience. While she went to a high school where she was young, thin, popular and had lots of friends, I was the awkward overweight teen who stood out in all the pictures, had a bad haircut, and had a hard time making friends. With every picture came more regrets, more shame, more self-hatred. The best way to explain it is that I was mad at "her" for being overweight and missing out on all the experiences, even though her was me and it wasn't really my fault.

"Oh my gosh, you lost so much weight, you look emaciated!" which is her way of saying 'you look hot and skinny', but the word emaciated conjures up images of bodies of people in the holocaust, and why would you want to look like that? But apparently thin is in.

Even famous people hate their bodies, apparently. But the question is, why? Is being thin going to make you happier? Looking like Brad Pitt going to make you more attractive? Will changing anything about yourself going to make you into a better person?

The problem is, if you can't figure out how to change your thoughts, control your mind, change your way of thinking, you can change your body, but inside you will still hate everything about you.

On Flying

We don't live in fear, we don't board a plane and wonder if it'll be our very last plane ride, if we will be hijacked midair. We roll our eyes and take off our shoes and go through security, bemoaning the liquid carry-on rules, the increasing baggage fees and the decreasing baggage limits, we roam the airports in search of electricity so we can stay connected, that is our one goal in life as we watch our batteries drain with fear in our eyes to never be without. But we are always watching, on our guard, alert. Or we are being watched, as we leave our bag for a second to walk over to the garbage can, and we know there is someone wondering if we will come back. We imagine saying "Oh no sir, that is not my bag," as we walk away, slowly, casually, imagining the bag blowing up behind us and leaving chaos and fear in our wake.

No? Is that only me?

I watch the travelers, wearing leggings and baggy clothing, traveling gear, nothing fancy, our hair and makeup and basic hygiene put on hold as we travel for 3, 5, 10 hours at a time, we confine ourselves to claustrophobic seats and even smaller bathrooms, our internal clocks screwed up as we cross time zones and date lines, getting to our destinations at ungodly hours and being forced to perform, to smile and hug and greet people and be a generally polite human being when all we want to do is scream that this is not human, and please I just want some sleep!

There's the safety video that is meant to catch people's attention and leaves me with raised eyebrows and headshake. A nun, really?

At least water and oxygen is still free. Barely. 

Wait, that's your BROTHER?!

On one of my Facebook stalking routes I came across a profile picture of a pretty girl and a pretty boy in a pretty picture with sunlight slanting over them. Someone commented on the picture, "And, who may I ask is this with [you]?" Someone else replied, "That's her brother." I would have been more taken aback had I not seen the same guy in another picture with another girl whom I'm friends with. (I have to say, he's a good looking guy. But that's not my point.) My point is, why would you pose in a rather intimate picture with your brother?

I saw another picture of a shirtless guy and a girl in a bikini with the caption "Look who I came across!" Apparently, also brother and sister, and if I understood correctly from the comments, they were both backpacking in Europe (separately) and chanced upon each other, prompting a sibling reunion. If the half naked thing wasn't enough, the siblings were commenting back and forth on each other's bodies, saying things like "I look so fat, look at my bloated stomach, but you look great!"

Okay, what we learn from this is that I have too much free time on my hands and should stop stalking random people on Facebook.

But seriously, I was never that close with any of my brothers, one of whom can't stand me for some reason. I'm not saying that the way I act with my family is normal, but neither is being overly close to your brother to the point of raising eyebrows.

I recently moved to an area where 2 of my (single) brothers live. I barely see them, but when I do they pretty much ignore me. Now, I know this is an unfortunate holdover from the somewhat dysfunctional childhood we had, but to me it's just normal.

I was feeling pretty homesick so I kind of sort of asked my brother if he wanted to hang out, and I was not surprised by his response of "I don't like you, why would I want to hang out with you?"

I am all for having normal healthy relationships with your brothers, but if you choose to post a picture of the two of you as your profile picture, please do us stalkers a favor and write #sibs.

I don't know how

I don't know how
to separate the private from the public
so I just say nothing.

I don't know how
to bare my soul
to leave everything behind on the stage

I don't know how
to close the divide
between what I'm feeling and what I'm saying

If only I could be that brave
if only I could be that good

if only,

My grandma calls to ask how I'm doing,
but there is so much we don't say,
were taught not to say from a young age.

My father says
he barely speaks to his mom anymore
because after all the things we are not allowed to talk about
there isn't much left to say.

We couldn't mention when my dad got his first cell phone,
because he was clearly too poor to have one.

We didn't talk about the new house,
don't tell them you are unemployed,
let's keep the transparent paper-thin charade going
as long as we can,
so they believe we are something
instead of losers.

I can't really say
that I spent 4 years in college
with not much to show for it.

Well
I'm sick of being a loser,
It's hard to move past all the
family drama,
all the things we never said.

These people,
these performers
speak about racism,
speak about love
and hate
and self-loathing

They speak of  broken homes
and broken hearts,
cut up bodies,

they speak of themselves,
they open their hearts and souls
they dig deep
and use their lives
to wow audiences and judges.

I want to be one of those persons,
I want to perform
not just write
in a dark dusty corner
forgotten.

I want to invoke tears
applause
feelings of awe

I want to feel that I too
can share from deep inside

But there is so much we do not say,
it's like locked up
in a box
deep inside

I don't know how to let it out.

Stop and smell the rainbows

"Come outside," he says.

Really? Now? In the middle of all this? What is it that you need that is so urgent it can't wait until I'm off the phone, until I'm done cleaning up other people's messes.

What do you want now when I'm busy, when everything is messed up and I'm trying to deal with it?

"Come with me," he says.

I follow him outside, impatiently barking at him. "What do you need?"

"Look," he says. And points up at the sky.

The voice in my ear fades away, as everything slows down. I stare up at the most magnificent rainbow coming out of the clouds.

"It was much bigger before," he says.

I smile. I pause, and take a breath before everything speeds up again.

There is always time for beauty.

Ocean Breath

The path leads straight into the water
it's as clear as day
the only way to go is down,
follow the white broken lines
follow the cars
just follow,
but you're happy to,
the sun and wind in your hair
the ocean spread out before you
as the road you take goes straight into its depths,
it seems
you speed up,
awaiting
anticipating
the salty air permeating
your being
you want to be breathe water
you want to be the water
fluid,
in motion,
overwhelmingly beautiful
breathtakingly wonderous
you sense no danger
as the wide open road
propels you foward
and the ocean welcomes you
with open arms
but at the last second
it curves,
you turn the wheel
follow the white broken lines
around the bend
the foliage
obscuring the water
the beauty you see no more
you mourn its loss
but you know it wasn't meant to be.

Muscle Memory

I thought I had forgotten how to run, but I guess my muscles remember. Vaguely, but they do understand how it works.

Oh how they ache, I can barely sit or stand without feeling the burn. There's a great path by the canal near where I live, it's 2.5 miles around.

I got halfway around and could barely breath but there is really no stopping when you have to get back to the other side of the canal. Except there is a bridge in the middle but I decided not to cheat.

As I was walking the last leg, a woman passed me on the trail, jogging at a slow pace. My competitive side kicked in, so I jogged past here and then switched back to walking. So she got past me.

Then I did it again a few times, leapfrogging her just to psych her out. It got her to move faster, but then I gave up.

You win. Game over, I can't breath.

But then I got home and jumped into the pool, so it was all worth it.

We hold each other

A beating heart. That is what we were each given.

A heart keeps us alive, until it stops beating.

A heart causes you to feel.

To feel pain, to feel joy.

To feel fear. Loneliness. Uncertainty.

We hold each other because that is all we can do, the more we hear, the more pain we feel as each video comes scrolling through news feeds and we want to block it out, stick fingers in our ears and pretend it is not happening, but it is. It is and you can't stop it, you can't stop the pain.

You can't stop the violence, as you hold yourself, arms crossed over your body, rocking with the tears, wishing it would stop.

*People judged us they couldn't see the connection
When I look at you, it's like I'm looking back at my reflection
I don't see nothing different, our pigments they coincide
We hold each other so tight they couldn't break us if they tried

What causes one person to feel the pain of another across the globe, cry with families of Jews killed in our land, soldiers ripe in years, babies even, stabbed to death for protecting what is theirs.

It makes no sense, but all we can do is keep holding on and pray for the redemption.

*Lyrics from "Hold Each Other", a song by A Great Big World

I want to get better

When I get a cold, I get it bad. Really bad. Wake up with aches and shakes everywhere can't move no interest in anything bad. Boxes of tissues and bottles of cold medicine bad. Wondering if I'll ever get my sense of smell back and how many people I am annoying with my nose blowing bad.

I finally went to the doctor after the pain in my sinuses became too much. I was convinced that I had a sinus infection, having gotten them all the time when I was little. I remember once when I was about 5 years old, I was so sick I couldn't even put on my socks, I was sitting on the bed in a fog and my mother had to do it for me. Pain in my sinuses clogs my whole head, the pressure makes it feel like my eyes will pop out, like I'm underwater in a pool filled with chlorine, like something is compressing my face.

So I marched in there ready to tell the doctor that I already diagnosed myself and please write me a prescription for antibiotics, thank you very much.

But after a few questions she announced that I do not present with a sinus infection, I simply don't have the right symptoms. Damn, I knew I should have answered yes to 'Do you have a fever, sore throat?'. Just give me the drugs and let me be on my merry way!

She did give me drugs. She prescribed steroids as an antihistamine to dry up my sinuses and allergy medicine to prevent it from building up again. She said in a week I should be good as new.

She also informed me that what I have is common, and some people live with it for months before going to a doctor. This? I thought. Why, why would anyone want to live with such pain, such discomfort?

But we do it every day, we have an ache in the back, foot, an itch on the arm, stomach, we feel minor pain and we chalk it up to lifting boxes, or nothing, or something that can't be explained. We have twitching muscles and stiff joints and we shrug and say eh, that's life, what can you do.

Well, you can do something, if you want to get help, if you want to get better. I have found that it is seemingly much easier to do nothing then to attempt to resolve your situation, because as a pessimist I anticipate failure as inevitable. And why bother trying when you will fail anyway.

BUT what if you could make a change and help yourself, make your situation better? Shouldn't you at least try?

I could have lived without my sense of smell, or with a box of tissues as company. I've done it most of my life. My family used to make fun of me for blowing my nose so loud. But now when I wake up in the morning with barely any tissues on the floor beside my bed, and a clear nose that I can breath from, I am grateful to have gotten the help I needed to get better.

It's not always easy to change your situation, but imagine how good it will feel if you try, and instead of failing, think about this- what if you succeed?

After darkness comes...lightning?

I'm sitting in my car at midnight and I know all the stories of people being shot or jumped outside late at night, and despite the warnings in my head I can't go inside. I lock my doors, turn off the ignition and just sit there, listening to "Roses" by The Chainsmokers over and over again while I watch the most breathtaking lightning show taking place in the sky, and I can't go inside, if I could I would sleep out here, sleep on a cloud so I could be closer to the light, I would stay here forever to watch this sight that takes my breath away and makes my heart pound in awe of what the Creator has done.

I can't go inside, because I lied, I lied when I said that everything is great, I lie because you probably couldn't handle the truth and I probably can't handle the truth. The truth is, that you can change your job, your location, your situation, your friends, you can change all the facts about your life but you cannot change yourself, and as I already knew, wherever you go, there you are. It sounds depressing, right? What if you are so sick of yourself, what if you are so boring that a guy can't stand to talk to you for more than an hour and says "Let me know if you want to do this again sometime" which you know is code for "You are so boring and that was a waste of my time" so clearly you bore people to death, and the bottom line is that you will die alone.

Your mom says that isn't true and that you have a lot going for you, but what does she know, she's been married to the same guy for 35 years and she claims she only married him because he was the only Jewish guy she knew and she knew she was supposed to marry a Jew.

What do you want to know? What do you want me to tell you? I could tell you every single crappy detail of my new life, but what would be the point? You can't help me, and who the hell reads this crap anyway?

I had to say that.

I'm sorry. (Not really, but maybe that's what you need to hear. If you are reading this.)

My first instinct was to run to an 'ex' and beg for validation, please, tell me what you ever saw in me, tell me that I'm interesting, and funny, and smart and worth being around, tell me that I'm likeable, that I'm lovable, that I'm not boring as hell or broken, that I'm not gonna die alone. But what would that do? Best case, he'd probably say something lame and generic to try to make me feel better, worst case he'd be a jackass and say something mean. Or ignore me altogether. Then I would be left to peel my shame off the ground, the last little shred of dignity that I may have had left.

No, I'd rather stay up alone and wallow.

And sit outside watching the lightning, waiting for some creepy killer to knock on my window. Or do they even knock?

In an effort to try to cheer me up:

Thank you and goodnight.

My Bubby, with love

I'm sick. I hate when I have a cold, my body feels weak and tired and all I want to do is go to bed.

But my body is betraying me, because so many things are going right in my life. Thank G-d.

I have a new job, new car, new apartment, new city/state. I picked up and moved and started a whole new life all on my own, and with G-d's help everything is working out.

I woke up this morning to the most gorgeous view outside the window of my grandparents' condo. I love spending time with them, although when I was younger I did not appreciate it.

They are old, and they are wise. And they take care of their family. I felt that especially today.

My grandfather helped me with my new car, walked me through the whole process and was with me every step of the way. He was patient with me. He explained everything.

The more time I spend with them, the more I regret having brushed them off when I was younger. I thought they were boring. I thought their habits of saving everything, from plastic cutlery to peanut tins was funny. I thought they were old and slow.

It took time and patience for me to realize what a treasure I have, and how much I should appreciate them while I still can.

My father grew up in a house with 4 boys. If they did have any emotions, surely they never showed it. The only one who apparently 'lived freely' was Uncle Neal. He was the fun one, the adventurous one, the one full of life and laughter. He wrapped himself around a tree driving drunk when he was 25.

Growing up, I learned that tears meant you were weak.

I learned that saying "I love you" makes you vulnerable.

I learned that opening a door to trust brings pain.

I learned to stuff my feelings deep inside, to bite or be bitten, to put up a wall to keep others out.

A lot has changed over the years. We aren't the people we once were. We agreed to bury the past, make peace with it so we could move on. Things are different now.

I never saw my grandmother as a very motherly being. She was simply my grandmother. She sent me cards on my birthday. She came to every graduation. She called to say hello and see how I was doing.

I never felt anything. I didn't know how to feel, at least not to them.

I saw her in the kitchen today, wearing an apron, preparing breakfast. She left me a glass of orange juice in the fridge. She made me a bowl of oatmeal.

I noticed a tube of lipstick on the counter. Its girlishness seemed out of place in this kitchen.

Then I looked around. At the heart-shaped card from a student of hers, where she volunteers to tutor. At the pictures of all of us, her grandkids and great-grandkids. At her knickknacks, her 'Edith Bunker' cookbook, at the charm and personality of her kitchen.

I looked at all the patchwork quilts she made over the years, and all the lives she's touched. Sometimes I feel like I'm not good enough, that she could have done better in grandchildren. I wonder if she wishes I had gone to Harvard or Yale, instead of City College. I wonder if she is embarrassed to introduce me to her friends, because I am religious.

She blows me a kiss as I say goodbye.

It's hard to say "I love you" but I think she knows.

New York

My feet are freezing in my tights and boots, and my body is all confused. I should be in Florida right now, but here I am, in New York, the greatest city in the world.

I miss it, I really do. I miss the buses, the noise, the pollution, I miss the crowds, the NYPD Blue, I miss the comfortable feeling, like a favorite old sweater, that this place gets me, that it is me, and will always be a part of me.

I'm excited to tell people that I moved to Florida, and I'm happy there. I'm in New York for a visit, to see my friends and be here for Yom Tov. But then I'm going back, back to Florida where I live now.

Yes I live in Florida now. I have a job and  a car and an apartment with a pool. Do I sound all grown up? Cuz that's how I feel.

I will always be New York, you can't take that away from me. But right now I can't wait to go back to the Land of Sun.