Fire in the Belly

"Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate, but that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, handsome, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God within us. It is not just in some; it is in everyone. And, as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our fear, our presence automatically liberates others." - Marianne Williamson, co-leader of the United States Department of Peace movement

I am grateful to a reader of this blog who introduced me to the above quote a few years ago.

I know what scares me the most- the thought that I might actually be able to succeed at something. That thought creates a desire, which creates the possibility of failure, which stops me in my tracks and freezes me. Suddenly, I can't breath.

I am scared to try and fail. I know that it's "better to have tried and failed than to never have tried at all" but what about the discouragement and dejection that comes from rejection? What about being to scared to try again?

I emailed a former professor recently for advice, and he was really encouraging. He let me know what he thought of my skills and where they would be most effective. Suddenly, he put this idea in my head that maybe I could actually do something substantial, be something.

I'm not saying I never believed in myself, it's just nice to hear it from someone else. Sometimes we get this fire inside of us that roars to life and propels us forward, urging us on to try things we were previously afraid of.

Sometimes that fire is what sets us free, sometimes it is what consumes and eventually destroys us. The choice is up to you.

In that vein, a quote by Joseph Campbell:

Rebirth

Do you believe in second chances? I do. We all get second chances, many many times in life. And third, and fourth. The question is, what do you do about it? Do you lie in bed with the covers drawn and let life pass you by? Or do you take the opportunity life handed you, and run with it?

My mother chose the first option for many years. She lay in bed with the covers pulled up, both literally and figuratively, and bemoaned the fact that she didn't know how to do anything, didn't have the skills, and that no one would want to hire her.

She tried, over the years, with odd jobs here and there. She even applied for some jobs and set up an interview, but got too scared to go and cancelled at the last minute.

Today, she came to me and asked me to make her a resume, and handed me two cut outs from the local papers of jobs she wanted to apply for.

First, I had to make her an email address. Yes, that's how behind the times she is. Then, procure a resume from thin air, one that would not get her laughed out of an interview. I have skills, and a way with words, but I'm not even sure my skills could turn her minimal work experience from the 80's and early 90's, as well as a barely half-finished college education into something substantial and hire worthy.

I'm sure she's scared, I'm sure she is terrified at the idea of getting a job and returning to the workforce after many years of raising kids and being at home. I'm sure she is just as scared of no one wanting to hire her.

I understand the fear, the doubt and the uncertainty surrounding the future, the desire to do something useful but have no idea what that something is. I understand what it feels like to be searching for a place in this world, a place to fit in, and perhaps to make a difference. And I want to help her, to give her a chance.

So I will turn her song-and-poetry writing, book authoring, mothering, volunteering, driving, cooking, shopping, hosting, sleeping, supporting, comforting, laughing, smiling skills into a resume that not only explains experience relevant to the position, but one that explains life experience- a living breathing human being who still has time left in this world and would like to make a contribution to society.

I do hope she finds her second purpose, (that's not to say us kids have stopped bothering her) and that she does not get dejected by rejection.

Taking chances is part of life. So go, do not be afraid to live.

Dress for Success

The birds here chirp at night. It's like they know something I don't know. One theory is that birds' sleep patterns are messed up by the constant bright lights at night that mimic daylight, and therefore do not know the difference between night and day.

Either way, I wish they'd stop.

We are finally in May, and yet the temperatures here are still pretty cold. I miss being able to walk out of the house and not worry about bundling up, except maybe if it rained.

I went clothes shopping, and I found this incredible top that I simply could not part with. It cost more than I normally spend on clothing, but when I tried it on, my face just lit up. It's like the blouse brought out the sunshine in me. It looked breathtakingly like a spring/summer breazy ocean day.

Sometimes we just want to dress a certain way in the hopes of being that person. I wore a blazer to an interview, and felt really confident walking around the supermarket afterward, like I was a somebody who had somewhere important to be, when in fact all that awaited me at home were some tv shows. A lot of it is about how you look, which impacts how you feel.

Dress powerful, feel powerful. Enjoy the approving glances.

On growing up and moving out and moving back home

I fell apart in a gas station parking lot, because I couldn't figure out how to fill my tires with air. My mom was with me, and she just kept stroking my hair as I burst into tears, telling her how terrified of the world I am, how untrusting of people who offer assistance, and that I'm scared I'll get stabbed in a gas station someday.  I didn't need her to coddle me. I needed someone to have taught me how to do things for myself. Isn't it every father's duty to teach his child how to do stuff?

I never learnt how to change a tire. I'm not sure many people these days are prepared for the worst, and I include guys in this. I know it's a stereotype to say that all guys know or should know how to change a tire, but the reality is that with so many services available, it is not as common as it once was.

I stared in confusion at the mumble jumble of parts underneath the hood of my car, and wondered why there wasn't a manual for this. Turns out, there is a manual. I read it in fascination on the trip home. Did you know there is a schedule of maintenance for car upkeep, and a checklist? I mean, they should require you to take a course before purchasing your first car.

I returned the next day to the same gas station, and forced myself to confront my fear. What I was really afraid of was being out there, looking helpless and weak, having someone offer me help with no way to know if I should trust them or rebuff them. But I figured out how to fill the tire (with some help from youtube), and was relieved to see the tire pressure light go out.

Then the 'service required' light came on, and after checking the manual, figured I needed an oil change. Deciding to push past it and wait until after I got home, we then had to deal with a weird loud flapping noise which turned out to be the front plastic fender liner that got loose and was being shredded by the tire as we drove at 80 mph. Some nice guy offered to help me cut it away, and I let him help. Progress.

All this is teaching me that I need to learn to trust people more, and believe that there are some good people out there who would help a stranger in distress without expecting anything in return.

And also, that owning a car is a lot of work.

I am back in NY, the weather is freezing, the frumies are a culture shock, and I miss having my own place. My brain is foggy, partly due to driving for 2 days and having no idea what up or down. It will take me a few days to adjust, and figure out what my next step is.

I got to play with my nieces and baby nephew today, and that made coming back all worth it.

Resisting change, The Unabomber, and Sheldon Cooper

My laptop has died and gone to laptop heaven. It's over, the end.

I had a whole post prepared (in my head) about how hard it is for me to say goodbye to something that has been a part of me for the past 7 years, how lost and alone I felt when I realized my laptop was not going to turn on again, how much I hate change and tried to compare myself to the Unabomber (eerily enough, we share the same birthday) and how I couldn't even begin to think about buying a new laptop.

Of course, before I got a chance to write it on my teeny tiny phone screen, I watched last week's episode of The Big Bang Theory, and they beat me to it. It was exactly what I was going through.

The episode starts off with Sheldon Skyping with Amy, and his computer screen is staticky and the sound is breaking up.

Amy: (through static): I didn't understand your e-mail.
Sheldon: Uh, can you repeat that? You're breaking up.
Amy: I didn't understand your e-mail.
Sheldon: Ah. Yeah, I had to get a little creative because the S, R and M keys on my laptop stopped working.
(Amy reading the email) "Deaw Aby, could you pleathe dwive be to the twain thtow thubtibe tobowow?"
Sheldon: So, is that a yes?
Amy: Sheldon, why don't you get a new computer? You know that one's out-of-date.
Sheldon: Oh, but I like this computer.
Amy: The video is failing, and the sound is cutting out.
Sheldon: I'm sorry, I didn't get that.
Amy: (through static): The video is failing, and the sound is cutting out.
Sheldon: I'm sorry, one more time.
Amy: (holding up a handwritten sign that says:) "The sound is cutting out."
Sheldon: I can't read that! The video is failing!
Amy: (through static): Get a new computer.
Sheldon: What?
Amy: (through static): Get a new computer.
Sheldon: What?!
(phone rings)
Sheldon: Hello?
Amy: Get a new computer!

Later on, Sheldon is sitting in front of his laptop and the screen flickers and then dies. He gasps, closes it and sighs.

Amy walks in.

Amy: I got here as quickly as I could.
Sheldon: You're too late.
(Sheldon plays the funeral song "Taps" on his phone. He ceremoniously covers his laptop with a black cloth.)
Amy: Sheldon, this is silly.
Sheldon: You got emotional when that lab monkey died.
Amy: That lab monkey told me he loved me in sign language.
("Taps" ends)
Sheldon: Great. Now I'm gonna have that song in my head all day.
Amy: Look, I'm-I'm sorry for your loss, but I think I have something that might make you feel better.
I got you a new computer!
Sheldon: How could you do that?
Amy: Do what?
Sheldon: Choosing a new laptop is an incredibly personal ritual. You have taken away weeks of agonizing thought, tedious research, sleepless nights filled with indecision. Haven't I lost enough today?
Amy: Well, the guy at the store said this one is great.
Sheldon:  Oh! Oh, the guy! Oh, pardon me. I-I didn't realize you'd spoken to the guy. Yeah, tell me, did the guy choose one with a 4K display and a Thunderbolt port?
Amy: Yes.
Sheldon: Yeah? D-Did the guy make sure that this has a one-terabyte solid-state drive?
Amy: Yes.
Sheldon: Yeah? Oh, well, was this guy Rick from Computer Solutions on Colorado?
Amy: Yes.
Sheldon: (Resigned) Yeah, well, he does know his stuff... I suppose I should set this up. Or would you like to rob me of that, too?
Amy: Knock it off or I'll start making W-H sounds for words that just have a W.
You wouldn't.
Amy: "Hwatch" me.
Sheldon: Fine. I'm sorry. Thank you for the thoughtful gift. I really do appreciate it. As you know, I had become attached to my old laptop. But I'm sure, in time, that this one will (gasps) Jeepers creepers, that started up fast!
Amy: I thought you might like it.
Sheldon: Look at the 4K resolution. Next time we Skype, I'm gonna count all those nostril hairs.
Amy: Or you could just look into my eyes.
Sheldon: But you only have two eyes. You got a lot of nostril hairs.
Amy: Well, you know, as long as you're happy.
Sheldon: Oh. I am.
Amy: (chuckles) And Rick said you could bring in your old one to recycle it.
Sheldon: Oh. Uh, no, no, no, thank you.
Amy: Oh, but he said you can get store credit.
Sheldon: Well, no, I just I-I don't want to recycle it. And I don't want store credit.
Amy: But why wouldn't
Sheldon: Can we please change the subject?
Amy: O-Okay. How 'bout we change it to why you're being weird about this?
Sheldon: I'm not being weird. It's hard to explain.
Amy: Sheldon, just tell me.
Sheldon: It might be easier to show you.
Amy: Okay.
Sheldon: We'd have to take your car.
Amy: All right.
Sheldon: And I'm gonna need you to sign a nondisclosure agreement.
Amy: Well, I signed one before we slept together. Why not now?


As if I haven't spoiled this episode for you enough, Sheldon takes Amy to a storage space, and shows her that he has kept everything he has ever owned in his entire life. Old electronics, books, a ziplock bag filled with ziplock bags, a tennis ball that his brother threw at his head. He is embarassed that someone as smart and emotionless as himself would hold on to all this stuff. Like a hoarder, he has a hard time throwing anything away.

I do understand him. I have bins of old stuff from kindergarten through college, random projects, keychains, mugs, old tests. I can't throw it out because I feel like without it I somehow don't exist. That once my memories fade or become discolored by the negative experiences, I will be able to go back to these physical reminders of what life once was. (Although, my parents had a flood in their basement so I don't even want to venture a thought as to what state my bins are in.)

With my laptop, it was the first thing I ever really owned of value, that was only mine, password protected, held things important to me, and in a way helped to insulate me from the world. It was the place I would disapear into when I wanted to forget things, it was the place I went to chill, to procrastinate, to pour some of my best work into. It was like my best friend, a large part of me.

Suddenly I look around and realize how much things have changed, how outdated and obsolete Windows 7 is, and it is hard for me to comprehend purchasing and getting used to a new laptop. So I am letting myself air out, be without it for now, and slowly come to terms with moving on.

Somebody

I want to be a somebody to somebody who needs me.

I want to be somebody's somebody.

I want somebody to want to be my somebody.

The more I say somebody, the stranger it sounds.

Strange.

I remember my father sitting outside the room I shared with my siblings, when we were younger. It was a regular nighttime ritual, he would plant a chair outside our room, and 'shush' us anytime someone made a noise. I guess my parents figured it was the only way to guarantee that we would go to sleep without killing each other. It worked, mostly.

I have been taking care of 3 little dependents for the past few days while their parents are out of town. Firstly, waking up while it is still dark out is no joke, I don't know how parents do it every day. And I don't drink coffee. I'm stumbling around trying to get 3 kids up and out the door, while getting myself dressed, doing my hair and makeup and trying to look presentable. I think I have it all together until I see a mom in heels waltz by me looking hotter than hot, while my eyes feel tired and blurry.

So I too sit outside their door, listening to them breath and waiting for them to fall asleep. The oldest is nine, he says he "can't sleep", which I take to mean that he is scared and wants me to come sit with him.

It is strange being the one to lock up at night, set the alarm, be a buffer between these 3 kids and all the bad on the other side of the door. I can no longer be afraid of the dark, or spiders, or potential home invaders, because if I am scared who will be brave for the kids?

For the record, I'm not scared of any of those things mentioned above. Mostly.

I am experiencing what is like to take care of people other than myself, and it is: thrilling, fulfilling, exhausting, annoying, accomplishing, taxing, and it's only been 3 days. I realize sleep is key, because I'm not a very nice person when I'm tired.

So I'm catching up on sleep while I still have the chance, which is why I vow to never wake up before 11 again.  

Trumped

trumped-up

adjective

adjective: trumped-up 

 

     invented as an excuse or a false accusation. 

        "he was arrested on trumped-up charges"

 

I remember driving to the country last Summer on a Thursday night. I was going to spend Shabbos with a family friend, and caught a ride with my friend's husband. We discussed Donald Trump's entry into the presidential race, and I insisted that it was a joke. I thought his campaign was as fake as his toupee. I watched and waited for him to jump out and say "Gotcha!", but that moment never came.

I admit I haven't really been involved in politics, until recently. Mostly because I couldn't be bothered to understand it. Funnily enough, the first time I actually pay attention to what is going on, it is pretty clear to me: I don't much care for my options. 

An article published in the New York Times entitled "No, Not Trump, Not Ever" by David Brooks puts my feelings more accurately into words. "Donald Trump is epically unprepared to be president. He has no realistic policies, no advisers, no capacity to learn. His vast narcissism makes him a closed fortress. He doesn’t know what he doesn’t know and he’s uninterested in finding out."

 

I have watched him speak. From a purely emotional standpoint, I just don't like him. He appears to be a bully, and is grossly disrespectful to the other candidates. "He is a childish man running for a job that requires maturity. He is an insecure boasting little boy whose desires were somehow arrested at age 12. He surrounds himself with sycophants. “You can always tell when the king is here,” Trump’s butler told Jason Horowitz in a recent Times profile. He brags incessantly about his alleged prowess, like how far he can hit a golf ball. “Do I hit it long? Is Trump strong?” he asks."

 

The talk around the Shabbos table naturally turns to politics. When asked what people think of Trump, most say that he is funny and entertaining, like watching a game show. Perhaps so, but is that what you want for leadership? They say he is brutally honest, that he has enough money so has no need to take payouts or support anyone else's agenda, that the world is afraid of him because he speaks the truth.

 

Would you rather a candidate who lies outright, promising things that they will not deliver on, or one who makes such outrageous claims that they cannot possibly deliver on it? 

 

I don't see any real alternative at the moment, but I do know that Trump will crumble the carefully constructed political wall that so many politicians have worked so hard to build. Are you really prepared to see it come tumbling down? Do you really think a loud-mouthed #nofilter businessman with no political experience is the best way to go?

There are 8 months left for a viable candidate to come forward, and although it is unlikely at this point, miracles do happen. Hey, G-d split the sea in way less time than that.

Two Truths and a Lie

1) I read all 7 Harry Potter books, 2) I punched my sister in the nose the night before my older sister's wedding, 3) I feel aimless and alone right now.

In my defense, we were fighting over the TV remote and I backhanded her, it wasn't intentional. I got blood on the brides petty coat, (which she had already decided not to use), there was a big uproar, everyone was mad and yelling. Sounds about right. No wedding is complete without some yelling. (On that note, Catch My Big Fat Greek Wedding 2 in theaters March 25. *I was not paid to endorse this movie.)

Recently, I received an email from a PhD student who is conducting a study "researching the personal experiences people write on the web about their everyday lives", and my blog came up in their search. He writes, "I’m interested in how the thoughts and experiences written by people like you on weblogs and other social media can be used to make conclusions about society as a whole."

My first instinct was suspicion, but he seemed pretty legit, and he had a website, credentials and a youtube video to back it up. I asked the right questions and decided to participate in the survey.

It got me thinking, why do people read my blog, or anyone's personal blog for that matter?  Unless someone writes about a specific topic, like fashion, food or literature, it is basically just a personal diary of thoughts, feelings and anecdotes that is shared with complete stranger all over the world.

Someone once tried explaining it to me, he said he just found it interesting to read about my life. I could not imagine why.

This video enlightened me.

It's about human connections, finding people who are like you, or who are so worse off than you that you can say "thank G-d my life is not as crappy as that." (I hope I fall into one of those two categories, I don't want to consider the alternative.)

I have been feeling like I've lost touch with my writing recently, or more accurately with myself. So I went to the library and sat there for an hour, trying to figure things out. 

Whenever I think about the past, it takes me on a trip down memory lane some of which is not very pleasant. I always used to try to suss it out, relive it, analyze it and try to understand where and how it went wrong. But I'm starting to realize that some things are best left forgotten. 

I spoke about this in a mini writing group I attended with two other women. One of them compared it to removing an old filling from your mouth. She said the dentist told her, better to leave it in place, because to remove it will stir up so much bacteria it would only cause more problems. 

I was trying to remember the last time I felt truly happy. My memories are attached to emotions rather than physical objects or places. I remembered a post I wrote about 6 years ago, it was the first snowfall of winter and I was running in the streets breathless, with snowflakes in my hair. I felt giddy, alive, carefree. 

I don't know what changed, all I know is that it doesn't matter. What matters is what will change moving forward. 

From Rabbi Simon Jacobson at The Meaningful Life Center: "We forget how to live a meaningful life because we believe in the power of what we don't have more than we believe in the power of our own resources." This resonated with me, because I constantly find myself focusing on negative aspects, of what I regret, what I don't do anymore that I used to do, what could have been, etc. 

The topic of our writing group was "What is your purpose in this world, and do you think you are fulfilling it?" 

One woman wrote about how she loves playing piano but she doesn't think she's very good at it, but when she plays for her kids and watches as they sit silently enthralled, it makes her happy, like she is doing something right. She spoke about how as a mother she gets caught up in all the parenting, she tries to be patient with her kids but ends up rushing them and getting frustrated. But she said amid all the things she wishes she could do more of or be better at, she finds small moments of brightness and clarity where she actually feels like she is fulfilling her purpose.

I liked that, because ultimately it means no one is perfect, not even someone who looks like they have it all together. But the purpose in life is not to be perfect all the time, but to find the moments in between all the chaos where the sun shines in and you feel your true self emerging. 

I'm in the process of making a vision board, in the hopes that having concrete goals in front of me will help me to actually pursue them, and to find a direction.

Rabbi Jacobson suggests that in trying to find your purpose, you should "listen to the call of your soul." 

The very best thing someone ever said to me was "You know what you have to do." By affirming that I know what is best for me, and that I already have the answers will encourage me to look inside myself and use my own resources to move forward, rather than feeling helpless and unsure of myself. Because ultimately, I do know what I have to do. It's the doing it that's hard work.

In that vein, I am moving back to New York. It's been fun here in the Sunshine State, but I never believed I would be here forever. 

For whatever reason you choose to read my blog, I hope that you can benefit from my struggles, and I bless you to find your own purpose in life. 

Points to Ponder

It was the same guy at the check-out desk as last time, the one with the long blond hair and a beard that reminded me of hippies. He had looked at my copy of Douglas Adams The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and commented that he had tried reading it but couldn't make it through the book. (I at least got through the first book before losing interest.)

He says to me, "Are you into anime?" No, I'm not. I have only a vague idea of what anime is, and lump it into the same category as sci-fi. Comic books? Not my thing. Then he invited me to an anime club, where they would watch a film and discuss it. I mistakenly thought he was hitting on me, and inviting me to join him and his geeky friends in some underground club for nerds who like anime.

Turns out, it is just an event at the library. For teens. So, do I look like a teenager? Or someone that would be into anime?

Hard to say.

~ ~ ~

I was in the house alone, doing laundry when the "gardener" stopped by. I use that term loosely. He's an old black guy who mows the lawn. Seemed harmless enough. I said hi, which invited him to talk to me. He looked to be in his 50's, at least.

Then he asked me out. Like, on a date. Kept going on about how nice I was, and how he'd like to take me out sometime. I tried to explain to him that I am Jewish and would only marry a Jew. Of course, that prompted him to discuss religion, and how we are all G-d's creations and surely G-d does not want us to discriminate, which means it is okay. 

I politely tried to extricate myself from the conversation and close the door.

He knocked a little while later, and handed me a piece of paper with his name and phone number scrawled on it. It looked like he couldn't write that well, as he had written and then rewritten the number trying to make it more clear. He said maybe I could call him sometime, and we could go out.

I wished him a good day, a little uncomfortably. 

We live in a time when it's okay for a black guy to ask a white girl out without getting whipped. But somehow he reminded me of slavery.

I kept the paper. It makes me a little sad; I'm not sure why.

Unsteady

I hate that crippling feeling I get sometimes, that I have no one to take care of me. Like if I don't buy food or do my laundry or sweep my floor, it just won't get done, because no one else will do it for me, it all falls on me. It is overwhelming at times, those times when I think about it too much or let it get to me.

My mom said that after she left, my apartment would feel so big, and I would be so grateful to have it all back to myself. She was right about the first part, but I miss them, even my sister with whom I didn't get along with most of my life.

But for a few days, almost a week, someone else held the reigns, someone else did the shopping, bought the food, made sandwiches, prepared dinner, decided where we were going and when. It was a relief, to give up the decision making. It felt like a team, a trio, we went swimming every day in a gorgeous heated 8 ft deep pool, and it all just felt so right.

Last time my mom came to visit, I asked her to bring me some towels. She was horrified to find out that I had only one towel. What's the big deal, said I. Use it and wash it, that's how it goes. I wanted a specific set of towels that I left at home, but she couldn't find them. Of course, while she was here my mom said she would buy me towels, but I refused. I don't need you to buy me towels, I told her, don't worry, I'll make due. That's what I've been doing all my life, I can take care of myself, I don't need your help.

She forgot, and that was that.

My mom and sister came to visit this week. My sister told me a whole long rambling story that I didn't pay much attention to, which ended in her having store credit at Macy's. She decided we would go there and buy me towels. So I went along with it, cuz hey, who doesn't like free stuff.

Of course, I couldn't decide, they all looked the same, I didn't know how to choose, some were soft, some rough, I don't know, I just don't know. Does it really matter? But of course it does, the first time that I am spending money on towels, like I'm setting down roots. This is an important decision. No, I didn't think I would be making this decision with my mother and sister, I live sparsely by choice because who ever comes over?

I looked around at all the things I could not have, did not let myself have. Money was always an issue, why did we deserve good things? I plopped myself down on a bed that probably costs more than I ever made in a year, the duvet cover alone was listed at a thousand. What's the point? Why invest money in things?

The perfect towel still eluded me. Should I choose yellow for a cheery, happy affect? Or is that just forcing it?

My mom pointed to an orange one, but I didn't like it. Finally, we stumbled upon a bright kelly green color. My mom said, "that was my mother's favorite color". We just spent the day in the cemetery surrounded by my dead relatives, so I had to believe that meant something.

I didn't see the matching hand towel, or the large bath sheet size. Not to worry, my sister went to the sales counter to see if they had it in stock. I sat back and let things happen.

Alas, I am the proud owner of a new beautiful kelly green bath towel and matching hand towel. Maybe nobody but me will ever see it, but hey, love of the color green is one of the things me and my grandma had in common.

I drove them to the airport at 4 in the morning, and stumbled back into bed. For the first time, I wasn't the one leaving.

State of Mind

I want to sprawl on the grass, but I dignify myself by finding a bench to sit on. My face is turned towards the sun, reveling in its warm rays, shining orange behind my closed eyelids. I open them a bit, peering through my lashes at the sparkling water. The sun is high in the sky. I'd like to stay like this forever.

My odometer hovers at 2 9 9 9 9 and I watch it slip silently into 30 thousand miles. Only 3 thousand miles of those are mine, but it feels like I've been here forever.

I draw pictures of mountains early Sunday morning babysitting, and wonder if I'll ever get the chance to go there. I offer to take my little friend shopping, but she just wants to stay in pajamas and watch TV. I can't say I blame her.

I walk unhurriedly around the canal, taking deep breaths, and enjoy being outside. The crunchy sound of my sneakers on gravel reminds me of a campgrounds. I want to be 17 again, working at a camp, wearing t-shirts and long skirts and worrying about nothing. I want to be young again, with endless possibilities and no reservations.

My phone weighs me down, like a third arm. I wish I'd left it at home. Today, I try not to use my computer. I eat breakfast outside, by the pool, and then I go for a swim. The water is freezing. It would be, this time of year. But the sun soothes me, dries my skin, calms me.

I eat lunch slowly, remembering to chew my food. Before long I am full. I want to feel full, and not worry about my next meal, not be constantly thinking about what I will eat next, even with a mouthful of food. I want food to sustain me but not imprison me. I want my life to be so full of happiness and importance that I forget to eat.

Today, I am working on wellness. Finding my inner calm. Focusing on the positive. Focusing on what I can have, as opposed to what I can't.

Today is a good day, not because of how it ended, but because of how it started. Some days, most days start off with the best of intentions and take a somersaulting tumbling turn. But that is not what matters.

It took almost 6 months but I think I'm starting to figure out why I'm here, why I 'ran away'. I don't believe there is any particular place one can go to sort things out, find clarity, find themselves or their purpose in life. Clarity is a state of mind. (Or, according to Jimmy Buffet, Margaritaville is a state of mind.) It begins and ends inside of you.

But it doesn't hurt that I'm living in a warm climate, have all the freedom in the world, no responsibilities, and nothing to do but think.

And when that doesn't work, there's always TV.

Deja who?

dé·jà vu

ˌdāZHä ˈvo͞o/

noun

1. a feeling of having already experienced the present situation.

Deja vu: I've been here before.

Or

Deja vu: I've seen this before.

Or

Deja vu: I've stalked him before.

I've definitely stalked him before.

The profile comes with no name, photo or identifying details. If you like it,  you email the administrator who sends you the full profile with all necessary details including name and photo. 

I liked it, I really liked the profile. So I sent away for the full expose, and waited merrily for the reply.

Deja vu: I've stalked him before. Why does his picture look so familiar? Oh right, I checked him out on Facebook. He must have commented on a friend of a friend's post, I thought he looked interesting and promptly tried to find out if he was married. We have 5 friends in common. He's friends with my brother. He rides a motorcycle.

BUT

My hopes fell. I read and reread the description of the person he is looking for, trying to match the adjectives to me. Am I intelligent? Sure. A pleasant person? I can be when I want to. Would I describe myself as compassionate and considerate? That depends, does he mean all the time? Am  I kind to people and strangers? All except the dumb ones. I hate dumb people. 

I pull his profile apart word for word, and I feel my confidence waver. He is too good looking, he comes from a "gezhe" (yichus) family, why would he want me, he probably wouldn't go for me. He lists himself as physically active and loves to try knew things. Sure, I can be too, with the right person. But I'm not that active at the moment.

One voice tells me, just go for it, have a shadchan email him to see if he's interested. But the other, more powerful voice just sits down and sighs, says "don't bother, I'm in no mood for more rejection right now".

And here the story ends.

The sound of sirens

I wake up in a fog. I went to sleep at 4 am, I am tired as hell and I'm pretty sure I have a carb hangover. It's like a regular hangover, only it comes from eating too much sugar instead of drinking alcohol. Yes, food is my drug of choice.

I clumsily reach for my phone, and see a red triangle warning me about a tornado in the area. I can barely focus on the words, but it seems like I slept right through it as the warning had since been lifted.

That sounds about right. These days, I'd sleep through anything. I put my phone on silent and would not know if the president called me. Not that he would; not that I'd care.

The sound of rain registers in my head, not just rain. It's pouring out. And then I realize it is silent in my apartment. No sound from the air conditioner, fridge, or my trusty noise machine set to ocean waves. The power is out. I check online and text my landlord while updating my Facebook 'friends' that I just slept through a tornado. The electric company estimates about an hour.

I turn over and try to fall back asleep, it is way to early for me to be up, I have a headache and feel sick.

I hear sirens, so many sirens, continuously wailing, I wonder if I should go check on my car, maybe a tree fell on it, but I am too tired to care. These days I don't care about much, it seems.

I fall asleep and wake up to the blessed sound of the ac, power is back on and tornado is long gone. The rain has stopped, the sun is shining.

I turn over and go back to sleep. 

How to be single

It's easy to be single in the sense that, if you are not in a relationship then categorically you are single. But it's not easy being single.

I saw the movie in theaters with my mother and my aunt. The main thread of the story is about Alice, a girl who dumps her boyfriend temporarily so that she can go out into the world and 'find herself', figure out who she is as a person, alone. During their time apart, she meets guys and has a string of meaningless flings. When she finally sees her ex again after a particularly sad and empty one-night stand, she tells him that she is ready to be with him, that she knows he is the one. He tells her that he has met someone, that he never needed a break to know that she was the one, but that he has now moved on.

I watched the movie and I was sad. For Alice, for myself, for all the single people out there who are sad and lonely and just want to meet someone and fall in love. Some days, it is so hard to contain my emotions, I feel that anyone can tell how I am feeling by just looking at me.

Alice goes through this whole thing where she doesn't know how to be alone, she is scared if she doesn't meet someone she will be alone forever, she can't unzip her dress by herself and she needs a man to do stuff for her and take care of her. She eventually snaps out of it, creates a pully to unzip her dress for her, and hikes the Grand Canyon alone.

The movie ends with Alice looking out over the canyon at sunrise, spouting some nonsense about being in the moment, enjoying being single and learning how to just be yourself without anyone else, because you may meet someone in a week, a month, so don't let this time pass you by.

I don't know what it says about society that this movie was released on Valentine's day. All I know is that I don't really believe that. I've had enough time to be alone, and I still have no idea who I am.

Maybe it's time to discover that with someone else. I think I'm ready to be un-single.

What is your biggest fear?

I am surrounded by my biggest fears, my deepest insecurities. They stare at me, and scream "shame on you! How dare you walk in here like you belong?"
Do I belong here? Will I ever feel like I belong?

Hundreds of thousands of words make up thousands of books, I can smell them, I can feel them, they can sense my fear. I touch them, longingly, willing them to be mine, to not just sit on a shelf near my bed telling the world that I own them, have read them, no. I wish they were a part of me, I want to inhale them, will them inside my brain, but instead they make me feel small. Lacking. Inadequate.

Of course, I pick out the book that makes me feel worst of all, like I am beating myself up for my own shortcomings, it is simply called "You", by Caroline Kepnes, and I think it was written for me.

"You're not the standard insecure nympth hunting for Faulkner you'll never finish, never start; Faulkner that will harden and calcify, if books could calcify, on your nightstand; You don't stage Faulkner and your jeans hang loose and you're too sun-kissed for Stephen King and too untrendy for Heidi Julavits and who, who will you buy?"
...
"Thank God for a customer and it's hard to scan his predicable Salinger--then again, it's always hard to do that. This guy is, what, thirty-six and he's only now reading Franny and Zooey? And let's get real. He's not reading it. It's just a front for the Dan Browns at the bottom of his basket. Work in a bookstore and learn that most people in this world feel guilty about being who they are."
 ...
"Everybody is always striving to be better, lose five pounds, read five books, go to a museum, buy a classical record and listen to it and like it. What we really want to do is eat doughnuts, read magazines, buy pop albums. And books? F-- books. Get a Kindle."

 Turns out the book is not about me, after all. It is about a psycho stalker who turns into the guy he thinks the girl will want, while killing those who get in his way. Ya. Does that make me crazy because I started reading it and couldn't put it down? It's intoxicating.

I started to lose my faith in books, and once lost it is truly hard to reclaim. Books used to be my love, something to get lost in, transport me to a different time, make me feel better about myself, different, like I was simply misunderstood in my world.

A few bad books can turn me off, but here I am on a Sunday, in a place where I so wish to belong. There is a dog nudging my leg, an older man excuses the dog, says he's just being friendly, and I can swear he is gay. The man, not the dog. He calls his mother, and I wonder how old she is. He reassures her that he is fine, he's out shopping, he didn't call because he was busy, is she okay, I wonder about their co-dependent relationship, if his mother is the only significant relationship in his life, I wonder what he is looking for in here, because trust me, we are all looking for something.

The playlist just seems to match the decor so perfectly, and a song comes on, it is so beautiful, a melody sans words, and suddenly I need to know what it is. I ask the manager sheepishly, like I have to apologize for not knowing what song it is, not being hip enough, and he tells me, it is a remake of the song "Use Somebody" by Kings of Leon, played by 2cellos, and just like that I feel like an idiot. So I don't even know good music.

I hate these places because of how they make me feel. I stopped writing because of how it makes me feel. I hate how it feels like the world's a club, and either you're in or you're not.

What is my biggest fear? That I'll never be good enough. 

This doesn't change anything. I'm going to finish reading the book, self-loathing and all.

And then.

And then.

Seeing my blog drop to three weeks, it's gotta mean something.

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.