Remember the good old days when monopoly came in one standard game, with paper money? You could buy avenues and railroads and companies. It came with little red and green houses. It was a classic.
Now, as I watch my little brother and his friend play, monopoly is just not the same. Now there are no little houses, and you can't buy avenues. Instead, you could buy Mall of America, JFK, airports, cities. AND, and, there is no paper money. Each player gets a credit card, and it comes with a little credit card machine. It's all electronic banking now. And they will never know what once was.
Sigh. I never knew a new game of monopoly would hit so hard and make me realize how much the world is changing.
I have to admit, every time Yossi posted a story about how he gave blood, I was a bit jealous. I've wanted to give blood for the longest time. I never have. Once, when I finally got around to doing it there was a snow storm and it was canceled. So today when I saw on ch.info that there was a blood drive specifically specifically for women, I decided to go.
I was nervous. I'm not scared of blood, I just don't like pain. When the baby put his mouth on my leg I flinched, even though he has no teeth and technically can't bite me. But it's human nature.
They checked me for all the important stuff, blood pressure, iron level, temperature. It all checked out. Yay.
I sat in the chair and looked at the needle. The needle looked at me. Then the nurse (don't know if they are nurses but medical people) gave me her 'world' (a stress ball shaped like a world) and told me not to ruin it. I told her maybe I'll make her world a better place. Then that needle went right into my arm.
It was taking awhile, so she said I'm a slow bleeder. Said I, oh that's great, if I ever bleed to death will it take a long time?
Then I got really cool green sticky tape to wrap around my arm. Drank some juice, got two stickers saying first time doner, and, be nice to me I donated blood today. And a free coupan for a meal at Mendy's. Probably give that away.
Some people ask me why I'm so blunt. I say, why must you beat around the bush?
Being blunt has its limits, just like everything else. But there are times to say things in a sensitive way, and times to just say it straight. And I love seeing the look on someone's face when I say something totally open and honest and refreshing, and they were not expecting it.
You want to know if I have any pictures with guys on facebook? Or of me drinking, or smoking, or doing hooka? (Guilty on the last charge but it is gone now). Or, gasp, nude photos? Why don't you just ask me straight out, instead of hinting at it? I'm a big girl. I'm not stupid. You want to know how I dress or if I have problems with tznius? Again, just ask me.
I'm referring to the shlucha I just spoke to in regards to a job for next year. Of course, I went to check my pictures on facebook right after I spoke to her, just in case...
On a Northwest Airways flight from Atlanta , GA , a well attired middle-aged woman found herself sitting next to a man wearing a kippa ("yarmulka" in Yiddish). She called the attendant over to complain about her seating.
"What seems to be the problem, Madam?" asked the attendant. "You've sat me next to a Jew!! I can't possibly sit next to this strange man. Please find me another seat!"
"Madam, I will see what I can do to accommodate," the attendant replied, "but the flight is virtually full today and I don't know if there is another seat available."
The woman shoots a snooty look at the snubbed Jewish man beside her (not to mention the surrounding passengers).
A few minutes later the attendant returned and said, "Madam, the economy and club sections are full, however, we do have one seat in First class."
Before the lady had a chance to respond, the attendant continued, "It is only on exceptions that we make this kind of upgrade, and I had to ask permission from the captain. But, given the circumstances, the captain felt that no one should be forced to sit next to an unpleasant person..."
The flight attendant turned to the Jewish man sitting next to her, and said: "So if you'd like to get your things, Sir, I have a comfortable seat for you in First class..." At this point, the surrounding passengers stood up and gave a standing ovation while the Jewish man walked up to the front of the plane.
The lady then said indignantly, "The Captain must have made a mistake.." To which the attendant replied, "No Ma'am. Captain Cohen never makes a mistake."
It's starting. You know that moment, that single event that triggers a whole bunch of other events, like a domino effect that goes on and on and doesn't stop until it's over? That starts everything else into motion, and then you know, you just know that that is it and nothing will ever again be the same? Know what I'm talking about? Like this.
I do.
Today not one, but two of my classmates got engaged. No, not to each other. And no I don't think they planned it. It is exciting, and beautiful, and amazing, and of course, totally expected.
Yes expected.
It makes sense that the year after seminary, two years out of high school, a class of girls who are bli ayin hara 20 years old should start getting engaged. And the more the merrier.
I look into my glass ball... or Jewish equivalent. In our future I see many simchas, lots more engagements and weddings, then kids, and families and homes.
20 years down the line when we all meet up for our reunions and catch up, and figure out if the nerds really did become famous and the popular girls really did go down the drain- oh that would be public school reunions, my bad- we will all laugh and smile and say, remember that day when two girls in our class got engaged? G-d willing may it be soon for everyone.
If you engage in combat with your enemy in defense, that is understandable. But if you fight with him out of a desire to fight- that is just stooping to his level.
When I was in sixth grade, my teacher made cheesecake in school with my class, and gave out the recipe. It's called a no bake frozen triangular cheesecake. My family really liked it, and since then I have made it for Shavuos almost every year. Only problem is, I misplace the recipe from year to year, and then have to try to remember it, or figure it out.
I'm gonna make it this year. I googled it, and there are other people who know what I'm talking about! Although slightly differently.
Normally I'm not a big cheesecake eater. But it's Shavuos, so it's required. We have at least 3 to try from this year.
Bon apetite, and may everyone have a spiritual, and tasteful giving of the Torah holiday this year!
I have a confession to make. I'm afraid I have fallen pray to the LOL and the :) generation. It is a horrible syndrome to which there is no cure.
There is such a thing as smiling too much. Yes. It is not so bad when you see someone in person, except you might end up looking like your face is cracking. Imagine this: you see a friend or acquaintance you have not seen in awhile. Of course you must smile, act like you are happy to see them, ask about them, and endure as they ask about you, your life, how you are, and bla bla bla. So you keep that smile on your face for dear life even as you are thinking, 'ok when is it polite to end this conversation, do I have to hug her or can I get away with a wave, ya like she really wants to know about my life'. Etc. Cuz if you wouldn't smile, well that would just be weird.
But I'm talking about a different type of smiling. The online kind. Here's an example of a fictional conversation that could be real:
Random Person: Hi Altie!!!!! How are you????? (yes, they must put lots of explanation marks. Makes them sound more excited, and high on something.) Me: Hi! :) I'm good, how are you? RP: good!! :) hows life? M: :) its great. (it's really not.) How's yours? RP: amazing!!!! I miss you!!! M: :) :) I miss you too! (I don't.) RP: Happy birthday!!!! :) How does it feel to be 20? M: :) Thank you! It feels great.(It doesn't.) RP: So did you do anything special for it? M: :) :) :) :) :) :)
(here's where I make up an excuse and sign off.)
Here's my point: not every sentence must be punctuated with a smiley face. And if you don't G-d forbid use a smiley or a million exclamation marks, doesn't mean you are depressed or not high on life. Maybe you are just smiling for real.
Same thing with LOL. Stop using it as a filler. Most people who use it are not really laughing out loud.
Don't let your conversationee force you into a smile you don't really mean.
I would like to give everyone a bracha. please take it personally. (first time i said that ) you should first and foremost always be happy, in every situation and wherever life may take you. you should have the koach to rise to every challenge G-d throws your way. You should be a good influence on those around you, continue to learn and grow in yidishkeit. for those who need specific brachas, may you have parnassah, success in everything you do, find your bashert in the right time, may it be soon, and it should be an amazing year with only happiness and lots of simchos!!! Moshiach now!!!!!
(if you want a personal bracha call me or email me. if you want to know how i spent my birthday... well details to come.)
If anyone noticed the countdown, I set it to end at midnight the night of my Hebrew birthday. Technically, my birthday starts even before that, tonight at nightfall. But that's okay. I'll take birthday wishes anytime.
The popular people in the center, chatting and giggling amongst themselves, and me, off to the side with a book, trying to look busy, like I didn't care that no one tried to include me in conversation. Only this time, I wasn't in grade school. And I didn't have a book. I had my cell phone, so I texted people in a vain attempt to look preoccupied, and not as awkward as I felt. But I think that only made it worse. So I left.
9th grade. High school. New girl, in a new school, new country. (Ok, technically Canada is not a country.) Two friendly girls came up to me and introduced themselves. Broke the ice. I was thankful for that, cuz I'm not good at that.
I have been told that on first impressions I seem a bit aloof and snobby. I know, right? Here's the thing: if you are by nature a shy person, or not so quick to be social in a new situation, who's responsibility is it to introduce themselves?
It works both ways: if you can accuse me of being anti-social, I can accuse you of ignoring me and being unfriendly.
I'm not really the kind of person who clings to her friends and can't go anywhere without them. (Example: the bathroom.) But still, it is nice to have someone familiar with you when meeting new people.
Take a lesson: if you are ever at a social event and you see people off to the side, be the one to go over and say hi. They are probably standing there thinking, 'can I look at my watch again? How many times have I done that already? Is it rude to leave the room and make believe I have a phone call?' They want to feel as comfortable as you do.
Go check it out. Called, The Thinker, very mysterious and anonymous, but so far it seems like he has a brain and something to say. And he writes poetry. A plus in my book.
Your welcome for the reference. Anyone else who needs help becoming popular, let me know.
I went power walking tonight with a friend. Got to try out my new sneakers. No, not the converses. Those are still up for grabs.
As we were walking back I started a discussion. I read MM's blog post. (For those of you who hate clicking links as much as I do,) in short, someone saw religious guys from Monsey on a cruise. They took off their kappatos (religious garb) and head coverings, ate not kosher food, smoked on Friday night, took pictures with non religious girls, all with their long peyos hanging out. Ironic. So I mentioned to my friend how great it is that we are Lubavitch, and we could do all of those things but we don't have to hide it.
(Maybe that is a flaw in Lubavitxh, or religion in general, that kids can feel so free in the wrong things they do. But to me, if you do something wrong at least be honest about it. Don't hide it.)
Ok that was kind of a joke. Yes all those things are wrong. But in my opinion, being that they are so sheltered, their desire to rebel and do bad things is so much stronger. For me, because I watch TV, read newspapers, and basically have a general picture of what the outside world is like, I don't have the urge to go all shikse or OTD. Sheltered being the key word here.
That's not even the main part.
We were almost home, we stopped to chat when a black girl walked up to us and said, 'excuse me, can I ask you something?' Now, being a resident of Brooklyn, here is where one generally says 'Run!'. But I said sure. It wasn't that late, there were people walking by, and I figured, if she asks for money, all I have is my cell phone.
It was like G-d sent her from heaven. Her name was Anet. The first words out of her mouth were, 'you guys are Jewish, right?' To which I responded yes. 'But your hair's not covered. You're not married, right?' Again, yes.
Anet proceeded to tell us, 'wow so you guys are modern Jews.' I winced a bit. She mentioned the 'guys with the long peyos (she motioned by her ears in a curling manner) and how they pass her in the street and if she says shalom they don't respond. She thought it was so nice that we were talking to her. She's Baptist. She tried different religions and didn't like any of them. No, this is not some story where we successfully convert someone. That is not our goal anyway. But she was genuinely impressed by us, and how we were 'modern' Jews, not like the ones who look like robots and don't talk to anyone.
And here's the kicker: she mentioned exactly what we were just talking about. She said, how can you recruit people to your religion if you won't even talk to them? We explained to her how some people have higher standards, how some people are more concerned about learning Torah and don't want to waste time. (In a positive light.)
We told her about the seven Noahide laws. She thought I was talking about the 10 commandments.
She asked me if I ever saw her walking with her dog. She lives just a block away. I politely told her no I don't think I've seen her before.
I was left dazed. And with food for thought.
I don't like going on mivtzoyim. It makes me nervous. Plus, I feel like I'm supposed to be representing something that I don't adequately represent. I feel like I'm straddling the line. On the one hand, to me it seems like frum people judge me, for how I dress, act, speak, and they measure what level of religion I'm on.
On the other hand, non religious, or even non Jewish people for that matter praise me and find it so amazing what and who I am. It's confusing.
I wish I could say I properly represented Jews, and that I influenced someone today. But that, I will never know.
The cleaning lady talks to me in spanish. She gestures around with her hands, points to things. I have no idea what she is saying. The only words I understand are 'suddy' (sorry) and 'bye'. Other then that, she could be telling me that she stole all the jewelry in the house, and I would just nod my head and say yes, yes.
She waved some money in my face. 3 hundred dollar bills, and some change. Then she motioned with her hand, and put it down in the dresser. Now, did she tell me that she found the money lying around, and she wanted me to know she wasn't taking it? Was she kindly giving me $300? Or was she asking me to keep it for her for later?
Why is it that it is ok, nay, expected of you to be a few minutes late for anything? A meeting, a wedding. Class. The term "fashionably late" is absurd, if you think about it. If you are supposed to be somewhere at a certain time, be there, don't calculate and think that maybe the other person won't be there on time, or they won't mind that you spent a few extra minutes on your hair, or on the computer, or watching the last few minutes of a show. If you decide on a time to be somewhere, be there, no excuses.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go. I was supposed to be somewhere at 12, and it's now 12:05. Oh well, what's a few minutes, right?
Trying to concentrate, to listen. In another world. Being involved, participating. Asking questions, reaching out, asking for advice. For support. Give and take. Sharing of myself with strangers. Things I don't normally do. For an hour. Being someone I usually am not. For the greater good. For the children. For the directors. For camp.
Of course, it's easier to do all those things by phone, on a conference call where no one can see you and no one knows you.
And then it all comes crashing down. Back to reality. Take your laundry out of the dryer. They don't understand. They don't understand because they don't work in a camp. They don't know what I do or what I go through or the responsibility I am afraid of or how nervous I get or the preparations I dread or the fear of failure. They don't know any of that. So they demand I get off the phone and take my clothes out of the dryer.
There can't be any crossover. No straddling the line. Either you are all there, or not at all. I choose to be there. I want to be there. I don't want to be here. So I will try and remain in that bubble. That euphoria of having a support group. People who understand you, relate to you and have similar fears. People who don't make you take your clothes out of the dryer.
I wasn't looking forward to camp, but now it can't come fast enough.
I don't want to turn twenty. It means the end of teenage years as I know it. Another birthday means another year gone by, a year in which I didn't accomplish much, and specifically, not the things I pledged to do last birthday. That just means another birthday to make new hachlatas and not follow through on those... a vicious cycle.
Another birthday means I am getting older. Bringing me closer to that ghastly word that I can't say, can hardly even think... old age. Gasp.
I was listening to the radio once, there was this call in session, you could call and tell the person what your fear was, and discuss it with him. This teenage girl called in and said she was scared of growing old. And she didn't even mean old old. She meant like twenties, thirties. She was scared of responsibility, and paying bills, and being poor.
I'm not scared of growing old, no. But I am not looking forward to responsibility, money, or lack of, all the problems that come with growing... old.
So how bout this: I get all the perks and presents of a birthday, but don't age at all. I stay forever young. That would be awesome.
I pass by 1414 President street, one of the boys yeshiva dormitories in Crown Heights, every day. There are always guys outside smoking, talking on phones, or just hanging around. It makes me wonder: do they ever learn or get any real stuff done?
