Friday, December 30, 2011

The world won't end in 2012

The best reason I've heard yet about why the world can't in in 2012: (as seen on Facebook)

"The world can't end in 2012 b'cos I have yogurt that expires in 2013"

Also, because the Mayans said the world would end in 2012 but they are long dead, so they can't be right.

Countdown to 2012: 

It is 1 day, 21 hours, 23 minutes, 9 seconds
until Sunday, January 1, 2012 (New York time)




Dun dun dunnnnn..... Guess well soon see if those Mayans were right. Who has their floaties ready? 

Happy almost New Years!

Thursday, December 29, 2011

Oh the pain (of beauty)

My feet are broken. I broke them! They hurt so much, and all for a pair of heels. Guys ask, why do women wear shoes that hurt their feet? And yet they expect us to look beautiful.

Well guys, beauty is painful sometimes.

And I hope you think it's cute when women take off their shoes and walk barefoot, cuz that is what we are resigned to.

Either that, or torture.

Oh ya, try wearing a pair of heels for an hour and tell me how it feels.

Oh the price of beauty...

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

For you

It is a weird night tonight.
The sky is cloudy, the air smells of rain.
But your face is aglow.

I want to slow down this moment
and be with you.
Celebrate with my whole heart.

It took a lot to get to this moment.
And this moment is worth it
For you, and me, and everyone involved.

Tonight I smile,
and don't cry.

Tonight I don't think of what is to come,
but live in the moment.

Your magic moment.
I hope it was everything you hoped for.
And more.

I will be with you
throughout it all.
Just text me, call me.

Tonight, your wish came true.
And there are no words to express
how happy I am for you.

I'll probably cry at your wedding,
and many times before then
and many times after.

Cuz you have been waiting for this day
for way too long,
and it has finally come.

May G-d's cup overflow with blessings,
for you and yours,
always.

Monday, December 26, 2011

Parched

I'm so hungry
but all the food in the world cannot sate me.

I'm so thirsty
but all the water in the world cannot quench it.

My stomach is empty.
Like a bottomless pit.

I want to cry out
but my voice is silent.

I keep searching
for something that I cannot find.

I breath in and out
but my lunges scream for more.

More air.
More something.
This is not enough.

Not enough.

Lips cracked and dry.
I sigh.

I can't breath.
Can't seem to catch my breath.

And right now,
nothing the world
can satisfy
my hunger.

Sunday, December 25, 2011

But-

I want to be happy but-
My head is spinning.
2 cups of eggnog had I.

I want to be happy but-
I'm so confused.
Keep thinking how, why?

I want to be happy but-
this makes no sense.
It's like one big joke.

I want to be happy but-
I don't get it.
I think I need an ice cold coke.

I want to be happy but-
I had no idea.
She didn't tell me at all.

I want to be happy but-
we grew apart.
She didn't even call.

I want to be happy but-
it kind of hurts.
Though I'd never tell her.

I want to be happy but-
I'm dazed and confused.
Everything is a blur.

I want to be happy but-
I should be happy.
This is not about me.

I want to be happy-
so very happy.
I'm just not sure how this could be.

One text
that brought it all
crashing down
around me.

I can't think.
I need another drink.
Something strong.

I don't know how
I didn't see it.
Maybe I was wrong all along?

But I paste my smile on.
And say the words
she wants to hear.

Cuz friends we used to be
until the day
she disappeared.

Right now I need some sleep
cuz I don't know what's up
and what's down.

Things are moving
way too fast
I think I might just skip town.

Have a heart

As seen in the New York Times:

Dear Diary:

A few days before Christmas a year ago, I was on the F train riding uptown. At West Fourth Street, a young man boarded with a boombox. He explained, loudly and enthusiastically, “I’m trying to stay out of trouble tonight, so I’m offering you a dance, like we do it in the Bronx.”

Only a few of us looked up. Then he plugged his iPhone into the boombox and proceeded to dance his heart out. This included a few back flips, trapeze moves with the handrails, and body spins on the ground with just one hand. By this time all eyes were glued on him. A young boy next to me yelled out in sheer delight: “Wow — that’s amazing!” We all shared his sentiment.

Many passengers gave generously when he walked by with his donation container afterward.

Just then, at the other end of the car, a homeless-looking man boarded with a plea for help. He was disheveled and without any dance routine or music act to offer. All he had was a wish for kindness and an outstretched hat — one that remained empty among this group of recent donors.

That was until, just before the doors were to open at the next stop, the dancer went right up to the homeless-looking man, spilled out all of his earnings into the outstretched hat and said, “Merry Christmas, man.”

Christina Daigneault


Dear Diary:

I live in a huge condo in Brighton Beach.

On the first night of Hanukkah, there was a knock on my front door, which I didn’t open. When I inquired who it was, a small voice asked, “Are you Jewish?”

Indignant, I replied, “That’s none of your business.”

When the voice claimed to be with the Chabad, I retorted, “I don’t care who you are — that’s an inappropriate question,” and promptly called security.

Moments later I heard our guard very politely explain to the man from Chabad that he was trespassing and couldn’t go around knocking on doors asking about religious affiliations. He would have to leave the premises at once.

Without missing a beat, I heard that small voice ask the very patient security guard, “Are you Jewish?”

Suzanne R. Friedman

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Oh it's ON!

I am proud to say that I have had a donut every night of Chanukah so far. Some were better than others, and some were not worth the flour they were made of. Oh, the calories, so what. It's Chanukah, and I for one am enjoying every minute of it.

Tonight I decided to make my own donuts. I tried it one year and they came out pretty good. We are having a family Chanukah party and my sister is doing all the cooking. I heard something about her making donuts. There's nothing wrong with two kinds of homemade donuts is there? Apparently there is.

My sister, screaming at me while waving around a big knife threatened me and told me not to come into 'her' kitchen.

My mother jokes and says this house is not big enough for us, we need a bigger house with separate floors and kitchens so we can all spread out.

Make no mistake- I WILL make my own donuts before the holiday is out, and they will taste good.

Happy Chanukah, let the crazy out!

Thursday, December 22, 2011

I can

Cuz you believe in me
when I don't believe in myself.

You look at me
when I try to look away.

I shrug like what you see
is nothing at all.

You teach me how to
recognize my own accomplishments.

I breath easier
because you empower me.

You give me the tools
to empower myself.

I am high.
I want to touch the sky.

I know I can do anything
if I try.

Not because you told me,
or because you know I can.

But because I know I can.
And that is all it takes.

What sadness?

Trying to
share your sadness with the world,
hoping that they can ease your pain.

To take it away,
and maybe
their happiness to obtain.

But sadness is catchy
it brings others down
and you remain the same.

And no one can ever really know
how you feel
sometimes they don't even know your name.

When you hear how
others lives are
you want to be strong, for them.

To be an inspiration,
as they are to many,
but from where does it stem?

There she sits
in a hospital room,
with an electric menorah tonight.

While I stare
at the flickering flames
complaining about my morbid plight.

And she makes me smile still,
and I want to cry
because I dont know what true sadness is about.

While she, she is strong
beyond her means.
And sadness, I can do without.

Happy Chanukah.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Habit

I watch as the blood
oozes out and slides
down my finger
slowly.

It wells in the gap
shining bright red
and spills over
the edge.

I wonder where
it comes from
and why it leaves
my body.

I wipe it off
but the red
stays
congeals.

Reminding me
not to bite my
cuticles
next time.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

And then a funny thing happened...

I left my phone at home today by accident. I noticed on the way to work. It was weird to pat my pocket and not find the familiar bulge. I was really tired, having gotten only 4 hours of sleep due to going to an out of town wedding and getting back at 2:30 am. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep for awhile. Then my boss asked me to stay late.

I realized it is Chanukah tonight. I didn't forget, but I kept thinking, it's coming it's coming. Then suddenly, here it is. I have no menorah, I am all by myself and everything is overwhelming.

What should I buy? The prepared glass cups with oil? The empty glass cups, separate bottle of oil and wicks? Colorful candles? (That's pretty much out of the question since it's our minhag to be mehudar with menorah.)

I have a hard time making decisions in general. I stand there contemplating each choice, it usually takes me awhile to get to a conclusion. I finally picked out a few items and got on line. I asked the guy if he knows if these floaters will fit into these glass cups. He seemed as knowledgeable as I was on the subject. In these situations I wish I was a guy, or at least that I remembered the halachos we learned in high school.

I'm so tired. I'm so stressed. I'm so overwhelmed. I don't know why, but holidays always makes me emotional. I am walking down the street, there are people everywhere, Chanukah music blasting from stereos, electric menorahs atop of cars, mitzvah tanks filled with young overeager boys ready to go out and publicize the miracle of Chanukah to the world. And I can't deal with it.

I. NEED. SLEEP.

I hate the feeling of helplessness, that because this is pretty much my first Chanukah on my own, I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm willing to trust the guy behind the counter if he told me what to do.

I miss my mother's big greasy latkes. I miss the 'shush shush nu nu' when everyone is lighting the menorah. I miss the 'open the door sloooowly so you won't blow out the candles'. My family is having a Chanukah party tonight and I won't be there.

Yes, this is me having a pity party. Yes when I'm tired and stressed I blow everything out of proportion. Sometimes I even cry. Yes, I'm a girl. How pathetic.

I don't even have a dreidel. What is Chanukah without a dreidel?

Me and my friend joked that we would go to a different donut shop each night of Chanukah and try different kinds. Considering the major amount of calories we'd digest, and the fact that I have no idea where all the good donut stores are I doubt we'd really do it. I was also going to attempt to make my own latkes until I realized I don't have a grater.

I need my mom to say 'aww poor Altie' and even though it doesn't change anything it makes me feel better.

I need to get into the spirit somehow cuz Chanukah will happen with or without me. And I'd rather enjoy it then let it pass me by.

I think I need some chocolate. Stat.

Minutes to midnight

I love bus rides late at night. I always sit in the first seat right
behind the driver so I can watch the road. I love how the bus seems to
eat up the road as we drive. The black darkness stretches out before
us and beckons us into its midst.

Whether you are heading towards a destination or away from a starting
point the road is anonymous. It does not differentiate between
travelers. It does not know who belongs here and who is a stranger. It
does not know anything about you.

The forest surrounds on both sides, the trees slightly menacing and
unfriendly. I wouldnt venture there. Even during the day I'd rather
not explore its mysterious depths but at night it takes on a different
more sinister quality.

I watch the headlights in front of us wondering if we will catch up to
them. If they know we are following them. Is this a race? Where are we
going?

You can get on the road and drive forever and never stop besides for
gas and food. Truck drivers are friends of the road. They are familiar
with burnt coffee and truck stops and taking cat naps in their cabs.
I can't really sleep on busses. I do enjoy traveling and the feeling of
going somewhere. It is exciting.

But now it's late and I'm tired and wishing for my bed.

Oh road how I love thee but it is time to say goodbye. For tonight.

Monday, December 19, 2011

Watch over them

Dear G-d, please
watch over them in their sleep.

And when the day breaks,
and they awake.

Be with them throughout it all.
And when their spirits start to fall.

And when they pick up a gun to fight,
let them live tonight.

Let no harm come to them,
these brave women and men.

The ones who grow up way too fast,
Let them come home at last.

When it's holiday away from home.
No family, on their own.

Let them be safe and warm
away from the eye of the storm.

Let them be strong,
and give them courage to go on.

They are someone's child,
someone's daughter and son.

And when they fall in combat,
I hope you cry bitter tears.

I hope you carry their fears.
Because who will tell their parents that they are gone.

You are the only one
who can help them.

Who can save them
and keep them safe from harm.

So G-d, please this holiday season,
send cheer and happiness to the soldiers.

Let them know peace and no more war.
Let them come home for the holidays and fight no more.

Watch over them, G-d, when they sleep
and can't protect themselves from the enemy.

They are your children, G-d.
When they cry, you do too.

When they are hurt,
you are in pain.

Let the night be over,
and let day break.

And forever protect our brave soldiers,
and bring them home this year, when they awake.

It'll be their own personal miracle.
And we will celebrate with them.

Because we sleep safely at night,
while they risk their lives to protect us.

And our great country.

Sunday, December 18, 2011

You never knew

You never knew that I cried, when you told me my picture wasn't good enough.

You never knew how hard I had it, when I didn't speak about my family.

You never knew how much it hurt when you didn't accept me in your little 'clique'.

You never knew what kind of person I really was, when I just showed you what I thought would make you accept me.

You never knew that I was a good writer, because you never bothered to read my stuff.

You never knew that I cared, because I didn't let you see it.

You thought I was tough.

You thought I was guarded.

You thought I had a wall around me and didn't let people in.

You didn't know that words hurt me.

I must be a great actress, because you never knew how I was feeling.

I didn't tell you because you never bothered to ask.

You never knew because I didn't wear a sign on my head that said "Tough on the outside, but vulnerable and sensitive all the way".

I hate when you tell me how tough I am, you make it sound like people should be scared of me and not the other way around. While I feel so flimsy sometimes, ready to fall apart.

You never knew any of this, because I put up a good front.

Because sometimes the only way to get through life is to show people you are tough. That you don't care.

It's funny when you tell me what you think I'm like, and you are generally wrong.

You want to think I'm tough, I'm guarded, I'm closed, that I don't care and don't get hurt at all? You want to think that nothing matters to me, that I don't get fazed by anything?

That's okay. I will take your words and try not to let them pierce me. I will harden my wall even more, because you never bothered to climb over it.

You never knew I was vulnerable- and that's how it should be.

Because if you knew, that would give you the power to hurt me. And really, I am my only defense.

Maybe it's best you never knew.

Saturday, December 17, 2011

To the ends of the Earth

What if you start walking and never stop?

Is that possible?

It is not possible to walk on air, but they do it in those cartoons, like the Road Runner and Wile E Coyote, where the character runs off a cliff and continues to run in midair, until they look down, get a shocked expression on their faces, and then fall.

We know the world is round. It is not possible to fall off the Earth. But did you ever walk on a Subway platform and wonder what would happen if you kept on walking and fell off the platform?

"But I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walked 1000 miles
To fall down at your door"

In Forrest Gump, Forrest started running, and he just kept on running for 3 years, 2 months, 14 days and 16 hours. It doesn't sound possible. Who would want to run that much?

There are a few reasons why a person would run.

1) Physical exercise.

2) Running towards something.

3) Running away from something.

The first two reasons are (generally) good reasons for running. That last one, not so much. I've learned the hard way that running away from your problems will get you no where. You will just be miles away, with the same problems. "Wherever you go, that's where you are". And you can never actually run away from yourself.

Besides for pondering what would happen if you walked off a cliff, or if you started running and never stopped, there is the realization that the ends of the Earth are close indeed. "Around the world in 80 days". The globe is small enough that it doesn't take long to travail it. There is no where to run.

Sometimes I think that there is no place that I want to be. I mean not where I am, and not anywhere else. Where do you go when you have no where you want to be?

The answer lies within you. If you are wherever you go, then you must create a place inside of you, a place of peace and tranquility. Like a turtle that carries its house on its back, it can settle wherever it is, and call that place home. If a turtle indeed has a home.

I read a children's book once entitled 'The happiness box'. It was about a little boy who decorated a cardboard box and decided that whenever he was sad he would climb into his box. Inside the box the rule was no sad thoughts allowed. He could forget all his little-boy troubles, and revel in happy thoughts only.

What if you could carry the happiness box with you at all times? But you could. The sanctuary is inside of you. That is where you must create your oasis, that is where you must create your escape. "Wherever you go that's where you'll be".

To the ends of the earth and back- you will always be along for the ride.

Friday, December 16, 2011

Parshas Vayeshev- Yakov's spiritual journey

The pasuk says "וישב יעקב בארץ מגורי אביו בארץ כנען" Yakov settled in his father's birthplace, in the land of Canaan.Yakov went to the house of Lavan and worked for him. Why did he go? In order to gather the sparks and elevate them and bring them to 'Aviv', his father in heaven. Canaan is from the lashon 'מסחר'- business. A person has to use money in order to gain money, like it says, you get what you put in.

A Jew's job in this world is to work with and elevate the physical things in this world. We have to do it for 'אביו' for Hashem. Everything we do is for Hashem, and not to receive a reward. And in order to make sure that we are not doing it for the reward, we should work specifically with simple things. We have to have kabalos ol- "Accepting the yoke' of heaven, doing it solely for Hashem and nothing else. We are called 'Tzivos Hashem', the army of Hashem. A soldier must give himself over to his commander and do everything he tells him to do without question.

In order for Yakov to give himself over completely to Hashem, he worked specifically with simple things, with sheep. Yakov worked with elevating the sparks. He worked hard. It was physically and spiritually hard.

Yakov had to run away from his home. He had to leave not knowing if he would ever return. He could have asked, why me? Why couldn't it be Esav who left? But he didn't question. Not only did he not question his lot in life, but he did it with a light heart, he went happily.

And he did not see leaving Eretz Yisroel as a 'yerida' descent, at all. In fact, on Yakov's deathbed it said 'His bed was complete'. This means that his life was complete, including his time by Lavan. He used it as a spiritual elevation, he elevated all of the sparks. And physically, he gained a lot of wealth.

And that's why the Torah uses the lashon 'בארץ כנען'. He elevated the sparks by Lavan, and also by Esev. When Yakov saw Esav again it says 'וישקהו' and Esav kissed him- with his whole heart. Yakov caused Esav to do teshuva. So Yakov came back physically richer, and spiritually richer.

So going to Lavan was not a yerida at all. He earned his parnassah in ruchnius and gashmiyus.

Each Jew must 'elevate the sparks', he must work with his gashmiyus and ruchniyus to create his own 'moshiach', and in that way to herald the coming of Moshiach for all Jews. May it be now.

-Based on a sicha of the Lubavitcher Rebbe

The lesson I learned from this was that just as Yakov did not question his journey and instead went happily, and that he recognized it as an opportunity and not a negative thing, we must realize that wherever we are in life we are there for a reason, and we can use it as an opportunity to do good, to become closer to Hashem. And when we realize that, we will be happy to be there, even if seemingly it is a 'bad' place for us. 

And also, 'whatever you put in, that's what you get out'. We have to work for things in life, sometimes really hard. But the reward will be great.

Good Shabbos to all!

Assertive woman?

They were about a year and a half. The little girl walked over to the boy and shoved him in the chest. He fell on the floor, got up and she pushed him down again. Guess she showed him. His mother took pity on him and picked him up.

Little kids are so funny to watch. Even at a young age they learn to interact with one another. My niece is 20 months and has a new baby sister. She is very overprotective of her, treating her like a doll and not letting anyone come close.

This little kid tripped and fell, and another girl almost stepped on him. But he just got up and walked away like nothing happened. I think if they realize no one is watching they can be tough and 'walk it off'.

There was music playing and these little 'babies', for lack of a better description, were all dancing together in a circle. Just jumping up and down to the music. So cute.

Some little kids are so adorable you want to pick them up and squeeze them tight and give them a big kiss and never let them go.

But whenever I say, 'come here I have a secret to tell you', they rarely believe me. I have to run after them for a hug.

I wonder if you can tell by watching a little child what kind of person they will turn out to be. I hope that little girl won't shove her husband to the floor.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Freedom

I am proud to live in a country that allows me my religious freedom. I can live as a Jew openly without the fear of being discovered, imprisoned, beaten or killed. In Russia in the days of old the Jews did not have that luxury, that basic human right. For without freedom, we are slaves to a master and the rules he imposes upon us.

Today is Yud Tes Kislev (the 19th day of the month of kislev.) It is a special day. It is a day of freedom, of rebirth, and of expansion. This article from Chabad.org explains the significance of Yud Tes Kislev.

Yud-Tes Kislev - The Rosh HaShanah of Chassidism

The Baal Shem Tov writes that he was once granted a spiritual vision of Mashiach. Unabashed, he asked him: “When are you coming?” Mashiach answered him: “When the wellsprings of your teachings spread outward.”

Two generations later, Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi, founder of Chabad Chassidism, was imprisoned by the Czarist authorities. He was sending money to the Chassidim who had settled in Israel, and the Russians thought that he was conspiring with the Turks (rulers of Israel at that time) to fight the Czar.

While in prison, Rabbi Shneur Zalman had a vision of the Baal Shem Tov and asked him: What was the real reason for his imprisonment?

The Baal Shem Tov told him that there were spiritual factors involved. Rabbi Shneur Zalman had been spreading Chassidic teachings without restraint, and this had aroused negative forces in the spiritual realms. “The world was not ready,” these forces claimed, “for such a great revelation.” And therefore, Rabbi Shneur Zalman was imprisoned.

“If I’m released, should I change my approach?” Rabbi Shneur Zalman asked.

“No,” the Baal Shem Tov answered. “If you are released, that will be a sign that your approach has been vindicated.”

On the Hebrew date of Yud-Tes Kislev, the nineteenth day of the month of Kislev, Rabbi Shneur Zalman was released from prison. That date is thus celebrated as a festival. For on it was granted the potential for the wellsprings of the Baal Shem Tov’s teachings to be spread outward and prepare the world for Mashiach’s coming.


There is even a Wikipedia entry on it!

I am privileged to be a chassid, to have chassidus in my life, and to know what it means to be held to a hire standard.

It is customary to wish one another "Le'shana Tovah Be'limud Hachassidus U'vedarchei Hachassidus" May is be a good year in the learning of chassidus and the ways of chassidus.

Good Yom Tov! Hope everyone has an inspiring and meaningful year.

Monday, December 12, 2011

Frum guy gives all Jews a bad name

Clothing being stolen at a laundromat? Never actually happens, right?

I made my weekly trek to the laundromat (single girls apartment, no washing machine, you do what you gotta do right?). I never leave my clothes unattended, because I'm neurotic responsible. A frum guy came in looking for his clothes.

Apparently he had put the wash in himself yesterday, but needed to leave so he gave the lady working there two dollars and asked her to put it in the dryer for him. I don't know why he waited until today to pick them up, but  they were no where to be found. He looked all over the store, and even started opening up laundry bags of clothing people had dropped off (paid for drop-off service) and the lady started getting annoyed. He declared that he wasn't leaving the store until he found his clothes.

Sounds fair, right? I would also be upset if my clothing were stolen from a laundromat. The question is, is it their fault or his? He didn't actually pay for the drop off service, therefore he didn't have a ticket to prove that he left his clothes there. He claimed that since he paid the lady (a mere) two dollars, it was now their responsibility.

I was put off by his attitude though. He demanded to speak to the manager. They finally got through to the lady who was there yesterday. She said she saw a boy take his clothes out of the dryer. (I don't know why she didn't stop him since it wasn't the same man who dropped off the clothes.) He kept demanding to speak to the manager, the owner, then told them they must pay him the value of the clothing. He threatened to sue them, and then told them they would lose all their Jewish customers. He walked around taking pictures of the store. And when I left he was still sitting there.

Then he got on the phone and I eavesdropped overheard him asking someone about suing. His argument was that they are responsible for any clothing put into the washing machines or dryers, when there was a big sign saying that they were not responsible for missing articles of clothing. Apparently they told him he could take the owners of the laundromat to small claims court. I have no idea if he will, or if he has a case or if he will win.

But what I do know is, when he stepped out of the store for a second one Spanish lady said to the other 'That Jewish man is being ridiculous. I had to step into the office so I didn't curse his mother*%&#$ @$$."

I couldn't help but cringe. I wanted to go over to the guy and let him know what a big chilul Hashem he was making. But instead I said thank you and slunk out of the store.

Whether or not the guy was right and they were wrong is not the issue. Yes, his clothing were missing. Yes I'm sure it was very upsetting. But there is a way to say something. My mother always taught me, you get what you want if you ask nicely.

Case in point:

I was once very late to the airport for a flight (as usual.) I was on line waiting to check in, and at the same time there was a flight that had been cancelled, so a whole line of people were waiting for service, demanding to be put on standby for the next flight, screaming and being loud and rude. I didn't know what to do and I didn't want to miss my flight. So I went over to a hassled looking agent and said (trying to be calm), my flight is very soon and I need to check in, can you please help me.

She grabbed my arm (I wasn't sure what she was gonna do at that point) she said, "You are the only one who spoke to me nicely!". She dragged me over to a counter and said to the lady, "Help her and check her in". And B"H I made my flight.

There is a way to speak to people. Like a mentch. And this guy did not act like a mentch. And I regret to think of what the owners of the laundromat think of Jews now, and I can only hope that they encounter more positive polite Jews than the opposite.

Opinion?

...

Then again, if you want something badly enough, you really have no choice but to go after it.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

How long

They told me to jump and I did.

But it wasn't enough.

They told me to reach and I did.

But it wasn't enough.

They told me to try and I did.

But it wasn't enough.

It was never enough.

The bar at which they measured me kept moving farther and farther out of reach.

My muscles groaned in agony, my anger grew, for how could they tell me to do and then make it impossible to succeed?

Like a rite of passage, like an initiation, 'they' tell me what must be done. The good and the kind-hearted and the pure of heart, they have such good intentions, they say.

For when someone is above and beyond you, they can tell you about their own journey, and give you advice. But advice is useless.

“Pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place. If I quit, however, it lasts forever.”
-Lance Armstrong

What is success? To keep going when it hurts so much? If you ask an Olympian how it felt to continue in a competition with an injury, I'm sure they would say it is the greatest feeling in the world. To go on when the pain is so bad, and to finish knowing that you never gave up.

But what is giving up? How can we measure failure and success?

Like a little kid throwing a temper tantrum, pounding their fists into the ground for all their worth, I implore at heaven's door. But eventually the kid will tire out, grow silent and still. The energy seeps, the desire to fight drains out, and a limp form remains.

How long can one fight, until they forget what they are fighting for? How long can one try, until the desire to succeed is gone?

How long does it take to get beaten down and not get up again?

Friday, December 9, 2011

Good Shabbos Joke

A young woman visits her parents and brings her fiancé to meet them. After an elaborate dinner, the mother tells her husband to find out about the young man. 
The father invites the fiancée to his library for a drink. “So what are your plans?” The father asks the young man.
 “I am a Torah scholar.” He says.
 “A Torah scholar, Hmmm,” the father says. “Admirable, but what will you do to provide a nice house for my daughter to live in, as she is accustomed to?”
 “I will study,” the young man said, and God will provide for us.”
 “And how will you buy her a beautiful engagement ring, such as she deserves?” asks the father.
 “I will concentrate on my studies,” the young man replies, “God will provide for us.”
 “And children?” asks the father. “How will you support children?”
 “Don’t worry, sir, God will provide,” replies the fiancé.
 The conversation continues like this, and each time the father questions, the young idealist insist that God will provide. 
Later, the mother asks, “How did it go, Honey?”
 The father answers, “He has no job and no plans, but the good news is he thinks I’m God.”


Halivai we should all ave such strong faith in G-d. Have a good Shabbos everyone!

Thursday, December 8, 2011

The end of the line

If you want advice, you've come to the right place.

If you want to change, we're here to help.

If you want to kvetch, well, there's a special line for that. It's the one that goes all around the block with no end in sight. If you want to kvetch, there's a special phone number for that. It's the one with an automated voice, and no option to speak to an operator. If you want to kvetch, well you've come to the wrong place. We can't help you.

We help people who help themselves, and if you don't want to change, if you just want to complain, well baby, you're at the end of the line. There's no where left to go.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Cuz I know you'll be reading

I don't laugh cuz I know you'll be watching, but sometimes I laugh cuz I want you to see.

I don't live cuz I know you'll be looking, but sometimes I try harder cuz I want you to be proud.

I don't write cuz I know you'll be reading, but sometimes I have you in mind.

Cuz I wonder what your face looks like as you read my words.

I wonder what your thoughts are as you process them.

I wonder how you feel sitting at your computer staring at the screen, at my words taking up space, spewing my message for all of CyberEarth to hear.

And I wonder what you are thinking as you click off. I hope that I leave you with food for thought.

I don't do things because of other people. I do things for myself, and let others reap the benefits.

I'll probably never know. But it is ironic to write these words, wondering what you will be thinking as you read them.

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And for your efforts, here is an article I recommend to read. It made me cry a little, experiencing the pain all over again. But here's the thing about pain: for me it is just a tiny drop in the bucket, will pass pretty quickly. But for the parents in the horrible story, the pain will be a gaping hole in their lives, and it'll never leave. "HaMakom yenachem et'chem b'toch shar avay'lay Tzion vee'Yerushalayim."

If I had no heart

Maybe if I had no heart I wouldn't have to cry.
Maybe if I had no heart I wouldnt feel so high.
And so low.
Feel the blow.
Pummeling at my chest.
You at your best.

Maybe if I had no heart it wouldnt hurt like hell.
Maybe if I had no heart it wouldnt break so well.
Shattered on the floor.
Banging at the door.
Begging to be let in.
Is that a sin?

Maybe if I had no heart I wouldn't feel love's desire.
Maybe if I had no heart it wouldn't be set afire.
Giving it to you.
Risking it broken in two.
Want to rip it out.
And shout.

Maybe if I had no heart it wouldn't cause such pain.
Maybe if I had no heart I'd rely solely on my brain.
Go back to before.
And hurt no more.
Never again.
Let these feelings end.

Rip it out.
And stomp on it.
Till it shrivels up and dies.
Sighs.

Feels much better.
Need a sweater.

Suddenly so cold.
So old.

And gone.
Because that heart kept you young.
And strong.

But it is no more.
And you've lost all love.
And life.

For release of pain-
you always pay the price.

Monday, December 5, 2011

When one door closes...

"Some stories do have a happy ending, just maybe not your happy ending."

When one door closes...

(Sound of a door closing.)

I'm not exactly sure what comes next.

Runnin runnin and runnin runnin

runnin' runnin' and runnin' runnin'
And runnin' runnin' and runnin' runnin'
And runnin' runnin' and runnin' runnin' and

Why are we always running?
Do we ever stop?
What is it we're after?
To make it to the top?

People always shuffling,
always somewhere to go.
Destination in mind?
Or heading for the unknown?

Do you know where you came from,
or have you forgotten as soon as you left?
Do you know where you are going,
or do you wander aimlessly, your life bereft?

Your feet move faster than your brain,
trying to rush ahead.
Will you succeed in life,
or are you doomed for failure instead?

It's cliche to say
"stop and smell the flowers along the way".
But hey,
we only live today.

Take off your running shoes,
walk at a slow pace.
This is your life,
don't rush, it's not a race.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

'Get out of jail free' card

Daddy's credit card. An expression of awe. Wonder. Entitlement. When I was younger and my father gave me his credit card my friends exclaimed how lucky I was, just use it whenever I wanted, buy whatever I wished. But that is not how it worked in my family. I had to ask before using it, my father had to approve of the purchase, and basically it was just for emergencies. A 'get out of jail free' card. And somehow this worked for us. My father trusted me, and I didn't break that trust by making unnecessary purchases.

Many years, wallets, and jobs later, I forgot all about that credit card. Until my mother asked me to pick something up for her at a store in Brooklyn and bring it back with me to Monsey. I asked how she wanted me to pay for it. My father asked me if I still had his credit card, and if it had expired yet. I dug into my wallet, and knew I would find it there, among all the other rarely used cards, like drug store reward cards, old laundromat cards. I checked the expiration date which turned out to be... January 2012. In a month.

I doubt my father will be renewing my card. I haven't taken or borrow money from him in a long time. Now that I work and am self-supportive, I have no need for it. But there was a small moment where I thought, bottoms out. Safety net is gone. What happens if I get into a jam? It's all me now.

Is it a handicap to have that free pass? That just in case? Is is cheating to have that reassurance, to know that you can cash in at any time? In no way do I want to go slinking back home to my parents saying, it didn't work, I can't make it on my own. But knowing that they are there if I need them is comforting.

So it's just a credit card. I know that. If I ever needed money G-d forbid, there are other ways they can get it to me. But it is more what it represents. The good, the bad, and the just plain terrifying part of growing up.

I am reminded of a scene from the tv show 'Friends'. Rachel decides to be independent, so she cuts up all her Daddy's credit cards, with everyone looking on chanting 'cut cut cut cut!'. Ya, it feels good to let go of that 'security blanket' and make it on your own in the real world.

But then again, it's always nice to have that 'get out of jail free' card, to keep it in a safe place, forget about it, and have it 'just in case'.

Which is better? Holding on, or letting go?

Saturday, December 3, 2011

H-O-M-E

There was a moment, when we all ended up in the same room together, everyone just chilling, lounging around, when I thought: this is it. My whole family is here. We haven't all been together since my brother's wedding in April. It was us, plus the additions: sister in law, brother in law, and two nieces.

Being home brings out the best in us:

Swapping boots with my sister for lip gloss.

Sitting and talking with my mother for an hour.

Walking with my sister even though I wanted to walk ahead.

My little brother being civil to me for a change.

Talking and laughing, about whatever.

Being home brings out the worst in us:

Me and my youngest brother (14) having a slapping fight at the table.

My family is not 'conventional'. Sometimes we don't get along. But when there's a family simcha we all kind of bond. In our own way.

I made cookies. My sister made cakes. My brother bought beer. My other sister made salads. My brother bought chocolate. My mom got sushi.

We contribute in different ways. People tell me that I look/sound like my family, which I resent sometimes. I don't want to be a by-product of them, an extension. I want to be my own unique entity.

Someone pointed out that every single one of us is different. Yes, some siblings have similar personality traits. But we are all so different, forging our own paths.

One of the guests said we gained one and we lost one, since my sister has a new last name and my sister in law inherited ours. I vehemently opposed this. My sister will always be my sister even if her last name is different.

Here's the thing about family- it's not always easy. They say that with your family you revert back to childhood. Your family sees you at your worst. Not every family is perfect. But the best, and simultaneously, the worst part of family is that no matter where we go, no matter who we marry, we will always be family.

Despite what my mother says, I don't think we get to choose our family. But at the end of the day, if we all threw our families into a pile and got to pick any other one, I really do think we would each choose our own. Not only because it is familiar, the 'lesser of two evils'. But because if you strip away the layers, when you really need them you know your family will be there to catch you if you fall.

Friday, December 2, 2011

I like the batter better

Really yummy cookies. I just made a double batch of these, half for a friend's bridal shower, and half for my new niece's kiddush this Shabbos. These cookies are best if put into the freezer after they cool off, which helps keep the shape. Take them out when you are ready to serve. Sorry no pictures. Enjoy!

(Oh, the batter is kind of like brownie batter, and since I really like cookie dough, it tastes good to sneak a bit before I shape them into cookies. Not recommending it, just explaining the title.)

P.S. The shower is over and I got many compliments on the cookies. They are really good and easy to make. Be prepared to make a double batch, they go fast.


Cocoa Crinkles

3/4 cup oil
3/4 cup baking cocoa
2 cups granulated sugar
4 eggs
2 tsp vanilla extract
2 cups flour
2 tsp baking powder
1 cup confectioners sugar
1/2 tsp salt

Mix oil and cocoa until well blended. Stir in sugar. Add eggs one at a time, stir until well blended. Add vanilla. Stir flour baking powder and salt into mixture. Chill several hours or overnight. Heat oven to 350. Drop rounded teaspoonfuls of dough into confectioners sugar. Roll and shape into balls. Bake 10-12 minutes. Dont over bake.

This makes maybe a few dozen. Not sure.