Everyday brings with it . . .

Organic Gardening: B & B Style

2010-09-23T11:41:00.006-07:00

So many of you may remember just how into organic gardening I was while living in Israel. My love for gardening has certainly not died over the past couple of years, rather it has heightened and I often find myself in the mood to garden, whether it is with flowers or vegetables. This spring, my friend B and I decided to create an above ground vegetable garden. We looked all over Newton and Boston for farms that were selling seeds, bulbs, and starter plants. The things we ended up planting were:

strawberries

bell peppers

watermelons

eggplant

cucumbers

tomatoes

lettuce

beans

squash

On Memorial Day we had a party, but beforehand we built this fantastic above ground garden that i will attach photos of below. We weren't sure how long it would take for our plants to blossom, but...

This month is when most of our crop blossomed into delicious vegetables. We have yielded a dozen massive Big Boy tomatoes as well as cucumbers, a couple of bell peppers, some eggplant, a couple of bean pods, a squash, and a mini watermelon. Below is a picture of the things we picked the other day. I am going to make a tomato sauce this week with the remaining tomatoes, which are so tasty.

Some Days Are Harder Than Others

2010-08-21T10:35:00.005-07:00

"Today is one of those days", I thought to myself as i pushed open the doors and walked through them, feeling the cold air hit my face hard. I forced my feet to carry me a few steps further. The solace of the cool, dark room washed over me as soon as i stepped over the threshold. I pulled off my hoodie, well aware that it is far too hot outside to have it on in the first place. It envelopes me, though, and i love feeling like i have a little extra protection from the world. I unfolded my mat silently and slid down onto it. The texture of it felt cool and soothing against my warm skin. Even though i know i am surrounded by several others, i feel completely alone; eyes closed, hands in prayer position directly in front of my aching heart, forehead bowed down onto my fingertips. I say a silent prayer, thanking the universe that the room is dark, because as i maneuver around, finally folding myself into child's pose, i feel hot tears stinging my cheeks.

The numbness that comes and goes with varied frequency has worn off and the pain crept back into my heart, causing me to choke on my own breath. The realization floods through me, as though the noise of the world had been keeping it at bay and only now, now in the silence, does it come hurdling at me. It has managed to find a hole in that big, thick wall i've been building. "I will have to rebuild it", I chide myself, a little disappointed. I unfold into plank, and then down dog. My joints feel tight and they protest angrily as i move from one position into the next, barely noticing the discomfort evident in the other practitioners: Lunge, Triangle, Lunge, High Plank... again. I'm aware that i've been closing my eyes, which is not helping my balance. So i open them, and realize once again that i'm not alone. I look around and realize I don't know anyone's name. I feel a little lonely and barely feel as though i'm on the same plane as these other people. I can barely see them with this fog in my eyes, something i have gotten a little used to. I feel a familiar thick cloud settling over me, like a shroud. As i sit, positioned in half lotus, i don't resist. I let it settle and hug me tight. I haven't the energy to shed it, so i let it stay and as i walk out of the room at the end of class, the numbness returns and i forget the shroud altogether...

Hammocking In The Summer

2010-08-20T06:28:00.004-07:00

I open my eyes to the sky and smile as the trees above me sway smoothly in the breeze. The sky beyond them is the clearest of blue skies. Cloudless, devoid of blemish. I shift easily as i feel the braids of the hammock adjusting themselves beneath my body. The breeze throws the clean scent of fresh cut grass across my nose. Delicious, and yet another scent swirls around with it. I can't quite get enough of a whiff to be certain of what it is. Perhaps cologne or shampoo. I lift up my head to look around, only to realize that i am nestled into another warm body. Eyes still closed, his warm lips search lazily for mine. A sleepy smile spreads across his face and his hand comes up to brush a strand of hair out of my eyes. I close them once more and fantasies of a beautiful life play through my mind.

His soft voice interrupts my beautiful dreams. Once more i am paralyzed with panic. I know our days together are numbered and that one of us must make a choice. Compromise or move on. Our life together wouldn't be so easy. We would both have to sacrifice. We would have to meld our family's and culture's together. It would be difficult. We are both far too rational to let this go any further. I'm well aware that love doesn't conquer all and that many times, its just not enough to make it work. We made the only logical decision, and yet somehow I still wonder whether or not it was the right choice.

Culinary Delight

2010-08-18T20:02:00.002-07:00

So, i normally do not cook food and then take pictures of it to post on this blog, mainly because i'm usually so damn hungry that it only takes a few seconds for the food to find its way out of the oven and into my mouth. But today i decided, since i wasn't too starving, that i would take a picture of this beautiful (and delicious) treat and share it with you. Now, for those of you who know me, you know i'm not an adventurous eater, but since i now have a completely dairy kitchen, in the spirit of attempting to keep my first kosher home, i am in desperate need of some culinary adventure.

What we have here is a simple pizza.

BUUUT, if you look a little closer, its not so simple (but really easy to make :)

I bought garlic Naan bread (which i LOVE), Trader Joe's Pesto Sauce and Sun Dried Tomato pieces/sauce, a simple can of sliced black olives (yummy), some fresh baby spinach, and some vegetarian mozarella cheese. I added a little evoo and some sea salt and DAMN this is one fantastic pizza. Pop it in the oven for 10 minutes at 350 degrees and voila! Delicious Homemade Pizza!

All These Things...

2010-08-15T18:30:00.003-07:00

-I am old enough to know that this won't hurt forever.

-I am experienced enough to know that I will most certainly love again.

-I am well read enough to know that the phrase "broken hearted" refers to a state of being and not a literal breaking of one's heart.

All these things I know to be true

-But I am green enough to feel this hurt so deeply that I cannot see my way out of it.

-I am immature enough to believe there is only one person for each of us and that mine is gone.

-I am hurt enough to feel as though my heart has actually been ripped out of my chest and literally broken in two.

All these things I feel to be true

Sometimes goodbye is a second chance...

2010-08-08T19:13:00.003-07:00

The beautiful thing about relationships is that they should be seen as experiences to learn from...

Here is what i learned this year:

*I have moderate obsessive compulsive disorder & am overly concerned with cleanliness & organization

*I am a good communicator, but need the same in a partner

*I am not as spontaneous and flexible as I'd like to be (I will work on this)

*I need to be held

*I like feeling empowered

*I need a partner who is motivated and focused in life

*I love ice skating and snow tubing

*I enjoy tasting new foods I never thought I'd try

*My migraines increase in frequency when I do not work out

*Asians have softer, smoother skin than any other race/ethnicity

*I love to sing out loud (while accompanied by a piano)

*I am a loving, caring, and nurturing individual

*I can give my heart away, but have trouble getting it back when I am done

(This is more painful than i originally realized)

*I love to cook, bake, and generally love being in the kitchen

*I really enjoy hosting parties

*I do not have a green thumb and I am okay with that

*I am not the smartest student in the class, but I try hard

*Hebrew is exceptionally difficult for me

*My first love is finally letting me go so that I can find my forever love and I am learning to be grateful to him for that (Thank you for being selfless)

My Beautiful Shabbat

2010-07-30T19:17:00.004-07:00

Tonight is Shabbat. This is the first time in my life when i have come home from work, lit my own candles, and opened my own bottle of wine in my own apartment. It was a beautiful experience and now, hours after the candles have flickered down to mere wax and wicks, i am able to recognize the simple comfort in this weekly tradition. In the tradition of lighting candles, breaking off pieces of freshly baked challah, and pouring wine into the glasses that once belonged to our ancestors. I have long since needed to write about Shabbat and tonight i was blessed with the inspiration to do so. Do you think our ancestors knew that this tradition, this custom of separating Shabbat from the rest of the week, would really survive as long as it has? Do we think they really imagined that in a hundred years, we would be gathered around the candlesticks their parents gave to them on their wedding day, or for their Bat Mitzvah? I only hope that i do as good a job with my sons and daughters as my parents have with me, in explaining the customs and practicing the rituals. One day i want my children to nail my mezuzot on the doorposts of their homes. I hope the silverware of my grandmother's that i just kashered for my home, can one day be the same silverware my grandchildren and their children eat off of. Shabbat Shalom friends. Please let today be the day you honor the past, cherish the present, and hope for the future.

Life is like a river... it never forgets to ebb and flow around us

2010-07-28T07:22:00.011-07:00

So life has obviously taken me many places since i posted last: I spent a wonderful week in Chicago with the love of my life, traveled with him down to New Orleans to meet and visit with my family for a week, and spent a blissful weekend on Cape Cod. I have also been acing my classes, some of which are: Pedagogy of B'nai Mitzvah, History of the Rabbinic Period, Jewish Life Cycle, Hebrew II, III, and IV. I recently was offered a wonderful position at a local synagogue as their youth group advisor, 7th grade Hebrew School teacher, and high school educator, which i gladly accepted.

I also moved into a new apartment. This is the biggest milestone i have achieved, mainly because i have never lived alone. I am including some pictures as well so you can get an idea of where i live. Keep in mind, they were taken as i was moving, so everything has not been put away yet. There are 5 rooms in total. A semi-large bathroom, a 10X15 bedroom, a 10X10 bedroom, a 10X16 living room, and an eat-in kitchen (which i completely kashered, as i am keeping an all-dairy kitchen). Enjoy the pictures and as my schedule dies down a bit, i will post more frequently, i hope.

This is the second bedroom which i am currently using as my office.

It has a futon in it, which is quite comfortable, so feel free to come visit. This room's paint color is called Moroccan Spice and looks like a burnt orangey-red.

This is my lovely bathroom which has a nice, clean, new bathtub and a beautiful pedestal sink! the bathroom is painted a very calming shade of mocha.

This is my bedroom, which as you can see, is the last thing i thought about when decorating. I still have no bed frame or art work on the walls, but it will come together when i have a little more money. I want it to be very simple, zen-like... an escape. This room is painted a beautiful shade of seafoam green with a hint of baby blue added in.

This is the hallway at the top of the stairs. There are these very interesting built in shelves, which are really too narrow and shallow to fit anything but candles... so guess what I did!?!

This is my living room. For now i am using borrowed furniture from my previous employer, which is a little too big for the room, but it works for the moment, until i can afford something else. The decor is going to be purples and pinks in different shades, which are pulling from the tapestry hanging over the chair that i haven't had time to hang and the candles on the coffee table. The lamps that are currently in this room will go into my bedroom when i get bedside tables, because the green matches my beautiful seafoam green walls. These walls are a pale yellow color; not my favorite, but i can work with them.

This is the hallway that separates the kitchen and the living room. The stairs are directly in the middle and are the first thing you see when you walk into the apartment, but they give a nice separation between the two spaces. The table you see here on the immediate right is like a tall narrow console table where i place my keys and such when i walk in. It has 7 drawers, but still looks very nice, despite its obvious functionality. :) The rest of the pictures are of various parts of the kitchen, which is quite large, and very recently updated with stainless steel appliances and teal/turquoise paint.

New Kicks

2010-02-20T16:50:00.007-08:00

Hi guys,

I know this post is long overdue and it is nothing compared to my other posts, but life is good, so i don't have much to write about :)

Just thought i'd share with ya'll some recent purchases:

Fantastic New Balance tennis skirt for $6.99!!

Brand new New Balance shoes in Hot Pink for only $39.99!

AND my new "second-hand" guitar that i absolutely love... priceless

I plan to begin writing again. It is one of my New Year's resolutions, so i promise when things settle down, i'll begin to update ya'll on how things are going. As for now, i'm doing well and everything is going smoothly.

The Snow Always Melts

2010-01-13T10:37:00.012-08:00

Outside the snow is pouring down, as though god is scooping up big tufts of cloud and pouring them down onto us. It covers everything, from the eaves of my roof to the tips of my shoes. I can't help but close my eyes and raise my face to the sky, letting big pieces of fluff fall onto it, cold and wet, they dwell for only a moment before melting onto my hot skin. One would assume that six months would be plenty of time for a newcomer to get used to the feel, taste, and smell of snow, but when i look out my window, i can't help but feel a deep ache for the beauty of winter. I feel so far from it and yet so close at the same time. Imagine the feeling of painful peacefulness. While i know it is an oxymoron, it does occur. i have felt it many times and do not know how to explain the discomfort. The feeling is similar to that of a doomed love; you know how painful it will be once its over, but in that moment you are paralyzed in pleasure and security, unable to tear yourself away from the heavenly feelings it brings you. That is how snow feels for me. Before i know it, winter will have passed, and along with it, a time in my life, where i will have grown and experienced new and exciting things, and yet Spring will be bringing with it warmer weather and a fresh start. While i always enjoy new beginnings, i am not sure if i am prepared to give away my first winter yet and with it a love i've grown to appreciate.

Sweet Home Louisiana

2009-12-30T16:28:00.014-08:00

The sun is setting and even though it is dark, i am aware of each counter edge and obstacle i might meet as i make my way to the kitchen. As i put my right hand up to the cabinet door, i recognize the familiar feel of the hardware. I close my eyes and memorize the feel of the knob in my hands. Each bronze-brushed knob is small and cold, and the one in my hand feels no different than the rest. I pull open the door to the cabinet containing the pretty orange and red ceramic dishes and i grab one of my favorite mugs. The water in the red teapot I bought for my mom two Hanukkah's ago is already boiling and i can hear it begin to whistle. Everything is so familiar and comfortable. Even though six months has passed since my feet swept across these floors and even though the memories of this place are not always the happiest, i can't help but feel right at home in the house at Graywood. Though it is raining outside, the lush expanse of bright green grass is beautiful, stretching out over the 3rd and 4th holes and reaching out to the edge of the lake. Though i only spent a few months here, i feel as though every room has a piece of me inside of it.

I'm starting to realize that wherever i may lay my head in life, my true home will always be where my family is. The bigger realization is that my memories are less of the places I've been and more of the people I've shared the special moments with.

While driving from Lake Charles to New Orleans, i recognize the familiar land around me. The Atchafalaya Basin stretches out far and wide and her bayous make my heart ache for more time. I suppose we are all vying for more time, more money, more possessions, and whatnot. I will take what i am given and i will appreciate it. I will smile at the memories and cherish the mental photographs i have snapped. Lucky me: i have been blessed with health, happiness, a wonderful family and lovely friends.

Audrey says it best...

2009-12-30T16:04:00.004-08:00

"I believe in pink. i believe that laughing is the best calorie burner. i believe in kissing, kissing a lot. i believe in being strong when everything seems to be going wrong. i believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls. i believe that tomorrow is another day and i believe in miracles." --- audrey hepburn

Rose Mapendo: Inspiration from a broken soul

2009-12-23T12:29:00.004-08:00

Last Shabbat I was in need of some spiritual inspiration. In fact, most Shabbatot I feel a little sad. lonely, and desperate. Its extremely difficult being so far away from home with only one or two friends to confide in. I was expecting the usual uplifting service that synagogue TBA usually gives me, but i got much more than i bargained for. After the Amidah, the prayer in which we express our gratitude for the wonderful things god has "given" us, is usually when the Rabbi stands up and does a little spiel on either the Torah portion of the week or a current event. Occasionally he/she will invite an inspirational speaker up to give their spiel instead, and this night was one of those very nights. So right around this time i closed my prayer book and settled in for what could possibly be a very boring fifteen to thirty minutes. Instead i was left breathless and filled with painful inspiration.

In front of the congregation stood a woman, dressed very modestly in what can only be described as African "tribal-wear." Her name was Rose Mapendo and even though she spoke very broken English in an extremely thick accent, i understood nearly every word of the story she told me.

Here is her story:
Rose and her husband, born in the eastern Democratic Republic of Congo, had seven children at the time the Rwandan army invaded the Congo and war broke out in August 1998. Four years earlier the Rwandan genocide had claimed the lives of nearly one million people. Now a similar wave of violence swept through the Congo. In response to Rwanda's invasion, Congo's President Kabila announced that some ethnic groups inside Congo were the enemy. This proclamation was a death-knell for Rose and her family, whose ethnicity had been declared as the “enemy”. Soldiers and civilians hunted down, beat, jailed and killed fellow Congolese. Men, women, and children from the “enemy” ethnic groups hid in attics, in ceiling compartments and secret rooms; they tried fleeing along dangerous and uncertain escape routes. The survivors' stories of these pogroms evoke history's darkest moments.
Rose was one of the victims. Soldiers arrested she and her family. The youngest child was still breast-feeding when they were put into prison along with friends and relatives from the village. Soldiers separated Rose's husband, then executed him in front of her. In prison Rose watched other close relatives and friends die of malnutrition and disease.
A few months after her imprisonment Rose realized that she was pregnant. By her eighth month of captivity, when she was suffering from severe malnutrition, Rose bore premature twin boys on the concrete prison floor. She had to beg for a piece of bamboo in order to cut the umbilical chord. Her milk didn't nourish the newborn twins. To keep them alive Rose soaked rags in tea and coaxed her babies to suckle on them.
Eight months after the twins' birth, sympathetic Congolese delivered Rose and her nine children to an International Committee for the Red Cross protection center in Kinshasa, the capital of the Congo. The US government had recognized the situation and funded emergency evacuations from this protection center to nearby African countries, from where the refugees would resettle to the US. Rose and her nine children arrived in the Kinshasa protection center a week before the final evacuation. They had spent 16 months in prison. News of the last rescue flight sparked their hope, but there was a problem: they were not on the evacuation list.
Due to complications with Congo's government, the rescue team had explicit instructions not to add any other people to the final flight out. However, it was clear to the team that the twins would die if left in the protection center. They were malnourished, sick and weighed about eight pounds each. Knowing that adding people to the flight might jeopardize the entire mission, the team deliberated and finally made the decision to include Rose and her family on the evacuation.
In February 2000 Rose and her children were flown to a refugee camp in northern Cameroon. Over the next six months the twins almost died on three occasions from malnutrition-related sicknesses, but doctors on hand worked fast and saved them each time. In August 2000 the family resettled to Phoenix, Arizona. The twins are healthy young boys now. Rose's children are all in school, and she watched her oldest son, John, graduate from high school in the spring of 2005. For the youngest, the traumas of prison have already faded into the distant past. In the face of violence, loss and extreme hardship, Rose found reserves of strength and courage to support and to keep alive her children.

This story reads so much less painfully than it is told. Rose cried during the retelling of her story, something I'm sure she has done a thousand times. For me, her story symbolizes a new beginning; a beginning i will gladly grab onto and charge forward with. Thank you Rose.

God and I

2009-12-23T12:08:00.003-08:00

I suppose I did not realize how neglected I would feel if I took a deeper look at god's rejection of me, of all of us. We haven't had much communication with God since around the time when Moses disobeyed God and he punished him. It is around that time that God starts to disappear, or Exits the World Stage as one of my peers so aptly puts it. Were we that much of a disappointment that God felt too ashamed to talk with us or give us more guidance? Or was it something larger than that?

I have always been the kind of believer that puts the Bible on the lowest rung of the religion ladder, which is also why, i suppose, i chose to avoid Bible classes in school. I have taken everything from Buddhism to The Study of Prophets and have outright ignored every option i had to take a class on The Bible. Now that i have been forced into the uncomfortable situation of reading and analyzing Biblical literature, i see a larger picture emerging from the narratives. It is one big story! There are some discrepancies in details, and sometimes it doesn't feel as though it flows properly, but essentially The Bible is a work of fact (or fiction depending on your belief) that follows a story line.

-God creates man, isn't happy, so he recreates man. Isn't happy when Noah's peers aren't following his "laws", has Noah build a big boat and then destroys the rest of humanity. Seems to me that God is a bit of a perfectionist. This little play continues until Moses gets angry at the Israelites and hits God's rock. In one way or another, Moses changed the miracle and he degraded God's name, in the most outrageous of ways, by claiming that HE was in fact the worker of miracles. At this moment, we see God begin to disappear. He no longer speaks to the people in droves and instead will only speak through a messenger, which is precisely when Prophets appear for the first time! I'm not going to give you an entire synopsis of The Bible, instead I'm going to leave you with this thought:

Why was God so involved in our ancestors' lives? Why does he speak to us and some of the later prophets only in dreams and hallucinations? Did God get sick of our pathetic attempts to control our own destinies, or did he create us knowing that eventually we would gain the power to control ourselves without his help? I, for one, am a little insulted that God only gave his undivided attention to his first children and that he seems to have completely forgotten about the whole commandment of "be fruitful and multiply." Well they did, and what are we, chopped liver? What about the generations that needed his guidance and gentle, loving hands? Aren't we deserving of these things?

Winterization

2009-12-20T13:24:00.002-08:00

Our Hanukkah tablecloth and Menorah.

We lit candles every night!

Snow!!

My car covered in snow.

You can't tell, but its parked in a driveway and i learned to shovel snow this day

This video made me cry

2009-12-04T06:25:00.000-08:00

Winter White?! Who cares about fashion rules!

2009-11-16T10:40:00.007-08:00

I never realized my wardrobe could have such a wide variety of clothing if i lived in a colder climate. Its amazing how many wonderful WARM things i can buy because winter means colder than 60 degrees.

Today i am wearing a new outfit (right down to a cute new pair of undies). I love this sweater-dress which is warm, but still low cut enough so that i do not feel like i am being strangled and thin enough so that i can throw on my cream colored coat if need be. These jeans (a size smaller than what i normally wear) are the perfect color and cut for me.

And what i love most about winter are the many varieties of BOOTS and as you can see, i have these jeans tucked into my favorite pair of black suede boots (the perfect outfit and comfortable too).

My ONLY problem so far has been my skin: cold weather tends to dry out one's skin and since i already have extremely dry skin and insist on taking 2-3 showers a day, i am definitely feeling the effects of the temperature change. Other than that minor problem, i am absolutely loving this fall/winterish weather and would love for you to come visit so you can experience the joy of Boston weather too!

Halloween 2009: Nouveau

2009-10-29T06:09:00.005-07:00

As much as i love this time of year because its my birthday month, i have never really been able to get into Halloween as an adult. When i was a kid, we always had my birthday party on Halloween and we'd invite everyone from the neighborhood to go on a hay ride to trick or treat. It was always a lot of fun and i always dressed up. Once i was a devil, mom says, it really matched my personality. In recent years though, i haven't really found myself getting into the spirit of things. I'm usually studying for school, working very hard, or out of the country (as was the case last year).

This year is different though, I'm going out with B and my roomie to an interactive King Leer play and then we are going to hit some parties. My roomie will be a large baby, B will be a clown, and i am going to be a 20's flapper girl. I've got the dress, boa, lined stockings, gloves, feather head-piece, and pearls. I've even got this gorgeous vintage dressy black lambswool coat that B bought me earlier this month that will go beautifully over everything so i won't freeze my tushy off! I am going to CVS today for the red lipstick and nail polish to match the dress. Everything will be perfect, and i will look smashing! I just hope its not raining or snowing, because i don't think i can manage 3-inch heels on wet pavement!!

Wish me luck!

E.T.

2009-10-23T20:05:00.005-07:00

I thought of you today

I saw your loving smile in a stranger's face

I smelled your sweet perfume in the wind

and in every woman i found a trace

A trace of what you would have been

I needed you today

I wake up each morning grateful for the light

But with each tear i keep at bay

I am aware you would never have won this fight

I remembered you were gone today

It absolutely broke me apart

As long as your face is in my mind

Your compassion lives on in my heart

Our lives will be forever intertwined

Which may just be the most painful part

I miss you everyday

And though you have made for me a hole

I am thankful to have known the woman you were

And taken from you a piece of your soul

To prove that our time was more than a blur

Lets love like its ours to keep

2009-10-23T08:50:00.003-07:00

All writers understand that cheery, happy moments do not always make for the best writing material. In fact, its better to have some difficult situations or experiences thrown at you in order to have some mind fodder to ponder and philosophize about. That being said, the only situation i have encountered in the last two months that has been difficult to maneuver myself out of is "how do we manage to get to sleep on time so that we get up on time, and still have enough time to spend wrapped around each other"... Quite a difficult feat to manage for two people who are still in the "new and exciting" stage of a relationship.

I want to update you on all of the things going on in my life, but good days and happy moments are bad for writing inspiration. And i am so ecstatically happy right now, its not even funny. Beyond happy, i am blissful, floating, and overjoyed! My lips are stuck in this ridiculous smile and i can't seem to move it into any other expression. So bear with me while i give you all of the details of my new found life in Boston:

I enjoy my classes, love my professors, feel comfortable and at home on my "campus" and all while receiving a fantastic dose of knowledge about Judaism (my favorite topic EVER). Here are a list of the classes i am taking: Jewish Congregational Education, History of Zionism, Bible Texts and Contexts, Understanding Hebrew Texts, and a Hebrew Ulpan.

My job is new and fun, and everyday i get to play with these cool kids who are so excited to be with me. We have lunches, play games, take walks, have chats about mindless funny things, and i get to do all of these fun things while i am making money! What could be better? The only thing i ever have to think about is what to make for dinner.

My relationship is healthy! I am in a satisfying, comfortable, HEALTHY relationship, where i don't feel the need to blurt out "I Love Yous" just to keep B in my life. Instead of saying things we don't feel or mean, we use other expressions to describe our feelings that are just as important and meaningful. People tend to resort to using the "L" word simply because they cannot explain their feelings and lack the vocabulary to express said feelings. Usually my relationships are highly dysfunctional and/or volatile. I would never use the word HEALTHY to describe any of my previous relationships, but this particular situation is uncomplicated, significant, and very healthy. I feel very comfortable expressing my emotions and addressing situations that would normally make me want to burst into tears and scream. When i need to do work, we find the time so that we can both fulfill our other obligations. Our eating habits are fairly similar and more than that, we are both willing to adjust and accommodate, which typically never happens. One person usually bends while the other remains stiff and uncompromising. Luckily, we both bend together, which is so nice and easy and makes us both feel so grateful to have each other. I have never been given such generous and loving compliments, and i have never felt so overwhelmed with emotion for a significant other.

Life is going wonderfully and every morning i wake up with a smile on my face wondering what amazing things are going to happen today.

Disappointing Plans

2009-10-19T09:42:00.005-07:00

What does a date entail? Butterflies in your stomach? Romantic dinner for two at some candlelit table far away from any other patrons? Flowers, wine and other such accoutrement? It could be a pizza delivered to your doorstep, while one of you hovers out of sight clothed only in the scarce threads of the outfit you were dressed in minutes earlier. Whatever a date means to you, it may mean something very different to your partner.

You may show up dressed to the nines in heels and pearls, and he/she may be lounging in their jeans. You may have spent hours on your hair/nails/makeup and they may have hopped in and out of the shower in no more than three seconds flat. You may have planned to go out and they may have planned to stay in.

There is no question about the differences between men and women. They are obvious and sometimes entirely infuriating, but one thing every person must consider before a date is commenced: what are we expecting and have we made our plans clear? Otherwise, one of you may end up very disappointed and the evening may not go according to plan. Either way, i suggest that discussion is in line and a little understanding and compromise is employed on both sides.

I looked out my window

Trying to find you

You can't imagine my disappointment

When I saw the truth,

When I knew you would never be there

And the door opens...

2009-10-12T05:18:00.005-07:00

What happens when you realize that you become a better person when you are with your lover/significant other/friend/partner/romantic interest?

For the first time in my life, i appreciate my personality more when i am with him than when I'm not. I am a nicer, happier, more loving and compassionate individual and i love, Love, LOVE that side of me. It may be extremely selfish, but i vie for his time not only because i enjoy being with him (and i truly do), but also because i enjoy "me" so much more when i am around him. I am a better, more selfless woman when i am by his side, and that is something i have never experienced before in a relationship. His personality makes me want to give more of myself, devote more of my time, and expend more of my energy.

Although, those of you who know me personally may not feel this way, i tend to be very aggressive and combative in my relationships. I initiate fights with no foundation and find the most minute issues to blow out of proportion.

Face-to-face (if you had never been a significant other of mine) you might never notice this small flaw in my personality, but behind closed doors i blame and i berate. I am not proud of this aspect of myself, however i now realize that it is a defense mechanism i use as way of protecting my heart - self preservation. We all have some form of it, mine is just directed at those i care most about. I force, whether intentionally or not, my partner to become so discouraged and annoyed with my constant battling, that he will make the decision i know i cannot make.

But i digress, and so I'll return to the reasoning behind this post in the first place: why in this relationship do i feel more safe and less aggressive than in my previous ones? The answers may be directly in front of me; it may be the way he calls with concern, or his patience at my frequent inability to speak my mind, his age and collected male wisdom may also play a factor (as men don't truly become men until they have spent significant amounts of time with a woman). Whether or not the answer lies above this sentence, or somewhere off in an abyss, i am not compulsively searching for it.

I am happy and i no longer feel the need to push someone away in order to save myself. This may be what maturity is all about, realizing that the world will not collapse around us if our hearts are broken, and that letting in one magnificent person is more about changing ourselves and less about the instantaneous pleasure of passion and lust. This relationship (whether it lasts forever or ends tonight) has been an experience and i am changed in more ways than one.

The Newton Free Library and The Newton Cemetery

2009-09-16T07:36:00.004-07:00

The Newton Free Library (which is easily the biggest library I've ever been in) is situated between the Newton Cemetery and Walnut Street (a main street that runs straight through Newton). The front side of the library is a tangle of bustling people walking in and out, rushing to check out books or finish homework. Instead, the back of the library's second floor is a completely unique place in the midst of the horde of college students and teachers trying to attain the unattainable.

A sheer layer of bushes, narrow trees, and low brush divide the grass between the library and the cemetery. Here, in an over-sized lounge chair, hidden in the rear of the fiction section, behind the rows and rows of bookcases, it is much easier to escape the crowds than it is to escape myself. My mind runs away with me with nothing but the silence to drown it out. As i watch a family place a bundle of flowers on a grave 500 yards from where I'm sitting, physically separated only by the safety of the library's windows, i can't help but contemplate life and death.

Weightless yellow leaves flit, featherlight from the trees, gracing the headstones with their softness. Fall is quickly approaching and i am reminded of the constant ebb and flow of life. We are born, complete a task, and then begin to decay, just as the rest of the natural world does: leaves die, fall from their homes in the trees, and become part of the earth.

We are all victims of this natural life cycle. Why do some of us have more difficulty accepting this inevitable truth than others? If life did not flow in its usual unending manner, we would never accumulate knowledge, and our growth would be stunted and deficient. Our bodies would be barren, never allowing a single innocent child to be born so miraculously into this world. Discoveries and research would be halted and our intelligence would cease to advance. The simple realization that we are supposed to grow and age is one of immense capacity. The sheer fact that progression of life is inherent and essential to our way of life and yet we can and do express our frustration and disappointment with it, is at odds with nature.

Something so natural should not be so difficult for us to comprehend.

Sweet Anticipation

2009-09-11T11:53:00.004-07:00

A burst of wind whipped by me as i opened the door. I shivered, realizing that my flips flops, scrub pants, and sweatshirt were not enough to keep out the chill in the air. Even though it is barely Fall here, and everyone is clad in shorts and t-shirts, i am distinctly aware of this coolness i have never experienced before. The bright green leaves shiver with anticipation, waiting for the new season to arrive and turn them into bright oranges, reds, and yellows. And i am waiting anxiously as well, not for the seasons to change, but for the passage of time to begin to flow at a normal pace. I'm waiting for my days to be filled with classes, work, studying sessions, and learning. I'm waiting to begin my life again as a student. At this moment, time passes me by so slowly, that i have too much of it to think. I can sit in the same spot all day and contemplate very thoroughly the life i have chosen, and the life i will one day choose.

The wind twirls the loose ends of my hair around my face and i remember to breathe. As i suck in through my nose, i can smell the change in the world around me. Life is swirling by me and I'm learning, finally in my mid-20s, to embrace it. To relish the anticipation. To lick my lips and wait for the deliciousness to hit them. To feel with deep intensity every painful feeling i have ever avoided. I have finally learned how to stop the anxiety and to appreciate the intermission. I can sit with myself and simply ponder, not needing anyone else's companionship. I can share secrets with myself and laugh out loud at the insanity of them. I can control my facial expressions, and abide by social norms by keeping my opinions to myself. I can taste the sweet anticipation lingering behind every absence and appreciate with more zeal the reunion.

Most of our lives is spent waiting for those few precious moments: weddings, births, funerals, and so on. But if we learn to include the "waiting moments" with those other precious few, then we will be able to appreciate every waking moment that passes. Life should be about the sweetness, not the accomplishments. Every life we touch is an accomplishment and after all, those are the only ties that last.

I don't know who i am without you

2009-09-11T08:43:00.007-07:00

Somehow early this morning

they found me in the confines of my bed

They seeped in through the cracks in the walls

and appeared without warning

I was never given the chance to fight

as i looked up and made myself peek

They emerged and began to sting

deep beneath my blushing cheeks

Unraveling my resolve with no delight

and burning every inch of skin they could ignite

It hit me like a fire, engulfing me from within

a pained cry escaped my throat

but the breath never reached beyond my lips of sin

From somewhere unknown

the accusations came flooding back

into the semi solid walls

i'd built around me to keep out

that which i'd never dreamed would attack

I tried to catch myself, but he caught me instead

2009-09-09T11:34:00.009-07:00

It is extremely difficult for me to collect the assortment of unsettling thoughts blurring swiftly through my mind and form them into one cohesive piece of art for you to understand. But i will attempt the task and hopefully my unmistakable ecstasy will not detract from the pure intention of this post or the authentic description of the situation.

I have embarked on a new endeavor in my life. One that has me treading on territory that is entirely unique and uncharted. One which is breathtakingly frightening and invigoratingly intense at the same time. In reality, these words pale in comparison to the overwhelming emotions i am bombarded with each time our eyes meet, and yet i have no words to even offer an accurate description of these awe-inspiring feelings. So these will have to suffice.

This bond is so exciting in its newness and yet disarmingly disorienting. I find, at the most inconvenient moments, of course, thoughts pirouetting through my mind, filling my head with fantasies and so-called "happy endings", putting me in a frame of mind I'm simply not prepared for. For instance, there is no reason for me to be looking into some one's eyes wondering what life would be like if they never left my side.

I want to simply chastise myself for being far too open and honest for my own good and also for allowing these dangerous (but sweet) thoughts to penetrate my all too thin mental barrier. And since I'm spilling all the details here, i might as well as add my ultimate concern, the reason for the "emotional flogging" to begin with: What if this is how it begins? What if this is the beginning of the life i have so desperately been searching for? What if i am trying to end the one good thing that could possibly make the rest of my life as delicious as these few weeks have been?

Even worse: What if this is just a fling?

Abandonment Issues

2009-09-08T06:11:00.005-07:00

I promise i have not abandoned this venue of expression. As of late i have tons of inspiration, however i am simply waiting for things to calm down long enough for me to collect and organize my thoughts into coherent potential posts. Thanks for your patience.

P.S. for all of you Southerners the temperature was 58 degrees here last night!

Shocked and Speechless

2009-08-31T13:50:00.003-07:00

Its amazing the things we do not think about when we wake each morning. We do not think about the day ahead of us in terms of possibilities and circumstances. We make our "to do" lists and we expect that our days will go according to what we have planned. We think little about the simple act of buckling our seat belts, or checking our breaks. We think even less about things beyond our control and threats lingering beneath the surface of our seemingly perfect world. We make U-turns when we miss our turn offs and we swerve in and out of traffic when it is not moving according to our preferred pace.

Today i experienced something that thousands and millions of others have already had the displeasure of encountering. For me though, it was new and unfamiliar and I found myself taken completely by surprise and totally unaware as to what the proper course of action was. Today, i had an accident in my car.

I have reached the ripe young age of 24 ;) without so much as a scratch on any vehicle in my possession, but today my perfect record was shattered (and many of the pieces are still sitting on Route 9 in Chestnut Hill). I rear-ended a pretty silver Honda and left only a few scratches in my wake, but my car did not crawl away so unscathed. My entire front end and hood is aching in disgruntled pain due to its now odd shape. As bad as i feel for my car, i feel worse that i was careless enough to hit another vehicle, and going no more than 25 mph at that!

I have always been a proponent of careful driving, because what many people do not think about is that while our vehicles do a great job at getting us around, they also do a great job at getting us killed. The stories of car accidents, drunk driving, and road rage incidents are countless and so many lives are lost or permanently altered in the process. Driving should be an active activity, where your eyes and ears and all other senses are constantly trained on the road in front of us.

Today, i was careless. Today, i was hurtful and caused not only damage to my vehicle but also to the other vehicles involved (yes it was a pile up!!). Today i had a car accident and if it is within my power to make this promise - i will never cause another accident again.

Why rabbi & not doctor, lawyer, or social worker?

2009-08-27T06:40:00.003-07:00

There has always been a lot of confusion shadowing my reasons for wanting to become a rabbi. While my family remembers me having this desire for quite some time, i only remember formulating the formal reasoning process in my mind when i was around the age of seventeen. I was attending Catholic Mass with my boyfriend at the time. He had just finished explaining the process of communion to me and how many who do not take communion have either not confessed in an unreasonably long time, have committed a mortal sin, or are not Catholic (however if one wasn't Catholic, why would they be attending Mass?). As he finished his explanation, everyone in the cathedral began lining up for communion, except for me. Now in my memory, i was the ONLY person still seated and everyone was staring at me. But i know for a fact that this was not quite the way it went down.

At that moment, i realized that i never wanted anyone to feel as excluded or as humiliated as i did right then. I wanted to be the kind of rabbi who made people feel welcome and comfortable in synagogue, whether they are Jewish or not. I want to guide a synagogue where my congregants embrace the warmth emanating from me and send it out with positive thoughts to all those around them.

I want to be the kind of person who sets an example of how to love others and how to behave, so that we all learn to treat each other with dignity and respect. When i think of a rabbi, i do not imagine the patriarchal rabbis of our past, but more the warm, friendly, caring guides of the present. I want to be that rabbi!

(After reading this post, i realize it is very limited and not a full explanation - more to come in this department)

I think I'll go to Boston, I think I'll start a new life...

2009-08-27T06:22:00.003-07:00

This month has been a whirl of exciting activities and events: My sister and i threw a surprise birthday party for our mom's 60th birthday party which was quite a task. She was always around which made it extremely difficult to cook all of the food, invite all of the guests, and set everything up at a friend's home without her suspecting anything. After all the food was cooked, the guests were invited, and everything was set up, the party was a hit! Little did my sister and i realize that my dad had ruined the surprise weeks earlier and all of our stealthy efforts were in vain. The party was successful nonetheless, the food was delicious and everyone had a wonderful time.

The day after the party, my 17 year old niece and i headed to New Orleans so that i could show her what it was like to spend time away from home in a great city. We walked around the French Quarter, saw a funny movie, ate at Superior, and spent an evening at the Bridge Lounge. We enjoyed ourselves and got to spend some much needed time together bonding.

Finally it was time to go to Boston. So on Monday of last week we packed up our suitcases (22x14x9 so they could be used as carry-ons) and we boarded the plane. Once on the plane though, we didn't leave on time because the exterior door would not shut. We sat for 45 minutes on the runway at Louis Armstrong International Airport waiting for the technician to fix the door to the cabin. When it did finally shut, it had started to rain and i am never a happy flier and I usually have a painkiller or a few cocktails before flying, but this time it was just not in the cards. There was turbulence and rain and it was just not the best flight i have ever been on. Either way, we made it to Atlanta, not a moment too soon either. Our connecting flight was boarding just as we arrived. When we finally reached Boston (in all its glory) our rental car company had given away our car (which we had reserved and already paid for)! I'm told this is how things go in big cities, where everyone gets ripped off, but it was still shocking!

The rest of a trip is a blur. We met my advisor from Hebrew College, who was absolutely the sweetest woman i have ever met. She helped me with housing, jobs, financial aid, networking, getting involved in activities with the school, and my course load. I loved the school and the small feel of it (as there are only 200 students). Gorgeous building, small classes, and friendly staff. Everyone knew my name and everyone seemed very excited to have me there!

As disastrous as the trip was due to all of the difficulties with the rental car, the awful hotel, and the lack of decent living space to rent once i arrive, i really enjoyed the college and have a feeling this will be a very positive and inspirational educational experience.

Road Trip Part I

2009-08-19T09:14:00.003-07:00

i have to apologize! i have been living between various cities, driving long distances, and with very limited internet access, so it has been extremely difficult for me to check my email much less post on my blog. I would love to give all of the following information to you in one single dose, kind of like a shot, but it is very lengthy and encompasses a few weeks of traveling, so it will have to be divided into several posts.

My trip began on Friday, August 7th after i led services in Lake Charles, Louisiana for the last time. I left around 7:00pm and drove to New Orleans to meet my good friend Morgan who is doing medical school in Israel, thus preventing us from seeing each other as frequently as we'd like. Once we both arrived in New Orleans at 2514 State Street Drive, that is when my trip truly began. She and i spent 3 wonderful days catching each other up on our lives.

On the morning of Saturday, August 8th, we left early to make it in time for the Henry S. Jacobs Camp 40th Reunion Shabbat Morning Service which was just as wonderful as i remembered it. After spending the day swimming, cheering on the softball teams, and eating burgers, we were exhausted and practically fell into bed that night.

Sunday, August 9th started off perfectly with breakfast at Riccobono's Panola Street Cafe which was delicious and definitely hit the spot! Matt and Drew, two of my really great friends from New Orleans joined Morgan and i, which made it even more special. Then Morgan and i passed out on the couch until i had to pick up my parents at the airport later that afternoon.

Monday, August 10th was the day i drove to Gulf Shores, Alabama to spend the week at the beach. It was bitter sweet to have so much family time that i knew i wouldn't get again until December (if my schedule permits). We did not get the opportunity to do what most people do at the beach: swim in the water, lay out on the sand, and build endless sand castles. Instead we swam early in the morning with Lilly (my niece) and took every opportunity to hang out with family. I left the beach on Saturday, August 15th and began the real road trip up through the Northeast.

That post will definitely be coming soon as i made many observations and had some wonderful experiences during the first part of my drive! But for now i will leave you here so that i may take advantage of the last portion of my trip and take it all in; cool breezes, fresh air, and everything!

Male Stupidity, along with Male Refrigerator Blindness, and Male Dishwasher Disability

2009-08-11T19:20:00.007-07:00

Why is it that some men think they are entitled to everything good in this world without having to work for it?

Twilight

2009-07-07T08:31:00.005-07:00

Apparently there is a phenomenon that i was unaware of until now: Twilight. I suppose i have been living under a rock, but now that i have seen the movie and am not only totally in love with Edward Cullen (as a character) but also with vampires in general, i am going to go out and pick up the books. Wish me luck on my new adventure into the wonderful world of Bella and the Cullens.

Southern Hospitality

2009-06-21T11:25:00.007-07:00

Today while driving down St. Charles, i saw a man and woman standing on the corner of Rosa Street (which only has about 10 houses placed in a circle - a private lane that people are not allowed to drive down). She had on white slacks, a pressed button-down top (right off a Chico's rack) and was holding a pitcher of lemonade and a glass. He was in ripped jeans, covered in dirt from his messy, unwashed hair to his broken flip flops. He had an enormous piece of wood (the size of an artist's canvas) and he was whittling out an exact replica of what i call The Wedding Cake House, because it looks like a big, beautiful, edible wedding cake! Just from the obvious dichotomy of the two, i am assuming that she is the home-owner and he, just a starving artist inspired by the home's beauty and grandeur.

Where else would you see this? The uniqueness of New Orleans stems less from the funny accents you hear and the delicious special dinning only found at Mother's, Napoleon House, or Jacimos, and more from the way people are treated when they make their way through our lovely (large but quaint) town.

If you avoid the tourist traps (in the quarter), you are sure to find Hansens' SnoBlitz, owned and operated locally by the granddaughter of the original owner (who patented the first sno ball machine). They are only open from 1-7 each day, they make their own syrups and there are less than 15 flavors to choose from (pretty uncommon when you think about all the flavors offered at other stands). You get one-on-one service worth a million bucks and she has something friendly to say to every customer who hands her $2.50 (the cost of a medium snoblitz).

On the other side of Uptown on Camp you will find Blue Plate Cafe, which has the most gorgeously decorated interior, complete with blue, tile-top tables and a mish-mash of unique blue plates. They are famous for their enormous to-die-for blueberry muffins and granola mixtures. The perfect breakfast or brunch place for someone who has spent far too much time in the Quarter the night before.

The most amazing thing is not that the food is that exceptional (SnoBlitz aside of course) but more the friendly manner in which people treat each other.

The Deep South has always been known for its exceptional hospitality, but i truly feel that since Katrina, which swept away so many of our friends and family, that we feel a deeper connection with our fellow New Orleanians and the curious tourists passing through our quiet little town. Next time you have a chance to take a vacation, make it New Orleans. Don't do it for Bourbon Street or Cafe Du Monde (even though the latter is definitely worth the trip). Do it for the Sweet Tea brought to your table by the sweetest waitress you have ever met. Do it for the new citizens of the Ninth Ward, who moved from their comfortable homes in the center of the city to take a stand and make a point to their fellow artists. They are still struggling to make a livable situation from the rubble that remains. Do it for the starving artists perched on their spots around Jackson Square, selling their pieces to make ends meet. Do it because you love visiting a town that loves to host you. Do it for yourself, because there is no better feeling than leaving knowing you have contributed to a city too poor to help itself and yet still "pleased as pie to have ya!"

The Great Thinker

2009-06-17T22:38:00.003-07:00

I miss Inspiration.

Please come back soon old friend.

Babies, babies everywhere!!!

2009-06-04T17:30:00.011-07:00

It is so difficult to sit here and watch everyone around me get married and start families while i am very well aware that the next seven years of my life have already been predetermined. It is going to be nearly impossible to attend graduate school/rabbinic school, work full-time, and search for a potential mate. Dating will be extremely hard, given that every time my future career comes up in conversation, men manage to find a way to sneak out of the restaurant unnoticed. The word rabbi is very intimidating to non practicing Jews and even practicing ones.

Even beyond dating, I have yet another problem: I am not a "wait and figure it out" kind of gal; so i know that when i get married, i will want children immediately. There will be no waiting until we are "financially ready", or spending a few years "getting to know ourselves as a couple". If i thought it wouldn't bring on backlash for my future career, i would find a gorgeous "sperm donor" with perfect genes to help me procreate NOW!

I want kids; i have always wanted children and while i don't necessarily see myself as a stay-at-home mom forever, i am absolutely positive that i would make a great mother and would not hesitate to schlep my kids to work with me each day if a decent babysitter/day care cannot be found.

There will be days at the park, looking at the trees and playing with doggies and play-dates with friends. My daughter and i will "put on makeup" and play "dress-up" (when she is old enough) and i will spend every moment i can making sure that she learns (early on) all the important things i never did. I want her to feel confident about herself and feel comfortable with her body/face/talents/non-talents. Even if she never steps foot on a stage, in front of a movie camera, or an audience, she will be a huge success, as long as she can wake up each morning with a smile on her face and a positive attitude.

I will make sure my son plays every sport he desires, and i will not discourage him from playing with Barbie. Making sure that he understands the importance of acting like a perfect gentleman to every lady he meets will be a very high priority for me.

I know that i will not be around forever and there may not be another tomorrow, so why should i wait until i find the perfect man to have the most perfect child? Women (and men) are no longer relying on committed relationships or a member of the opposite sex to procreate. We are creating children from computer generated matches and surrogate mothers! I want a child (actually more like 6 of them) and i do not feel obligated to wait until i find true love (which may not happen until i'm 40, in which case it will be WAY to late to have a half dozen children)!

P.S. this post was written in a moment of desperation. All day long i am surrounded by beautiful babies and it is very difficult to function and not catch the "baby bug". I no longer feel such an immediate requirement to pop out a bunch of kids. Instead i am realizing how difficult it would be to be a single mother (in school/working/whatever the case).

I can and will wait; BUT i will not wait forever. I have made a deal with myself. By the time i finish Rabbinical School, in 7 years, if i have not found my match, i will be having my own child. Lets hope i meet Mr. Right by then :)

Lilly and Aunt BeBe

2009-06-04T09:06:00.004-07:00

Here are some recent pictures taken of Lilly and I in May by my very good friend Carley from www.carleymacphotography.com

A new skill

2009-05-21T22:02:00.007-07:00

I would just like for you to take a look at this picture: Women and guitars - A) how hot is that and B) doesn't this girl look just like me ;)?

All of my life i have been exposed to guitars. My dad used to sit us on the couch next to him and play a variety of songs on his guitar when we were kids. I have these mental images in my mind of him sitting around (hippy as ever - though he will never admit it) playing his guitars and singing all sorts of songs to us. I loved it. Somehow guitar wasn't one of the many things i cared to try out, until of course i realized i wanted to be a Jewish professional. How many Jewish professionals do you know that DON'T play the guitar?? Yeah, i don't know any! My other experiences with guitars range from NFTY events to summer camp. I can't even count the times we sat around the bonfire singing camp-related songs. My love for the guitar has always fallen hand-in-hand with Judaism (for those of you that grew up Reform, i know you understand), which is why i think I have most recently become obsessed with learning how to play the guitar.

Now, at the ripe young age of 25 i have finally taken the initiative to learn how to play the guitar. I am learning chords and to my amazement, i learned how to play my first song this week while in New Orleans with a guitar-playing friend. If you have never heard it, its a beautiful song called 9 crimes by Damien Rice. Look it up on YouTube; it is absolutely spine-tingling (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vHt72jJ_1t0).

This is a new day and I am taking control of my life one step at a time. Today, with this new music-making instrument strapped on my back, i feel invaluable to the world.

Do we wait?

2009-05-21T21:43:00.004-07:00

When tomorrow is uncertain and today is all we have, do we wait?

Do we wait to fall in love, to hold out our hands, and give out our hearts?

Do we spend a lifetime searching when all we needed was waiting there in front of us?

NO!

We do not wait!

We do not pass up amazing opportunities to fulfill our dreams!

We do not search further when perfection has already revealed itself!

I refuse to spend any more time waiting for Mr. Nice, Handsome, Jewish Guy to come around, and instead I'll follow Mr. Right Now;

Mr. Nice Guy who happens to be holding out his hand and handing me his heart.

If he can see so clearly, why shouldn't I be able to?

Why shouldn't i dive in, head first into a sea of loveliness;

A sea where i can get lost, if only for a summer?

One summer of intense passion is worth more than a lifetime spent waiting for perfection, because in all honesty if i wait any longer to find what i was looking for i might be passing up what i was waiting for all along.

Jewish Youth: Normal or Not?

2009-05-12T10:37:00.008-07:00

A friend of mine posed a very interesting theory the other day. But instead of starting with his theory, i will start from the beginning: Jewish teenagers belong to a variety of youth organizations, whether its NFTY, Young Judaea, BBYO, ZYO, or a Jewish summer camp (all of which are very popular in the Jewish world). This is where the story begins: in high school as our hormones are raging and our emotions are out of control. We spend weekends, winters, and summers at these retreats and camps. We know we only have a finite amount of time to spend with these people; sometimes as little as 3 days or as long as 6 weeks. So before we arrive, we prepare ourselves for what we know will surely be the most amazing time of our lives quickly followed by heartbreak. We hang out 60-300 teenagers in cabins and houses in a variety of settings and cities for days at a time, debating, discussing, laughing and forging bonds with each other. We create these deep emotional connections and experience these intense moments filled with passion; and then they end, suddenly and painfully, and we are left feeling alone and full of withdrawal.

After spending 4 years like this, relying on these weekends and summers for our emotional needs to be met, we begin to think that this is how it is supposed to be. We infer that all relationships are supposed to feel this way. Now, A's theory is that these youth programs screw us up for all future relationships, and after spending the last 3 days thinking about it, i think I agree.

These weekends of intensity eliminate our ability to judge exchanges based on a natural progression, so instead we judge our future relationships based on the amount of passion exhibited and the immediate emotional response elicited, which is just not realistic. After relaying A's theory to another friend, he then pointed out that once experiencing these moments we know are fixed and limited, we become accustomed to this type of a relationship, therefore preventing us from having the patience to experience a relationship that begins with friendship and progresses forward to passion, love, and finally comfort and security. Instead we expect to begin with the climax and proceed with the finale (allowing nothing in between) and anticipate short-term romances.

Is this normal? Should we really be throwing our kids into these kinds of environments that may foster unhealthy relationship patterns for their futures or is this okay? On the one hand, i truly enjoyed my time spent at these retreats and learned to appreciate the emotional disconnect that always came with the end of each event. But i also wonder if A's theory may be the reason why i have pushed away so many wonderful men in my life?

Taking Drew's lead. . .

2009-05-01T07:44:00.004-07:00

i feel very strongly about this cause and so should you. Please take the time to go to this website and please spend the money to put our world back on its axis, because right this moment,hard-working American families are being booted from their jobs, their homes, and they along with children are being left out in the cold by our government. We should not be standing around waiting for our economy to fix itself, because it won't. But we can!

http://www.the350project.net/home.html

Musicians vs. Writers

2009-04-30T09:12:00.006-07:00

The commonly asked question i have the most difficulty answering has always been, "What kind of music do you like?" For me, music has always been music; if it has a good beat and i can sing to it, i'll probably like it. So my typical answer has usually been rock, pop, country, and folk. Typically when i am in the car, i am either in a loud girl rock mood or a chill country mood.
Lately though, i am discovering that i prefer musicians that fall under the same genre as Jack Johnson, Missy Higgins, Sarah Bareilles, Grace Potter, Ben Harper, KT Tunstall, and Holly Brook. I'm not really sure what to call it, but thats what i like and i'm no longer afraid to shout it out and let everyone know that i'm not necessarily interested in the most popular crap that is being put out there.
I really appreciate musicians who can actually read music and/or play a musical instrument, because truth be told, if i had a band behind me, i could sing anything and sound decent. I mean honestly, have you actually listened to the words in "Poker Face"? Who listens to that crap? (sorry, slight hostility and you'll find out why next - keep reading)
Musicians have it so much easier than writers. They can put two or three rhymes together (or not) and have a #1 hit. Its a little harder for us to get anywhere in our business. We either have to make some incredible statement that no one has ever written down before and sell our souls to have it published or write a novel that either makes our readers cry, laugh, or cringe in fear. I envy the musician.
P.S. I am currently taking guitar lessons, maybe one day i'll be writing more than just my own stories/articles/blogs.

Best Day Ever

2009-04-25T12:10:00.009-07:00

Yesterday was probably the best day that i have had in a really long time. Everyday is great, of course, but yesterday was amazing. It started with a trip to the grocery, where i bought every delicious fruit and vegetable i could get my hands on: cucumbers, oranges, tomatoes (i don't even like tomatoes), blackberries, apples, acorn squash, mangoes, blueberries, strawberries, watermelon (which i love), honeydew, sweet potatoes (to make a pie), and various other healthy items. So I'm strolling around wondering just how expensive this grocery trip is going to be, when *BAM* the cashier says $40.00! Now for those of you who buy a lot of produce, you know it is expensive, and i was prepared to spend well over $70.00 for all of this food, but it must have been my lucky day!

After the grocery i headed to the Eye Clinic to have Jeff (my optometrist) look at my contacts. If you didn't already know, I was born blind and even though surgery fixed most of the problem, i was unable to wear anything but seriously thick glasses until i was 15 years old. So for the first 15 years of my life, my middle name was "four eyes". Then, suddenly Jeff found a pair of contacts that would work for me, AND it has been a love story ever since! About a month ago, my contacts started getting funky, and when i say funky, I'm not really sure what that means, other than that i just couldn't see out of them any longer. So instead of ordering me a new pair of hard contacts (which take weeks to build a callous on your eyelid), Jeff ordered me a new kind. Soft contacts! They were like velvet for my eyes, they felt nice, i could nap in them (and I'm a huge fan of naps), and when i wore them at night, i didn't get that fuzzy halo thing that happens when lights shine too bright in the dark. So after Jeff told me everything looked good, i got back in my car and headed home.

On my way home i got this phone call from a number in Massachusetts. I have been in the (long, drawn out) process of applying to a graduate program in Boston and have been waiting forever for the results. I suppose you could say that i don't have the most confidence when it comes to my educational abilities. I know that i could ace a test given time and materials to study with, however i seldom actually assert myself in said educational environment. So my grades in college weren't the best, and my GRE scores were average, but my writing is my greatest asset, and while i may not have shined on the previous two portions of the application, i knew they would be impressed with what i had to say and how i said it. But as the time wore on and i hadn't heard anything back, my hopes started to dash a little. Well, yesterday the provost called and offered me a spot in their Master's of Arts in Jewish Studies program! I was so happy i started to cry as soon as i hung up the phone.

There were of course other events that led to yesterday being a pretty ridiculously amazing day, but we'll leave it here, as i am sure you are sick of reading this post. Enjoy your weekend and have a wonderful day (today and everyday). Don't forget to appreciate the miraculous moments as they happen. Turns out it was my lucky day (everyday is a lucky day).

Caterpillars

2009-04-22T11:28:00.005-07:00

The beginning of Spring is always tough in the Deep South. Southerners are forced to break out their flip flops, (which most of us have been wearing all winter anyway) get used to the sweltering heat and deal with the poisonous caterpillars that come out around this time of year. "I dislike caterpillars with great intensity" (in the words of my favorite NOJDS student). Not only do you have to watch out on the ground for them when you walk, but look up and you'll also see them falling from the trees. These caterpillars usually only live a few days and the caterpillar "season" only lasts a month or so. So sooner than we realize, we have forgotten all about the caterpillars and have begun to focus on the wonderful honeysuckle-filled spring air, the beautiful flowers blossoming, and smothering heat (with his friend hellish humidity).

Unfortunately since Spring is such a short season in Louisiana (as summer hits us like a wall toward the end of April), we have to hold on to it with every bit of strength we have. This reason is precisely why when i see a caterpillar, i do not step on it! These creatures only have a short time on this earth, and their poisonous spiny stingers are the only thing they have to defend themselves. Each creature on this planet was created by something greater than us and the least we can do to respect that is to treat each thing we come across with great love, kindness, and generosity.

Next time you see a caterpillar, poisonous or not, remember that it was created to serve a purpose, as were you. The difference is that the caterpillar is born knowing his purpose and therefore naturally completes his nature-driven task. We just take a little longer to figure ours out and fulfill it.

One day at 1006 Washington Avenue

2009-04-19T16:09:00.008-07:00

This week i have been charged with the task of selling all the furniture N and i shared when we lived in New Orleans together. I have spent a lot of time posting, describing, confirming, calling, picture-taking, picture-emailing and meeting people who are interested in one or more pieces of furniture. Today i had the lucky job of sitting in said shared apartment and waiting for people to show up, pay for, and pick up their furniture. While Sadie and i shared a comfortable spot on what used to be our couch, i had a slight epiphany.

I started thinking about all the time i spent in this apartment and what i did the entire year that i lived here. I maybe sat on this couch a dozen times, not including the times N and i ate dinner in front of the television. I worked five to six days a week, usually from 9-6 during the school year and 7-5 during the summer and instead of spending my days off doing things i loved to do, (sew, bike, lunches with friends, girls nights out) i spent them cleaning, organizing, and making dinners for a man who seldom appreciated it. I spent so many afternoons alphabetizing our bookshelf, folding and refolding laundry, rearranging my closet by color, shirt and pant length, and season (and then redoing it). And what for? Why was it necessary for me to keep the apartment so clean and organized. The hours that i wasted worrying about perfection i could have spent reading novels, writing stories, sewing skirts, cooking up new recipes, walking downtown, or just enjoying this beautiful city.

So now as i sit in this small, simple, sun-drenched apartment letting the breeze from the open windows kiss my cheeks, i relish in the fact that i have grown up, moved on and have learned more than i ever realized i would, simply by going back and looking at my mistakes. When i finish here, I'm going to take a walk down Magazine and enjoy the unique atmosphere New Orleans has to offer. I might even spend the night here (as N will be at his girlfriend's apartment) and let the sunlight streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows force me awake earlier than i would normally get up. I'm going to cherish this special feeling i have found in my past and embrace it for my future.

Internet for Dummies

2009-04-17T18:56:00.007-07:00

I have come to a very disturbing realization tonight: I am no more technologically advanced than my 17- month old niece who loves watching The Wiggles on Youtube or my 60-year old mother who can barely find the power switch on her laptop. I am not moving right along with our technologically advancing times because: A) I did not, until today, understand what Twitter was, and i still (after having created an account to make myself feel validated) understand how to use it or what purpose it serves. and B) Even though i have been keeping this blog for the last 6 months, i have no idea how to tweak it, how to add widgets (or what widgets even are) or labels to my blog. All of which are slightly important when considering the fact that i am 25 and supposed to be up on all the latest trends, be it fashion or web.

All of a sudden, my generation is coming up with all of these new web-based technological advances and i am stuck in the 20th century with Internet Explorer and HTML...

Tomato Sauce and Chicken Soup

2009-04-11T17:27:00.009-07:00

As much as i love food one would assume that i would spend more time writing about it. And with a title like "Tomato Sauce, etc..." you'd also think that this might be a food post, but it isn't. Last night as i was making a batch of Russel's famous tomato sauce (which does not include canned paste, canned sauces, or any other artificial ingredients - my all time favorite recipe from the Homeland, matched only by Taryn's Chicken Soup) i decided to take a second to enjoy the moment. I let the sauce simmer, opened a bottle of red wine, and savored my alone time. My mom was at the grocery and my dad was on the 16th hole and for a moment, i had me to myself. I sat on the porch with my wine (until the mosquitoes started to eat me alive) and I embraced the beautiful sunset.

For a second, i thought back to this time last year: I was working in a job i hated. I got up every morning dreading the day, praying that i would get rained in or my car wouldn't start. I looked for every possible excuse not to have to go in. I was living with a man i did not respect nor treat well in a highly dysfunctional relationship where we spent more time screaming at each other than enjoying each other's company; but because of our insecurities and lack of desire to deviate from the comfortable environment we had created, neither of us wanted to leave. For the longest time i was convinced that i would not survive alone as i had spent all of my adult life hopping from one "long-termish" relationship to the next and i just did not know how to be on my own.

Now, one year later, still high off of life in Israel, doing what i loved everyday, living with people i loved, and enjoying my own company, i realize that i have come a long way in a year's time. I now understand how important it is to love yourself, to enjoy spending time alone, and to learn how to let go and act crazy every now and then. Until last summer i had never been alone and had not understood what loving myself even meant.

Since then, I have spent many breakfasts, lunches, and dinners eating by myself (and not one bit lonely). I have spent hours at coffee shops reading and writing, on buses conversing with strangers in various languages, and dressed up with too many places to go with more friends than i ever could have imagined. Living without a significant other has been more liberating than i ever fathomed it would be!

My mom always tried to tell me that life with a man is not the only kind of life a woman can have. And usually this was during a miserable month-long transition between boyfriends and as "heartbroken" as i was i couldn't understand what on earth she could possibly mean by that. But now i do! I know now that people smile and laugh even when they are not madly in love with someone. I know now that life is worth living alone, even if you have to watch a few movies by yourself and cook dinner for one. I know now that taking a road trip by myself is way more fun than having to relinquish driving control to anyone else just to have someone along for the ride!

And i know now that the wait for Mr. Right is worth it and that settling for Mr. Right Now is not worth all the company-filled nights in the world.

Thanks Mom, you were right.

Paper White Narcissus

2009-04-11T15:48:00.004-07:00

Every day i drive by this big empty field with two huge oaks sitting directly in the middle of it. I seldom think about what happened in that field a little more than 2 months ago, but today i thought about it. I spent a long time remembering that day and i thought i'd tell you about it; maybe i just needed to tell somebody about it.

February was a really rainy month and we wore our anoraks everywhere, anticipating the quick changes in the weather. One day after running to the grocery, somewhere near the end of our short time with Mamaw, mom told me to pull the car over and find someplace to park. There was a gravel drive in front of us, so i swerved in and put the car in park, a little confused. She started rolling up her pants and i reluctantly did the same. As we got out and walked around the car, she told me that she had passed by this field each day for the past 6 months and from the road she had seen these beautiful white flowers begin to bloom a few months ago. She said they reminded her of the flowers that used to grow behind her house when she was a child and that she couldn't go another day without picking them.

So, in the freezing cold with the wind nearly knocking us over, we trudged through the mud in our bare feet, with our pants rolled up to our knees. We hopped a ditch and ran through the field about a fourth of a mile to where the flowers were blooming near the oaks. When we finally got close, she stopped and closed her eyes. She said the smell took her back to her childhood in Pleasant Hill, a childhood I knew was speckled with pain and disappointment. We picked every last Paper White Narcissus that day. We didn't even pull them from their roots, we just greedily yanked them up from the ground and gathered them up in a small bouquet. Then, we ran back through the wet, grassy field, over the ditch, and through the mud back to the car. We weren't quite sure how we were going to hide our indiscretion from the multitude of visitors waiting for us back at the house, but we managed.

We pulled into the garage, came in through the back door, threw our wet clothes on the floor in the mud room and changed into fresh clothes before anyone noticed. I grabbed a vase for our newfound flowery friends and mom filled it with water and placed them next to Mamaw's bed. No one knew who had brought them and whenever anyone asked, mom and I just smiled. The flowers lasted about as long as Mamaw did, which was only a few days, but while she was alive they filled her room with the sweetest of scents. The rains had finally stopped and the sun had come out, but not even a beautiful day could keep something or someone in this world that was not meant to stay.

Even though Spring has arrived, i have noticed that the Paper White Narcissus's have not re-bloomed. Somehow i know they never will.

Midnight on the Bayou

2009-03-30T09:42:00.002-07:00

A hot bolt of lightning rips through the black sky and thunder rumbles a long low growl close by. The storm in the distance grows angrier with every moment, rolling across the swampy bayous that surround Graywood Plantation. It is hard to fall asleep with the rain slamming against the windows and the wind howling around me, so instead i make myself a cup of tea and sit in the rocking chair by the balcony. Curled up comfortably in my pajamas with the heat blowing gently keeping me warm, i remember who i am and who i'm not.

I'm not standing on a corner in the rain, cold and wet with nothing to protect me. I am not starving or sick. I have change in the pockets of my jeans, cash in my purse, and plenty of money in the bank. I am not struggling or desperate for anything. When i see something i desire, i have the means to afford it. We are not all that lucky.

When i wake up on the wrong side of the bed all i have to do is remember the New Central Bus Station in Tel Aviv or think of the Ninth Ward in New Orleans and i realize that we are not all given the same opportunities like i had once so adamantly argued. The rains began to slow and as tired as i was i could not force myself to lay back down in bed.

The pillow-top mattress and silky soft sheets no longer felt like a refuge from the storm. Now somehow, the water had seeped in through the windows and into my warm, comfortable world and instead of raging outside, the storm was now raging through my mind. Be gracious and remember that circumstance is not made from luck.

Life Crisis!

2009-03-29T11:39:00.003-07:00

At Shabbat services, Rabbi Zimmerman started off his sermon with the question, "What happens when we pray for something and it really comes true?" Are we really prepared for the outcome? This got me thinking, am i really prepared for what comes next?

All of my life i have only wanted to be one thing: A Rabbi (save those brief instances where the first-multi-lengual-Jewish-female President of the United States and rockstar were on the list). Now that i am this close and i want it this badly, (and by badly, i mean I could easily run screaming into the nearest synagogue and push another rabbi off the pulpit) I am not even sure if i am capable of doing the kind of job i demand of my rabbi.

Can i really get up in front of a congregation and give an inspiring sermon or command the attention of my congregants with song? Am i really prepared for my prayers to be answered? Public speaking is my single greatest fear (that and dying an old maid with no less than a dozen cats). Add public singing to that and one could easily blow on me and i might just pass out from all the anxiety balled up inside of me. These are both a huge part of being a rabbi. I just don't know if i would be able to unwrap and embrace this gift, even if it were placed in my lap, wrapped in pink paper with a bow on top.

This is an enormous realization for me, especially since this has always been my chosen profession. I just do not see myself being happy doing anything else, but suddenly i feel like i might have to begin rethinking my future. What would i do if i couldn't be a rabbi?

This Ain't a fairy tale

2009-03-18T16:16:00.003-07:00

As children, we look at our parents and see their successes. They are firmly grounded with steady jobs and solid foundations; their dreams gliding perfectly into place. We fashion our lives after theirs and plan according to how we want our futures to turn out. "I want 3 kids by the time I'm 27, $1.5 million by the time i'm 35, a 4 bedroom home with a white fence and a handsome husband who will make me the envy of all the other housewives." This is clearly an exaggeration. I mean come on, who only wants 3 kids by the time they are 27? (Just kidding).

To be honest though, my dream life has always fallen somewhere along these lines (sans the $1.5 mil, i was hoping for more). Before i actively started working toward becoming a rabbi, i dated non-Jews and thought nothing of it. I even considered saying "yes" to a marriage proposal because i wanted to be married so badly. Most women dream about their weddings, but i dreamt about everything that came after the wedding. I dreamt about buying a home, picking out furniture, dinners by candlelight, waking up next to the same person every morning, and having beautiful children together.

Luckily (for both of us) i said "no". Had i said "yes", we probably would have a few kids by now, which wouldn't be so bad, but giving up my dreams would be. Many people (including me until recently) think that they will not feel fulfilled or complete until they marry and have children and those people were made to be husbands, wives, and parents. I was made to be a rabbi though, and no matter how happy i would be with wonderful children hanging all over me, i do not think i would ever feel complete.

Life shouldn't be about giving up something to get somewhere else, it should be about embracing yourself before you give yourself away. So many people enter into relationships, marriages and parenthood expecting that the faults will fix themselves once their lives are "complete" with a family. Most times this is not the case. Instead we bring our issues and troubles along with us and burden our spouses and our children with them.

For some, dreams may not come true within the limits of a white picket fence. Instead they may come true on a mountaintop in Israel, where no limits can be found on the horizon, or on an ashram in India, where your mind can travel around the world and back, while your bottom sits firmly on a green patch of grass. We shouldn't be waiting around for someone's match to light our fire, our lives should start the moment we realize we aren't living life to its fullest.

Three scary little letters : GRE

2009-03-10T08:32:00.003-07:00

Its no wonder i have lacked inspiration as of late. Its also not a shock that i have lost sleep, an appetite, and have no desire to put on anything other than yoga pants and a tank top. I'm studying for the GRE and i have major test anxiety!

In the test book i borrowed from a friend, it says, "Relax. Clear your mind." Blah, blah, blah! Who can relax when they know their career and future are on the line. One test-4 hours of sitting at a computer, one clear way to sum up all of the knowledge you hold within your mind-can determine it all.

I'm sure i am blowing it way out of proportion, but i am terrified. Anyway now you know why i haven't been writing. I am suffering from lack of time and inability to concentrate on anything that does not include antonyms, data analysis, or the pythagorean theorem.

I take the dreaded test Monday, March 16 and will be spending this weekend in New Orleans attemping to calm myself, so wish me luck and i promise i'll have a decent post when i'm done.

If you only knew

2009-02-21T15:21:00.006-08:00

Lying in his bed, covers around my feet, head propped up on pillows, I listened to him strum on his guitar. Familiar melodies floated from his mouth as i tried to keep up; Dispatch and Red Hot Chili Peppers filled the spaces in between and brought back memories i had only just allowed to resurface. The music took me back to a different time, but i pulled myself back to present and forced my mind to stay put.

I have become determined to live in the moment and appreciate all the experiences i am lucky enough to have. The past should be a process through which we learn how to cope with the present, not a place we allow ourselves to revisit every night in our nightmares. I am coping and i am loving the present. I can never go back and fix the things i have done wrong, or undo the mistakes I've made, and lucky for me i can live with them. I can also admit to them and apologize; I'm sorry.

But I am not going to apologize forever. I've said it, made amends, and I'm done feeling bad about it. I will no longer let my bad judgments as a teen affect me as an adult. I love my life, i am on a solid, steady path, and i can no longer allow my past to hinder my future. I am letting go and allowing the world pull me up in its whirlwind along the way.

Thank you for helping me truly understand the importance of loving my life and seizing the moment as it arises. I don't think you even realized you were doing it.

Pleasant Hill, Louisiana

2009-02-08T19:09:00.004-08:00

We had been preparing for this day for several weeks. We knew what we wanted Brother Jennings to say, what songs Carmen should sing, and that i would speak somewhere during the service. The arrangement of pink carnations, white roses, baby's breath, and greenery blended perfectly together as they lay carelessly draped over her casket. Everything was short and simple and went off without a hitch. The service was tasteful and touching, the burial quiet and peaceful.

As my mother, my sister, and i sat in the front pew at the church my grandmother had once sat in, and her mother before her, i felt the heavy burden of my ancestry weighing down on my shoulders. To be honest, I'm not sure how to explain the relationship with my family from North Louisiana. Strained and awkward would probably be the two best words to describe it. We were raised with a different set of standards. We do not see eye to eye on most political topics, and therefore we are unable to discuss many things.

Despite our social, fiscal, and political differences in opinion though, that side of my family is always hospitable and welcoming. There is always comfort food on the stove and no one is ever turned away from the door of their double-wide. They all live within a mile of each other on the same property my mother's family has owned forever. They are always smiling, hugging and telling jokes. And the biggest surprise is that they seldom fight. A harsh word is rarely shared, something that is very hard for the Goldman side of the family to grasp.

The Walkers meet for reunions and stand around before dinner having wine and beer. All the women in the family get together to make cakes and pies and the men play golf/go hunting/or whatever else men do. When someone is sick they send cards, flowers, and food. When someone dies, they rally together and show their sympathy by creating a comfortable environment and offering cheer and help, rather than tears and misery.

Many children grow up in homes where they do not have extended family and are not able to pinpoint where their qualities came from. Luckily i know where mine are from. I attribute my writing ability to my father, who has helped me hone it into what it is today. I know that the bug for writing came from my grandmother though, as she has many poems, essays, and unfinished books to her name. My kindness and love for religion come from her as well.

There are definitely things that came directly from the Goldman side though. Most of them are clear when you look into my face. My eyes and nose come from my father and my body type as well. My olive skin comes from this side also. My dad would say that i am an exact replica of his Grandma Bella, but anyone in my mom's family would say that my personality comes straight from the Walker blood line. Wherever my traits originated, i am grateful to say that i know the people who passed on these genes to me and i have great respect for them.

The end came quickly

2009-02-06T10:16:00.011-08:00

It seems silly that on a day like today, with cool breezes blowing across the rolling green fields and beautiful blues painting the skies, that anyone wouldn't want to be out soaking up the sunny freshness that is ushering in Spring. Personally i would rather be doing anything but what i am doing. I bring another load of laundry to the mud-room and finish clearing out the seemingly "empty" room. Each time i walk through the door, my memories manage to knock the wind out of me.

At the moment, the room is empty. There is no oxygen tank with its loud rumbling pumping air through the tubes. There is no makeshift potty chair taking up space in the corner. The day bed i spent so many nights on is now housed on the second floor. The wheel chair, long since folded up and neglected, has been picked up by MedTech. The hospital bed no longer sits bulkily, front and center holding her frail body.

We stand at the front door and watch as the equipment is loaded back into the van, ready to be delivered to the next Hospice patient. Daisy barks continuously at the technician taking away the medical equipment. I try to pull her away from the door, hoping she'll forget, hoping she'll stop. Its no use, we are both glued to our spots, her out of anger and me from desperation. I do not know his name and he does not know mine, and yet somehow we are now bound by circumstance. He is taking her away from me piece by piece...

I never considered how lonely this big house would be if it weren't occupied with a dozen or so other people. But now, as i sit here on the couch in front of the fire with Daisy in my lap, we are both jittery and on edge. She and i both wander in and out of Mamaw's room, expecting to find her laying peacefully in her hospital bed with her white nightgown draped over her shoulders, surrounded with various mouth swabs, cleansers, and barrier creams. I expect to hear Gaither's Christmas 2008 soundtrack playing softly on the stereo, but i don't.

Instead of a hospital bed and a frail old woman, a queen-size bed. Instead of soft music, a deafening silence. Instead of love and joy and pain mixed together in a bundle of heartache, there are just memories.

Rachel Jennings Emery

May 13, 1929 - February 6, 2009

Relentless

2009-02-05T18:18:00.005-08:00

A vehicle cut me off in traffic the other day and i had to slam on my breaks to keep from smashing into him. In that instant, the fear that ran through me registered deeper than just the car and its possible consequences. It made me remember a particular day not very long ago. A time when i was in a city very far away, with a war happening just miles from where i lived.

I walk through the main outdoor corridor of the central bus station lost in my own thoughts. The soundtrack of my life is playing loudly through the headphones plugged into my Ipod. I only do this so i don't have to hear the pleas of the beggars lying on their mattresses in the freezing cold, as i do not have any change today, or to drown out the calls from the taxi and sheirut drivers going to their various destinations. Since i am simply walking home from the secular yeshiva, i am in no need of transportation.

A man's loud, rough Israeli voice rings out from a spot just to my left, "Ashkelon" he yells as he stands near his bus already filled with passengers. Suddenly i feel a wave of shock shoot through me and i am rooted to the floor. My eye catches his, his frown deepens and he nods slightly, just enough to let me know that he knows. Ashkelon is little more than the name for a town in the south of Israel. It is no larger than any other city, no more glamorous, the night life is no better, the women no more beautiful. The city itself is no different than any other city in Israel.

The paralyzing fear that hit me then had little do to with the city itself, rather the terrifying war that is occurring in that region of the country. In that part of the country, 36 miles from my apartment in Tel Aviv, Hamas is firing rockets into schools, hospitals, and other public facilities with the sole intention of killing civilians. This makes me sick to my stomach, so when i look over and catch the eye of the sheirut driver, i imagine how scared he must be to do the short drive from here to Ashkelon everyday. Ultimately his destination is the central bus station, which is a big target due to its size and the sheer number of people who walk its halls each day.

Fact of the matter is, he isn't as scared as i am, because he has done this before. He is israeli after all, and Israeli's have learned to live with war in their lives. I have not.

When 9/11 turned our country upside down, we all stopped living and just stood suspended in mid-life. Planes crashed, towers fell, New York City was in a state of confusion, and 2,749 death certificates were filed in relation to the World Trade Center attacks. Every man, woman, and child in our country knew about it in mere minutes. We mulled it over in our minds for years (we still do). It became the central topic of conversation on the news, during dinners at home with the family; everywhere you went, people were discussing it.

The attacks on the World Trade Center are still called 9/11 for one reason, they occurred on one simple day. I am in no way trying to discount this event as anything less than (insert negative adjective here as nothing i can fathom quite fits), as my brother was in that location just a day before, and the fear from that knowledge shook my world. But we lived in fear for months simply because of the events of that one single day. Israeli's have been living with it for years, some of them have only known war.

I will leave this unfinished, as i simply have no further conclusions to draw, other than this: Israeli's have spent their entire lives fending off bombs, rockets, gunfire, and enemies. Surprisingly enough, they are still calm and collected when they know they have a war facing them and they move forward bravely and willingly, accepting that if they do not fight for their country and its people, no one will.

Golf

2009-02-04T12:59:00.004-08:00

As i finish folding my third load of laundry today i contemplate whether or not i should take a nap or take advantage of this beautiful afternoon. Taking advantage would simply mean sitting out on the balcony, studying the golfers as they walk by with their clubs, and writing. I could easily climb into my big comfortable bed with its plush, fluffy pillows, and mint green layers of soft, down blankets, but instead i jar myself awake with another cup of hot tea and choose the balcony over the bed. The mint wafts up into my nostrils and a thousand thoughts race around in my mind.

Now that i have been keeping this journal, of sorts, i wonder why i started only five months ago. I have always loved to write and somewhere tucked away have hundreds of writings from the time i was twelve until now. I suppose i have always been concerned about sharing my thoughts with anyone, which seems so ridiculous considering i am now openly displaying them for the world to view. Somewhere along the way i became insecure with myself and feared what people would say if i said what i needed to say.

So instead i hid them and wrote secretly. I smiled, said "yes ma'am" and "no sir" and kept my mouth shut; maybe not completely, but i sure censored every bit of what hit my tongue. Slowly i have found my voice and i no longer whisper. I also ended my "paper journaling" days and instead i tell you all what I'm thinking.

When i began this blog, i was concerned that my only inspiration would come from Israel, and that when i left, my ability to convey some of my thoughts would leave also. I was mistaken and now realize that, as the inspiration we get comes from real life and as long as you are living life every day, you can be inspired; you simply have to open yourself up to the possibility of unique opportunities.

So now, as i go through each day with a new experience and a new outlook, i am continually inspired. i am thankful for every precious moment, because as cliche' as it sounds, life is far too short to do anything less and our lives are too fleeting to not spend them doing what we enjoy.

Print. Seal. Send. Breathe Easy

2009-02-01T15:43:00.005-08:00

A cool breeze blows in from the water. Thunder and lightning simultaneously roll across the horizon and the already deep blue clouds deepen just a few shades. The rain has been threatening all day and i was grateful to find all the ingredients for chicken soup in the fridge and pantry. The smell wafting up from the pot can only be described as divine.

I am sitting outside on this impossibly long back porch, in this home I'm not sure i recognize as my own yet. Mom is busying herself around the house working off the nervous energy she has accumulated over the last few days of having nothing to do. Daisy is perched at the top of the overstuffed chair in her usual spot where she can watch, and if she sees fit, bark at the golfers who walk by on their way to the 4th hole.

I take a deep breath and realize that I can relax a little. This morning was the first time that i woke up without a migraine. After an agonizing two months of gathering materials to turn into Hebrew College for my rabbinical school application, I printed the last page of my essay Friday morning and took the dreaded Hebrew test shortly after. I had glanced at it often during my time in Israel, but had postponed taking it until i had a quiet moment. I realized when i picked it back up the other day that my eyes had to readjust to the Hebrew letters and my memory had to work hard to pull up all of the information it required.

I bit the bullet, finished my personal statement, (which required a variety of information spanning my short 25 year life) took the test, carefully placed them, along with all of my other documents (transcripts, application, personal questionnaire) into a large yellow envelope and sealed my future inside of it. I sucked in my breath tightly and handed the thick envelope to the FedEx guy. He took down my address, charged my card and handed it to the carrier (the last one of the day).

A slight smile begins to spread across my face as the storm winds whip my hair around. Everything has been moving so fast lately that taking a moment to sit down and truly think about myself has been nearly impossible. Now that things have slowed considerably i will be able to take time to reach inward and make myself more aware of the feelings that are flitting around inside my heart.

I appreciate this time and the self-awareness that will come with it

dancing with death

2009-01-31T05:57:00.009-08:00

I think we all kind of thought that we would bring her home, cook her meals, clean her up as often as needed, and get her dressed and into the wheelchair every day like they had done at the hospital. We were all expecting to spend a solid 3-6 months with her as promised by her surgeon, and then one night while we were all sleeping she would just slip away. I want my money back!

Aunt Belinda keeps reminding us that he didn't actually promise that this would be the way it would happen, instead we heard what we wanted to. No one really prepared us for this rapid downhill decline.

After only one week, she no longer wanted pancakes, lasagna, or the bread pudding we searched all over the city for. Before we knew it, she was eating nothing and taking only a few sips of milk or juice. We no longer need to change her because if nothing goes into a body, nothing comes out. She no longer moves around during the night in discomfort, as the morphine we have been giving her every 2 hours, keeps her sedated and out of pain.

I think the most difficult thing for us to accept is her lack of communication. It became difficult for her to speak only a few days after we left the hospital, and then slowly her contact with us went from a few words to no words. She no longer even mouths the words she wishes to speak in an attempt to communicate with us, due to the great effort and strength it takes.

To be honest i don't think she has been awake for more than a few minutes in the last week, but she has slept straight through the last last 3 days. When she does open her eyes for the briefest of moments, they have changed colors from brown to gray. They are glassy and her focus seems to be on something far off in the distance instead of on those of us who are standing right next to her.

Her limbs have begun shaking ever so slightly and it is nearly impossible to keep turning her to prevent bedsores now because of the extreme pain she is in. When i look over at the bed, it seems like she is disappearing into it. She just keeps getting smaller and smaller.

Last night at 4, she begun wheezing heavily, in what is known as a "Death Rattle". It was mom's night to sleep in her room, and it must have scared mom awake, because when i came down this morning, her face looked so drawn and tired. I made myself some tea and came to sit down on the bed next to her.

We are experiencing the natural progression of death, the death dance if you will, where someone slowly and painfully disintegrates into only a shell of what they once were. I know that while her eyes are closed, important work is going on in her mind. She is reassuring herself that we will be alright without her, and she is slowly accepting that her future lies in the hands of someone greater than herself.

We are the ones who are suffering though. Someone very dear to us is being kidnapped, one bodily faculty at a time, and we are trying desperately to hold on with all of our might to her as she is being pulled through an invisible gateway that we cannot see.

The Ties That Bind

2009-01-20T20:55:00.011-08:00

It is amazing how hard times can bring a family together. I have not spent more than a few days at a time with my Uncle Stanley, my mother's brother, since i can remember. When my Mamaw went in for surgery two weeks ago, Stanley and his wife Belinda moved in with my parents. They have been nothing less than fully supportive and thoughtful during this time.

Both my parents and my aunt and uncle are helping each other equally through the process of denial, acceptance, and now grief together. The 5 of us have now spent a total of 2 weeks together. In the beginning, mom, Stanley, and Belinda spent all of their time at the hospital, so i spent all of my time at the house, cooking meals, cleaning up, doing laundry, and making sure that they came home to a warm, loving environment every evening.

The first night i made pure comfort food - Chicken Soup. We sat around the table, soaking up the smells of the soup that is guaranteed to feed even a starving soul. Throughout these past 2 weeks, we have laughed, we have cried, and we have hung it all out to dry.

When we encounter a situation that leaves us feeling worn out, we look at each other and remind ourselves that we should write a book instead of simply breaking down into tears.

One night when Mamaw was still getting up to use the bathroom, we helped her out of bed, me in front lifting, and Belinda in back pushing, Mamaw's feet gave way beneath her and she ended up nearly wrapped around my ankles.

The next morning, over a pot of tea (one of many) we retold the story to our visiting relatives and laughed until we cried. We have relayed this particular story to anyone who would listen; even the social worker who came to check on us today heard all about our moments of hilarity.

We also have moments of weakness and frustration, though. My grandmother is firmly grounded in her faith, and has spent her entire life doing for others what they cannot do for themselves. Since the surgeons removed one of the tumors, her vision has diminished. She can no longer read her beloved Bible, and she has always lived by its laws, so one can imagine how hopeless you might become if you lost your greatest source of strength.

The tumors have also caused other side effects; her memory is deteriorating, and praying or even remembering verses is virtually impossible for her. She is depressed and upset at her inability to connect with god, but is unable to communicate this with us because her sense of speech has been lost as well. The words she speaks no longer come out clearly, and when we can make out some of the words coming from her lips, they do not make much sense, so we cannot really understand exactly what she is trying to tell us.

This morning she wouldn't open her eyes, and speaking seemed a trying task. We put on a Cd of religious music, which she loves, and before we knew it, she was wailing. I thought she might be in pain, so i ran from the office into her room, only to see that she was crying out from the shocking and painful realization that she was in fact dying. My mom was laying in bed with her, and they both were sobbing, which was a heart-wrenching sight. I slowly moved out of view and hid around the corner, and quietly cried to myself.

Fortunately we are all able to share these moments of weakness with each other, because i do not think any one of us could handle it alone. Lucky for us, we are surrounded by loving and devoted family who have come from as near as Marksville, Louisiana and as far as southern Indiana to lend a hand, a smile, and a memory or two.

Coming Home

2009-01-18T10:50:00.005-08:00

When you take cough syrup, you expect it to stop the cough. Maybe not immediately, but at some point. I think i must have taken the cough syrup right around the time that i gave her the sleeping pill. And there we were, at midnight, me coughing, and her wide awake. She hadn't slept a wink all night, and i hadn't stopped coughing. I got up several times to ask if she needed anything; a diaper change, tylenol, some water, anything at all. She just smiled and said, "When is it going to be light outside?" I left the door open around 4, so she could see when the sun came up. There are no good books on how to care for someone who is actively dying, and if there are, i haven't found any of them helpful.

When she cries, we hold her hand and cry too. When she spills her food, we pick it back up and wipe off her mouth. When she wets her diaper, we change her, all the while, trying to help her hold onto her dignity. When she can't sleep, one of us gets up and talks with her.

I knew that this would be difficult for everyone involved, that is why i came home. I knew my mom would need my help, that is why i came home. I knew my brother and sister led busy lives, taking care of their own families, that is why i came home.

What i didn't know, is just how difficult this would be. I didn't know how much she would need me, and i didn't realize how busy everyone else's lives were. While we are sitting here 24 hours every day, watching her lose hope, watching her lose all control of her right arm and leg, watching her beautiful face twist into discomfort every time she tries to swallow, every one else is going about their lives.

She is someone else's problem, someone else's grandmother, someone else's mother, and someone else's wife. By the time we got down the elevator, loaded her into the car and left the hospital, some nurse had stripped her sheets, cleaned her room, and put someone else into her bed. She was just a memory in Unit 42 on the 4th floor.

For us, though, she was, at that moment, and still is at this moment, our reality. We are up with her at 2, 4, and 6 in the morning. We give her the steroids, painkillers, and blood thinners at 8, noon, and 2, the anti-nausea pill at 8 and worst of all the poison at 9. We transfer her from the bed to the wheelchair and back again when she tires.

We have only been doing this one weekend, and already i wonder if we can handle it. I wonder if we can do the sleepless nights and long days filled with breakfast, lunch, and dinner, changing, lifting, laundry, and dishes. I wonder how many more times i can lift her before i just collapse, with her in my arms, onto the hard floor.

My madrichim didn't understand. They said this was not my responsibility, that my family could handle it without me.

They were wrong.

I knew, the moment i walked out of the airport, when my mom fell into my arms in tears, that she needed me. That i did the right thing by coming home. She needed the emotional support and she needed the physical support, and now that i am here, i feel awful that i did not come back before now.

Where are we

2009-01-16T16:56:00.002-08:00

Sometimes i get into a funk and i forget where i am. I forget how amazing this place is and even worse, i forget how awful it can be. I forget the history and the the war, and i forget the passion that surrounds me.

I get caught up in the atitude of Tel-Aviv. I begin to adapt to the personality of the city and the tough conditions we work in. I get thrown off guard by the hundreds of soldiers strolling around with their machine guns strapped to their backs - as though it is normal. I think little to nothing of seeing helicopters flying overhead. I ignore the fact that less than an hour away is Sderot, where they live with bomb alerts everyday. (Be'er Sheva, Ashkelon, and Ashdod unfortunately can now be added to this list). I do not think about the Muslim women who are shot, hanged, or beaten to death at a scary frequency, by their brothers or fathers in an attempt to regain family honor, inside Israel's borders and no one is ever held accountable.

I forget that i am only one hour away from the coexistence capital of the world, or that a single express bus takes me to Jerusalem in 45 minutes, where I have full access to the Wall; the one place in the world where i have been desperately trying to return for the last 10 years. I forget how closely we live to each other and how religious and secular life here clash everyday. i forget how much tension is building around me; on one hand we all belong here and yet we all know that it will never work.

Hebrew letters no longer look like a historical language out of the Torah, its now the norm for me. For me it is really important to remember why i am here, in this war-torn place, and more so, where exactly i am and why i chose Israel of all the millions of places in the world.

This journey is not an academic one for me. I did not come here to gain knowledge through books or academic sources. I am not searching for religion or even god; I am not on a religious journey, in search of an answer. These things have always been firmly entrenched in my life. For me, this is a journey of self-discovery and personal growth.

Before i arrived, i did not like who i saw in the mirror. I was angry, bitter, and generally unhappy and while i still sometims encounter those ever lingering issues, i have started to become a different woman, more insightful, more self-aware and much more comfortable in my own skin. I am doing something worthwhile here, and i know that now.

Hashdera 34

2009-01-03T12:12:00.003-08:00

Typically we go straight home from the high school, as we have other things to prepare for. For some reason, last Wednesday, neither of us was in much a hurry to get home. Instead we decided to head to the mall to pick up a few things before our New Years Eve party. Along the way we saw a restaurant that i had heard was pretty good. We decided to give it a try and break from our routine even more.

We walked in to Hashdera 34 and sat down at this cramped table. Several people got up from the bar and the bartender beckoned us over. He said, "have a seat up here and we'll have shots and cocktails over lunch". We looked at each other and smiled; why not!?

We sat there for hours, doing nothing more than drinking and talking. The bartender kept the cocktails and shots coming our way, free of charge. We spanned so many topics during these hours and had so many drinks that i really do not remember all of what we discussed.

I do remember though, that i relayed my concerns for the future and my regrets of the past year. I shed a tear or two while pondering out loud how i could have let myself fall so deeply in love and how i could still desire what must have been a highly dysfunctional situation. (Who knew that cocktails at noon could have such a drunkening effect on me!)

Luckily she had secrets and regrets to share as well. She reminded me of her recent indiscretions, which she seemed to still be hashing out in her mind. I had once been jealous of how easily she let herself drop into those sorts of situations, and yet i never realized how uncomfortable it truly was for her. She was not as careless as she appeared to be, and yet no one realizes it. A simple smile and a calm voice can hide even the largest of lies.

Since, it seemed, that this was our moment of honesty, I shared the deeply troubling bad news i had only just received. She was very understanding and i appreciate that more than she realizes. For a brief time we were melting into each other, as friends and confidants and in that moment i wished i could go back and change the past so the future could have evolved differently.

I wanted to pull out my camera and capture this moment. I wanted to remember the sleekness of the room, and us in our "teaching clothes", just the way things were that day. I refrained from reaching for my camera though, and Instead i took a deep, long look around the room and into her compassionate, loving face and i closed my eyes. Deep in the recesses of my mind i took a picture. Until now, i have never been interested in doing this, as i knew i could always go back and recreate the moment, but this time was different. I don't know if i will ever be able to do this again, and for this reason my heart is breaking.

Sensible Selves

2009-01-01T05:03:00.002-08:00

As i sit on the 17, on my way back from lunch on Rothschild Boulevard, i look around me and realize all of those things i will miss seeing: the beautiful religious women with their head coverings and shameless modesty, the men in their kippas, actively living Jewishly.

I will miss it all; coffee at Aroma every Shabbat, Loveat with D, and Shapira with their creamy potatoes au gratin to die for. I will miss Ironi Hey with L and our hilarious students who will do everything in their power to avoid all things English, unless it involves boys.

One lonely tear rolls down my cheek as i realize i will no longer be taking public transportation everyday, which has surprisingly become a very comfortable part of my routine.

I will no longer live on the water, or be able to take mental health breaks to simply sit on the beach and breathe in the salty smell of the sea.

I realize now that i should have appreciated every moment just a little more, and taken twice as many pictures than i actually did. Those memorable moments can only be captured by a flash and a good memory. I will always remember this time in my life and long to be back here. More than that, i now realize what a large influence this experience has had on me, right now, in this fleeting moment.

I will continue to remind myself from this point on, that new and scary experiences are necessary to keep us guessing about life. It is not fair to resign ourselves to a boring and monotonous lifestyle, when there are so many wondrous surprises left for us to find.

This has simply been a string of incoherent thoughts, due to my current state of mind, it is extremely difficult to edit and rewrite the roughs into something that actually makes sense. I'm sorry for that. Enjoy nonetheless, because life is what's happening everyday while we are busy planning for tomorrow. Tomorrow is already here and i will begin living for now and nothing more.

You have had a great impact on me, and I want to thank you for holding so carefully onto your piece of my puzzle.

Blog Honest

2008-12-30T08:08:00.001-08:00

Thanks so much Drew for giving me this award. I know i have out of touch with the blogging world for a while, but i promise i will reenter soon. Things have been crazy busy what with the war and all, i have just been slightly preoccupied.

So, back to the blog award. The requirements are:

The honorees are to:

a) first list 10 honest things about yourself - and make it interesting, even if you have to dig deep!

b) pass the award on to 7 bloggers that you feel embody the spirit of the "Honest Scrap."

So first, 10 honest things about me...

1) I CANNOT reside with a messy person again for as long as i live (unless said person is my offspring, in which case i will understand as i was a slob when i was younger and can only imagine how miserable my mother must have been).

2) I am terrified that i will never achieve my dream of becoming a rabbi

3) I want it all: wonderful, handsome, stay-at-home husband, 3 beautiful, intelligent children, a big beautiful house, and a white picket fence - I'm just scared i will never have any of it.

4) I hate (with a passion) tomatoes and onions even though i know they are the two most important ingredients in every delicious pasta sauce known to mankind.

5) I LOVE to clean and I have spent many hours reorganizing my stuff. Anything that is not hung up is folded neatly and put into piles (t-shirts, tights, yoga pants, socks, lingerie, and even my thongs).

6) I have either been painfully constipated or had an excessively overactive colon for the last 7 years (you said dig deep).

7) I love to sing: in the shower, in the car, everywhere i go, but stick me in front of an audience, give me a solo and i faint on command.

8)Give me the option of going out or staying in and i will pick the latter 9 times out of 10.

9) I want to consider myself a writer one day, even though i don't even know what the requirements are.

10) I'm afraid i won't ever love my own children as much i love Lilly.

I'm passing this onto:

1) Lauren at http://lychee-time.blogspot.com/

2) Holly Lynn at http://hollylynnsays.blogspot.com/

3) Ellie at http://www.theluckynest.com/

4) Scott at http://segalspeaks.blogspot.com/

5) Mrs. Mogul at http://mrsmogul.blogspot.com/

6) Zoya at http://zoyaslifeinisrael.blogspot.com/

7) Alexa at http://thisismybloginhebrew.blogspot.com/

What would i attempt to do if I wasn't afraid

2008-12-17T09:10:00.003-08:00

I'd talk to the guy next to me

I'd dance like no one was watching

I'd meet new people

I'd wear sweat pants to work (just like my students)

I'd ask for someone's number

I'd take a bus (even if i didn't know where it went)

I'd be 15 minutes late and not apologize

I'd speak i Hebrew without worrying about my accent

I'd move to a new place all alone

I'd apply to school with no reservations

I'd stop being self-destructive and start trusting myself

I'd quit

I'd flirt without fear of rejection

I'd voice my opinions and be totally honest about my feelings

I'd smile more often

I'd wear whatever the hell i wanted without asking for the advice of others

I'd sing out loud and not care what anyone else thought

Adaptation : When I come back down

2008-12-15T13:47:00.004-08:00

I've got to leave you now, I've got to go it alone

I've got to chase a dream, one that's all my own

Before it slips away

When I'm flyin' high, I'll take your heart along

You'll be the harmony to every lonely song

That I learn to sing

When I'm soarin' through the air

You'll be my solid ground

I'll take every chance i dare

Will you still be there

When I come back down

Will you keep lookin' up, awaitin' my return

My greatest fear will be that I'll crash and burn

and you won't feel my fire

you'll be the other hand that always holds the line

connectin' in between your sweet heart and mine

I'm strung out on that wire

Will you be on the other end, to hear me when I call

Angel, I was born to fly, but if I get too high

Will you catch me when I fall

Your memory's the sunshine every new day brings

I hope you know the sky is calling me

Angel, won't you help me with my wings

אתגרים

2008-12-10T12:35:00.009-08:00

I know i promised this blog would keep you posted on all the things i am doing here, and i also know that it has turned into more of a forum for my thoughts instead. I cannot promise that from here on out, my posts will be any different from those before them, but today i'd like to tell you about Monday.

In my real life, Mondays are not good days! I am usually tired and a little cranky and not at all ready to start the never-ending cycle of weekly routines that monotonously drags me through life.

Here though, (in my fantasy land) you can find me sleeping in on Mondays (and by sleeping in, you all know i mean until 7:30 and not the usual 6:45).

Sometimes Mondays are free and sometimes they are filled with cultural activities like museums or day trips to Haifa or Jerusalem. I enjoy these days, as they provide a frictionless entry into the remainder of the week, which is usually quite rough and filled with emotionally taxing encounters.

This past Monday was different. I didn't have to be at the museum until noon, and a nonprofit bike group needed a few extra volunteers. I volunteered my Monday morning, not because i thought i would really be helping anybody, but more because my initial (selfish) reaction was " oh, exercise!"

When i arrived at 9:00, there was a biting chill in the air. My lips, cracked and dry because of the walk from the apartment to the train station and then from the train station to the park, were shaped into an uncomfortable frown. (I am not one for being bold and hopping into a new situation, so i was extremely nervous to meet the other volunteers, whom i had never met, much less worked with before.)

As the kids arrived, i noticed a variety of problems, from verbal outbursts, to constant screams, to the obvious inability to focus on anything. These kids have autism, and in some cases, they are only mildly functional. I began to worry slightly that i might not be able to handle this endeavor and that i should have thought this through before i signed up. After all, i am not the

strongest biker, and the majority of these kids (ages 15-21) were my size if not larger!

I was introduced to Assaf very briefly and then firmly told to "watch out for him". The only thoughts running through my (panicked) mind were, "How can i 'watch out' for him if i am watching the road?" These fears dissipated a little as Assaf climbed onto the back of my tandem bike and prepared himself for a fun ride. At first, we rode around in circles, getting a feel for each other's strengths and weaknesses. I wasn't sure how well this was going to work, as Assaf is close to 6'0" tall and probably weighs a good 50 pounds more than me. Somehow though, we made it work.

He shifted his weight easily to each side while i steered us steadily around the round-about. I have only been on the back of a tandem bike once, and was terrified the entire 2 minutes until i forced my partner to stop and let me take the lead, (this shows you how much of a control freak i am) so i can imagine how much effort it might take for someone twice my size to put his trust in me.

I have been told that when couples feel they are ready to add another component to their relationship, they might buy a tandem bike. It is an extremely difficult machine to operate if you and your partner are not able to work together as a team. You must be on the same page with your biking partner in order for the two of you to anticipate each other's movements. Knowing this makes me extremely proud that Assaf and i were able to bike together so effortlessly. I do have to say that every now and then i would lean back and notice that Assaf's hands were not on the handlebars! In these instances, i would simply ask (in Hebrew of course), "Where are your hands?" and he would gently put his hands back down and we would continue leisurely along the bike path.

If you have ever worked with a child who has autism, then you know it is extremely difficult to not only get their attention, but to maintain focus and even provoke memories. After our relaxed bike ride to the port, as we sat down on the steps looking out at the endless blue, Assaf tapped his fingers on my leg gently. He then moved his hand upward to his mouth, and blew me the slightest of kisses, before he smiled and began to giggle. When we got up to leave, he grabbed my hand and lead me to our bike, and would not let go until i had gotten on and given him the okay to begin.

The program these kids work with is called Etgarim (the title of this post), which means "Challenges". Monday was filled with a variety of challenges for me, but the biggest one came after i got off the bike.

I walked away Monday knowing that i might never find the time to come back and in that realization, understanding that i might never see Assaf again.

My heart broke just a little.

In the moment

2008-12-09T11:55:00.011-08:00

Every flower smelled sweeter

honeysuckle wafted through the air

and into our noses

making us drunk with delight.

Every cup of rosemary, lemongrass tea tasted fresher

the herbs picked near our feet

rinsed in the stream

and plunged deep into our mugs.

Everyone's laughter was louder

filled with more cheer

smiles permanently pasted on our faces

a happier crowd couldn't be found.

The views were more beautiful

the world around us seemed to stand still

as we whirled around wildly

thriving breathlessly in the moment.

Inspiration was all around us

dwelling in every corner

behind every sunset

and in everyone's smiles.

We lived for the moment

and in this moment the search was on

somehow the recipe was right

and we finally found ourselves.

Untitled

2008-12-09T02:16:00.007-08:00

The series of disconnected thoughts that plague my mind this morning are creating an uncomfortable sensation within me. My pulse is racing, and despite the obvious chill in the wind, there is a hot flush creeping up my neck and into my face. The windy air has a devious mind of its own, as it carelessly twirls my hair around my face.

I cannot keep a steady pace during my walk; instead my legs feel numb and my clumsy feet trip over each other in a disjointed, noncommunicable fashion.

I wish we had memory chips that we could insert into our brains so that when we discovered time-sensitive information or mind-blowing inspiration we could store it secretly away so that it would never be forgotten and we could recall it at the blink of an eye. This is not the way the human brain works unfortunately, and maybe this is the reason i am in such a mad-dash to make it to the coffee shop before the timer runs out and the free-flowing thoughts ringing cacophonously through my tired mind suddenly cease - never to be retrieved.

Here they are:

This cat and i have become one. I would

normally say that when you encounter like-mindedness within another being, you could call that friendship, however this is not what we have created. She watches me suspiciously as i walk through her neighborhood, and I her. Her green eyes glimmer in the dark; she never blinks, just follows me with those eyes. They haunt me, and yet i know that we have very similar lives.

She watches those around her, prepared to make her escape at any moment, and i too have this claustrophobic awareness. There are days when i wake up in a frenzy, trying desperately to detangle myself from the ties that bind me to the nightmares. I succeed only briefly and then feel trapped again.

---

My neighbor really enjoys his (or her) music. Above my window, I frequently hear the heavy pounding of the base late at night and early in the mornings. It can only be described as a constant annoyance, which frequently leaves me with a pounding migraine.

However sometimes i imagine that this noise is not coming from the music of a man (or woman) i have never seen much less met, but instead that it stems from that of a heartbeat, steady and constant, pulsing quite close to my ear.

If it were anything, that which i would wish, it would be the soft drumming pulse of my lover, lying next to me, holding me close to his chest as he slept. I would lie awake all night, with my ear pressed firmly against him, listening to his relaxed, steady breathing and solid heartbeat.

---

The year i turned 14 i fell in love. It was quite a short relationship in comparison to most, however it was very intense, and at 14 everything is so very dramatic and sensational. It was a chilly fall and we spent a lot of time out taking walks and sitting on benches near the water, freezing, but being next to each other (what could matter more). We sat on the dock at my home staring intently out into the water, hoping to find something there that we weren't finding in each other.

At the time, though, we didn't know what was missing from our relationship, and any talk from an adult implying that it was simply "puppy love" sent us both into a frustrated frenzy. The world seemed perfect in each other's arms, and little did we know, that inevitably both of our hearts would soon be broken. Everyone seemed to be able to tell the future except for the two of us.

I think he is married now with two beautiful children, and i am clearly happily living my life elsewhere with nothing but freedom to my name. Sometimes though, when it gets a little chilly outside and i have the chance to walk on a beach, boardwalk, or sit on the banks of a lake, i still think about how deeply in love i felt.

Strangely enough, i think less of him and more of just how passionate i felt about something.

---

Everyday i pass the same man, sitting awkwardly on a rug, no wider or longer than his own body. He sits, very still, his face frozen into a silent scream, holding his hand out desperately. This man is unlike any other human i have ever encountered. Most people you pass on the street are holding out a can or cup filled with change. They are usually very vocal and aggressive when begging for handouts. As you pass, you can smell the stench of either cigarettes or alcohol, sometimes both.

This man has clearly not had a shower in weeks, months, or shockingly maybe even years. And yet, i always get a whiff of vanilla when i pass him.

I always put a few coins into his hands as I pass, but a single, lonely tear usually falls in as well. To truly comprehend this man's life, one must realize how desperate and alone he is. After all, who in the world would ever allow a family member, friend, or even an enemy to sit outside, day after day, rain, snow, or scorching heat, and starve to death. The muscles and bones in his body are probably worn down to nothing, as he has probably has had next to no nutrition in years.

There are days when i pass him, and i just want to pick him up and bring him home with me. I realize this is not a feasible solution. I tend to find sympathy often for this type of human suffering, but quickly come to my senses as i know i do not have the means to support this endeavor.

Tomorrow i will pass him again. We will not make eye contact, because we are both embarrassed for ourselves and our broken society. I will shed another tear for him, and he will remain in my mind as the silent sufferer, screaming out in pain with no sound emanating from his crippled spirit.

The Journey

2008-12-02T05:02:00.004-08:00

Everywhere i look here, i encounter inspiration - even in the most mundane of places. On an intercity bus with 70 other people squeezed in next to me, sitting at a cafe with tree branches offering me a shady haven, the simple act of waking to sunlight streaming in through my window.

I know that one cannot escape his unhappiness or problems simply by disappearing to the other side of the world, but by changing his location he might be able to alter his mindset so that he opens himself up to the simple possibilities that he had never been able to grasp until now.

Running from life is not my suggestion, however, running towards life and embracing the uncertainty and chaos is! This simple act of taking on a challenge might provide a powerful experience that you never thought you could handle. Grab onto it and don't let go: These are the days and they are yours!

The Bagrut

2008-12-02T04:34:00.004-08:00

Every Tuesday and Wednesday i teach English to a group of students in a public school in Central Tel Aviv. In Israel, all students begin learning English in 4th grade and it continues until they graduate. But sometimes kids fall through the cracks of the education system, no different than in the U.S. At the end of their senior year, they are given an exam called The Bagrut, which is basically an exit exam to test their information retention rate and general knowledge. This test will determine what kind of job they will get in the army as well as whether or not they can take the entrance exam (to even be able to apply) to college after they finish the army. A large portion of the test is in English, so you can imagine how well they have to know it in order to do well.

My job is to prepare them for this test.

The kids that i work with are difficult to say the least, however, they are so smart and extremely eager to learn. Who can blame them for their frustrated attitude toward the language - many of them have been told all of their lives not to bother trying because they will only fail. The kind of behavior these teachers exhibit is not only unacceptable for an educator, but even more appalling than this is that many of the teachers i work with are American! This breaks my heart as i put a great deal of faith into education; and scarier than a child who has no education is one who has been consistently disappointed by his educators. These teachers are charged with the job of transmitting facts, opinions, and historical evidence to our children. If they cannot bring themselves to be a positive influence in the lives of our children, who will be? Who will our children turn to when they have a problem at home and cannot find a strong, stable, and comforting adult to confide in? All you have to do is take one look at these kids and see how desperate they are to see a hopeful face. The face of a teacher who can offer them all the wonders of the world on the pages of a silver book.

This is what i hope to do this year. I will still be here after they have taken their Bagrut, and even after they have received their scores. I hope this year will be a turning point in their lives. Finally i can offer them something these other teachers cannot: I care.

Tell me your wishes

2008-11-29T03:28:00.005-08:00

I wish i knew what kind of coffee i wanted when i got up to the counter at a cafe.

I wish i could sew in a straight line instead of having to rely on a sewing machine.

I wish it was cold in Tel Aviv in November so i could wear leggings & boots instead of flip flops.

I wish the leaves would change color and fall off the trees.

I wish i could have it both ways: an apartment in Tel Aviv and one in New Orleans.

I wish i could visit every place in the world and live to tell about it.

I wish i could publish my book.

I wish i had realized how important grades were earlier on in high school and even later on in college.

I wish my siblings and i lived closer and spent more time together (not out of familial obligation).

I wish Lilly would say "Aunt BeBe".

I wish i had my own apartment, with my own furniture, and could choose what to put on the walls.

I wish i had the desire to read more.

I wish Iraq, Iran, Africa, Afghanistan, Jordan, Lebanon, Pakistan, and Egypt were friendlier places and i wasn't afraid to visit them.

I wish Americans realized how wonderful the rest of the world is.

I wish i could stop time and experience life without worrying that i was growing too old to see it the way a child does.

I wish i could have met you and seen your beautiful face and spent countless hours holding you and singing to you.

I wish i could forget.

I wish i had never let you go.

I wish it was easier.

I wish that someone had warned me how difficult life was so that i was prepared for the heartache i would have.

I wish there was more emphasis on education, so we could all have equal opportunities.

I wish our skin color didn't matter and accents didn't spell out that dirty word "foreigner".

I wish we could open our minds and let in the beauty that is right in front of our eyes.

I wish that silence wasn't so loud.

I wish the memory of your voice would erase itself from my mind.

Farewell

2008-11-25T12:35:00.004-08:00

Life here is becoming bearable and dare i say even "easy". The process through which i came to find myself here, though, will always be a painful memory. After all, giving up someone you love to find yourself is difficult, and in some cases, impossible. Nevertheless, it has been worth it and regret is definitely not a word i would use to describe these feelings.

I will always remember sunrise breakfasts at Cafe Du Monde, and late night gelato stops at La Divina.

But i will also remember lonely nights, where it seemed like a million walls separated us. My ears will never forget the echoes of fights so loud that I'm sure the neighbors are still talking.

Sometimes i wonder if it is truly a good idea to make these thoughts public domain, and then as i urge myself to move forward, i realize that for me, sharing is the only path to forgiveness and ultimately happiness. The more i say out loud, the more i come to understand that neither of us is at fault.

We forced uncomfortable realizations out of each other, and our strength during these trying times is extremely important to recognize. This year holds such a powerful significance in the way our lives will play out in the future. We will both be better equipped to handle other relationships and our lives have been pricelessly enriched by the roles we played during this time in each others lives.

This was a first for me: not falling in love, as i have been fortunate enough to allow myself this indulgence few times before. However, the sudden realization that there is an end eventually, that this could possibly be the one i spend my life with. My "forever home", as they say in the world of pet adoption - that someone would take me home with them and never let me go again. This is a powerful feeling and one that inevitably causes vulnerability.

Alas, this was not the case, as you can see... but i feel that for the brief moment that we shared, we changed each other - not out of intention, or with any particular motivation, but simply out of necessity. In order to grow as friends, lovers, and soul mates we desperately needed to develop into different human beings - and we did.

Thank you for that: i am letting go. I am so grateful to you for your patience and your love.

Family Vacation

2008-11-25T11:47:00.004-08:00

Things have been crazy here!

My parents came to town and luckily i was able to take a few days off to spend time with them. We toured around with this fantastic tour guide. I got to stay in The Sheraton, the Dan Panorama, and the Mercure. In the span of 2 weeks i barely used my Hebrew and began to feel like a visitor in this foreign place i call home.

We walked through Jerusalem, mom with her short, straight, blond hair and a backpack strapped to her at all times. My dad, with his undeniable tourist clothing and hat that said Masada on it, but really spelled out "TOURIST". There was no where we could go that we didn't stick out like Americans! Our loud, obnoxious accents pegged us as easy targets right off the bat. But man, we had so much fun.

We waded in the dead sea, walked all over Masada, shopped in the Shuk, ate pomegranates, mangoes, and passion fruit right from the fruit stands; things that mom and dad had never tried, much less fresh off the trees. We went to the Wall, walked through the old city, and discovered more than I ever would have on my own.

Jerusalem is far more beautiful than Tel Aviv, so it makes sense that my parents spent more time there and loved it. While there, we tried everything from Morrocan food, and Indian food to street-side falafel, as well as Yemenite delicacies.

When mom and dad came to spend their last few days here in Tel Aviv, they got to stay at my apartment and see just how "first class" we live. They met my roommates and mom made dinner for everyone... it was delicious.

All in all we had a wonderful time together and I'm very sad they are gone. Seeing them made me realize just how important family is to me. I have really enjoyed our wonderful family vacation in Israel, and hope that now mom and dad realize what a special place this is to me.

Men, men, and israeli nightlife

2008-11-13T17:02:00.005-08:00

After another night on the town, another half a dozen drinks, and another evening spent searching unsuccessfully for attractive, kippah-wearing, non-smoking, intelligent men my age, i have to ask myself a somewhat frustrating question: Why?

Why? Am i searching for someone to drag home to bed with me? What am i hoping to get out of this game i play night-after-night?

-An orgasm; now we all know there's no chance of that... Not only do men my age not have a clue about the female body, they typically don't care enough to find out what drives us wild.

-A companion; what is the likelihood that i will meet someone i actually connect with in a bar? To be honest, I'm not sure what I'm looking for; a dance partner, a fun friend to go out with on future occasions... the possibilities are endless.

Fact of the matter is that if you waft the fresh phermonal scent of the opposite sex in front of us, we immediately begin a search, and yet, we aren't quite sure for what (better yet, for whom).

Obviously i realize that the chances of finding a potential mate in this environment is not feasible, mainly because i know i do not want to settle in this country, and better yet, i have had experience with Israeli men before (as you remember) and we just don't mesh as well as we (both) would like.

In conclusion, i recognized a pensive side to myself tonight, in that i couldn't help but look around and notice all of the desperate 20-something women searching for nice 20-something men whom they could bring home with them, not just for the night... something i think we might all search for when we choose to spend yet another night on the town.

Disclaimer

2008-11-11T04:09:00.004-08:00

Look, i realize this blog may not have turned out to be all that you expected it to be when you began reading it over 2 months ago. To be honest, i feel the same way. Sometimes I completely leave out my daily adventures and just vent, or sometimes I give you an extremely boring account of my day-to-day activities and I'm sure you wish there was more substance. And yes, i know, sometimes i don't even blog at all! (Shocking!)

I simply cannot please all and will not attempt to, since i am most likely going to fail miserably at this. This post is more than just a simple plea for understanding, this is to let you know (and myself i suppose) that life is more than just a series of "here ya go...this is what happened- events".
My thoughts and feelings during this time are just as important as my volunteering, exploring, and everything else. I realize i have left out a lot. I never told you about my trip to Nazareth, or my occasional visits to Jerusalem to see O, and i have yet to even mention any of my volunteering experiences.
More than these indiscretions, though, i haven't even gotten around to telling you about my crazy late night escapades with my hilarious roommates.
I promise i will get there. Please be patient.

Mean girls

2008-11-08T15:25:00.007-08:00

It only makes sense that certain people in this world will not be your best friends. You recognize either a clash in personalities, political preferences (that cannot be overlooked), or a series of other possible diverges in character that just do not make for perfect friendships. In many cases though, you may still have to see on a daily basis, work with, or live with these particular people.

No big deal, you suck it up and smack a big smile of your face.

The problem arises though, when you discover that someone you had originally thought you would be able to spend time with and even become friends with, turns out to be not quite what you thought. In other words, maybe the wrapping paper is more beautiful than the gift inside of it. Not to say that you judged simply on looks, however, sometimes when you peel back some of those sweet, sugar coated layers, the inside is a little more bitter than you anticipated.

I guess we just simply have to come to the realization that sometimes we were wrong.

This situation happens to me nearly never, mainly because i have one of those personalities that tends to blend with most people, and i like it this way. I avoid confrontation at all costs, and (to my dismay) might even allow people to walk all over me if this keeps a war from breaking out.

Every now and then, though, i meet someone who just does not particularly care for me. This is unfortunate, but i have moved on beyond this shock, because i know that this is an unusual situation, and nothing more.

More frustrating than someone disliking me for my opinions, is when i have befriended someone who behaves this way towards others: sometimes i encounter a friend who has acted in a way that i just cannot condone. When he/she wages war on another, simply because of their differences in opinion, i cannot stand by and support him/her. A clash of personalities : fine, but a simple dislike for no reason other than that one might bother her (and her behavior in response to this is just appalling); this I find difficult to stomach.
The situation inevitably becomes worse when the two happen to live with you. Not only does this create an unhealthy environment for the two of them, it becomes a negative, tense atmosphere for all directly connected (that being those of us that live with them).

In conclusion, do not judge a friend simply by short encounters with them, thereby assuming that they are the kind of person you would want to associate yourself with, because sometimes your inability to get to know them deeper might make for astonishment (in reference to their behavior) in the future.
Furthermore, make it your duty not to stand by and allow a perfectly decent (or not; whatever the case may be) person to be hurt, humiliated, and made to feel as though they are less than human by someone who claims to be not only a good person, but a good friend of yours.

This is simply my advice (take away from it what you will).

Never yours

2008-11-05T22:34:00.005-08:00

You tried to hold me

you tried to own me

I let you have control

take me by force

I've been so many things in this life

but i was never yours

We were destined to disappoint

from the fall

It never occurred to us

to just give up and pull out

the way we should have done

from the first dawn

You seemed so outrageous

and acted all courageous

To offer out your hand

and pull me up onto dry land

when you yourself were stuck in sinking sand

The trick wasn't worth the time it bought

and now i still don't know what love is

As a final thought

I'm absolutely certain of this

Not one ounce of me was ever yours

You never held me

the way he will hold me

And for that embrace I'll wait forever