Dancing in circles

Im all alone in my prison. Just me. And a crank on the wall.
They say that on the other side, there is a mill.
And that every time it turns, wheat becomes flour.
Knowing this has become my only source of comfort.
My source of hope.
My lifeline.

Every day I put in effort. The wheel may be hard to turn,
but I turn it for my good.
For my sanity.


And I put my faith in you.
That when I am free, I can proudly say that the effort was given,
and the rewards are mine, and reap the fruits of my labor.

But what if its all A lie?!
What if I turn the wall and there is really nothing there?

I keep walking in circles with my eyes closed.
Blinded by my faith? Maybe.

But at the end of it all,
will I have produced my wheat?

Or just lost a couple of pounds...

as I walked around in circles.
With my eyes closed.

Thanks, Mr. G-d

Everything in life follows the rule of sequence.

First comes the seed, then comes the fruit.

First comes the labor, then comes the satisfaction.

First we put in the effort, and naturally, we expect appreciation to follow.

But like all rules there are exceptions.

How many times do we give and give, and see nothing in return?

How many times do we pray and pray, and receive no salvation? How many times do we make promises to G-d, and then he just stands by, pretending to be oblivious to our desperation?

At times, I gaze into the blue and see your hand shooting from between fluffy hills of cloud.

And just when I think its coming to wipe the tears off my face and take my prayers straight up to you, it sweeps across my nose, holds my tears, my prayers, on the edges as if dirty tissues, and just casts them away into the vastness of your great big world.

Thanks Mr. G-d.

Thanks for nothing.

This day a year ago

This day, one year ago...
we breathed the air of uncertainty, unable to believe the impossible that actually was.

This day, one year ago...
questions flooded our minds, and pain filled our hearts.

This day, one year ago...

we prayed from within begging for the salvation of those we hardly knew.

This day, one year ago...

we were all brothers fighting alongside one another, knowing that although we lost lives, we really won.

This day, one year ago...
even the farthest came back, if not for eternity, then just for a moment.

This day, one year ago...
all were eager to give anything, do anything, just so that G0d could go back on his ways.

This day, one year ago...
History changed. it now had another chapter to tell over, another event to file.

this day, one year ago...
we changed. our outlooks changed. we became more giving, caring people, maximizing each moment as if it were our last. Cuz we knew then, that G-d gives and G-d takes. We are just living on borrowed time, time not meant to be wasted away by frivolities but filled with acts of goodness and kindness.


And now, its one year later. Time heals, you know. Like it or not. Take it or leave it. Sure, the pain's there, but sadly, we've come to terms with the reality of it. We see now that there is no going back. Whats done is done. All we have from here is to go forward, move onward.


So while the Hachlata sheets are passed back, I take one, and stare at it sheepishly. I know that it's is the least I can do to give back to those that gave so much more. But I can't. Suddenly, that paper becomes a soggy sheet drenched in my confusion, letters smudged by my ego. All my doubts come creeping out, telling me that hachlatos are of no use and have no meaning... and "Since when do u believe in these things anyways?"

Since when?
Since when?

Since forever.... until this day, one year ago.

Dancing Passion

That passion dancing in your crystal clear eyes, reflects what once danced in mine. The flicker there reminds me of who I once was. Of where I stood. Of what I lived for. Revoking memories, as if in a dream.

You sign your emails with the words "Moshiach Now!". I did that too.. once upon a time...

You get inspired, pile on hachlatos, and take it all to heart. I did that too... once upon a time...

You're so pure. You innocence blinds, yet reveals whats really there. No distractions. No limitations. I was like that too... once upon a time...

I still see that passion, dancing to a hazy tune of the past, causing the boiling of my blood.

For it's what we see in others that reminds us of ourselves, that we detest the most.

Cuz it opens us up to our imperfections. It exposes our glitches and shortcomings.
It reveals what we long to forget.

And when I see that fiery passion dancing, I know its still somewhere in me, cuz the sting that's there is that of a fresh wound.

Of hate and Jealousy

I despise you.
I despise your passion.
I despise your belief.
I despise you for your unshakable commitment to something you can't prove.
I despise you for your steadfast assurance that what you believe in is true.

I hate you.
I hate you for innocence.
I hate you for your clarity.
I hate you for being able to accept that which is above your understanding, without a question.
I hate you for your faith.
I hate you for what you call your own.


But in truth.. it's not hate. Its Jealousy.

I'm jealous.
Jealous of your passion in that which you believe in.
Jealous of your unshakable commitment, steadfast assurance and clarity.
Jealous of your faith.
Jealous of your innocence.

Jealous because you have something to call your own.

Hi's and Bye's

Its funny how quickly people can change. Or rather, how quickly the change becomes apparent.
I always thought that this blog would last forever, that I would never run out of things to share and say.
But I proved myself wrong once, and then proved myself wrong again.

In case you haven't noticed, I haven't posted in a while. Maybe it was cuz I flunked my first writing assignment of the year, which knocked down my confidence. Or maybe cuz I was too lazy. Or maybe cuz I was afraid.

afraid of you.

Yes, You.

Of your judgements, your misinterpretations, your labels.
Of the way you'll see me, that either I'm growing up too fast, or more immature with age.


I was thinking of shutting this blog forever. But I changed my mind. If the whole world won't accept me, the least I can do is accept myself.
come to terms with who I am.
and eventually you will too.

One in a Million

When my eye caught hold of her, she was hugging a tree. More like wailing to it, actually. What made her catch my eye? I don't know. But when she did, I was in the interim of processing my surroundings. People rushing by, laughing, talking, or just simply minding their own business. Moms whizzing by with strollers at hand. Children, faces sticky from pink cotton candy, walking at somewhat slow paces in between the occasional running from ride to ride, from one thrill to the next. Colors clashing into one big mush , shooting from all directions.

And there stood a lonely little girl. My eyes locked with hers for a moment, and then she quickly looked away. She was obviously lost. I could tell from the way she buried her head in the tree's flaky bark. She wore a pink shirt to accommodate the long white skirt swept her bare toes. oh yeah, she was barefoot too, did I mention?

I slowly walked over to her and bent down to meet her eye level.

"Whats your name? Where's your mommy?"

silence.

"Are you lost?"

She turned her head away. I could hear her muffled sobs.

"Do you want to go find your mommy?"

her wailing was getting louder, yet she did not respond.

"Come, Ill take you to go find mommy."

I gave her my hand, but she didn't take it. Instead she looked away again. Her sobs were now high pitched. I spoke to her softly. There was no response until she finally relented and took my hand. We walked over to the moon bounce to retrieve her shoes. But when she couldn't find them, she relieved herself from my grip and ran back to the tree. Her tree. Her fort of hope.

I tried continuously to get her to budge and come with me to the information desk so that they could announce her name on the loudspeaker. But she wouldn't move. Her refusal to come was frustrating. But I knew that I couldn't leave her now.

By this point, we had attracted a small crowd of married couples that all tried to offer their best advice on how to get the kid to oblige. Someone suggested that we give her a lolly pop. Right. That's like playing the classical kidnapping scheme, and who said the child's mom hadn't used that exact example to educate her child with the dangers of abduction? And Speaking of mom, where was she anyways?

At long last, someone finally convinced her to come look for shoe again. This time she successfully found them squished between some burly men waiting for their kids to get off the moon bounce. She put them on slowly, making sure not to let me out of her sight.
When she was done, she stood up and took my hand, not leaving go for a second. How Ironic. just moments ago, she had refused to let me help her, and now she squished my hand so tightly, something I translated to mean that she was now relying on me for guidance. Now I was the tree, her fort of hope.

Hand in hand, we walked in between the rides, until finally arriving at the information stand. The kind Assistance woman bent down ans stroked the child's cheek. After acquiring her name, a set of announcements for the girl's guardian were made. I finally let out a huge sigh of relief. until the thought struck me. Why would anyone listen to the announcement? Why would anyone take interest? Nobody listens to them. Loudspeaker announcements are like music to the ears. Passive reminders to anyone that will listen, which isn't anyone at all. So really, what was the point.
Sure enough, the girl was picked up. Apparently someone did hear the announcement.
and heeded the call.
The same way I, one in a million, sought out a girl at a tree stump. No one was supposed to find her. But I did. Cuz that little lost girl reflected a little lost part of me. A little lost part of my soul. And somehow, someway, I heeded her call.
Cause you'll never listen to the call. Until you realize that they're calling your name.

The Apology

You know what I'm talking about. Don't you? Those things that flood your email box just weeks before the Judgement Day? Those annoying, empty "heartfelt" letters begging for forgiveness. Its like... k another apology note... I betcha that she just clicked the "all contacts" button.. with no clue as to who it was reaching or why.

Its just pointless.

This year I won't be sending out one of those "will you please forgive me for anything I may have done..." emails. Yuukkk.

Its not because I don't want to forgive anyone. I do. Really.

Its just that....if I'm apologizing to someone...it should be personal. I should really mean it. Not just another forward sent at the click of a button without much thought or meaning attached.

I want it to come from within. I want to truly feel it, because that the only way you will too.

So the only one Ill be sending a apology note to is g-d. Cuz I know he knows i mean it. deep down, somewhere, I do. Because each year he makes a deal with me. Ill forgive you, If you'll forgive me.

and for everyone else... I hope that I can attain a level where I truly forgive you all... and its only then that I'll expect you to do so in return.

A teacher Called Life

Something is playing with my emotions, but I can't pinpoint what it is.

Today I am happy. Tomorrow I am sad. Its a never-ending cycle called life.

And When I finally feel settled, it's the time to get up again. Its time to face the future, and all that it entails.

When shallow seems impossible to comprehend, it is then where I meet deep. And then I'm forced to face it and confront it. Learn it, process it and take part of it. and Make it part of me.

When I want to cry, you crack a joke, and alas! I'm forced to laugh.

When I want to scream, I just happen to be in public, and I'm forced to hold it in.

When I finally understand, you show me that there is always more. That I can never learn enough. And that there is always enough out there to learn.

When I want to show you how much You matter, You teach me that I can matter more. and that all it takes is effort. And that all that I have to do is try.

When I finally think Ive won, you hand me another battle to wage.

When I finally think I have the answers, You'll throw another question in my face.

-

-

-

- And When I think a chapter is coming to a close, you show me that its only the beginning.

Blog Anniversary!!!

Yup Folks!

Its been a year!!!!

..now isnt it a coincidence that today marks 800 visitors? (well.. I know thats only from june 7th, but Hey! that's still pretty kewl!!! :)

Oh. P.S.---->it also happens to be a pretty cool date 9.9.09... :)

wrongdoings

One more Question (I have been doing quite alot of exploring lately...) :

Why is it that when I see one of my close friends doing something concidered "stupid" does my heart contract in pain, but If I do the same thing I won't think twice?

Its something like when I was in 5th grade, if I "figured out" a "bad" word I would only tell some friends and not others because "they can't know these things".

Why?

They're the same age as me. They have basically the same backround as me.
So then why does it pain me so?!

Maybe I'm just a hypocrite.

And I never know... Maybe, just maybe, when "they" see me doing the wrong thing, It pains them too.

Why Does music make you move?

Why?

Invisible Vibes, I guess.

-----------------------------------

Im an explorer. Every day is like I'm born again. Every day I learn more, and I wonder how I lived yesterday without knowing what I learned today. I have tonz more to say on this topic, but at risk of sounding cliche, Ill stop here.

Bottom Line:

Learning Rocks.

Punchline

Life is a metaphor.
It's a journey.
It's a road.
It's a jungle.
It's a test.
It's an obstacle course.
It's a game.
It's a magazine.
It's a ballpark.
It's a roller coaster.
It's a puzzle.
It's a symphony.
It's a race.
It's a train.
It's bridge.

Life's a story...


...and I await the punchline.

growing up

When I was 10 I thought I was so big.
Big enough to know a lot (yeah...it was kind of when I lost all innocence... but lets not get into that)
Big enough to do a lot.
Big enough to Cross Empire Boulevard all by my self.
Just Big :)

Then When I turned 12 it was like.... Tens Big?? haha. are you kidding me? 12 definately takes 1st place in the Big Girl spectrum. I'm a woman, after all.

And then I turned 13.
And 14.

And I REALLY felt Big. High School, you know. It actually wasn't High School though that made me feel all grown up. It was the very immature thought that I knew everything and there was no point in going to High School to learn, because, after all... I know everything there is to know, right? ;)

And now Im 15.

And I'm grown up enough to realize that I'm not grown up at all.

Legacy

You.
I heard of you yesterday.
But to hear about you?... it was a day too late.
Because I can no longer get to know you.

I would love to ask you your name.

But I cant.

I would love to know where you're from.

But you can't answer.

Because you aren't here. Because you can no longer hear me.

Too late.

Death is just another part of life.
Another step
just part of the process

But we are humans
we may die
Yet we leave footprints.


and the future walks in them.

Are we normal?

Am I?

Well, let me put it this way, to be normal means to partake of the norm, which in most cases, is referring to the majority.
So am I normal?Apparently not. Think about what today is considered "normal" in the life of a fifteen year old teenager: At this age and stage, most girls are fretting over celebs and boyfriends, beauty, music, movies, and parties, most of which I do not partake of.
So is anybody normal?
Think about the so-called "typical American family". Working mom and dad, two kids, a dog, cherry pie and picnics on the lawn surrounded by a white picket fence. How can this be the norm when 1 in every 2 marriages turn up in a divorce? It cant be, considering that a trampled over white picket fence ain't considered normal either.

So is there such a thing as normal?
Not at all. Weird means different, and that's what we all are. Cuz whats normal for me, is weird to you. Its all a matter of perspective. When people say "IS she normal?" what they really mean is "IS she similar in the likeness to me and you?".

Cuz no ones normal. This post isnt normal, esspecially since most of you have figured this out long ago. But whatever.
Awkward posts can be normal too.

Bubbles

Bubbles.
Thin metallic spheres of film.
You can Blow them.
You can pop them.
Lives portrayed in comic strips can think in them and speak in them.

And then you can live in them.


And I have. In one.

One month, surrounded by people I've come to know and love.

Four Weeks, with life, in its most superior state, handed to me on a silver platter. Meals included.

Thirty days spent sheltered and totally shielded.

An environment so warm, an atmosphere so pure.

A new president can be elected, and I'd never know.

Cuz I'd never have to.


Yet, all bubbles burst at some point. And that's when you realize that the friends you've had today, may become shadows in your memory tomorrow. The love that burns within, can become a gaping hole of sorrow. And the memories, the moments, captured in the depths of your heart, may just have to remain there forever.

Like Matis says, time flies by like clouds passing in the sky. Life can come and go with the blink of an eye.

Yesterday, the bubble burst.
I was mercilessly stung by reality.

As I walk down Kingston avenue, I realize that nothings changed. The shvartzes still barbecuing, cigarettes dangling from their mouths. The kids play freely. Ptchetchy girls still stride through the streets. People just living. Returning back to their lives.

But I can't.
No.
I can't.

And I'm still struggling to hang on to the remnants of a Burst Bubble.

Eva heard of a punk angel?

Ok Everyone, you can now welcome the newest banana to the fastest-ever growing culture in society: The Rebels. Oh, And you can also make your final farewells to the goody two shoes in me that you once knew. No. That shall always be and remain history.
For as of now, i follow mt heart. For till now, I've been following the dream others had in mind for me: Success, perfection; a Conservative Dream that the upperclass in society partake of.
And Whats left of it? A thin piece of paper that is just as worthless as valuable it may be. Aka- totalling to nothing. And even this piece of paper, which is the only thing that lies witness to my previous desire to please, lies hidden away... under a pile of old unfinished schoolwork. And each and every day, a new tattered sheet covers it. Leaving its sheer rememberence in the crevices of my mind, only to be forgotten. Oh... the reward of living to please, serves as nothing.
And therefore, I am now uncovering me. Unlocking. Reforming.
Farewell good ole goody goody me.
Farewell.

Hello.
Hello peace symbols.
Hello tree huggers.
Hello to all the others that have fallen in line with a new graffitti punk generation.
And like all those followers in that line, I want change. Reform. But not because I actually care.
But because it feels good to be part of a cause.
We Shout Change because we wqant sometinhg new. something fresh.
But really its because we have nothing else to say.

And at least we can all feel good being part of something where we can at least pretend our voice is heard. Where you can be whoever you want to be; A car dealer, a con artist, an FBI agent, educated or a moron, and still be accepted. Where morality isn't key, because it's what feels good that really counts. Where you make your own rules. Where everything is right. And rightly yours. Because this new society is where one is unique... just like everyone else. Its Dumb.
But it feels good.
Like swearing.
It feels good to do so. Its just part of the sweet revenge we rebels take out against the high class society. For what?
For being so unhuman.
For being to good.
From controlling their desires.
For being normal.
But then again... are they?
Its all human nature. We may do it for attention.
But that's what we want.
Its all we need.
Give me.

Random Life Lessons

Wow. After such a week all I can say is "Thank G-d it's Friday!"
I'm sooo exhausted... and wayyyy over-tired... and I can never stop this train of random thought that's keeps chugging through my head. Every day I plan to update my blog. I write posts in my head, of course, about what a crazy day I had in camp, about who I hung out with this week, and my thoughts which, of course, keeps the world spinning round. But I never actually got the chance to put em down on paper... (or web page... whatever...).
I met my new campers this week! They're soo cute and crazy and I seriously love them all (though I must say, I DO have faves...shhh! Don't tell the directer ;) !
Being a camp counselor for teaches you tonnz of life lessons. Seriously. Here Goes:

Number One: Never give kids grapes on a bus... they throw the bad ones on the floor and step on em and squish em to a pulp... and never mind that. just wait till there aren't enough seats and ur forced to sit on them.... (eewww... shivers).

Number Two: Basketball cards are great motivators

Number Three: Michael Jackson is alive ("Hey! Morah! Look! I see Michael Jackson outside!" me-"No way! You're lying!" "Noooo!!! Even Eitan and Emma saw him too! And now were watching a make pretend Michael Jackson mooovie... so go away cuz ur baahdering us!!!"

Number four: Rickety old yellow school buses make the most annoying sounds in the world!

Number five: Never go on trips on a fast day... cuz then you'll get stuck in traffic for two hours, have two kids throw up, not have enough seats, and spend only an hour at the actual location. Then, on the way back, you'll get stuck in more traffic, get rear ended, the cops will take forever to come, and you'll have to make dreadful phone calls to parents about arriving back to camp 2 and a half hours after it has officially ended!

Number six: individual water bottles may be pricey when you have tonz of kids to feed, bus never try pouring those gallon ones while on a bus... you'll be lucky if your only half drenched.

Number Seven: Ninjas are something scary and vampires suck blood. I have no clue what a ninja is, but my friend just confirmed that I got the vampire thing right... which is good, especially because my campers told me I'm one.

Number Eight: You can text from a DS.

Number Nine: What some people find annoying, other people find as ____________ (any positive adjective, you fill in the blank).

Number Ten: Don't eat your snack in front of campers... They'll beg you for some and then step on your head when you don't give in.

Number Eleven: Never give a treat to one camper, unless its for a specific reason. Otherwise you'll have herds of kids begging you for one.

Number Twelve: Persians are always late (not to sound prejudice or anything, but we start camp at nine and the second kid only arrives at nine fifteen.)

Number Thirteen: Some people are easygoing (and very easy-going about the fact that their child lost his swimsuit and sunscreen twice).

Number Fourteen: and some people are difficult. (and not that very easy-going with the fact that you didn't personally hang up their child's towel to dry after swimming... HELOO!?!!? We have 16 kids here and there is nowhere to hang up so many towels! and seriously... what's the big deal?!?!?!)

Number Fifteen: That just cuz they're young, doesn't mean they're innocent. I've heard more taboo words this week then I have ever... all coming out of the mouths of 6 year olds!!!!

Number Sixteen: Last, but not least, or at least because I know there are tonz more but I can't think of any at the moment... Kids are Just precious!!!! :) :)

And don't talk to me about next week yet... First let me enjoy my weekend pullleeeze! SLEEPP!!! HERE WE COME!

All my faithful readers can check out my new photo blog @ thegrandcomfycouch.blogspot.com

Loneliness

There will always be a time in life where lonliness will find a place in your heart.
And leave a large gaping sore.
For there will be no one for you to call... though your phone contacts are record long.
And no one to visit because those you love are halfway accross the globe.
And no one to tell your deepest secrets to, because there is no one in calling distance that you trust.
And the lonliness intensifies when you can just go on for a day without getting even one call or text message.
And when the only emails in your inbox are spam and a daily Tanya reminder from Chabad.org that you've stopped opening monthes ago.

And just the never-ending boredom.
Of days spent with nothing accomplished.
No purpose. No reason to wake up.

You call. Finnally.
Hearing your voice makes me cry.

"What do you want me to buy you?"
you ask.

nothing.

"You sure?"

Yes

"What do u want?"

nothing.
nothing.
nothing.

Only You.

Yes.

Only You.

The Advisor

How can it be that one can inspire others,
yet cannot inspire oneself?

I give advice... yet it would never work for me.

After all, I need to hear something better than what I can come up with on my own.
I know I sound Egotisitic.... but I may just be way too smart for myself.

I advise. You listen.

and you tell me that it works.

Yet I won't even bother to try it on my own.

But no.
You'll never know.

Oh never.

But in truth: even advisors must seek advice.

Post Gimmel Tammuz Guilt

Hey Bloggie.

Thank you for being the only one I can talk to at this hour as I wallow in self-pity.
Today was Gimmel Tammuz.
The day the Lubavitcher Rebbe was taken away from the His Chassidim.
The day my Rebbe was taken from me.

And yet,
I felt nothing.

I woke up @ 1:09. Rolled over... muttering to my sister under my breath that it was gimmel Tammuz and she should go and do something productive otther then waking Big Sister up. Ha.

What a hypocrite.

I finnally headed for the shower a quarter to two, and then proceeded with my day.
dressed.
ate.
ate.
checked gmail.
checked facebook.
checked blog.
went on fmylife.
signed out.
ate.
ate.
went for ice cream.
went to the library.
went on the computer.
chekced out books.
came home.
went on the computer.
ate.
ate.
ate.
went on the computer.
read a book.
and here I am.
at 2 in the morning, and nothing that qualifies as fullfilling on the agenda of my previous day. (lol that line sounds perfectly ironic)


I should be all inspired.
I should have gone to the ohel.
I should've made a hachloto.

but never mind that.

I probably should've davened.
Shouldve said modeh ani.
Shouldve said Brachos.
Should've helped my mother.
Should've said chitas.
Should've bentched.
Should've learned.

But no.
Not even that.
I'm nothing better than a goy.
I eat drink and sleep. Why> to live> and why a goy lives? So that he can wake up tomorrow so he can eat drink and sleep once more.

And yet, on this auspices day I feel nothing.


Well, not nothing.











I feel guilty.

YOU (An Ode to My Friends)

Circumstance brings people together.

And I have struck gold.

For without you, I have no backbone.
For you support me. You pick me up.
When everyone else looks on with disdain,
shouting out my differences, incapability,
you still stand behind me.

You know just what to say,
and even more: How to say it.
Dishing out the comliments
and selectively handing out the criticism;
in little doses, yet just enough.

You take a seat in my little world,
and let me into yours.
You share your'e thought and feelings.
And with a listening ear,
allow me to do the same.

Your'e resolute,
never let anything drag me down.
The constant positive peer pressure
the endless motivation.
Keep me straight, keep me focused.

And never let me fall.
No..... Never.


You accepted me.
Because you chose to.
You embraced the differences
never shunned,
but rather celebrated.




If I were to pull out
collections from the very wise
thought -filled adages
advice-filled philosophies
quotes on love and friendship
yet none would be able to adequately describe...

The feeling, delicate
and dripping with warmth.
The knowledge,
that when it hurts
theres a patch of love to heal it.

Inspiration (or lack thereof)

I used to be an Inspired Person.
Whatever I saw or looked at had a deeper perspective, a different meaning.
To me, life wasn't about the surface. It was all essense and character.

I still analyze. I'm still deep.
But it's not the same. No, not at all.

I used to look at a fire hydrant and find some inspiration for day-to-day living.

But now, it has kind of evaporated.

I look at a fire hydrant and see a 12 foot no parking zone.

I don't look for inspiration; I don't seek it.
Nor do I find it.

And yet I wonder if I inspire.


Do I?

Random thought on a Friday Afternoon

This blog is in need of a major upgrade... like HELLOO????? What type of weird name is "Tea2share" ?

Uhh... and why I came up with it in the first place? I dont know. Probably because I was drinking tea at 3 in the morning or something as I was making my blog name. And I don't even LIKE tea. Whatever.

So, all you highly-opinionated people out there are welcome to give any suggestions :)

Timeglass

For those of you that haven't yet heard... I now have a new baby brother! My very first one (or I should say, under me) ! :) Mazal Tov! Now that the initial excitement has (somewhat) died down, all I want is for the time glass to expand its mouth and let time flood bye.

Bris, Upshernish, Yeshivah, Bar Mitzvah, Wedding... wow!

I know.

I'm getting way ahead of myself.
I should be focused on the present, but for some reason, I'm not.
I can't explain it.
But all I want is for something like Google Maps to place a pin in every place that life will this little guy.
Just to let me know of the challenges he'll face.
If He'll win them, or learn the hard way.
Just let me know of the places he'll go (no ryhme intended),
the people he will see and know.
The feelings he'll feel,
the thoughts that he'll think.
I just want to know.
And be part.
Of the Joys
Of the sorrows (g-d forbid!)
.

To stand behind his shoulder an guide him.
So that he won't make the same mistakes that others have.
So that I can advise him in his choices
and make sure that they are wise ones.

I just wish... to be part.
And hope he lets me.

But as of now... the sand is passing through the timeglass ever so slowly.

Confused?

Hmmm... join The Club.

Manis's Take: Every thing in this world - from the subatomic particles to the galaxies reeling in space - seems to know what to do. They all do their thing, acting out their role in creation. Only the intelligent human seems to be confused. We don’t know where we belong or what our role is. Some people don’t even think they are welcome in this world. Only Torah tells us our role, how we can contribute: Make the world better.

--

Got that? Its sooo simple. All it takes is an openmind and a little Manis :)

Issues, Issues and MORE issues :)

I've been hearing so much talk about CH lately, I thought I'd shed light to it all with an ever-so-worthy post on my blog.

So, What's new?

Tznius Issues? Check.

The System? Check.

The OTD Crisis? Check.

The Attitude? Check.

The Chutzpah? Check.

The Education? Check.

The Vaad? Check.

Yup! We've got it all!

-Issues, that is :)

So far, I've been hearing tonz about the problems in CH. OH! ...and it's endless!
Have no fear, wherever you go....- (people want to know -jk) - There's always another problem to be found. But guess what?

I Love Crown Heights.
Call me Whatever You Want. But this is my home.
I love living here! I love the diversity. I love the people. I love the Chesed. I love the never-ending excitement of living in such an a-typical (is that a word?) crowd.

But backk to the Issues, here are a few of my favorite (lol. I know, I know. "but I thought you love it here...? I do. Read on.) :

Issue #1- Elevator Eyes

Now, for all you NON-CHers out there or innocent CHers in here that have yet to have heard of this term, allow me to enlighten you with the following scenario:

[Take 1: GO!]
On Friday evening, Miss Stilleto wearer enters the Ezras Noshim of 770 . Instantaneously, 500 left eyebrows (left? k dont ask me) are raised. And Slowly, simultaneously, 500 sets of eyeballs go up and e-v-e-r s-o s-l-o-w-l-y wayyyyy down. And then agian, in that slooow painful elevator stare. And then Stop! as they abruptly stare at those stilletos.
One girl turns to her friend in a whisper "Huh? Are stilletos in?"
Girl Two: No.
Girl One: Then Why-the-heck is she wearing them?
Girl Two: Why the heck would I know?
Girl One: Well, you should!
Girl Two (an obvious OOT): You're Such a Crown Heightser

[cut!]

So you kinda get the picture.

My Take: Its not THAT bad. Take it from me, I DO give elevator eyes.

[gasp!]

Thats right! I AM the culprit!

Wait! Let me defend myself (and all others amongst my species):
The only reason I give elevator eyes is because I honestly enjoy looking at cute people and I wish to acknowledge that what they're wearing is cute and maybe even offer some free compliments! Now, I how can I compliment someone if I don't know what they're wearing?
I can't, right?

:)

1 down, ___ to go! (good grief!)


Issue #2: Snobs

And What many mean by that, is "cliquey". Everyone has their own little group and allows no one in. I can't say I disagree with that. It IS true. But that applies everywhere! People feel best with those they feel comfortable with... Human Nature 101, right? Even you finger-pointing out of towners (now look who's talkin ;) Have your groups you ( again the finger pointing) feel best with.

And guess what?
If you're ever feeling lonely in the Crown of the Heights, come on over! It's snobbiness on your part if you dont!

Issue #3- illiteracy

K, Sorry. But I honestly think that this is limited to Oholei Torah-Niks.

The lingo here is cool, but. (lol. corny, I know. I just HAD to add that in)

Issue#4- Textaholics

Well, though thats as true as it gets, ALL PEOPLE (k, I shouldn't be stereotyping- most* people) of ALL COUNTRIES and ALL COMMUNITIES and ALL RELIGEONS all share in ONE G-d. And ONE other thing: Cell Phone Attachment Disorder, or more (un)commonly known as CAD.
I know, I know. You're just jealous cuz you weren't blessed enough to have texting on your phone. Aww. (Thats for you Buy One Get One ;)


Issue #5- Obsession for food

Sorry, But what can we do???!!! With such AWESOME restaurants and cafes around here (yeah right (well actually, Bunchos good)), Just HOW can we NOT?? I mean, its TOTALLY absurd if you dont go out to eat as least once a week, excluding razzles at Noshworld and Javas at Sweet Expressions.
Plus+ Were allowed to eat. That's why G-d created food and were just helping out by fullfilling our tafkid to the highest potential. :) :) :)

Now that We've ridden you of any Potential Negetive Thoughts on Crown Heightsers, you can all vent. But you wont, cuz You've got nothing against us right?

Take It From Me :)

[Cut 2495]

Oh! and PS> The littering issue that's been brought up is the shvartzes fault ( I mean, DUH!???)

The Ten Second Rule

Recently, one rare momentous occasion of boredom saw me browning through the Gmail features. I wasn't looking for anything in particular, when I just hit upon a new feature. My eyes popped out of my head in astonishment at today's miraculous technology. Get this: Wit this all-new, one-of-a-kind feature, it is now possible to UNDO an email within ten seconds after hitting the "Send" button. Meaning, the computer will withhold your email, preventing it from getting into the recipients account for a full 10 seconds, giving you the chance to undo the action. 

10 seconds is a relatively short amount of time, and there isn't much one can do in  such a time span. But imagine if every word emitted from our mouths would be held in the air for a full 10 seconds before reaching the recipient. And within that time, one can just reach out his hand and take back what he said. Literally. 

Something tells me that there would be so much less understanding and regret if we had that power. To have the opportunity to stop, rethink and swallow our words before, like darts, they sharply hit their target, would be a most useful gift imaginable. 

--

I'm sure most of you have heard of the "Ten Second Rule." But for those of you that haven't, let me explain: 

Many a time, people will be found congregating together, laughing, and chatting, when somebody passes by that either sparks interest, gossip, or memory. As we humans go, were always more than glad to share whats on their mind's with others, greatly broadening their knowledge of the subject at hand. 

However, saying what's to be said with the subject within view and earshot is rude and rather audacious. So here is where the "Ten Second Rule" comes in handy: Before anyone opens their mouths, they first mentally count to ten to be sure the subject is not within earshot. 

This widely accepted rule is conveniently smart, but nasty. 

But, adding a twist to this rule may change that: for Ten Seconds, instead of impatiently holding in the words, trying to unsuccessfully calm the bubbling mouths, contain the babbling string of words about to be fired at the target, the "Ten Second Rule" can be used for one to STOP oneself from saying words deemed as slander. 

Yup! You got it! 10 seconds. such a short amount of time. But if It can be enough time to stop an email from reaching its destination, It can be enough to stop a word from leaving the mouth. And guess what? Those 10 seconds may save years worth of damage. 

Catching up on G-d

G-d?.
I hope you don't mind me calling you at this hour, but...
I'm Sorry.
...For loosening my grip, when I should have been tightening my connection.
...For Covering up the real me and faking it all the way through.
...For questioning your existence.
I'm Sorry, but I couldn't help it. You're the master of the universe, so I bet you understand. I bet you feel the challenge and the confusion that fill your children's days. You do, right Father?

Allow me to confess:

Lately [>sigh<] I think I've landed on the pause button.

And now: Deciding, choosing, scrutinizing and hemming and hawing over my options: to fast forward or rewind.
I search for your hand that guides me, but its nowhere within sight. Has it landed on the pause button too? Where can I find you?
And I must. Because where You lie, lies myself.

If you're so big, then how do you fit here?
Is it true, as they claim, that You in all Your glory have a space inside my little heart?
That You guide my soul, with a map drawn with love?

Then why don't You tell me?
G-d, you still there?
Phew.
K. Not done, so hear me out.
Sometimes, because I don't feel you, I pretend Your not there. I ignore Your silent pleas, justifying it because I don't see your presence hovering over me and beckoning Your will.
Sorry, but I need proofs.
But you're right... I could use a little dose of Kabbolos Ol.

G-d, just one more thing.
I know, I've just been beating You up. But at the end of the day, I... love You.
I really do.
Because there is something in me that pulls me to you. Like metal to a magnet.
Because when in pain (and in love), I instinctively turn to You in Prayer. And I can feel my connection soar.

So my one little prayer:
Like you clear up the skies after the storm, clear up the Confusion and reveal your depth with clarity.

Because no one seems to get you. No one seems to understand you. But we want to.

Yeah. I want to.

I'm sorry G-d.
And thanks for not hanging up on me.

Two faces, One Drop

It was a slightly cool afternoon,a bit cloudy. My legs carried me swiftly, through the streets, my minds only focus: Getting to the bank before it closes. Rain Splattered against my face, fogging my glasses and soaking my clothes. But I walked on with determination, with a face aglow in sheer appreciation for the refreshing, wet tingle.
I arrived at the bank.
A nice sign hung on the door. I wasn't sure, but for a moment I thought the it said "CLOSED".

And Suddenly...
The clouds were a menacing shade of gray. Although it was spring, the weather had me chilled to the bone.Mt feet dragged me across town. Where I was going, I didn't care to know. I just walked. The Rain hit me with force, and the fog blurred my eyesight. I walked heavily, mood not much better than the miserable weather. And there were no attempts to hide it one bit.

---

Thought to ponder:
Sometimes life carries us. There are springs to our steps and joy to our days. Then something goes wrong, and all of a sudden, it seems like life is dragging us across town by force. The joys become a nuisance, and the once merry tunes turn to drone. How ironic.
One raindrop brings love, joy, peace and calm, while the other brings heartache.

It's all attitude :) and what YOU make of the rain :)

Yud Alef Nissan

Happy Birthday Rebbe!!!
You know something, I think you're the only guy in the world that has so many thousands celebrating his birthday.
But not for nothing! Not at all.
Gosh, Rebbe.
My love for you is bursting through the seams.
You gave me so much as a person.
You gave me so much as a chossid.
Because of you, Rebbe, I have so much to be thankful for.
For my way of life.
Because every moment of my day, I think, speak and feel like a chossid.
For my Self.
Because you gave me the confidence. Because I know that with you constantly on my side, I can conquer the world.
For my future.
Because of you, I am a chossid. And my children will be Chassidim, my Grandchildren, and Great grandchildren Bezras Hashem.
A world of a difference has come through.
Lifestyles changed.
For the better.
Goodness and kindness illuminating our dark black and sick world.
And Rebbe, I hereby give you the credit.
For sending out your luminaries.
For taking a stand.
For Being responsible for touching so many lives.
For changing so many mindsets.
For just Changing the world.
Happy Birthday Rebbe!

Love, your #1 fan and Chossid,
Chaya Mushka Bas Basya

P.S. What do you want as a birthday present?

K, just happens to be that when i wrote this I didnt really know anything. I debated over whether to delete it or not and just decided to keep it. After all, why not?


Kotel Plaza
Standing in full glory.
Newly washed and polished stones.
Crevices emptied,
notes and letters
spilling forth.
Swept away,
collected
on the ground.


A janitor
Broom and shovel in hand
sweeps away letters,
With the many tears
With the many hearts
many broken
bitter hearts
that still yearn
for connection.
For salvation.
For Redemption.

And yet,
how can one so blatantly throw it all away?
How can one cleanse another Jew's pain?
How can one brush away the heartfelt cries of love that so many have written to G-d?

How?

Why the Breach in the intense connection?

Janitor, Janitor,
Sweep it away
But dont forget,
you're sweeping tears.

Through the Lenses

Stepping out of the glasses store with my newly purchased glasses perched upon my nose, saw me with mixed emotions.
Squinting my eyes in the sunshine, I felt a feeling of newness.
Of rebirth.
An overwhelming feeling of disbewlief at what I had been missing out in all this time.
I could finnally see.
With utmost clarity.
I felt like a new person.
At last,
I could view Hashem's world down to the minutest detail.
It's an awesome, unbelievable feeling.

But Then,

More things come to view...

The imperfections.
The mistakes.
The Stains.
The black spots.
The Defects.
Visible, and more than ever.

But do I really want to see the imperfections?
Do I truly wish to constantly view and judge?

I think not.

Having glasses at last sure is great-
but they're not glued on to the face for a reason.
So that we can remove them, just as the imperfections wish to come in sight. :)

Just when I thought all was lost,
and I could just feel the hopelessness slowly creeping
to me. Ever so slowly. Quietly overcoming me...

Just when I thought no one would get it,
That there was no point in trying.
That an effort to relate was useless...

Just when I felt that I was alone,
that the island would remain stranded forever,
and that I'll never fix circumstance...

...A hand tapped me on the shoulder.
-
-
And just as I was about to run away,
I turned around...
And it was you.



Dedicated to Pumpkin ;)
----> for always letting me vent :)
Luv ya :)

corkscrew

Heart
Fills up
like a bottle under pressure.
It tightens
from the claustrophobia
and squeezes
to allow more in.
The build-up over time,
makes my heart ready to Burst.
I want to let it all out.
To release the tension,
to shout out to the world the truth
get it off my chest
admit whats on my conscience.
But I have one fear:
-
-
that I will lose the cork.

But I keep holding on....

Pesach cleaning somehow always conjures up old memories. As I sifted through piles of clothing and possessions, I came across an old tattered notebook. 

I comfortably sat myself down at the edge of my bed, and opened it up. Suddenly, memories fluttered into my face, straight from those pages. 

This was the notebook in which I wrote down lists, poems and schedules. It was the notebook where most of my blog posts were born.  

With the scribbles alongside illegible handwriting, my life marked its pages. I pored over it, deep in thought. It was the documentary of a time gone by. It held my memories.

I was frozen in a moment in time. And in couldn’t bring myself to let go. I debated whether I should keep the notebook or just throw it out. 

Something within urged me to keep it. 

But another voice called out, begging me to let go of the past. 

And I did.

Because we can’t sit on the past forever. 

Because we have to move on. 

Losing Grip

It started with a knot.

And over time a rope was formed

Strengthened by my toil,

Thickened by my hope. 

And the grip got tighter. 

And just when i thought i finally had you,

the blade hit the rope.

And you were lost. 

Between the lines

Can love be placedin words not said?

Can tongues paint an image that only words can?

Can hearts still bond when the tapestry is ruined?

And can feelings be real when not confirmed? 

The energy runs between the lines. 

Caught in a tangle of lofty tunes. 

It is not clear, so is it true?

But only a fools to believe in only what he sees. 

Trapped

Trapped 

within four cold walls.

No means of escape

are found.

Mouth opens

but no sounds can be emitted,

no words can be formed.

Mouth closes 

in defeat.

Yet still my soul cries out

for freedom. 

On a Park Bench

The scene is made up of two people. 

And a park bench. 

The rings of laughter fill the air.

As two old buddies reminiscence on times bygone. 

Day in. Day out.

Same Place. 

Same time. 

  I never blinked twice as I passed. 

  But one day I did. 

  Because this time

  The scene was made up of One man.

  And a park bench. 

  and nothing more but tears. 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .What You Pray For. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hands trembling

heart beseeching

Peering over your shoulder

I wait for movement

But you stand Frozen

In a stillness of serenity

Your heart is wrapped around the words

carefully emitted from your lips. 

Your hands fumbling

with the tattered sheets. 

Your eyes gaze past 

fading words.

With your heart filled 

with supplication

as your statue like figure

melts down 

into a bucket 

of altruism. 

And you pray. 

For Self.

 For friends.

For family. 

And as your shadow stiffens,

and your prayer comes to a close,

 I wonder...

did you pray for me? 

______Picking Away at the Cover Up_____

Heaven swept down upon earth,

barely kissing surface

mission laid out.

Set to find

Passing sparkling oceans

spraying mist upon the shores.

Passing sun-baked mountain peaks,

storm-stricken deserts.

Crouching deep within the forests

and searching deep within caves.

And sunk within a search proven futile,

the Heavens dared to call

Where?

Where are you?

Whats become of you?

Where are you at?

The voice leaves impressions

of question marks

upon the hidden creation,

That is being begged to define

its place.

And history repeats itself.

I stare into your glistening eyes

past mascara smears

and glossed lips.

Beyond the shading bangs

and cover-up.

And although you're within sight

I wonder where you are.

Are you here, exactly?

Where have you been?

Where are you heading?

Am I penetrating?

Who really cares?

As long as my love for you is.

Light on a Cloudy Day

Clouds of confusion hanging low, 

black, white and grey, 

no color flow. 

Question marks whizzing by my head, 

Take troden paths? 

Unpaved instead?

My soul is being torn apart, 

between 2 worlds,

yet there's one heart. 

I try to fight, strike an attack, 

each time I try, 

I'm just pushed back. 

Yet through a crack, I see the light,

Explanations,

shine through bright.

They beckon me, I heed the call, 

slowly in place, 

the answers fall. 

It's taking time, but still I know,

the more I struggle,

the more I grow. 

Bare Minded

My minds gone blank. 

Funny. 

Only 20 minutes ago I was ready to relate to the entire world of my existance. 

And now, so much is my worth from what I call a barely audible sound. 

So, from a man of few words... 

I exist. 

C'mon, Get a Life and Get Real

Hey you. 

Yeah, you in the black sweater and curly hair. 

With a name tag that says "CMBC".

Yeah.... I'm Talking to YOU. 

Now. 

Listen up. 

You think you know everything? You think you got nothing left to learn and nothing to live for? 

You think that you need to stop and charge or else you can't move on? 

Well listen to this: 

Get over yourself. 

Stop limiting yourslef to your preconceived notions. 

Learn to move on, and push youself. 

Stop relying on the world for your motivation.

Inspire yourself. 

Learn to accept. 

Learn to forgive and learn to forget and most of all, learn to move on. 

NoW stop standing there. 

Move that little self of yours. 

Build bridges. 

And get over them. 

Come on... you can do it. 

Stop living in a fog of the past. 

Keep building your future, and smile at the univited dark spots. You'll learn from them more than can ever be taught to you. 

And most of all... believe in yourself. Because you can. 

Because the world is only as amazing as it is because of people that dared to be different. 

and you are. 

There.

I said it. 

World of Irony

Some people are makers, others are breakers.

Some givers, some takers. 

Some keepers, some foresakers. 

Livin in a world where harmony resides, 

earth singing a tune, Im wrapped in the lines. 

The greater the beauty, the better the irony. 

The faker the society, the more unique is reality.

When the world turns right, we dont bother to mention,

and when its spinning wrong, we question. 

So bask in the sunshine, 

because within the ironic tendencies of this world,

 art reigns. 

Pullin the Ropes

Muggy monday mornin in the Brooklyn metropolis

 Irksome alarms  ringing in my ears... wake up call.

No way... can't face a new day...

Roll over. 

Snooze...

Provocation resounds once more...

Roll over.

Hold it. 

now...

Move it. 

We got our ropes around your waist and were pullin for ya girl!!! 

Guide

My Child

Into your hands, the world I place.

No strings attached,

No rules in place.

 

My Child

In this world there are un-trodden roads to take

Decisions to place

And choices to make.

 

My Child

Throughout this world many things you will find,

On some you’ll question,

Others you’ll accept as divine.

 

My Child

Though in the world there is nothing you will lack.

The only thing not given

Are boundaries intact.

 

My Child

It is up to you to produce them on your own

To use your better judgment,

Because the world is yours alone.

 

My Child

At times the boundaries you make

Will suddenly become invisible,

And may seem to breach and break.

 

So My Child

My chosen, my beloved.

I hand you one more thing:

The Torah, your guide.

 

 

 

Soul Searching

On a tree, 

a bird's perching 

eyes dashing,

endless searching

for the key.

Got to keep looking. 

Keep falling, 

keep climbing,

the more he's searching, 

the closer he is

to unlocking his home.  

In the world, 

a man's wandering 

he's thirsting, 

endless searching, 

for the key. 

Got to keep looking.

Keep falling, 

keep climbing, 

the more he's looking, 

the more he's finding. 

Soul Searching.....

To unlock himself. 

Regards from Heaven!!!

Mivtzoyim on High-   Hummus in Heaven 

 

I came across them as I was packing for my week long trip to Phoenix, Arizona. On my bed, resting atop a pile of clothing, sat my Savta Simcha carry-on in all its due glory, when out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of "The Cards". I quickly averted my gaze and attention back to my packing, but something in my conscience made me look again. I picked up "The Cards". I gave em a nice loooong look. They seemed to be looking straight back at me, pleadingly. 

 

"Ok, ok," I convinced myself "I'll take them with...” I quickly slid them into my Savta Simcha Carry-on before I could change my mind.

I mean, Good Cards are awesome and everything, but I did not have any desire to be bothered during my vacation, and besides, I didn't want to bother anyone else during theirs either.  So, I figured that in my Savta Simcha bag was where they'd remain. 

 

 

 

 

--------------

 

 

One week later, happy, tired, and laden with baggage, I finally leaned back into my designated aircraft seat. My eyes lazily glanced around the airplane. I stared out of the window for a couple of minutes. I got bored of that. So I turned my head towards the isle to watch the stewardess do her thing. "...in case of an emergency landing, inflate the vest... fasten your seatbelt..... Yada yada yada..." Wow. BOOORING. 

That’s when I noticed, sticking out of my bag those “Good Cards”. 

 

Uh oh. 

 

I forgot :P. 

 

 

But...... 

 

Never mind.... no excuse could really suffice. 

 

I stared at them. They looked back pleadingly. I couldn’t bear to look. I begrudgingly promised that I'd do some sort of mivtzoyim before I’d leave the aircraft. 

 

MY opportunity was not long in coming. 

 

 

5 minutes later, I busied myself with what most other people busy themselves with when they’re bored: food! On my tray table lay a tub of Sabra™ Hummus and a rectangular box of Tam- Tams.  And on my seat was a very gluttonous me noshing away without a care in the world. Suddenly, a shadow could be seen bouncing off the rims of my Sabra™ Hummus tub. I looked up, startled.

 

There stood a smiling stewardess gazing at my food with envy. Upon realizing my, umm excuse me, existence, she smiled sheepishly and asked me where I found Hummus in the desolate state of Arizona. I told her. And with that we got into a long deep discussion about which hummus brand is best, and which tastes like sand, etc. She was obviously jewish and seemed so proud.

 

Hmmm…. I think the Hummus did it ;)

 

 

Ahhh…. I looked at those good cards again. This time, there was no pleading gaze in thier eyes. Phew.

 

I smiled. Maybe, just maybe, our little hummus venture inspired her and reawakened the beauty of being jewish.

 

After all… it’s worth it for the food!