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.

-

-

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- 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.