You're In Control

I'm not in control, G-d
I've never held the reigns
You're the One who leads my life
Through losses and through gains

And when I sometimes try to shove You
Out of sight and out of mind
You just keep on reminding me
And place me in a bind

Till I'm forced to remember
On Whom I do depend
It's You who's always been there for me
And been my greatest friend

And though right now I may feel down
Lost all self confidence
You're stretching way out for me
I can see Your providence

And as I cry myself to sleep
For just another night
As I try to predict the unknown
And fill myself with fright

I feel You helping me along
Telling me to move ahead
To take the next step forward
To not give up and stay in bed

But to give the wheel up to You
And stop pressing on the brakes
To let my life move forward
Despite a myriad of mistakes.

Monkey See, Monkey Do

Monkey see, monkey do.
Stare at him, he stares at you.
Hide from him, he hides his face.
Run from him, he joins the race.
Monkey see, monkey do.
Doesn’t he act just like you?

Attention

What do you do with a kid who makes up stories about her life to gain attention? And it's not as if she doesn't have enough really serious stuff already going on... She jus embelishes everything and changes it all around till you're not sure what's real and what's not.

What do you do when that same kid drags another's name into the picture and the other vehemently denies any connection? Which one do you believe?

What do you do when there's someone screaming for help inside but plainly refuses to talk to anyone but someone still in high school?

What do you do when you know that telling someone will probably mean the end for this kid, but may mean a new start for another?

I'm so confused as to whether I made the correct decisions...

My Space

Back off, will ya?
Give me some space.
You're stifling me.
Not letting me think.
And even though you may be right,
Right now, I feel like
Doing the opposite
Of what you think
Just to spite you.
And though in reality,
I'd only be hurting myself,
I need the space
To contemplate
On my own.
Without you asking me questions
Or giving me answers.
Just
give
me
my
space.
Please?

Been Busy

Sorry for not posting any "real" posts of late. I've just been busy and haven't had much time to really think.

Just posting a song someone played for me.

Enjoy!

I Am A Mouse

I am a mouse.
Scurrying about.
Trying to find
Some food
For thought.

Where is Love?

This song always makes me cry...

I've directed Oliver! twice in the past. In my opinion, it's one of the greatest works ever written...

The Lady or the Tiger?

Ever read Frank Stockton's "The Lady or the Tiger"? Yeah, I'm sure you have. It's one of those stories that you rehash in your mind every so often, wondering which ending Stockton would have chosen.

I read through the story once again yesterday, and was struck by a strange idea. Stockton asks which door the princess would have pointed to, being the semi-barbaric soul she was. Now, I want to ask the question - which door would I have pointed at?

I'd like to think that I would choose the woman. To give the one who loved me another chance at life. Yet on the other hand, I've never been in the position of losing one I greatly loved to another. Would I have the strength to live through the torture of knowing that he could never be mine?

Can I truly say what I would do in such a situation?

The Last Day

I don't like endings.
I don't like saying goodbye.
I don't like finishing a book; the coclusion usually doesn't do justice to the plot.
I don't like stopping a song.
I don't like leaving Israel.
I don't like realizing that it's all over.

But it is.
Another Chanukah has just passed me by.
Oh, yes. I did go to parties.
Every night, in fact.
And I sang some, and danced some, and shmoozed some, laughed some and ate some.
I even heard a shiur or two.

But it's not enough.
It never is.

And tonite, I didn't even have the time to stare into the candles like I usually do.

Goodbye, my dearest Chanukah.

Tagged Again!

Corner Point tagged me to list seven facts about myself. Though I did this a while back, I'll be a good sport and do it again.

Here goes nothing...

Rules:
1. Link to your tagger and post the rules.
2. Share 7 facts about yourself; some random, some weird.
3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post and list their names and link to them.
4. Let them know they've been tagged by leaving a comment at their blog.

1) I can't do two things at once. If I'm washing dishes, I ain't on the phone. And if I'm on the computer, well... I'm sure not doing much else. So much for women having the ability to multi-task. At least you know this; if I'm speaking to you, you have my full attention.

2) People singing off key irritate me. Nope, sorry. More than irritating; it causes me untold pain and anguish. No joke. I'm working on acting nicer and not leaving the room while suffering from this pain, but it's taking some time...

3) I'm a vanilla person. With toasted coconut topping.

4) I used to get massive headaches from live music. I still do sometimes.

5) My name is just about the first on any of my neices' or nephews' lips.

6) I love experimenting with eyeshadow. I think I own over thirty different shades, and I usually use five or six at once. I think it's so cool that one can play up the eyes so much...

7) I didn't get cavities till I spent two years in Israel. Guess the flouride in New York water really helps.


If you're up to reading this, Illegal Alien, then I tag you. You can post your 7 in my comments.

If You Like Him... (3)

I handed the phone back to Mrs. D.

"You know, he very nice boy. I know his mudder" she told me.

I replied with a nonchalant "Very nice."

"He come now. You see what he is, and if you like him, I can make shidduch."

WHAT?!?

"Ummm... it's ok. Really." I stammered.

"You talk to him when he comes. See if you like him. He very nice, I tell you. Good heart. I know his mum."

Yeah, you said that already. Gosh, this is uncomfortable. How do I get out of this?

I looked her in the eye. Then I squirmed and stammered again "Umm... I guess... whatever."

Then she began another shidduch story.

A few minutes later, Chananel showed up. He was a short fellow, complete with a scruffy beard and a hat unlike the ones my brothers wear. Definitely Chassidish. He did a double take when he saw me sitting in the room.

Mrs. D pointed at me and said "She gave you directions."

He looked at me uncomfortably. "Thanks."

No problem. Now would one of us kindly leave?

She directed him to another chair and stared pointedly at me, waiting for me to begin talking. But I couldn't. I wouldn't. I was shell-shocked.

She looked at him. "Where are you from?"

Boro Park.

She turned towards me. "And where do you live?"

Flatbush.

Pause.

We both squirmed in our seats. Poor guy, I thought. He doesn't know what hit him.

Mrs. D didn't let up. She started another litany of shidduch stories. I tuned her voice out, wishing I was somewhere else. The whole situation was ludicrous.

All of a sudden, my cellphone rang. It was my mother. "Where are you? You finished yet?"
"Don't ask, mom. I''ll be finished soon. I'll talk to you when I get back." I hung up the phone.

Chananel took the momentary lull to go call his mother.

Mrs. D looked at me again and asked "So, do you like him?"

I answered "Well, he's nice and all, but not for me. Thanks for trying."

She looked flabbergasted. "How you know he not for you? I tell you, he has such good heart. You don't find better."

"He's Chassidish. He's not for me."

"How you know he's Chassidish? I never knew such a thing. I don't think he is."

"He is. His long jacket and hat kinda make it obvious." I wasn't giving in.

"I don't think he is." she insisted. "You know what? I'll ask him."

Oh dear. No, please don't do that!

I stared at her. This woman was going to drive me crazy. "I'm telling you he's chassidish. You don't have to ask him. It's obvious."

Just then, Senior D called us in. When Mrs. D told her mother of the shidduch I wouldn't listen to, her mother looked at me, then at him, and with a curt shake of the head said "Loh. Hooh loh hazivug shelah."

And that was that.

I went through the whole towel and lead ceremony; she gave me some perakim of tehillim to say every day and a few strange practices to do, and I was through.

I ran out of there. The second I got outside, I burst out laughing.
I laughed all the way to our apartment...

If You Like Him... (2)

To make things a bit simpler, I'll henceforth refer to the woman as Mrs. D and her mom as Senior D.

So, Mrs. D led me into her her mother's apartment, and directed me to sit in a dirty, worn chair. I sat there, as she explained to me what her mom does, along with visual aids (meaning, there was a couple going through the initiation ceremony just then).

Senior D spoke to the irreligious couple for a few minutes, and then placed a towel over the young man's head. She took a pot from her stove, raised it above his head and spooned led into the water. It sizzled, and she gazed inside.

"Ahhh! Yesh ayin hara! Yesh harbeh. Mah asita?"

She poured the led again, going through similar words immediately following the gazing. She called her daughter over to look at the interesting shapes that had formed, in a kind of frenzy.
"Zeh loh tov. Loh tov..."

She gave him some mussar about living with his girlfriend without marrying her, gave him some perakim of tehillim to say and a couple other practices, and without much ado, went on to the next person in line.

Mrs. D turned to me. "My mom, she very good. Many people come, even from America, to get her advice and to take away ayin harah." (this was true - she got about five phone calls while I was there asking advice on shidduchim and the like...)

I squirmed. This was soooo not my kind of thing.

Mrs D. continued. "You know, I make shidduch."

"That's nice" I commented.

"I make many shidduch. Sometimes not my idea, but I help." She then went on a litany of shidduchim she had helped with, mentioning one or two names I recognized.

Very nice. So what?

Then she decided to make a phone call.

"Allo, Chananel? Yes, my mom, she not so busy now. You want come now? Ok. One minute."

She handed the phone to me and asked me to direct him to the apartment.

I took the phone. "Hello. Where are you?"

"At the Mir."

Gulp.

"Umm, ok." I gave him directions to the place, wondering what on earth was going on...

to be continued.... (don't worry - won't take as long as last time. report card marks are in.)

If You Like Him... (1)

So there I was, sitting on a dirty, worn out chair, wondering how to extricate myself from this mess.
Oh, where was I?
Well... Ya see, my cousins used to live upstairs from this Sephardic family. They always seemed very pleasant, and I got used to hearing their "allo"s whenever I'd visit. And after my cousins moved from the Holy Land, and I'd finished my two year stint in Israel, I'd return each year and stay at a friend who lived one building over. Six years down the line, my face was quite a familiar one to those nice neighbors.
But I never knew what they really did. I mean, I knew that they were tremendous baalei chessed and all that, but I didn't know much else.
This past Succos, I travelled to the land with my family. Our apartment was just down the street from my usual dwelling place. As I passed by the building on my last day in the country, I stopped to chat for a minute with the woman of the house.

"You want my mum to take away ayin harah?" she asked.
Huh? So not my thing.
"My mum, people wait for long time to talk to her. She very good. Come."
My mother looked at me. I gave her a quizzical look as she told the woman "Why not? Can't hurt. Go on in, ok? Call me when you're finished and we'll go to the Kosel."

So I followed the woman into her mother's apartment...

to be continued...

Sing To Me

Sing to me, my friend.
Sing to me of love and devotion.

Sing to me, my friend.
Sing to me of prayer and emotion.

Sing to me, my friend.
Sing to me of hope and acceptance.

Sing to me, my friend.
Sing to me of wisdom and repentance.

Sing to me, my friend.
Sing to me of dreams and desires.

Sing to me, my friend.
Sing to me of luminescence and fires.

Sing to me, my friend.
Sing to me of closeness and affection

Sing to me, my friend.
Sing to me of tears and direction.

Too Old To Dance

I went to a wedding the other night. There was this girl there, a few months older than me. She had the most morose look imaginable pasted on her face. She stood to the side while we were all dancing, and the kallah had to drag her in to the circle.

I tried to dance with her, but she told me she's too old to dance.
I laughed. Too old? She's got to be kidding!
She looked at me with a sad sort of smile and whispered "When your younger brother gets married, you'll know what I'm feeling, and you'll be exactly the same way."

And then she turned away.

I chased after her; whirled her around at the shoulder. I stared her in the eye and said firmly "No, I won't be like that. And I hope you won't either. Because you're worth more than that."

No matter how I'm feeling inside at times, I won't stand on the sidelines. I won't hide myself. I won't show a depressed outlook to the world.

My blog is my insides, though, so you guys get to see a different side of me than the rest of the populace.

Sorry for being so depressing of late. Thanks for your encouragement, and just know that it makes me smile. And I am really happy.
Most of the time.
:)

Take Away

Take away the wind
So I don't feel the breeze

Take away the doorways
So I don't feel the tease

Take away the clocks
So I don't feel the wait

Take away the smiles
So I don't feel the hate

Take away the clouds
So I don't feel the rain

Take away my heart
So I don't feel the pain

Our Argument

We just finished arguing.
As usual, we both think we're right.
I wish you'd take a moment to think.
Really think about what I've said.

I'm not the kind of person to just say things.
Take me seriously, please.
I've really thought things through.
My decision wasn't made in a split second.
Nor within a minute.
Rather, it was over many months
and spoken from experience.

Just listen to me for once, ok?
Listen to what I'm saying.

Know who I am
and where I'm coming from.

Know that I'm not you.
And I never will be.

I have different needs.
Different wants.

And you're making things very difficult.

Crazy

Sometimes I get overwhelmed
Can't find my place
Sometimes I can't hold steady
To paste a smile on my face

So I laugh instead
And you look at me
Like I'm crazy

I just laugh instead
While you tell me
There's no place for me

Sometimes I can't see ahead
Don't know my own
Sometimes I just feel that
My chances are all blown

So I laugh instead
And you look at me
Like I'm crazy

I just laugh instead
While you tell me
There's no place for me

And I'm messed up inside
And I feel hurt and pride
And I just want to hide
So I can cry

Without you calling me
Crazy.

Acknowledgement

It feels so good to be acknowledged for something by a family member.
Most of the time, my family becomes so used to things that I do, that instead of them enjoying it, they get annoyed.
My sis just called me to tell me that she really enjoyed a particular something of mine which she never really paid much attention to before.
:)

Love you, sis!

Afraid to Care

I wrote this some time ago. It's not finished, and I guess it won't be until something happens... (and please don't read into anything - nothing's happening!)

I'm walking beside you
Trying to understand you
Hoping to find some sort of connection

I'm reading into words
Thinking that they sound absurd
And my mind's flying in every direction


'Cause every time I close my eyes
I feel like I am in disguise
And you can't see behind the mask I wear

And I'm not calling for your help
I just want to be myself
But I'm afraid to show I care


You seem so self assured
While I'm crawling on all fours
You are so close and yet you're miles away

You think you know my mind
That there's nothing new you'll find
And it scares me that I'm feeling the same way

'Cause every time I close my eyes
I feel like I am in disguise
And you can't see behind the mask I wear

And I'm not calling for your help
I just want to be myself
But I'm afraid to show I care

Feed the Birds

Kol Isha Alert!

Often, we don't realize the value of the little things we do. We think we're incapable, not worthy enough; we think that noone pays us any attention, and that what we do or say makes no difference.

"Feed the Birds" recently became one of my favorite songs. I can listen to it again and again and not tire. The song's lesson is timeless, and I tear up each time I play it.

Keep doing those little things, and show others you care. Don't worry; even if you think you're invisible, you're far from it.

Eggs

Eggs are meant for boiling.
Eggs are meant for beating.
Eggs are meant for scrambling.
Eggs are meant for frying.
Eggs are meant for gargling.
Eggs are meant for binding.
Eggs are meant for poaching.
Eggs are meant for mixing.
Eggs are meant for devilling.
Eggs are meant for balancing.
Eggs are meant for cholesterolizing.

But eggs were not meant for throwing.
I'd like to keep my coat and car clean,
thank you very much.

Voice

I open my mouth
to speak
But not a word
emerges.

I try again.
This time
I manage to eek out
A tiny squeak.

And the next time
I can actually speak
But in a different voice
From my own.

This voice is deeper.
Hoarser.
More manly.

But I'm a woman.
And I want to sound like one.
I don't want to have people run
at the sound of my voice.
I don't want to feel
the scratchiness.
I don't want to have to
concentrate
In order to awallow.

And I want to sing.

Can I have my voice back?
PLEASE?

Preoccupation

Sometimes
We become so preoccupied with
Braiding the challah
Painting on makeup
Slicing the gefilte fish
Dressing the salad
Grating the potatoes
Shutting the lights
Spicing the chicken
Soaking the beans
Peeling the vegetables
Molding the knaidelach
Spreading the tablecloth
Polishing the silver
Dicing the onions
Taping the switches

That we forget that we should be

Thinking of Shabbos.


A wonderful Shabbos to you all!

Just Fiddlin...

I'm just playing around with the color scheme and header.
I don't like this one, but till I have a chance to change it again (that is, when I decide to procrastinate when I should be marking papers) this is how it'll stay...

So don't be surprised if you see a couple more changes over the next few days!
:)

Obscure

Her name was one of those you'd hear and forget; Chany Klein, Miriam Schwartz or some such obscurity. Actually, there were another three girls with the same name in her school alone. And her name fit her persona; a shy, quiet girl; a wallflower without any distinguishing marks.

She lived in a large house in Flatbush. Her parents were quite wealthy, and she lacked for nothing. Nothing, that is, except what she most needed. Love and attention.

Not that her parents neglected her. Far from it! They were the most loving, doting parents one could find for miles around. And they didn't spoil their children either. They knew how to walk the fine balance between giving and giving too much.
But she was a needy soul. Her lackluster appearance did nothing for her self-esteem.

So she decided to change her appearance. She shed the clothes she had been given by her parents and donned some new ones. Astonishingly different ones. She added some holes to her ears and to other parts of her body, to match the holes in her heart. She would arrive late for Friday night dinner, or neglect to show up at all.

Her parents were pained but were at a loss of what to do. And when her younger sister began to copy her, they felt that something had to be done.

They sent her away to a school. This school was supposed to help her; to bring her back home. But the other students at the school taught her new ways of dress and action. She began with marijuana, and then went on to try out other ways of getting high. Of escaping it all.

And one day, she really did escape it all.

And her family was left to mourn the girl she could have been.

Dedicated to the memory of that girl who never found her place...

Creation

Creation.
A word spoken.
A small, insignificant light
Slowly growing.
Growing.
Expanding.
Creating.
Creation.
A word we cannot begin to understand
For its ramifications
Are too great.
Too great.
Too fantastic.
Too unbelievable.
So we just believe.
And the world is born.

Creation.
A glimmer of a thought.
A small, insignificant cell
Slowly growing.
Growing.
Expanding.
Creating.
Creation.
A concept we cannot begin to understand
For its ramifications
Are too great.
Too great.
Too fantastic.
Too unbelievable.
So we just believe.
And a child is born.

Creation.
A cry heard.
A small, insignificant being
Slowly growing.
Growing.
Expanding.
Creating.
Creation.
An idea we cannot begin to understand
For its ramifications
Are too great.
Too great.
Too fantastic.
Too unbelievable.
So we just believe.
And we are born.

Tragedy

Wow, 30+ comments on Yeshivaworld. Some people really are bored.
So, some people missed the point.
Others are harping on the fact that I'm 25.
Still others assume that my job is well-paying. LOL.
And that my family relationships are perfect.
Some offered brachos; others, their condolences.
I truly hope no one was hurt.
'Twas meant for those looking at others as pitiful creatures to realize that we are not so. I'm not belittling the hurt and pain singles experience. What I am saying is that most of the singles I know, be they 21, 31, 48 or 25; most are not comforted by the fact that others view them as victims of a tragic circumstance.
Does that mean that others shouldn't care? Of course not! Please, continue to make shidduchim, how difficult it may be.
But to paint a life as a tragedy - please. Save that for the episodes described by one of the commenters (may they never occur again).

Way back when in high school
While studying English Lit.
I learned the definition
Of a word that seemed to fit

A sad and unfortunate event
A calamity of major proportions
A disaster way beyond belief
That led to much misfortune

Yet there's been a distortion
Of this word, or so I fear
For I've looked at my life
And note, no calamities are near

Thank G-d, I am quite healthy
I can see out of both eyes
My feet move oh so properly
My hands can fall and rise

I've got a job that I enjoy
My finances are stable
And I thank the Lord that I can still
Put food upon my table

I love my parents and I know
They love me just the same
(Though neither has forgotten
That I still keep their last name)

My siblings' homes are open
For a Shabbos or a rest
And my friends' phone lines are working
Though the times aren't always best

So why's my life a tragedy?
What's the crisis that does thrive?
There are greater disasters
Than a single girl at twenty five.

And yes, I am still hoping
That I'll meet my One someday
And there are times I'm barely coping
And can not do much but pray

But even so, my life is full
Of chessed and good things
With nary a tragedy in sight
On which to mournfully sing.

What To Say?

Years of praying.
Crying.
Looking around at those who have
What you don't.
Wishing mazel to your relatives
While wishing you had mazel
For yourself.
And finally,
An answer to your prayers.
The child you dreamed
You would hold in your arms
Finally seems to be
In your future.
And you're smiling
All the time.
Attend another's simcha
With joy.

But once again
Happiness
Has eluded you.
That baby
You thought was yours
At the last minute
Has been wrenched from
Your womb.

My dearest cousin,
I wish I could
Comfort you
But I don't know how.
So take my tear
And place it near your heart.
Take my hand
And hold it in yours.
Let us weep together.
And pray together.
And maybe
One day
Soon
We both shall merit
True happiness
Together.

:(

I'm feeling really sucky right now.
Someone thinks she's "helping" me, when in reality, she's ruining my life, bit by bit. I can't STAND it anymore! And then she attempts to take her own failings and pin them on me, saying that I do the same. And when I asked her for an example, she scrounged around and couldn't come up with any.
Gosh, life really sucks sometimes, you know?

Decisions...

Life is strange sometimes, you know?
You end up in places you least expected.
Accomplish what you never dreamed possible.
React to situations in ways so not like yourself.
Converse with those you shied away from.
Keep away from those you previously loved.

And just when you thought that your day would be
just fine
staying the way it is
and you're pleased with what you're doing
and how you're doing it
you get a phone call
asking you to make a decision
to change it all around.
And they try to make you feel
as if there are no options
when really,
they were the ones who messed up.
And they try to make you feel guilty
if you don't accept their proposal.

But I LIKE my job
the way it is.
I LIKE my students
and they like me.
Why should I
disappoint
myself and others
for them?

My Heart

my heart goes out to you.
what else can i say?
you're so broken
and i can't help you
because i don't know you.
all i can offer you
is my heart.
please
accept it.

Never Thought...

I never thought I'd be like this.

Sitting at a simchah.
Shmoozing with my sisters-in-law.
Looking about,
I notice my cousin.
Young.
Married right out of high school.
She's bloated.
Sporting a brand new maternity dress.
Cousin #2 hands me her baby.
"Can you hold her for a sec?"
Cousin #3 coos at her little one.
I bang my hand
against my head
In an effort to remove the tension.
They all said it would be like this
but I didn't believe them.
Didn't think I'd join the
quivering masses.

I smile,
stroke the baby on my lap,
And quickly hand her over
to my aunt.
I wish #1 a "Bishaah Tovah"
I take a picture of #3's kid.
Wear a mask
to hide the pain
of uncertainty.

I won't stay like this
But give me this night
to wallow in self pity
and cry my heart out
for what I don't yet have.

Chevron

Walking up the steps
to the cave of our fathers
and mothers.
I look to the right
and see the stage being set.
Hear the tech guy on the mike
chanting
achat, eh, achat, shtayim.
Smell the hooka
as a circle of guys
breathe it all in.
I walk up to a crowd
of pushers.
All wanting the priveledge
of praying at the graves
of those who came before us.
I pass through security.
They take my compact
telling me to come get it
when I leave.
I notice that the cabinet
they place it in
is full of knives.
Guess makeup can be dangerous.
(LOL)
I pray my heart out
in the sweltering heat.
I retrieve my goods
and descend the stairs
stopping midway
to take a seat.
to breathe in the sights.
And to cry for what I've missed.
For what I still miss.

Harachaman Hu Yakim Lanu Es Sukkas David Hanofales...

Cow Shopping

Off to the farm
To purchase a cow
To feed my Son.

Farmer,
Line up the cows
So that I may make my
Selection.

That one’s got
Way too many spots.

This one has
Much too much
Meat on it.
My son will get fat.

That other one
Moos too often.

This one over here
Looks like it’s been
Through a lot.

Farmer,
Are there no cows
Good enough
To feed my Son?

Bring the sheep!

No, that one’s
Too bushy.

And why is this one
So quiet?

That other one
Has curly hair.
Probably a bad temperament.

Farmer,
Are there no sheep
Good enough
To feed my Son?

Bring the goats!

Now, that’s better.

This one’s got
A nice long mane.
And nice and thin, as well.

But wait!
What are these patches
Missing from her coat?

Too thin, you say?
Can’t be.
One can never be
Too thin.

I’ll take this one.

What’s that,
My dear Son?
There’s nothing left too eat?
Son, you shall learn…

Mommy knows best.

Shana Tova!

Shana Tova and ah git gebentched yahr to you all!


I know I haven't been posting regularly the past few weeks.
My internet's been down.
Hope to be alive and kicking by next week...

Hair

Bald
Bare head
Swaddled in hoods
Towels
Sprouting fuzz
No!
Don’t touch the soft
Spot
Soft brown
Ringlets
Streaked with blond
Pigtails
Cowlick at the
Edges
Trimmed neatly
For school
Pictures
Held back with
Clips
Big bows
Matching to the dress
Bows
Poofy
Frizzy
In a headband
Blue
Green
Brown
Blending with red
Highlights
Bent over
Brush in hand
Blowing
Tugging
Pulling
Straight
A bit of wave
Held in place with gel
Pulling
Pinned back
Underneath some new
Hair.

Foreign

The customs officer waved me on.
"Gracias!" I said.
I entered the arrivals hall
scanning the crowd for a familiar face.
I did not see her.
She said she would be waiting
but she wasn't.
I walked over to a payphone.
Cards only.
Some guy
wanting to practice his english
offered to help
and pointed me to a store.
Only the store did not sell cards.
I asked a girl using the phone
where she bought hers.
In broken english
she informed me
but the woman behind the counter
gave me the wrong thing.
I was getting desperate.
Here I was
alone
in a foreign country
barely speaking a word of the language.
The girl from the phone offered her card.
I called my friend.
She was stuck in traffic.
I breathed a sigh of relief
as I waited it out.

But I was thinking...
Wouldn't it have been easier
if I had taken the time
to learn some words of Spanish
BEFORE I came on this trip?

Wouldn't it be easier
to take the time
and learn some of the prayers
BEFORE we take a trip
through the Yamim Noraim?

Won't we feel more at ease?
More at home?

Pressure

I hate being pressured to do something I dislike. I have a difficult time saying no, and once I'm committed to something, I rarely back out. So why is it that others, especially some of those close to me, take advantage of this aspect of me? Don't they know that it hurts me so? Don't the know that it pains me greatly to be be teased? Don't they realize that in order for me to be happy right now, I don't have to be making money, but rather, enjoy what I'm doing? Why do others try to make me feel guilty for choosing to teach rather than working in a myriad of other jobs? Why do I have to make $70,000+ in order to be considered succesful? What if I just want to CHILL right now? What if I find fulfillment in other areas? I don't have a family now. I don't have many bills to pay. I just want to contribute to the world right now, in my own way. Can't they just let me be?

I'm getting so totally sick of the jabs aimed at me that I want to just run far, far away...

I Thought...

I thought I heard your voice
Yesterday
But it was only the echo
of some long forgotten memory.

I thought I heard you sing
Yesterday
But it was only the music
of a passing car.

I thought I heard your steps
Yesterday
But it was only the woman
who comes to clean.

I thought I saw your face
Yeterday
But it was only a passing
reflection in the mirror.

I thought I felt your touch
Yesterday
But it was only the branch
of a tree in the wind.

I dreamed of you
Yesterday.
Of what you would be.
Of who you would be.
Of where you would be.

I'm still dreaming.
And tomorrow
is another day.

Hit

Last night, I hit a dog.
It darted out in front of my car.
I tried to swerve around it, but it was too late.
It had already gone under my wheel.
The dog's owner screamed and cried over her severely injured pet.
One witness cursed me out, along with all other Jews.
Another came to my aid, saying that it wasn't my fault.
Two others called 911.
The owner zoomed off to the vet.
I doubt the dog made it.
Withing minutes, there were ten police cars and a state trooper surrounding my car.
I felt sick to my stomach.
Just kept imagining the thump and rollover...
And kept shaking over the thought of "What if it had been a child?"
The trooper and policemen all comforted me.
And took down my info.
So strange, to hand ovr my license.
I never received even a speeding ticket.

I still feel sick at the thought of it.

The Written Word

Ksiva ViChasima Tova!

The power of the written word...

What more can I say?

Ah guten choidesh to you all.

Yesterday

YESTERDAY

Yesterday
Is no more.
Can’t change the things I did.
Can’t take back my words.
No matter how many times
I try to erase
To rub out
My thoughts of
Yesterday
They are still there.
Laughing at me.
Tormenting me.
I try to stamp out
The echoes of
Yesterday
But the sounds
Only escalate
And bang on my eardrums.
I thought I changed.
I thought I was different
Than what I was
Yesterday
But it seems
I am wrong.
I still remember
Yesterday.

The Judge

I find myself to be extremely judgmental many a time. Though I usually hide it quite well (at least, I think I do!) it irks me to no end how much I tend to judge people based on first impressions. One of the reasons why I like blogging so much is because blogging doesn't give me that chance to judge people until I absolutely know their stance and view and all else.

The crazy thing is that I deal with with so many different people from all walks of life and Judaism, yet I still am judgmental. I hate myself for it, and wish I could stop, but that takes so much work... And I've tried. Oh, have I tried, but it still doesn't seem to be getting any better.

Any suggestions?

Apples to Apples

We think we have to
know it all.
We think we have to
say it all.
We think that we have to
be smart.
Entertaining.
Knowledgable.
Infallible.

But sometimes,
all it takes to draw someone
towards yiddishkeit
is an awesome game of
Apple to Apples.

:)

Meaningless Hatred

For the past few days, I've been having some discussions (ok, arguments!) with some teens over the meaning of Sin'as Chinam. I told them that when you consider someone annoying, when you just don't like someone, when you hatewhen this person's around, when you don't like the way she sticks to you like glue... all that falls under Sinas Chinam. They were vehemently against all I said - they said that they don't hate the other; they just don't want them around...

What's your take on all this? How do YOU define Sinas Chinam?


For the next week or so, starting from aftr Shabbos, I shall be away and don't know if I'll have any internet access. I'll be back after that, so stay tuned!

I Shall Not Sing

I sit here
at the waters of Babylon.
My back hunched.
My head between my knees.
The waters lap at my feet
beckoning me to join them.
To run away.
I try to cry
yet cannot.
The well of tears
behind my eyes
has dried out.
There are none left to shed.
My home
my beautiful, magnificent
home
is in shambles.
And I sit here.
Chained.
Bedraggled.
Without a voice.
From behind me
I hear footsteps.

We need some entertainment
to help us
forget
what is going on around us.
Sing for us!

Sing?
Sing what?

Sing what?
A song that you always sang.
One from your home.

But how can I sing
my song
in a strange land?

Sing, you insolent fool!
Sing!

But my voice is gone.
I don't even open
my lips
to even try to sing.
How can I sing
amongst desolation?
How can I sing my song,
our song,
for those who have taken
song away?

No, I shall not sing.



If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget its strength.

Lonely

I shuffle about the grassy field. The sky is dark above me, yet I can't look up the stars. I just stare at the grayish-green carpet below me, looking around every now and then.

I'm alone, out there in the field. I'm always alone. No one ever wants to come near me. To befriend me. I come out to this place every night, and it's always in solitude. If anyone notices me approaching, they quickly leave the area. They think I don't see them, but I do. And it hurts. Why can't they accept me for who I am?

It's not as if I'm not pretty. I am. And all say that I'm cute and adorable and they'd love to be my friend, but I know they don't mean it. They never do. Even those who stay around once in a while soon discover that they really don't wish to be near me.

So I'm alone.

It's because of one thing. Just one little thing is chasing away the masses from me. And I really can't help it.





The truth is, I smell.

Ouch.

I just hurt someone's feelings really badly.
I didn't even know I did so until she came to tell me.
And I have absolutely no excuse for saying what I did.

For someone who prefesses to work with teens, and actually, for anyone, the comment was totally uncalled for.

And I feel terrible.

Ouch.

A Brilliant Idea

You come to me.
Ask me for help
in cleaning up the mess
you've made.

You come to me
And wonder what
I can do
to change the situation.

You come to me
And marvel
at your brilliant idea.

Sure.

Befriend her.
Change her.
Fix her.
Let her see that what you're doing
is right.
Forget that what I did
is wrong.

It's not hypocritical.
It's life.
Live with it.

Sunburn

I feel like someone
boiled up a vat of
glue
and poured it
over my shoulders
and nose.
It's been a couple of days
and the tingling
is still there.
Itching.
Scratching.
Hot to the touch.
And now
the glue has begun to
peel.
Ouch.

Pain

The pain hit me first.
It felt like a massive bowling ball
Rolling.
Rolling.
Rolling.
Down a long
Long lane
Thrown with great force.
Such that I can’t describe.
I watched it journey down the lane
Knowing
That there was no escape.
The ball just kept rolling
Straight toward the pins
Trying to burst me.
To flatten me.
And I watched it
Rolling.
Rolling.
Rolling.
Just wondering how to escape.
And then,
It made contact.
That massive black sphere
Hurdled towards me
And hit me.
Head on.
And I?
I who thought I couldn’t escape?
I who thought it was all over?
I?
I caught the ball.

If anyone figures me out from this one, please let me know you did, and then keep quiet about it. Thanks!

Prayer at the Kosel

I know that if I try
I can fly away
I know that if I reach
I'll find something to hold on to
I know that if I sing
I can bring you close
I know that if I think
My mind will think of you

'Cuz every time I say goodbye
I wish I didn't have to
And every time I start to cry
It gets harder to leave you
And every time I sing your song
I long to write just for you
And every time, every time
I want to stay with you.


written last year after a trip to the holy land...

Influence

What do you do when you have two different teenagers in one day cry to you over the fact that their friends are influencing them for the worse? And then describe what, in fact, they were influenced to do.

All I could do was cry along with them...

(More later on the actual conversations... just had to get this off my chest...)


actually, I just realized that I can't post the conversations... if I change anything, it just won't sound the same...

I'll try to posts my thoughts on the issue of influence later, though...

Tag

Jewmaican tagged me... Here goes...

1) Each player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves.
2) The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed.
3) At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

1. I love swimming but rarely go.
2. I love earrings... I own about twenty something pairs.
3. I spray perfume on almost every night before i go to sleep.
4. The only time I ever woke up past 9:00 was the first day of Rosh Hashana in sem. I woke up at 11:30... twas a shabbos, so i didn't miss shofar... i usually wake up with daylight (i think i've used an alarm maybe twice in my life), and the trissim were down so it was BLACK in the room...
5. I'm an awesome cook and baker. Any kind of food, but I prefer spices while cooking... and i won't eat something unless i've laid it out nicely on my plate.
6. I rarely drink fizzy drinks. Crystal Lite is one of my favorite drinks.
7. I was the smallest baby in my family. (if you'd know me, that's quite funny, cuz i'm tall)
8. I never learned to ride a bike.

k, i'm supposed to tag eight people, but i can't do that, so i'm just gonna tag 1. (basmelech's not really around, or i would tag her...) Mel - you're it!

The REAL Wedding... :)

For those of you matchmakers out there, here's a different ending...
LOL

She was alone again. Alone in a room full of her heart. She felt the tears welling up again, against her will. As she sat down on a chair to compose herself, she heard footsteps come up from behind. She looked up to see the same guy from before.

"Are you OK? I noticed your face earlier, and I asked a friend who you were right then, during the chuppah. He said you were the kallah's closest friend."

"Yeah, I'm fine. I mean, I'll be fine."

"Just wanted you to know that my friend will take good care of yours... Don't worry."

"Oh, I'm not worried. It's just that... well... you know..."

"Yeah, I know. I feel the same." He looked down at her. "All the guys going and getting married, off into married neverland, while I remain on the sidelines."

She stared. "Wow, you really do know how it feels. Never thought a guy felt like that. I always look over and see you all talking, and I often wonder why you even bothered to come to the chuppah."

"Well, listen, I can't exactly stand there crying. I'd never hear the end of it. So we sometimes talk just to get our minds off of it all." He gave a sad smile. "Sometimes, I wish it didn't have to be that way."

"I guess that as a girl, it is easier to let out my emotions. But I sometimes feel so foolish. Especially now. I mean, she's my best friend. I want to be happy for her, and here I am, bawling my eyes out. It's like some unseen force took my heart, ripped it in two and place a bucket of tears in its place. I just can't stop crying."

"Well, you're not crying now." He grinned.

She blushed. "Umm... well... I'm sort of being distracted right now..."
She felt her cheeks turn a deeper shade of red.

He smiled again. "Ah, well, we seem to be getting on pretty well. You wanna go out some time?"

She turned crimson. "I guess... umm.. but.. I don't even know your name!"

"That makes two of us. I don't know yours either."

"Do you do this often?"

"Nah. I normally go the shidduch route. But your pain really struck me, so..."

"Thanks for coming over. I truly appreciate it."

"No problem. My pleasure."

They exchanged names and numbers and he left the room, leaving her to contemplate this strange encounter. She couldn't believe herself. She had totally misjudged him. Placed him in a box in which he didn't belong. She felt terrible. Her tears had dried on her face by now, forgotten.

She dreamily walked into the next room, a small smile on her face, and went to join her friends.

The Wedding - 5

They were up to the brachos now. One after the next, others walked up, said the blessing to the bride and groom, and took their places at the sidelines.
By now, the talking had reached a crescendo, save for the "amen" after each brachah. She shivered. She thought she could handle maybe one more moment before she'd break. Shatter into a million pieces.

In the distance, she heard the final brachah being said. She saw her friend's veil lifted to drink from the cup. She listened as the singer sang of remembering past destruction. She watched as a cloth covered object was placed on the floor; as the chassan raised and lowered his foot once, twice, three times... She cried as his shoe came crashing down on the glass, breaking her heart along with it.

Then, she smiled. She wiped her eyes and ran over to the chuppah, pushing her way through until she reached her friend and embraced her in a tight hug, whispering "Mazel Tov" over and over again into her friend's ear. She didn't want to let go. Didn't want to erase the smile that now graced her face.

From the corner of her eye, she watched as the chosson was embraced by his friend. As the bochurim started singing and dancing, she felt her friend slowly let go, grabbing on to her new husband's hand as they were led down the aisle.

The guy from across the hall was singing at the top of his lungs as he danced in front of the newlyweds. He looked away for a minute, caught her eye again, and then continued dancing. She watched as their backs receded into the next room, as the sounds of singing slowly grew faint, and as the room slowly emptied once more.

She was alone again. Alone in a room full of her heart. She felt the tears welling up again, against her will. As she sat down on a chair to compose herself, she heard footsteps come up from behind. She looked up to see the same guy from before.

"Are you OK? I noticed your face earlier, and I asked a friend who you were right then, during the chuppah. He said you were the kallah's closest friend."

"Yeah, I'm fine. I mean, I'll be fine."

"Just wanted you to know that my friend will take good care of yours... Don't worry."

"Oh, I'm not worried. It's just that... well... whatever. I don't even know you. I shouldn't exactly be talking to you."

"It's OK. I know what you're trying to say. Ummm... Well... I gotta go now. Just wanted to make sure that you were fine."

"Thanks."

He walked away, leaving her to contemplate this strange encounter. She couldn't believe herself. She had totally misjudged him. Placed him in a box in which he didn't belong. She felt terrible. Her tears had dried on her face by now, forgotten.

She dreamily walked into the next room, a small smile on her face, and went to join her friends.

The Wedding - 4

She couldn't look anymore. It just hurt too much. Stabbed her in new places every time. She re-opened the tefillah booklet and tried to daven some more as the kesubah was slowly read out loud.

She couldn't. She couldn't say anything. She glanced down at her finger. It now bore an engagement ring. No, not her own. It was her friend's. A segulah, they said. Wear something of the kallah's jewelry, and you'll soon be wearing your own. Baloney. All tall tales. How many pieces of jewelry had she worn so far? How many times had she said Shir Hashirim? How many days had she studied Hilchos Shmiras Halashon?
Countless. Yet seemingly all for naught. She was still the same old her. Single. Alone. Watching it all from the sidelines.

Oh, the rabbis had finished. Now came the main part. Her friend would actually now be a married woman. Just a few words said by her beloved, a token slipped onto her finger and... this sure was hard to take. She looked down at her own finger, adorned with borrowed royalty. She stared at the sparkling stone, the glittering diamonds, and compared it to the simple ring that her friend now wore. So different, yet so far from her reality.

The Wedding - 3

She turned away, then turned to look again. A dam burst, and rivers of tears spilled from her eyes, mixing with the black of her eyeliner, streaking her perfectly applied makeup. A sob escaped her throat. A few people turned around, and one even shushed her. She didn't care. She didn't care what others felt, what she looked like. Truly didn't care. She was lost in her world.

Her friend's mother caught her eye, gave a sad little smile, and continued walking down the aisle. She held back another sob.

She turned towards the chuppah, to watch the chassan step forward to greet his bride.
His bride. Her friend.

Someone handed her a tissue, and she wiped her eyes, smudging them even further. She scrunched the tissue in the palm of her hand and squeezed it tightly as her friend was led around the groom. She clenched so hard, her fingers hurt.

She let go a little, and started shredding the tissue as a new song began. That always got her. Especially now. She had chosen that song. It was the one she and her friend always sang together, harmonizing for all they were worth. No more, now. Not for a while.

She glanced across the room. The guys against the wall were murmuring to each other. She grew angry. This was her friend's wedding. How dare they disturb? What kind of friends did this guy have anyway? She looked back at the chuppah. Her friend was still walking in circles. She looked back towards the other side. One guy caught her eye, grinned, and then went on talking.

The Wedding - 2

She looked down at the woman, then looked back at the page in her hands. Then looked down again at the woman. This time, the woman looked up and caught her eye.

"Mamale, you don't have a seat? You're crowding me a bit over here."

"Sorry. I'll move." I'll actually be glad to move, she thought.

She walked forward, settling herself against the wall in front of the first row of seats. She now had a clear view of the empty chuppah. And no bothersome woman next to her. She reopened the booklet and began the tefillah just as the music started up again.

She turned towards the back, straining to catch a glimpse of the groom. Her best friend's new best friend. She looked down at the floor as the tears started streaming down her cheeks, gushing forth from some newly discovered spring. Her shoulders heaved as she tried to compose herself. A hand brushed her back, stroked her cheek, and she looked up to see her other friend standing there.

"You okay?"

Obviously not. But she replied "I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

She nodded. The girl walked away, leaving her to her tears and self pity. She hardly heard the sound of "Baruch Habah." She barely focused on the singing, usually her favorite part of the evening. She just watched the floor, focusing on a moving black speck scurrying across the parquet.

The music changed tune, and she once again turned towards the rear of the room, looking for that familiar face that was now hidden behind a cloud of white. Her beautiful, wonderful friend.

to be continued...

The Wedding - 1

The large room slowly emptied as the people filed into the room next door and took their seats. The band packed up a couple of instruments and moved to a new location.
A happy murmured chatter filtered into the room she was left in, seemingly begging her to join in. To take part.

But she stood there, silently looking around, waiting... waiting... for what?
She didn't know herself. Resignedly, she took once last glance at the room and followed the rest to the next part of the evening.

The seats were all filled, so she took her place at the sidelines. Someone handed her a tefillah booklet along with a hurried "Im Yirtze Hashem by you." She whispered her thanks and opened the booklet. The words swam in front of her eyes. She shook her head, focused, and tried to say the tefillos. She couldn't think enough to say the words, however, because of some loud woman seated right at her elbow.

to be continued....

Conversation With Self

Do it.
No.
Just do it.
No.
Why can't you just say it?
I can't. It's just too hard.
Why?
It's just a new situation. I never did this before.
So what?
So it's much harder than I thought it would be.
And?
And therefore, I can't say it.
Why not?
I don't know what the reactions will be.
Whose reactions?
Mine. And the one I have to say this too.
Ah, you see? You said that you "have to" say this...
Yeah, I know. I know I have to. It doesn't mean I want to.
Well, not everything is easy.
I sure know that.
But you gotta do what you gotta do.
Ok, ok. I hear you.
So, are you gonna do it?
Yeah. It's already done.
Good. So how do you feel?
Good, actually. But kinda sad.
Yeah, I thought you'd feel that way.
I'm glad I had the courage...
I am, too.
But sometimes, doing what's right feels so wrong...
[ouch]

Shame

I just got off the phone with a relative in Israel... These are my first thoughts of the situation now occuring...

I shame for you
My city
For a pride that's been misplaced

I shame for you
My love
For a name that's been disgraced

I shame for you
My city
For a people so confused

I shame for you
My love
For requests that were refused

I shame for you
My city
For a fight that can not end

I shame for you
My love
For the violence they send

I shame for you
My city
For the fires in the souls

I shame for you
My love
For misdirected goals

I shame for you
My city
For an act that's been misused

I shame for you
My love
For a love that's been abused

I Never Knew

I never knew
What I'd feel
Until I saw you.

I never knew
What I'd think
Until I spoke your name.

I never knew
What I'd say
Until I met you.

I never knew
What would be
Until you suddenly came.

I never knew
Where I'd go
Until you told me.

I never knew
To get up
Until you held my hand.

I never knew
What I'd do
Until you helped me

I never had
What I'd known
Until I knew you'd understand.

Silence vs. Speech

"Better to keep silent and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt" (attributed to Mark Twain)

One of my favorite quotes, that is. And so true. Oh, is it true!

Oftentimes, we meet quiet people and think them as smart. But after getting to know them a bit, and hearing them speak, we realize that our first impressions were false.

And yet, this quote is dangerous.
Yes, "Siyag Lichochmah Shtikah" - the road to wisdom is through keeping silent - but there's also "Loh Habayshan Lomed" - one who is embarrassed to ask will not learn.

"Lakol Zman VaEis Tachas Hashamayim". There is a time and place for everything. A time for silence, and a time for speaking up.

Iyov kept silent, and suffered for it.
Yisro spoke up, and though at first he had to run away, his son-in-law became Moshe Rabbeinu.

We must teach the children of today to ask. To question. To want to know. To thirst for knowledge. To not be afraid to ask a question out of fear that it may sound foolish. Yiddishkeit is about asking, about questioning, about wanting to know.
And also about keeping silent and listening when it's the right time to do so.

Future

I look at these young ninth graders.
So innocent.
So unknowing.
And I wonder about them
As they sit here
Scribbling the answers to their final.
I wonder about these young souls.
Who will pass,
And who will fail.
Who will make it,
And who will fall behind.
Who will lead,
And who will follow.
Who will collapse beneath the burdens of life,
And who will grow from them.
Who will marry,
And who will remain single,
And who will divorce,
And who will wait for children.
Who will become disillusioned with Judaism,
And who will marry a future Rosh Yeshiva.
I look at these ninth graders
And I wonder about their future.
So unknown.
So scary.
Yet so bright.

written while proctoring...

Conversation #2

Conversation with yet another teen. Not a student of mine...


Hey!
Hi! What's doing?
Not much.
No?
Well, nothing I can do much about anyway.
Why? What happened?
Ummm... I got kicked out of school today?
You what?
Well, not exactly kicked out. I mean, I'm hanging by a thread. I'm really kicked out, but if I follow what the principal told me, then I can stay on.
So... What's the problem?
I can't!
Can't what?
I can't do what they want me to do. It's nice and all to go talk to people, but I want to be able to choose the people I talk to, not have them chosen for me by some idiot of a principal.
Isn't it worth it?
Worth what?
Worth it to just speak to whomever they want you to speak to. You get to stay in the school; you don't go through the craziness of finding a new school; you keep your parents happy; and you'll be more at peace with yourself.
But I don't want to go talk to this woman.
Well, do you want to go looking for another school right now? And besides, you didn't exactly try your hardest this year. Your marks are far below what they should be, and not many schools will take you with that average. It's simpler for you to just stay in this school. Maybe not easier, but simpler.
You're right. It's just that i'm sick of being in a Bais Yaakov school. It's so restricting. I can't do anything. And when I do it anyway, they find out and they get mad.
You know this is the best place for you right now.
Yeah, I know. A non Bais Yaakov wouldn't be for me either. I just wish they would let me be more free. I try so hard to stick to at least some rules while in school. Can't they see how hard it is for me? And besides, my closest friends are in this school. I don't want to leave. And they're good kids, not like me.
You're good, too. You just hide it sometimes.
Yeah, yeah. Whatever.
Don't "whatever" me. It's true.
Yup. Whatever you say.
You know, some day you're going to be this amazing person, and I'm going to look back and say "I knew her when she thought she wasn't great." But back to where we were before - what are we doing about school?
Don't know.
Come on. Make a decision.
Have to sleep on it. It's too difficult to decide right now.
OK. I'll speak to you tomorrow.

Grandmothers...

I love my grandmother.
I really do.
But when she asks me when I'm going to bring her some nachas already, I'm hurt.
Am I not a person in my own right?
Do I not bring nachas to my family through just being who I am?
I can't control when I'll get married.
But giving nachas?

...

Did Ever...

Did ever a song
move you so
and make your eyes water?

Did ever a smile
touch your heart
and light a fire inside?

Did ever a hope
come to be
and make you stand taller?

Did ever a sight
set you free
and take you for a ride?

Did ever a soul
show belief
and make your self greater?

Did ever a friend
draw you close
and help you to get by?

Did ever a thought
come to mind
and couldn't wait for later?

Did ever a dream
live in you
and lift you up real high?

Sing.
Smile.
Hope.
See.
Believe.
Befriend.
Think.
Dream.
And fly.
Just fly.

Me, Myself and I

I'm one of those people who needs time for myself. Often. Very often. And some just don't understand that.
I need time to think things through. I need plenty of quiet time. I need time at the ocean, in the park, in my room... all by my lonesome self.
Only I don't feel lonesome most of the time. I keep myself company.
And... I'll admit it... I talk to myself.
:)
Out loud.
When noone's around.
Berate myself for my wrongdoings.
Applaud myself for my right-doings.
Question my decisions and try to reach some answers.
Yell at people who aren't there.

And I do consider myself sane, folks.
:)

This is for Someone...

You know who this is for...
Posted 'specially for you.
:)

Kicking Trees

Why do we do the same things as others without thinking?

Giving Up

Wrote this a couple of months ago, but something happened last night that made me really feel it, so I'm posting it now.


I'm giving up, G-d.
I've done all I could.
I've traveled the roads
Climbed all the mountains
Built bridges
Sailed seas
Yet it seems I've remained
Where I began.

I'm giving up, G-d.
I've tried really hard.
I've dug tunnels
Squirreled through them
And back again.
Ran races in endless circles.
Flown over each tree
And bush.
But I haven't seen progress.

I'm giving up, G-d.
I thought I could
Do it all
But I was mistaken.

I’m giving up, G-d
And leaving it all up
To You.

Thank you, G-d.

One Tear

All I was waiting for
was one tear.
One little tear.
I needed it.
Needed to cry.
To let it all out.
But it wouldn't come.
I worked my self up
into a frenzy.
Screwed up my face.
Rubbed my eyes.
Waited
and waited
for that tear
to come.
But it didn't.
I couldn't cry.
Why?