I'm addicted to Kate Nash

Seriously. Every moment spent at home in front of this computer, I listen to her on hypem.com. And every single song I hear, I love. I don't know what it is about her music but I could listen to her for 24 hours straight and still want more. Her album is due to be released Jan. 8th. See why I can't wait for 2007 to end?? She makes me want to dance in my seat. No wait, she makes me want to get up from my seat and dance. No, sorry, she makes me get up from my seat and dance. I have spontaneous dance parties whilst listening to her. I think she's my new English best friend who understands everything I feel at the moment and has just the right song to relate.

So I've been doing more writing in my journal on paper. Today was a day that made me feel connected to Israel. It's because my iPod wouldn't stop playing good, happy Israeli music - not just the sad mizrachit about lost love.

I went to the Rubin Museum today with some friends. Perhaps you know them: a Persian, a Jersey girl and an Irishman. After the museum, the Jersey girl went back to work, the Persian went to Connecticut and the Irishman and I went to find a pub - I mean cafe - and had a nice chat. Good solid bonding where I received some good solid advice which was greatly appreciated and much needed. Afterwards I was treated to a really salty and expensive dinner which may have been the first and last time I eat there.

Oh Kate, why am I up so late???

So much to want to say

So many things to be nostalgic for. I miss my past so much sometimes that I eagerly look towards the future. To rebuild and recronstruct everything that was and will be. I see my life in cycles. I see a new one coming on. Looking to make the right choices. The good decisions. And no, I won't let myself down.

What an English tune!

I love Israeli radio for playing the best music...

Ending 2007 with a bang

Well a thud really. A fall...yeah so it was raining last night and my wonderfully comfortable and beautiful but lacking in traction shoes gave me a slip while trying to go towards a bagel place last night. So my coat had to go to the dry cleaners today to be ready pre-holidays, my butt hurts, my jeans smelled like dirty Brooklyn water, and I was in desperate need of a shower at 5:30am. Oh, and I have a cold. I was on the verge of crying last night. I think I've just about had it with 2007. It was a good run but I'm ready for new things, new numbers. In case you don't know, I think I'm a clairvoyant - I've been known to make predictions that have come true, however they're all baby-related. But now I make 2008 predictions. My friend and I have agreed that 2008 is going to be a good year. This even year is going to be a great year. I just have a feeling. Many people are going to meet their partners in 2008 - not everyone though, just some people. For others there will be new business opportunities. As for myself...well, I can't predict for myself because I have this problem where I just can't invision myself in the future for some odd reason. I hope that's not a sign of sorts in itself. That could be scary...

Oh how this time of year makes me miss Israel. Lately I've been obsessively listening to Israeli radio on line at work but I never get to rock out. I feel like more than the news, it's the music that makes me feel connected. I know I'm going to have to go for a visit soon. I was hoping that I could come over the xmas/New Year's break but my budget just can't cover that right now. It's all good though. Soon when it's right.

There's so much more to say. Like how my friend suggested I make the time to write in a very focused manner every day. Not when I am inspired to write, but just to write for the sake of writing consistently. I'm working on it. I hope to focus on that this week. Too bad I don't like my journal though. I don't like small pages, I feel that the limitations of space limit my ideas and ability to write freely, so I'm moving back towards spiral notebooks.

...

For those of you who don't know, I started freelancing at a boutique PR firm in the city the end of November. A week ago I was offered and accepted a full-time position. I even signed my papers and filled out the direct deposit form. It's quite exciting. And for all you Brits out there, one of the clients I will be working on is Boots. They're trying to get out there in the US market w/their cosmetics line and also haircare and skincare products. So finally, right? I guess my hard work paid off. I'm very excited about this opportunity. Let's hope I work hard enough to earn myself a promotion and raise within 5 months - that's the goal. Oh 2008, how I await your arrival.

When Will I See You Again?

Because I'll want to look into this later...

One Above and Seven Below

Yo

I look like I haven't slept in days. I feel like I haven't slept in days. I like this place though. This job is pretty friggin cool. I'd like someone to sponsor a trip to Israel for me. Too bad I didn't get to tell a rich Jew last night that I would love to go back to Israel.

Every photo montage made me cry. Why do I get so emotional when it comes to Israel? I don't even get emotional when I'm standing at the Kotel, but show me one picture and the waterworks start. Geez. But this New York place is kinda nice sometimes. Although now I see it from a cube. I dunno, I can't think straight these days. More sleep please.

Today

It's busy. I woke up tired and made my hair big and fancy, put on my lil black dress and my fishnets for this Gala I have to go to tonight.

I got to work early, and hoped that today would be manicure day. Not only is it manicure day, but it's massage day! It's only 1:00 but it feels like it's 3pm. I can't believe I will be out and about, shmoozing rich Jews, until 10pm. At least my hair looks good!

My heart goes heavy sometimes. Especially when I see images from the folks back home. And where's home you may ask? Home is anywhere I left my heart. Living in limbo leaves bits and pieces of yourself with others you left behind. Maybe when you miss them it's the heart missing what was left because it wants to be whole...

Busy busy busy

First of all, Chag Chanukah Sameach to everyone!

Next, random thought: This morning I used a copious amount of hairspray and then proceeded to spray myself with heavy perfume. When did I become my mother?

So I started freelancing at a PR firm and I love it. As you know, I had a huge struggle with trying to find a job upon my return to NY. And as many of you may know, in my months of interviewing there were only 2 or 3 companies I wanted to work for or could see myself working for. Well, although I interviewed with this company for a full-time position, my motto is some money is better than no money, and if this gets my foot in the door, I'll take it!

I started work last Wednesday...(to be continued soon!)

So much to say!

So little time...since Wednesday I've been running running running until Shabbat when I rested but then 5 minutes after it was over I was back to running running running again and now I'm off running so although I have so much to say this is all I can give. To be continued...

Okay one more

ערוץ 2, יום שישי בשעה 13:00

I'd watch it.

Free write my life

Every road brings me back to him. Every hymn brings me back to her - New York - my first love. Israel was my mistress and New York City my lover. New York, the one who would tell me things like, "I got you" and "no matter how bad it feels, we'll get through this together." Israel became the one who would say, "you can always come back to me" and "come find home in my arms."

Last night I revisited my youth. After walking New York City streets on a gray night I found myself in a pizza shop, free writing for the sake of writing because something just had to get out. I continued going down memory lane as one recollection brought me to another and another until my legs carried me back to the Bowery Poetry Club for the Urbana to end all Urbanas. Like I told my friend, I would give up cheese for the rest of my life all for that one evening.

It was like my youth revisited. I felt alive. I felt 16 again visiting this place, these people, connecting voices I've heard to faces. Being wowed by the poets, seeing the legends of my mind, seeing the legends of real life.

When I saw the future of spoken word perform, I realized that was something I still wanted very badly, only I had let myself forget. I saw on stage a version of myself that was more alive than I had ever been. And it stung in a bitter-sweet sort of way. And it gave me inspiration and motivation to revisit this place, this part of myself I let slip away sometimes.

After my book was signed, I hugged Beau and promised I'd call him before he left New York. I stepped outside and into my own world. I decided to walk the 35 blocks to my bus because nights like these are too rare to be spent on a subway. I silently vowed to immerse myself in the spoken word scene again, for reasons like wanting to be a part of this community, and needing to be inspired by this raw talent.

As I passed Astor Place I smiled, watching some kids running while spinning the cube. I looked at all the buildings around me, crossed the street and continued on my way, as I started to fall in love with New York once again.

I challenge you

To take the answers.com writing challenge. Oh yeah.

Friday Haiku

Today I go to
jury duty. At least I
get paid. Finally.

Shabbat shalom xx

"What do you think is a good way I can strengthen my connection to Hashem?"

I asked him on the way back to New York from Montreal. For hours on end, both on the way there and back, we all filled the car with words of Torah. We questioned the reasoning of brachot and the right way to do them. We listened to a shiur about the World to Come. We spoke about the tzadikim who live in another world that we may never know. And we came to the conclusion that while we have free will to make our own choices and steer the course to our destinies, ultimately it is Hashem's will that brings us to where we're supposed to be.

And so when I asked for his opinion and recommendation for one thing that I can do to bring myself closer, I wasn't expecting the answer he gave me. I thought he was going to recommend another blessing to make when I eat, or say my prayers in the morning every day. But instead he said, "Well, I was thinking about this before, and I don't mean to preach or judge, especially because I had one myself, but I think you should take out your tongue ring." Uh-huh. "Well if you think about it, it's a metal bar in your tongue, so there's a kashrut issue." Ah-ha. I hadn't thought about that before. To which I asked incredulously, "So I've been eating traif this whole time???" I was in shock. I didn't know what to do. I still don't. Because you don't think that a tongue ring is like a metal utensil that can absorb which is why you need one set for dairy and one set for meat. So do I now need to have one tongue ring for sipping coffee and one for eating a burger? What if I use glass? All these questions seem ridiculous to me and probably do to you as well. But still, once someone points out something you didn't know before, it's hard to forget. So I'm left to step back and see what my options are. Maybe I should just take on some more tefilot. In the mean while, all suggestions are welcome.

This made me smile

Israeli chutzpa

It was an amazing night

I couldn't have asked for a better show with such energy, packed, maybe 150 people in the audience. And we did a fantastic job. We created this show from scratch and accomplished so much. I am honored to be in a show with such wonderful and talented people. Maybe in another life I could have been an actress.

Before the show started, during my 5th trip to the bathroom, my phone fell in the toilet. It was okay. Didn't seem to gross me out or anything. It kinda works now but I think it's a little shaken up.

Anyway, while waiting for the train to go home in the designated waiting area, a cop in Penn Station started asking people to see their tickets. Many had been sleeping and were now being woken up all so that they could buy a ticket for a train they had no plans to ride just so they could go back to sleep once again. I began to realize how lucky and fortunate I am, for having a ticket, for having the money for a ticket and for actually having a destination where this waiting room was only a short stop. I guess if you're able to read this then you're pretty fortunate too.

London Buses

I woke up this morning from a dream about him and her and me and a car and a computer in an office. I woke up this morning without having any interviews scheduled. By 3 PM I had 2 interviews scheduled for the early evening. After what seemed like a 15 minute so-so interview in an office that was shared by 5 people and looked like a tornado hit, and a normal length interview in an office to die for (well not literally), I headed over to the Bowery Poetry Club to practice my poem that I'm performing in my show next week. It was the first time I performed something memorized and it felt great. I kept my cool and was barely conscious that I was on stage. I just have to do it "bigger" for the real thing.

During the poetry reading, I got a call from an unrecognized number I assumed was a friend's work number. Turns out it was another PR firm calling about a job. When it rains it pours. London buses. Insert typical phrase here.

I'm not complaining though. On the contrary, I like that now I'm meeting with firms that light up when I say that I can start working tomorrow. I'm looking forward to proving to the firm that provides weekly manicures that I can be fierce.

I'm not sure I get it

This whole Paolo Nutini thing. I saw him perform on Carson Daly last night and I almost thought he was blind and/or had a disability. Maybe it's a Scottish thing. So now I'm watching his music videos to see if I get it. I still don't get it.

In this world where nothing seems right I need to write so in my mind I right the wrongs I've written.

Dear Corporate America:

It is 2:10 in the morning and while I should be soundly sleeping, I am awake and clicking through three (3) different job search engines. I am tired. I want a good night's sleep. I want financial security. Simply put: I want a job. Because I am sick of second guessing my choice to stay in New York and not return to Israel. I am sick of questioning if I made the right decision when I thought that there would be more opportunity for me in my native New York. But after months of interviews that lead to more interviews that lead to nothing, I am starting to feel something that goes beyond frustration; I am beginning to feel despair.

I have become a monkey dressed in a suit that barely fits me anymore since I've had to forgo my gym membership. My nails are a constant shade of boring that is something between beige and pale pink. I have become a hermit who only ventures to the city during the week if I have an interview scheduled. I have grown to truly appreciate honesty, because in this city so few people have been honest with me.

Corporate America, let me be honest with you. I am experienced. I am qualified if not overqualified. I am hungry - literally - and I am so ready for the opportunity to prove to you that if you take a chance and hire this girl who is tired of answering the same questions over and over again (my experience is on my resume; if there are any job updates I will let you know) that you will not regret it. Because I have a new found appreciation for ID cards, unlimited MetroCards, gym memberships, personal coffee mugs and weekly status meetings. I also have a new found appreciation for a steady income.

Corporate America, I beseech you. Do not see my year away from you as something detrimental to my career and your ability to make more money, but rather as proof that I can make it anywhere with my will to survive. I am creative, I am driven, and I can multi-task with the best of them. So as one of my favorite poets, Beau Sia, says, " Give me a chance, and I'll change the world!"

My resume is enclosed for your review and writing samples can be provided. I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Sincerely,

Candidate for Hire

My latest obsession

You Had Time (Ani DiFranco)

how can i go home
with nothing to say
i know you're going to look at me that way
and say what did you do out there
and what did you decide
you said you needed time
and you had time

you are a china shop
and i am a bull
you are really good food
and i am full
i guess everything is timing
i guess everything's been said
so i am coming home with an empty head

you'll say did they love you or what
i'll say they love what i do
the only one who really loves me is you
and you'll say girl did you kick some butt
and i'll say i don't really remember
but my fingers are sore
and my voice is too

you'll say it's really good to see you
you'll say i missed you horribly
you'll say let me carry that
give that to me
and you will take the heavy stuff
and you will drive the car
and i'll look out the window and make jokes
about the way things are

how can i go home
with nothing to say
i know you're going to look at me that way
and say what did you do out there
and what did you decide
you said you needed time
and you had time

Oh where to begin, where to begin?

For starters, I have decided that honesty is my new policy - with others and with myself. If something hurts, talk about it. If it involves those I care about who care about me, then why not? I've got nothing to lose.

The dreams just keep coming. Thursday night after dancing about the Torah and singing songs till the wee hours of the morning, he came to me once again. In a Rocky Horror Picturesque style, in a cafeteria filled with many Asians for some reason, there he was chatting up an Asian-inspired girl and telling her he could picture himself spending the rest of his life with her and raising children. Then I met a guy named Adam who was supposed to be Israeli. He seemed fairly nice and normal when we met in the cafeteria, but then it cut to me knocking on his door that had glass in it. He was behind it, wearing glasses and for some reason he had an S&M feel to him. Maybe it was the whip I could see from behind the darkened glass...

Eviatar Banai plays bitter-sweetly in my ear. One of the best musicians I have ever seen perform. I miss Israel in February. I miss it period. I ate salad from a non-kosher restaurant and then had to run to the bathroom a few times. Is that a sign of something? Is G-d telling me he doesn't f*ck around?

New York is so heavy sometimes. So stuffy. So light. So empty. So full. So full of itself.

While waiting for the subway last night, I saw a man bleeding from his head and his friend tending to him, dabbing at it with baby wipes. I was appalled to have seen one person on the phone trying to get an ambulance and not one single person offering their seat for the injured to sit and wait. The least I could do is offer my pack of tissues. When the train finally came, they didn't wait for the ambulance. They got on the train instead. A man tried to share a look with me that was supposed to convey "oh those silly Afro-Americans on drugs again." I tried to convey "do something and offer up your damn seat." How amazed I am at the lack of care and concern New Yorkers have. And I thought we had warm hearts. Silly me.

Perfect thought for the week's mood (taken from Yehuda Berg's Weekly Tune-up):

The Light is a parent to us all, and thus struggles every day watching us fall and pick ourselves up and fall and pick ourselves up and fall and pick ourselves up. But a mistake is a beautiful thing, as long as you learn from it.

Perhaps an even more painful lesson is the deeper the pit you fall into, the higher you can climb.

This week we have the opportunity to go back on a spiritual level to the embryonic state, before the fall, and to remember the deal we struck:

Obstacles are a necessity. It's our choice whether
they become chaos or opportunities for revelation of Light.

I, for one, am focusing on positive thoughts. I am not "hopefully" getting a job because that statement means I have doubts. I will get a job within a week. I will give more because I want to. Because it's what we should do as human beings in this world.

I will never say it better.

http://www.mrbellersneighborhood.com/story.php?storyid=1481

2-day chag...let the fun begin

During my last trip to Israel I officially made yerida - moving outside of Israel. Of course as you all may not know, I never officially declared that I was moving to Israel for the rest of my life. Rather, it started as a few months of time after I quit my job in New York and I just wound up staying. In order to work legally at my last job in Israel I needed to get a Teudat Zehut (ID card), which was rather easy for me being as my dad is Israeli. So technically I guess I did make aliyah, but I'm still waiting for the day when I make some huge declaration of where I will live for a significant portion of my life.

Where was I going with this? Oh yeah. Israelis (living in Israel) get to observe 1 day of religious holidays where us folk living in shmutz l'aretz have to observe 2. I knew that anyway (plus I believe in keeping the law of the land), and in years like this where a 2-day holiday goes straight through Shabbat, that's a lot of time in synagogue and lying around doing nothing and eating!

Tonight begins the holiday of Sukkot. It also begins me hanging around the Upper West Side and trying to get better (the recent change of climate has taken its toll on my immune system). In short, to those who live in Israel, enjoy your day in between chag and Shabbat. And to those who live in shmutz l'aretz, let the fun begin. To all - Chag Sameach and Shabbat Shalom! Happy shaking :)

A summary of days - Part 2 (from the bus)

Lately I find myself really missing my grandparents. I wonder what that's all about, but I like that they are constantly in my mind. I get a strange warm feeling from it. I hope to dream of them both soon.

It definitely has the feel of autumn in New York. Today my feet are in closed-toe shoes for the first time in weeks. Last night I was happy I had brought my coat.

Although I was exhausted and suffering from delirium after only a few hours of sleep on my flight, I allowed my mom to convince me that an 11 PM supermarket run was a good idea. It was one which led to cheese blintzes and half-sour pickles at 1 AM.

My trip to the supermarket was like a breath of fresh air. No Russian women to intimidate me. Every item in its place. Blintzes on sale (good old Waldbaum's). Like a dream. Like the NY skyline (sorry, but I write this on the bus to NYC)>

Ah Manhattan. My first love. This seems to happen on my first trip back to the city. Something like the chills mixed with cold sweats. But in a good uneasy way. I become anxiety-ridden as I think of a snow-filled winter. Note to self: buy galoshes and a raincoat. And yet I digress.

NY Israel, Israel NY. Will the dilemma ever end? One thing is for sure - nothing feels like home as much as Tel Aviv...except of course for NY.

A summary of days - Part 1 (from the plane)

I haven't had the heart to write much of anything lately. Too much dwelling on the last 3 - 4 years of my life. Too much dwelling on the past. How difficult it is to move on while seeming so effortless.

Some parts of my trip tried to make me lose faith in Israel. How bureaucracies decide what's convenient for them while always seeming to inconvenience those with a lot at stake. All in all, I do not owe 2,000 NIS to Bituach Leumi.

And who knew that in the end I would wish that I could have stayed? But I made a decision and so I should stick with it. What I would give for a full time job already. And a cigarette and a warm bed and someone with whom to share it.

I wonder how religious women feel about their husbands' appearance. There men/penguins seem to do a lot of learning and eating. They go hand-in-hand?

Finally exhaustion creeps up on me. These trips are tiring.

Word of the day

In my Inbox today I found the latest word that Merriam-Webster wants me to know.

convivial \kun-VIV-ee-ul\ adjective
: relating to, occupied with, or fond of feasting, drinking, and good company
Example sentence:
Ellen and Kevin's dinner parties are always relaxed, convivial events, with good food in abundance, and wine and conversation both flowing freely.

It made me happy to read, because that's exactly how I would have described last night. I can't remember the last time I had such a pure, good and happy drunk. It was great seeing some old faces. I loved every minute of it. Here's to a shavua tov.

There's something about an Israeli supermarket shopping experience that intimidates me incredibly. Perhaps the Russian women behind the counters who don't speak English and wouldn't be able to help me if I was in a bind. Perhaps it's that I need my American reliable pre-packaged portions that always seem to suit my meals so perfectly.

Today I completed a survey about my experience while on my 10-day organized trip to Israel. "It did not meet my expectations." In my wine-tinged truth, I must say what followed freedom from my trip hasn't met my expectations either. And the more I think about it, the brattier I feel. I have to say, I never once wanted to be anywhere else until now. Something's off and I think it's me. Because it's a Thursday night in Tel Aviv and where I once would have wanted to be painting the town red, I want nothing more than to bury my head in the pillow until I fall asleep.

Too many thoughts go round this pretty lil head o' mine

For 10 days I served as translator to 20 some-odd NY-area Jews

Either life changes incredibly or nothing changes at all. I look in the mirror and either I don't recognize my face or really it's just me 3 years ago.

I'm sharing a bed now that was once familiar. It makes me toss and turn a dream-filled sleep of past and present. Until I reach the root of the problem I will continue to blame it on the Tel Aviv heat.

Today's crazy...and it's only 12:30PM

I had a really great weekend - BBQ shabbat, naptime in the park, drunk off 2 drinks Sat. night with some Albany boys, Superbad (which was super good) with one of the three, and an all around fun time that I haven't had in a while. All I need is a girls' night of dancing.

So I leave for Israel tomorrow night and am supposed to arrive Wed. everning. I'm packing like a nut and will probably pack as many, if not more, pairs of shoes for 3 weeks than I had for a year. I'm crazy, I'm sure. But many I'm just looking forward to looking my best for the next 3 weeks. Who am I kidding...I know I'm just going to wear flip flops the whole time - you can't take the Tel Aviv out of the girl.

Baggage Begone

I beseech you. Release me lest I be left to my own idiosyncrasies.

Come to me in the night like a dream and whisper in my ear the ways that I may release you so that I will no longer be reminded of you in dark corners of this city.

Something in the air

This morning while walking to synagogue, there was a distinct chill in the air. The crisp smell reminded me of the cusp of autumn. Suddenly I envisioned myself walking city streets in a pea coat and scarf, hair straight, denim blue. It felt like the Upper East Side and a memory of a memory. Walking alone to meet someone - a lover perhaps - for brunch at a sidewalk cafe.

The summer heat started to creep into my daydream as I was taken out with a sweat. Another possibility in life. Another option designed to confuse.

How does one find the oneness?

Lately I find myself wrapped up in this big old city and wonder "How does one find meaning in the mundane? How does one find the oneness of it all?" Too many times I am wrapped up in memories of myself at 19, 20, 21 and 22 when it all began. Like blankets they warm me, and when it is too much I begin to shed the layers. Nineteen I lost and found myself. Twenty I grew stronger. Fell in love. Twenty-one I grew even stronger still. Found Israel. Twenty-two I unravelled, fell out, fell hard, fell more deeply in love with Israel still, lost myself.

When the memories rush like waters flowing from a broken dam, I find myself uncontrollably caught falling downstream with them until I wash up on the shores of serenity. If only I could find a way to stay on those shores.

Go Perez, Go Israel, Go Ivri!

http://perezhilton.com/?p=3048

I'm going to Israel!!!!

What up people!!!?!?!?! I have just been informed that I got accepted to a trip to Israel!!!!!!! So b'ezrat Hashem (with the help of G-d), I will be in Israel Aug. 22nd till Sept. 2nd on the trip and my extension is open!!!! Sorry for all the exclamation points but hey, I'm excited to see you all and go to the beach and jump and be in Hashem's glory and learn and love and I'm about to burst. So, with that said, on with the mitzvot and good things, for Hashem provides! (Wow am I a crazy loon of a frummer or what???) xxxxx

Last night a DJ saved my life

New York doesn't seem to have the same sparkle shine it once did. Last night was the first Saturday in a while that I did the NYC thing. I went with a friend to a tiny club I had heard of but never had been to. Her friend had suggested it and, well, what did we have to lose, so we had an impromptu night out that started off with a fun train ride in to the city (which was probably the best part of the night).

Exiting Penn Station at 8th ave. so we could walk down to 28th St. and over to 10th Ave., I got my first taste of male pattern rudeness as a pack of guys walked in our direction and one in particular decided he fancied me so much (as I was practically covered from head to toe in clothing) that he just had to touch me. Even though it was "only on my hand" and his hand "only graced my waist" it was enough to make me wish that we were in another part of the city and he was without his friends so that grrrl inside me could get all riled up and demand to know what made him think that he ever had the right to touch a complete stranger? Huh, you ugly clueless unintelligent insensitive senseless asshole?!?!?!?

But I ignored his advances and made him feel like I didn't notice that I had been touched by a stranger.

We finally got to our club on a strip of many. I wonder when this one will too change owners and get a new name. Waiting in line, ID please, I always look away even though yes it is me in the picture and I have been above the legal drinking age for years.

The hallway looked decent. No cover for two girls who come in alone. We walked into the dark abyss like animals freshly born and blind. I thought that there was a height requirement or that it was Amazon night because almost everyone was over 5'10" for girls and 6'0" for boys. There was no noticeable dance floor as the room was packed with tables and couches - "VIP" bottle areas where the women danced on anything they liked.

Needless to say there was more unwanted touching, but thank G-d no groping. Obviously there was drink-spilling, toe-stepping, and when I couldn't stand the claustrophobia anymore I knew it was time to give in and buy myself a drink. A $12 drink. The most expensive drink I've had since $13 Apple Martinis at Guastavinos on Saturday nights some 4 or 5 years ago when they still had their Saturday night after dinner hours party and apple martinis still weren't too sweet for my taste.

I haven't had much to drink lately, what with the three weeks and all, so it was no surprise that after 4 sips of my Stoli and soda I definitely had a buzz going on. After my drink was finished I was satisfied in knowing that it was my first, last, and only of the evening. I think I'd like to remain a one drink queer for a while.

While I had my buzz going so that it made me dance, I stopped for a few minutes and had a good look around. A couple to my left was doing their own version of dancing, which was really his leg in her crotch and moving from side to side sloppily. Scantily clad girls were everywhere and men were trying to catch them. In those brief moments that's when I wondered, is this what's really important in life? Is this what brings fulfillment? These nights of dancing and drinking when everything blurs into one and becomes one, where his touch of your flesh is still all your flesh and in the morning everything has become a question mark. Maybe it was at 22 but 25 seems to demand a bit more, like the opportunity for conversation even if it isn't taken advantage of. Dinner with someone you love. The ability to make a connection with someone that doesn't require making out with a stranger.

A year ago today

A year ago today I sat on the floor with Eicha in my hand, a candle by my side and my journal in my lap. I wrote about how I spent the years prior on Tisha B'av in similar settings. The first time I truly felt like his family, sharing candles and a copy of Eicha with his mom, her eyes following my finger running along the Hebrew letters. Time certainly does fly but memories stay as long as you let them.

"Zion spread out her hands; there was none to comfort her."

Boxes

Ever since I knew what it was - ever since I first saw the aftermath -
temporary lines on his arms showing his commitment to G-d -
ever since I saw him put it on
in his own little world
That's when I knew something was special and I...loved...tefillin...

Yes, those brown boxes with the leather straps traditionally deemed only for men as a daily reminder - you have a covenant with G-d
Something so special, how lucky you are (yeah right lucky, you try waking up every morning and doing this daily)
Something which led to my M.O. - "Tefillin is sexy" - and it is

Ask any Jewish man who has ever known me
Ask any religious girl and she will tell you
The lines on your arm are hot
And the mark in your hair makes us hot
And yes, this seems blasphemous, I know
And no, this is not some sick little fetish I adopted some years ago
But this is simply what my neshama - my soul - gets excited for

For whatever reason it has been my unknown duty to let it be known to men who are dawdling on the line, thinking, "Do I or don't I?"
That allowing yourself to submit to the Rabbi doing kiruv on the street
And making a bracha, wrapping the straps around your arm, positioning it in place on your head in the mirror, taking the care to make sure it is just right,
Showing Hashem that you care enough to take advantage of your mitzvah and all those things combined
It is all worth the rosiness that creeps into my cheeks when I say in front of said Rabbi that tefillin is sexy, and I want you to know it, especially if it will help you to stop thinking and just cross the line
So that some nice little Jewish girl with a "dark" side can see your lines on your arm
And flash you a smile

Watching Victoria Beckham on TV makes me miss the Brits in Tel Aviv

And the North Americans I associate with them. I know it's terrible of me to stereotype and group my friends together, but I can't help it. Tonight I watched a re-run of Posh's show on the telly and all the while I saw bits and pieces of my friends in her and also the bits and pieces of my friends that she is lacking. It made me wish I was back in Tel Aviv sharing a glass of wine and a fag along with some story about a boy. Or dancing on a bar till the wee hours of the morning...or at least trying to control my drinking so that I can make it that long.

I miss the face time because that's what we had. And no matter what technology has to offer, I can be phased out if not for that face time. I don't want to be forgotten. In fact I want to draw myself in photos where I am not. I may sound ridiculous, I may sound lonely, but really I'm just a girl in the best city in the world who wishes she was back in Tel Aviv.

I need a vacation

From people, places and things. From NY. From the feeling of being stifled and suffocated at once. I am so tired of having my freedom lost at my own expense. I am so tired of feeling like every piece of my life is being monitored - I am told by people when I have lost weight, how I do my makeup all the time, that my shoes are wrong, that my walk in my shoes are wrong, whether I really will return to Israel or not. Opinions are best when asked for and I rarely ask because as a person who only likes to receive criticism on her own terms, I am particularly offended by peoples' too-often too-easily given honesty.

I am starting to feel the way I did in Israel before that trip up North which was a breath of fresh air. I am starting to itch for privacy and hands to be unclasped from around my neck and the phone to stop ringing for once because honestly - if I may be honest without your request - I don't care to give advice on every little inquiry every 5 minutes. How happy I am that not everyone reads this.

I miss my sunshine and the ability to walk to the beach when I want and be anonymous when I want and have coffee for one at a table for one and the ability to change that at times. I miss freedom. I miss Israel. I miss my bf. I need a vacation for one or maybe two.

We spoke about him last night and then he came to me in a dream

Ghosts of my past continue to haunt me. When will they cease to matter?

At night he comes to me in a dream but what does it mean these days? His eyes rimmed red with tears and I awake confused again like when I was in a foreign land and dreamed of men who were chasing me or yelling across a crowded table or black cats climbing through my window and stepping over me. Dare I run away again with the risk of being followed by ghosts.

On Rothschild outside Independence Hall she sits and waits

My heart bleeds for my country and my youth. For memories that are so sought after it stings. It seems like ages ago when I was a kid at barely 21 in Israel for the first and second time and even then my soul remembered. I can almost touch everything I had forgotten that now my photos remind me. How I wish I could dive into each one and tap into my 6 senses - smell, touch, listen - truly FEEL textures, streets, I was on Rothschild before I knew what it was, will I ever taste falafel as that which I had in Tsfat - still best ever to this day but was it because these were made on Holy ground?

Tel Aviv of my youth, how different you would have been had I not been so committed, so strict to another's convictions. I don't even recognize myself, my hair the longest it had ever been, curly, wild, stomach flat, 10 - no 15 - pounds lighter, and that spark in my eyes...

All of us were so different back then, how we've changed and yet how some things never will.

I gaze at these photos, memories frozen in time and re-live them with the knowledge of how it truly feels to be in Nachalat Binyamin on a Friday afternoon and eating falafel on Allenby, what it's like to feel like Tsfat belongs to you and only you for one day, how every new site is worthy of a bracha...in these photos I look the part of Israeli beauty, Malkat HaYofi I never knew I was. How I wish I knew what others knew then that I am only realizing today - a little bit older, one hair grayer, 15 lbs. curvier. And I know how it feels when you've realized you've just had a full conversation in Hebrew, or even better - your first dream.

The photos continue. Something's missing now. It's him. And it doesn't feel okay but I know deep down it does. More Israel. I remember the corner where I photographed "K'mo b'America?" spray painted on the concrete - the beginning of my fascination with Tel Aviv street art. And was it really like America? It wasn't then and isn't now, but even then sparked questions of identity. Israel - who are you trying to be if not yourself?

Old streets, old memories, the photos stop and I am back in New York, a girl at 22, a girl at 25 - 3 years have passed and yet some things still never change.

Tick-tock tick-tock

That's the sound of my biological clock. Tick-tock tick-tock - I'm only 25 but that's the sound it makes when the second hand pokes me saying "Don't you want a baby? Don't you want to be a mommy?" And I do but c'mon, there's a time and a place for everything! Who knew that I'd be placing my feelings for babies onto little puppies. Maybe one little furry thing is the same as another. HA! Take that clock! I won't let you pressure me into pre-marital sex (haha) and other such WRONG things! I will go to shiurim that teach me how to dress and how to date and how to be Holy and I will show up with my darling little doggie and all the ladies in the class (including the Rebbetzin) will say "awwwwwww!" and they will silence you! And I will never be broody again.

Fading Fast

Israel already seems worlds away. Almost like a memory in the far recesses of my mind. An old acquaintance sent a video clip of what looked like a concert at HaYarkon. Maybe it was the slow chords of the song that tugged at my heartstrings, or simply the reality that I have in fact decided to stay in New York, but for some reason today - tonight - I miss warm sea breezes from the Mediterranean, friends to share a bottle of wine and a life story, fresh food on demand - hell, kosher food on demand! Israel, I miss you with the longing and urgency of an old lover. I want to smell your hair and hold you in my arms.

So this is the deal...

I've decided that it's time to start a more adult chapter of my life. After a mini, less adult hiatus and a visit from bf, I've decided that I need to start making money. Money itself does not make me happy, but the security it provides does, and therefore just like most other Israelis, I have decided to find a job in NY, save money and when I think I have enough, go back to Israel - hopefully in a year or two tops with some visits in between.

While I find NY to be less fulfilling, I need to grow up already and start thinking about my future. I'm going to want things like a house and kids and the ability to purchase $200 shoes without thinking twice again, and so hopefully my time in NY will give me the good kick in the butt that I need.

I knew certainty was at my fingertips and now it's almost in my hands. I feel it brewing in my chest. While I am not looking forward to working for the man, I am looking forward to waking up at 7 AM and having a normal schedule again. I'm looking forward to dress pants and pointy shoes. I'm looking forward to a gym membership where I hold a passport to work out freely and incorporate it into my schedule, working it in between the office and a poetry reading or shiur. I'm looking forward to company-sponsored happy hours and not looking at the street while I walk to make sure I don't step in dog poop.

But I will miss my friends in Tel Aviv and the warm feeling I get in knowing I can pop by a Ginrod's apartment on the way to Ulpan, or ask to use bf's bathroom after a rally at Kikar Rabin. I'll miss the beach on Shabbat. Pot luck dinners. Friday brunch at Cafe Joe. Friends who come from all over the world to meet in this beautiful country we call Home.

Meetings are already being set up for next week. Hopefully it'll all be worth it. But the one thing I know is that if it's not, I can always tell my boss to shove it and return Home. Until then, I hope to see you in August.

This one too...

Feel-good song

The tension of opposites

"'Have I told you about the tension of opposites?' he says.
The tension of opposites?
'Life is a series of pulls back and forth. You want to do one thing, but you are bound to do something else. Something hurts you, yet you know it shouldn't. You take certain things for granted, even when you know you should never take anything for granted.
'A tension of opposites, like a pull on a rubber band. And most of us live somewhere in the middle.'
Sounds like a wrestling match, I say.
'A wrestling match.' He laughs. 'Yes, you could describe life that way.'
So which side wins, I ask?
'Which side wins?'
He smiles at me, the crinkled eyes, the crooked teeth.
'Love wins. Love always wins.'"

Perfection

Luv, luff, love. Happy. I don't know what to say really. I like this. A lot. Life will happen. It'll work out. It has to. And mom and dad - you're adults now; you'll get over it, whatever it is that happens. More than a good feeling, this is able to visualize your future in front of you. It's just the little details that need to be worked out.

...

I can almost touch certainty with my fingertips. As the Vegas wind rustles through my hair I wonder when we stop being so confused and uncertain and finally become content with the decisions that we have made in our lives. When do we stop questioning how we came to be but rather embrace where we are now? I remember an insatiable hunger for life before the urge to run came about. I remember strength engrained within me. When did the running all begin?

I know that I can make a decent life for myself no matter where I am placed, but first it takes the giant leap with eyes clenched tightly shut - a blind leap of faith.

If I could go back in time I would change everything and at the same time nothing. And so I am now trying to focus on only moving forward. I am letting go of you, Past, and looking forward to you, Future. Every day I only ask for G-d to grant me the strength to believe in myself as much as others. I fear the day when others worry more about myself than I. I pray for the ability to follow through. To let go of the Gemini in me for just long enough to make something as permanent as life allows. Grant me the tender moments that make you feel as warm and chosen as when a baby falls asleep on your chest. Grab me by the arms firmly with shoulders squared, look me straight in the eye and tell me how much you love me and need me in your life. And if not, then what is it that we are doing here at this precise moment...

Pre-Shabbess Ruminations

My mom is starting to remind me of my grandmother lately, and I see more of my mother in myself with each passing day. Does that mean that I will one day become like my grandmother? My grandmother was a wonderful woman, and unfortunately I don't think about her enough since her passing, but even so I want to be my own woman leaving my own impact on my children I will one day, G-d willing, have. I wonder if I will be an old lady teaching my grandchildren about poetry slams in New York City back in the 1990s and early 2000s before dreams of Israel came into reality. Maybe they'll think I'm crazy and so I will direct them to Wikipedia the Nuyorican Poets Cafe.

Lately I've been a busy-body, helping a close friend do all she can to secure a job for herself and trying to get another friend hitched. Well, really just making plans to show her Shabbat on the UWS and take one for the team by going out in groups so she feels comfortable. I like it. While not busy with work from which I can obtain parnasa, I'm content with personal work - my little extracurriculars that make me feel a sense of accomplishment by knowing I'm helping to make someone happy.

And I realized it's quite nice to now have religious friends in the neighborhood. I think I may actually like Shabbat at home more than in the city. Who'da thunk it? Let's see how Shabbat will be in Crown Heights - yikes!

Shabbat shalom l'kulam.

P.S. I promise I'm not depressed

I just found this poem in my inbox from a long time ago and it seemed oh-so-appropriate to fit w/my life in limbo and lack of direction. But no need to worry, I have not resorted to slitting my wrists or popping pills...well, not for that reason, at least ;) Anywho, it's almost my English birthday and that means it's almost time to party it up. I'm looking forward to seeing some old friendly faces.

After by Franz Wright

Where I am going now
I don't yet know:
I have, it appears, no destination, no plan.
In fact no particular longing to go
on anymore, at the moment, the cold
weightless fingers encircling my neck
to make me recite, one more time,
the great reasons for being alive.

Permanent address: unknown.
In the first place, we are not convinced
I exist at all. And if I have
a job

it is to be that hour
when the birds who sing all night long wake
and cease one by one,
and the last stars blaze and go out.

It is to be the beam of morning in the room,

the traveler at your front door;
or, if you wake in the night,
the one who is not
at the door.

The one who can see, from far off,
what you hiddenly go through.

The hammer's shadow in the shadow of a hand.

No one,
and the father of no one.

Too tired

Relationships are too hard. I don't think I do them well. I don't know how I get into these situations where I am fighting for something I barely know is worth fighting for. I can't accept an apology I know is so heartfelt and sincere. It's still bugging me and I want to learn to let go. Mars and Venus, English vs. American, Yeshiva vs. not...sound familiar to anyone ahem ahem SD? I don't know what this is. Memories that have been displaced...misplaced? Place association. I associate our relationship with the place and hopefully will imagine it here. Somehow I doubt he will come. Somehow I doubt it all. Somehow I doubt I will sleep soundly and wake up with my voice again.

What to write, what to right...

Hello all there out there in cyberspace. It's been quite a while since I've felt connected, I think we've disconnected a bit. I constantly wonder what to write while dreams of the past make me wonder what to right...

The dreams came back to haunt me. Shavuot eve, sick in someone else's bed, alone. I tossed and turned one dream into another, my body wanting you, my subconscious him. I dreamt of people of my past as well as the present. I was looking for something, going somewhere, uncertainty was present certainly. He was nice, I believed, I was proven wrong.

I wish this religion permitted my future to be told. Let my cards be read and the lady in Nachlat Binyamin will tell me where I should live. The Angel Bethesda will point me in the right direction. I cannot believe that I deserve the mundane. On the contrary I believe that I am destined for the subtle greatness that exists in rearing children conscious enough to make the right decisions; that exists in bringing culture to a place where it wasn't before; in advising one's peers. I would like to be a shepherd in my own way in my own right, isn't it my right to live where I feel the most free even if my bags must be checked wherever I go?

My birthday is fastly approaching and I want to feel like I am ready for impending adulthood. It is unavoidable, so isn't it time to stop running? Why can't my descisions be as strong as people perceive me to be? For this birthday, I beg and pray please for certainty in my life, and the strength to back up my decisions and follow through 110%.

In other news, yes I miss living near the beach, and I miss hand-holding and bottle of wine-drinking even though I have seemed to put on a few pounds and so much much more. Wedding season is upon us and it makes me wonder what my regrets are if any and why. I want the life I am supposed to have, and not the life I should have had.

Movin' out movin' on

I can't believe that I actually thought this trip to NY would be fun. Correction, I can't believe I actually thought that doing the right thing and spending a lot of time with my parents would be fun. Instead it has left me convinced that if I do not get away soon I will go insane. Therefore I think it is time to look for a summer sublet in the city. Do the UWS "scene" for a bit. Have the freedom that Israel granted me. Be able to drink my wine and relax. I know I wanted to take the opportunity while in NY to save money and be responsible, but my peace of mind is worth more than rent money.


A friend's insight:

Mobius1: can i make an unsolicited observation
4:05 AM me: ok
4:06 AM Mobius1: you seem confused
like you're never sure where you want to be
and you seem like you spend all your energy darting back and forth trying to figure it out
me: you are correct mobius1
4:07 AM Mobius1: if you never take a risk and choose, you'll never get on with your life

In all honesty, I wish I was gutsy enough to just say f it and book a one way ticket and sign a year lease in the land that is holy. I hope that in another few weeks I'll achieve that goal.

But baby it's cold outside

Hey Brits! England called and it wants its weather back!

When I came to the last hour of my packing, barely able to zip up my suitcase while sitting on it, I had to consider if it was so necessary to pack up my coats and boots. Well who would have thought that Mother Nature would have gotten confused, and of course only days after my arrival April showers are now bringing May showers. Here in NY, the sky is gray, there's a chill in the air, rain falls and stops and falls again, and I, with a 30 minute walk to synagogue, am without my coat. I must say though, I am looking forward to wearing my fuzzy boots that were left in NY after many Israelis told me over and over again that the winter rainfall would only ruin them. I never told them about the pang of envy I would feel when I saw women walking the streets of Tel Aviv in their Uggs and other such fuzzy footwear.

I am also looking forward to NYC summer weather. The thick heat that fills the subway. Dresses without leggings. Tubetops. Sandals. Permanent flip flops. Oh, basically the weather I left ;)

From New York with Love

I'm exhausted. I wish it was night time. When I first came back to NY after 7 months in Israel I hated everything right away. Why? Because I set myself up for it. I wanted to hate NY. I counted on hating NY in the beginning of winter, the cold I forgot existed making me ask myself "why in G-d's name am I here??" I wanted to hate NY so much and love Israel so badly so that the only option for me would be to return. And now?

I checked in at the airport alone after making my goodbyes as easy and painless as possible. More like "see you soon" as opposed to "when will I see you again?" My flight was relatively enjoyable - I had 2 seats to myself after a very Israeli woman took up the rest of the row I hungrily wanted for myself. Movies were decent; getting off the plane was fairly quick, and I even received my luggage without relying on the kindness of strangers. I think I waited longer for my parents to arrive than for my suitcases.

I left the terminal in relatively good spirits, dressed rather smartly, my blue sweater matching my pumas, Northface backpack and the cart that held my numerous suitcases. I still found the JFK-area of NY to be quite ugly, but there was no hatred to be found within my opinion. So indifferent, or in decent spirits, I actually thought I could live here, but only in a semi-religious area such as the UWS or LI.

But where is the Hebrew? Where is everything that is familiar? The culture shock of the first few days always leaves me confused that I don't even want to leave the house. So instead I think about what my friends in Tel Aviv are doing right now at this precise moment, how I'd kill for a cigarette and a glass of white right now, and how much I miss of what I left behind. Typical isn't it? I know what you're thinking.

Bob Dylan serenades me into slight depression as I wonder how I am ever to fuse three lives together into one tiny room. I open my closet doors and my bureau drawers and rediscover clothes I have forgotten about from times that seem so long ago, such as corporate America and skirts that have ceased to fit lifetimes ago. I remember that I have lived a year without half of my wardrobe and wore only a fraction of that. Today is the day I learn to throw things away without looking twice. Today is the day I learn to make way for the future.

The good and the not so good

In order to live here, one must take the bad with the good. This is something I have realized in recent days and probably said I realized months ago. Israel has a reputation for horrible service, whether it's at the bank, your favorite restaurant, or even the doctor's office. And yet it's the rare moments of kindness that almost make up for it.

When Poets Moonlight as Bond Traders

Men in Brooks Brothers suits every day except the weekend but sometimes on the weekend are derivatives of Wall Street-type options when poetry is not and pipe dreams are pushed aside. We wanted to be poets in our prime focusing on the right rhyme without reason except for art's sake. Do they remember what it was like to shine their own shoes before they started drinking fine wine in Rome or somewhere in Spain? Maybe this writing is in vain and they still remain the same, writing when time permits poeticisms before late dinnas at the local bah, tie undone, suit jacket hung on the back of a bar stool, with a beer next to a plate of chicken wings and mozarella sticks in front of the big-screen plasma teevee where basketball teams of our youth play and we forget what brand shoes we're wearing.

My positive thought for the day

The mid-day blues

When I wake up I'm okay, probably because you're with me. And when I go to sleep I'm okay, probably because you're with me too. But there's something about the mid-day - even if you're with me - that makes me feel a little blue. It used to occur in the wee hours of the night, usually on a Sunday on the line that borders the end of Summer and the beginning of Fall, right before the first day of school. Sometimes it would be in college coming down from the high of an amazing weekend to the beginning of the mundane. Now the blues hits me any day of the week knowing that my life is quite uncertain at the moment, and also knowing that my certainty lies in my own hands.

I could decide tomorrow that I am coming back. I could begin an apartment search. Put out an ad requesting a kosher kitchen near Dizengoff and Gordon. Tell my mom that this will be just another month-long vacation. Enjoy summer in New York like I used to, and cushion the blow of cooler nights and an ending summer with the promise of return.

Trying not to think about it only makes it worse. But it's inevitable and unavoidable. I just want to leave with a bitter-sweet smile on my face, some good photos to keep me warm, and maybe a bottle of wine to help me forget.

Decisions Decisions

I don't want to make any. I'm sorry. I don't want to choose between old and new anything. I'm really sorry that I am aware of mistakes I make as they happen. I'm sorry I love when I shouldn't, and in a way only I know how. Why is it that just when you can't stop longing for what you once had available every day you suddenly want to cling onto what it is you may be losing? I don't like that I do this to myself and drag people down with me. I don't hurt people intentionally. Honest I don't! And I don't mean to f*ck up my flight shiz. But I did and I'm trying my best to fix it. Please G-d just give me an additional 10 more days with some of the people I love. *Note to self: daven and read Tehillim more*

Today a good friend is Jewish. She made one of the biggest decisions I could ever imagine. So I guess if she can do it, shouldn't I be able to as well? I'm trying not to get scared and run away. I really like finding home in your arms.

I find myself tossing and turning as my days become numbered. Last night the bad dreams came back. I dreamt I was being smothered by a man. As much as I tried to claw at his face that was so close to mine, I felt paralyzed and weak. His body on top of me, I squirmed under him. I woke up hearing myself whisper "stop, no."

A year ago today

A year ago today I realized that Israeli Independence Day is by far one of if not my favorite holiday. Overlooking Kikar Rabin from my King David balcony, standing with my Israeli roommate and watching the fireworks that seemed to be made just for us at that moment, I contemplated the idea of living here forever. If I could love one moment so much and have the opportunity to enjoy it for the rest of my life, well that just seemed so perfect. And it is. This is still one of my most favorites times of the year. The weather is still so unpredictable but the air so delicious. I love this country with all my heart. New York may be a long lost lover, but Israel can be a beautiful wife, an aishet chayil who has the Shabbat table set and ready when you come home from the beit knesset every week.


Juke Box Love Song - Langston Hughes
I could take the Harlem night
and wrap around you,
Take the neon lights and make a crown,
Take the Lenox Avenue busses,
Taxis, subways,
And for your love song tone their rumble down.
Take Harlem's heartbeat,
Make a drumbeat,
Put it on a record, let it whirl,
And while we listen to it play,
Dance with you till day—
Dance with you, my sweet brown Harlem girl

Not much to say really

I think this is the first time in a while where I don't have anything to really complain about. I can still be confused about the usual NY/Israel blah blah, and I can still be melancholy at times, but the only thing I'm remotely upset about are the new kilos that have decided to cling to my body.

It dawned on me that Friday was 4/20 and that I completely forgot about it. Not that I would have celebrated American University student-style, but it would have been nice to stop for a brief moment and think "oh, it's 4/20, I remember when..." But I guess that's what happens when you are in a new country. You begin to forget things about the Old Country, such as smoking holidays and Labor Day Weekend. But here we get Yom Ha'atzmaut - Israel Independence Day and I for one cannot wait to begin the festivities. I know this may sound sick, but I actually do look forward to the tekes - ceremony - in Kikar Rabin. It makes me sad and nostalgic for men and women I never knew but wish I had. It also makes me want to hug anyone in uniform. But you can't help but get excited as well for the boozing and BBQs.

It scares me to be so happy now. I know something's gotta give. But I feel like as long as I remind myself to take everything one day at a time, then I'm doing something to ensure I don't get burned in the end. It's getting harder to sleep alone. I must work on that. Chag Sameach l'kuuuuulam! May we drink ourselves into oblivion and nurse our hangovers with sunshine and an assortment of meat! *muah*

Family is sometimes just a technicality

Yesterday I learned that my father's father is in the hospital due to a stroke. That would make him my grandfather, except I believe that is a title which should be earned. He never earned it in my almost 25 years of living. So when my mom told me the "news" slipped in between bits of other stories and gossip, I really wasn't all that upset. In fact I don't think I was at all. What could I say except, "oh, that sucks." How can I make myself feel for a man I hardly even know? Someone who was more like a ghost in the family, a household name I remember being told was always working when I was barely 3 years old, old enough to know something was missing from the equation but not quite sure what.

I remember in recent (5 - 10 years or more) thinking, who will sit shiva - mourn - for this man when his time has come? Would I be able to overcome my indifference and attend his funeral? Would I have anything at all to say? Or would I want to ask him all the questions I cannot even form before it is his time to go? I don't even know the situation. I am still non-chalantly waiting for any family updates. Still indifferent as always, yet upset at myself for not feeling more. Wondering if I should feel more, or if I am entitled to feel indifferent because even that is acknowledging some emotion or lack thereof.

Lately I find myself experiencing so many things at the same time. Like longing for New York like an old lover. I harvest that secret excitement within me, letting the butterflies flutter but telling no one. I can't wait to see skyscrapers like a tourist, sit in Bryant Park and watch men take off their Brooks Brothers, trying to get a tan on their hour lunchbreaks.

And with that longing for New York comes the nostalgia of what once was with the excitement of what will be. There are secrets of the future hidden in the rush of the wind. I want to listen to the messages that dwell in my dreams; live my life by what they seem to mean.

Weeks

On the first day of chol hamoed Pesach (the intermediary days of Passover) we begin Sfirat HaOmer - the counting of days between Pesach until we reach Shavuot when matan torah occurred (the receipt of the Torah). Shavuot literally means weeks - the weeks where we are working to evolve spiritually from a very low level during Pesach to reaching the 50th day of the Omer where we are ready to receive the Torah. Normally when we are anticipating something we count down, but during Sfirat HaOmer we count up - we count how many days we have worked to improve ourselves and evolve; we count the work that we have done and invested during this time.

While looking at my datebook this morning I also began counting weeks...until I go back to New York. I am very conflicted in my counting of weeks, wanting to count up to Shavuot and beyond but finding myself counting down to try and make every weekend count like it's my last. No need to be sad or nostalgic, I will always have this city as well as that. Although I can't help but think about how once Shavuot arrives my time here is virtually over. Just one more Shabbat which may be my last for a while, then a week of limbo and adjustment, my milestone birthday which will have to be subdued due to the circumstances, a wonderful friend's wedding and then time for my family and friends. Maybe a belated birthday celebration or roadtrip to be added in to the mix.

I don't know what to count anymore. And I don't know what time counts anymore. Am I spending the rest of my days with the right people doing the right things? I'd like to be a bit more sober but somehow the bottle finds its way in my hands and a smile on my face.

1+1=1

So this guy comes up to Reb Shlomo Carlebach z"tl and says to him, "Hey Reb Shlomo, I think you're great and I would really love to write your biography." So Reb Shlomo looks at this man and goes "Okay but first I have to ask you some questions." The man agrees and Reb Shlomo begins his questioning. "What's 1+1?" Reb Shlomo asks the man who looks at him curiously and answers quite naturally "Two." Reb Shlomo asks him "What's 1+1+1?" The man replies "Three." Reb Shlomo then asks "What's 1+1+1+1?" to which the man responds "Four." After a short amount of time Reb Shlomo thanks the man for coming and for his interest but let's him know that it wouldn't work out and he can't allow the man to write his biography.

What's the point? How can it be that 1+1+1+1+1=1? Because if we are to live as spiritual beings on this Earth we need to realize that everything is one. That the man sitting next to me is my brother and a reflection of G-d and should therefore be treated as such. That everything is a direct extension of G-d's hand and that everything has a direct effect on the world - spiritual and physical. And so you would think what's the big deal? Why couldn't that man just write Reb Shlomo's biography anyway? But see because for a man like Reb Shlomo only someone who understands that 1+1=1 is someone who could be trusted to write his biography and could understand him.

While spending time with a friend from NY we were related this story and immediately we got it. Even before the story's end we just knew, and our souls were alight as a result of it. I often feel that this is the difference between my friends in NY and my friends here. That while so few people in the world actually "get" and understand me, it seems like the only people I would trust to write my biography are in NY. Granted this can be a bit premature. You can't compare people who have known you for 12+ years to people who have know you for less than 12 months. But even so, I believe that my attraction to spiritual feel-good concepts is almost lost on those who get caught up in the law (in NY and abroad). I miss the ones I turn to when I feel like talking about G-d for 5 hours and how living in the moment is so important and to realize that there is only One Moment which is THE Moment. And once again, dear reader, I feel like I have lost you (and myself). Chag Sameach! xoxo!

Dream Sequence

The time: Shabbat. The place: Friend's bed in Jerusalem. Scene: In a dream he asks me if I'm ever planning on coming back. Coyly I answer, "Maybe."

But I am home (furrowed brow)

"So when are you coming home?" my mom's friend asked me. "Home in Tel Aviv or home in New York?" I asked. "NY silly, when are you going home?" she pressed again. Like a kid in the gan, "I am home," I whined to myself, as I furrowed my brow and pouted. How could she say that? I live here. I work here. It is home. Right?

Or is that just what they tell us?

Have I been brainwashed to believe that this is my home because it is the home of the Jewish people? Or is it simply my selfishness thinking I am so entitled because my father was born here? Either way, in the midst of my confusion, stubborness and frustration, this country has become just as much home as 23 years in New York. The air I breathe is my sustenance. I have found a community here. Still torn, my loyalties are towards two places. I hope to fuse them into one.

It's gonna be all right

Sometimes it's good to meet up with old friends even when you're so tired you feel like you might pass out mid-sentence. Last night I did what I always do when a friend is in town about to leave the country and I'm tired beyond belief - I pick myself up and go out.

We met at a bar/cafe across from the park which I realized I used to walk by all the time noticing the guitarist playing on the steps and yet never going in. We talked about the state of affairs of the country and our lives. After an attempt at defining cultural Judaism, the only clear sentence I could get out was "I need a plan." He promised that he would work one out with me by the time I got home. Turns out his stop was way before mine and I was left with the question "what are you passionate about?" In truth, I haven't a clue anymore. Honestly. What could I answer? G-d? Judaism? Torah? The idea of a family? My friends? Poetry??? I certainly can't say politics. What am I passionate about?

I thought it was a little depressing at first, so I slowly walked home in the cool Tel Aviv night alone wondering where my path will lead me and what my plan will be. As I turned the corner on my street, my iPod did that thing I love where it manages to find just the right song to suit my mood. Standing in front of my building listening to Coldplay, looking up at that lone star and appreciating the quiet moments Tel Aviv has to offer, I realized that none of that mattered anymore. I will find my passion, or rather it will find me. And in terms of a plan, I'll make it up as I go along.

Today I miss New York

For no real reason at all. I guess with my sleepiness comes nostalgia for the people, places and things I had. This morning I found myself saying that I miss my other two. Of course I do. All the time every day even when I'm unaware of it. How can I not? You take two people who know almost everything about you and then you're expected to find replacements when you leave the country? I can't do that. I trust easily, but not that easily. I don't know when to hold my tongue but I hope I can hold the things only meant to be shared with soul mates.

I miss skyscrapers and Saturday nights and American Sundays. I miss the way the city looks with the sun shining brightly in my eyes, blinding me until I squint between buildings. I miss seeing the rastas in Washington Square Park trying to sell schwag. I miss NYU students while I secretly loathe them. I miss Soho walks and Broadway and 8th. 4 AM drunken Chickpea where we forget about watching our weight and request babaganoush and fried eggplant. I miss the Park at 3 AM when they start to play bad but deliciously good 80s music. I miss dinners before I got to the point where I won't eat out anymore unless it's Kosh.

I miss the UWS crew and summers in Central Park, shopping at the flea market where you can get a fur coat fit for a pimp for cheap. I miss bagels and lemon Snapple. I miss hooka bars that feel more Israel than Israel, and places in Israel that are Mid-East enough they remind me of NY.

But I don't miss Jones Beach. Sometimes I miss Sunset Island watching the sticks on liquid diets consisting of mojitos and cigarettes. And I don't miss snow, but I do miss wearing white at Oasis that time when we...

I miss names I will never mention and I miss names I may allude to. Like soul sisters and jellybeans and Israeli princesses and a guh-guh and even a mei-mei. I also miss my piano.

And I miss summer camp days, as funny as that may sound. Basically I have an overactive mind today that is forcing me to remember everything. Like being a cute, funny-looking kid with curly hair that didn't start to grow till I was 3 and chubby little thighs being called a chicken and made to perform for the camera when asked who the president was "Wonald Weagan! Claaaaappp!!!"