Mother Knows Best

How is it that moms always seem to know what's going on even when you don't say anything? There must be some psychic connection that goes beyond the umbilical chord. This world is getting even smaller, and it's impossible to escape.

Today I went back into my reverie, wishing that Hashem could bless me by waking up tomorrow 3 years earlier with the knowledge and experiences I have now and grant me a second chance. Why? Because it's easier than this. I hate having a question mark on my life. I hate that not a week goes by where I don't wish for simpler time. But I suppose I brought this upon myself and that I can change it at any given moment. I mean, what's easier than returning to New York, being with my family and friends, going after my dream job, being able to frequent my favorite poetry readings and being constantly motivated to achieve more.

Maybe my mom sensed all this. Maybe something was put into the universe. What did all my odd dreams mean last night? I fell asleep in a drunken fog, only to dream as such and awake in the same way. I dreamt I received a text msg. that said "I wanna come over. I love you." Was that wishful thinking? When I awoke I checked my phone only to confirm that it was, in fact, just a dream.

When checking my e-mail I got a quick note from my mom saying that this world is even smaller and I'll never guess in a million years who she bumped into. Before she could even tell me her story I knew...something to do with the ex. And so when I called her this afternoon, I allowed her to get worked up and excited, I feigned suspense, and then I beat her to the punch line. Ex's parents and younger brother in small, but popular, local falafel joint. They had a random conversation, figured out from where they recognized each other, and I was sent regards from ex's mom. What I lovely lady. I think sometimes that's the hardest part of a breakup with a serious relationship. Because in the whole time that you're dating, you're not just dating that person, but also his family. And in my reveries I am not so sad for what I had with him, but who I was at the time, and also because when you break up with that person, you break up with his family.

Sometimes I would wish that I could call up his mom sometime and just talk about shoes, or ask her for the recipe of my favorite dish that she would make especially for me when I would stay over on Shabbat, making sure to save a couple of pieces of eggplant for me on the side. In a way I became a daughter to her. It was pre-mature. I had no ring on my finger, not with a diamond at least, no real sign that said "I am a part of this family." And yet I felt I was. I think the main time I did was not when I would be invited to family functions or be there to help out in times of sadness, but once when I was unconsciously singing while doing the dishes and his younger brother told me I was just like their mom for that action. It was so beautiful and moving, maybe even unknown to me at the time. What I would give to feel a comfort like that and safety.

I hope that tonight will be something of contentness. Learning with my chevruta about Shabbat, meeting with friends to hear some good jazz, and hopefully returning home with a high not from wine or substances, but just from the simplicity of the evening. I'm tired of being in a funk. I'm tired of watching the way I speak in front of others. Tonight, I just want to be.

I'm nervous

Like really nervous. Like a lot of nervous energy going on inside me. Atoms and molecules buzzing about and bumping into each other with nowhere to go. Poor little things making me all crazy like this and my heart fluttery. Maybe it's because I haven't slept well in a long time. Maybe it's because Van Morrison is playing and I can't dance right now. Maybe it's because this is the first time in a while that I have been faced with something I fear I can't master. And maybe it's because the only person I want right now to help me through it isn't around so much anymore. Ahh..."to be born again."

Well, I am certainly looking forward to the weekend. Aussie friend is having an aliyah/Aussie day party and I have been looking forward to draping myself in the Aussie flag and chanting "Aussie Aussie Aussie Oi Oi Oi!" with the whole lot of them. It's going to be "heaps" of fun. That's what Aussie's say. "Heaps."

I'm too tired to make sense. But like my friend said yesterday, something big has to happen. Reminds me of listening to Bjork about 2 1/2 years ago during a Tel Aviv summer walking to the beach. "I can feel it/Something important/is about to happen" Well I can feel it too. Something big and important has to happen, because if not then why all the molecules buzzing about and making us all crazy?

Dear New York, I miss you

Okay, so I guess this is now the official I'm out there post for ya'll.

I realized today that there's so much I miss about the Old Country. I miss dancing till the wee hours of the morning with my girls. I miss lazy American Sundays. I miss Verizon unlimited mobile-to-mobile. I miss Central Park on Saturday. I miss the Yemenite synagogue. I miss my family. I miss my books and my CDs and Manhattan and Washington Square Park and Union Square and Urbana Poetry Slams and...and...myself...

I miss the time when it was okay to be unsure. High school. Harris Field. College. Visiting Nicole on Colonial and getting a grilled cheese. The pre-kosher days. The pre-shabbat days. The "I believe in G-d but that's about it" days. How I miss...

Where did we all go? Have we really grown up and taken responsibility upon ourselves? Is it still okay to be unsure like a baby taking his first steps? When do we finally learn to walk steadily and with confidence?

You always want what you can't have, and what you can you don't want

Seems to be the story of my life, especially with men. If they come off too strong, I'll run away. If they barely show interest, I'm hooked. Why is it that this seems to be the case with most people? We claim that all we want in this world is to be loved, but the minute we hear those words our first instinct is to run away? Maybe it's only if the feelings aren't mutual. Maybe it's just me. Unfortunately I've come to the realization that I'll do almost anything for love, even when it isn't love. Just to have arms to crawl into, something familiar, something to call home. But when the feelings just aren't there, it's time to look for another home.

I often wonder if life was meant to be this way. We all seemed to be consumed with love interests, hook-ups, etc., and for what? Isn't there more to life than allowing someone to have a hold on our emotions? When did we stop thinking about ourselves and start thinking about the interest of the moment? I know it keeps life fun and exciting, but for G-d's sake, I want my motha f'n poetry! Imagine if I stopped thinking, worrying, talking about him or him or even him, I could turn to Him (Hashem) and well I'd have a lot more time to dedicate to, say, improving my Hebrew or feeding the hungry or injecting some more culture into this city. G-d dammit I'm done. Whatever happens will happen and whether I want it or not doesn't matter. This time I'm surrendering control over my emotions voluntarily, or rather choosing to not give a f*ck.

This is an experiment

I've toyed with the idea of creating a blog for sometime, but I always feel that there is a certain self-censorship that's involved. And if so, then what's the point? I could sooner write in my journal at my own convenience instead of waiting to sit in front of this box. But sometimes you just have to throw something out into the universe. Here we go...

This morning at work we were out of Nes (I appear to be out of miracles as well...) and so I resorted to botz (I seem to be in a muddy period of life anyway...) with milk. Something odd happened though. There was a layer of botz that just refused to settle to the bottom. This has never happened to me before, although I am no coffee maven. But for some reason, I was very effected by this random occurance, much like I am by odd dreams.

I suppose like the botz that refused to settle to the bottom, I am also unsettled and have been for quite some time. Calling two countries home can be a bit trying on the soul, as well as the body, and for the past 9 months or more I've just been confused. I'm trying to find a balance in everything. While never being taught from birth that Israel is home, it's what I believe. But at the same time, I am just as much New Yawk as I am Tel Aviv. What's a girl to do? Go back and forth every 6 months? Flip a coin? Use eeny meeny miny? Talk to my local Rabbi or Kabbalist? No. I know what will happen. I will remain confused for a while as I continue to move on with life. Which sometimes makes things more difficult because instead of taking a break from life to contemplate my next move, I just make it while contemplating. I decide to return to Israel just after I buy the plane ticket.

Well, as I said, this was an experiment. Not sure how it worked out. A lot more to say, but I'm afraid of someone looking over my shoulder so I suppose I'll call it a day - a Thursday :) Here's to a night of normalcy, not too much intoxication, and a lot of dancing.