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."