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