Oh to be the harmonica that touched Bob Dylan's lips!

To be the guitar strings that touched his fingers. The sunglasses that shielded his eyes. To be Joan Baez singing It Ain't Me, Babe. To be the comb that touched his hair. Oh to be the harmonica that touched Bob Dylan's lips!

I'm really proud of myself. I've been writing a lot more lately. I've got some good things in the works. Got some interviews lined up. Got a writing test I should be taking right now instead of playing on the computer. I'm also really becoming a huge fan of cinnamon. I need to learn to just say no when asked for my phone number. Or at least have a fake one I can default to. Or have the balls to say, "while I would love to offer that information, quite frankly I have no intention of adding another male to my friend pool, and I'm just not that into you." Looking forward to getting this writing test over with so that I can get back to what my creativity wants to write about.

Smile like you mean it

So being unemployed leaves me with a lot of time to apply for jobs, go to the gym at my leisure, and stay in bed and watch TV. When I was dealing with my recent bout of insomnia I was catching up on old episodes of 90210 - which I'd just like to say are still quite enjoyable and much more entertaining than the new 90210, despite the scene alluding to oral sex occuring in a car in the school parking lot.

Anyway, today it's catching up on The O.C. in between job applications and online conversations. This is the episode where I would have loved The Killers after one listen had I actually watched the show back in 2004. Instead, I was too busy enjoying my time as a new graduate and going to the gym after work, or shiurim or smoking hookah and drinking with my friends crashing on couches or arriving in Queens at 1am. Ah to be young again with such stamina.

Instead I fell in love with The Killers at the same time that I fell in love with the Arctic Monkeys. It was spring riding the cusp of summer where I would find myself many times alone in a Tel Aviv office on Achad Haam after my boss would be too busy cavorting with who knows, possibly toking on the beach while I was cooped up indoors left to my own devices. Which became playing with Hype Machine and blasting my playlists while having dance parties as I updated online news content. I used to rock out hard. And sometimes have sneaky cigarettes on the balcony with, at most times, the only other person in the office. We would make jewelry out of paper clips and talk about life and my constant regret and confusion and uncertainty and love for the country. We'd talk about other things as well but that's not for here.

But back to The Killers. And the Arctic Monkeys. And 2006. It was a really good year and I wish I could re-live many of those moments. So typical of the Gemini. Just when I think I am sinking so low that I am almost at rock bottom, I somehow see a silver lining and happily remember how hard I smile and dance when spring cusps summer.

Insomnia go away

I have been up all night. It sucks royally. Except for the manicure I gave myself at 7:30am and the catch-up friend time I had between 5:30am and now.

I know that I say I can't cry, but sometimes the most random things make me want to break down. Like commercials about weddings. Songs that friend's siblings have written for them. Photos of people in love. I dunno, it just tugs on my heart strings.

I would really like to fall asleep tonight. Any suggestions?

I love and miss and love and miss and love and miss and rest in bed to sleep to try to sleep I try to sleep but sleep doesn't come easy anymore and so I lay in bed I rest in bed lay in bed on my back while past present and future all circle and swirl in my head as I lay in my bed try to rest a little while rest a little while till sleep slowly comes. And when it doesn't, sit up, drink, swallow that little pill until body calms more than brain, brain slows, thoughts cease to stir, and sleep sleep sleep come up and over. Calm calm calm, the superficial sleep grants false calm, shallow sleep take over and I beg to dream of love so I won't miss. Let me dream of love till it's in my hand again.

Tonight I will lay in bed, beg to rest, beg to sleep, beg to dream. Of him and love and sunshine and sunsets over Mediterranean seas, breeze bring seasalts in my hair, sleep and dream of his fingers running through my hair, back to chest, legs wrap, shared heartbeat beat as one, dream as one, declare as one that G-d is One, one heartbeat shared with him and the world and the world and the world, and a land that breathes and a sea that smells - that feels - like home.

Just another Friday

It seems to be more apparent to me these past couple of days that I'm losing my mind - or at least my memory.

For the second time in two days I have managed to lock myself out of my apartment at times when all 3 of my roommates are not home and I'm left to fend for myself. Yup, I'm a dodo.

So this time I realized I had locked myself out while on the phone with a certain boy after running pre-shabbat errands. Not panicking I call the one in law school to have the option of talking to his vmail. Why worry the boy. Instead I call one of my most reliable and adult-like friends/roommate/brother/future bridesdude and venture towards the glitz and glamor of 5th avenue to meet him for the key. It's a crisp and beautiful day in New York and had I not been carrying around aluminum trays, toilet paper and dishwashing soap amongst NY elite, I may have been able to appreciate the scene like the rest of the beautiful people and feel like I, too, am a tourist in this city. Instead I felt like a douche as I'm sure you can understand. I mean, you really have to picture me with greasy hair, uncovered blemish, coat and flip flops carrying around household items. Pretty priceless.

My roommate now thinks I need to carry my keys on a belt at all times like a special person. Sweet. In addition to my keys I have also managed to misplace one of my favorite pairs of earrings, tweezers, and numerous other trinkets. I hope I'm better with friends and family and remember where I last left them.

I need to write more

And sleep more. Unemployment is starting to get the best of me. I've been down this road before and it only leads to a subdued insomnia, mild depression, and anti-social behavior. I need to write more. I need to make sense of change. I need to will something big to happen.