Words

I take my writing very seriously. Rarely will I post something I am not one hundred percent proud of... and if it doesn't make me feel whole inside when I press "publish post", you can be sure it will be down a few minutes later.

Writing is pain. When you write, you draw out all the emotion, all the raw feelings, and all that is hidden spills forth. When I write pain, I write with a delicate hand. Words have become.. overused.... and abused... We have lost the true meaning of a laugh... (LOL!) And goodbyes become a superficial parting (BRB TTYL). What happened to "parting is such sweet sorrow"? What happened to the eloquence in language? What happened to the thrill of discovering the word, the PERFECT word, that would express your thoughts? Or the sheer excitement of manipulating language with such delicacy, that it seems like a new creation is being born?
Why have we become limited to 160 characters or less? Why do we limit OURSELVES in our incredible, solely human skill? We possess a power, far more complex and intricate than an animal... We possess a tongue that can lift, cause rift, create joy, instigate anger... we have a trait innate within us that sets us apart from any other living creature on earth.
Did you ever wonder why we yell with joy at a baby's first words? Or why we shed tears over a child who simply won't speak?
Do we realize why a speaker can stir us?
Do we realize the strength, the glory, the power (the pressure....the poison...) and the beauty of words?

When I write, I write to pass on a message... to stir a person to think about deeper meaning... When I write, I  am desperate for a reader to find the other side of the story... When I write, I want worlds, through myself and others, to be explored...

The art of writing is lost... It is a dying skill, doomed to be trivialized by miniature keyboards, touch pads, digital books and white screens. It is a talent that lately, few possess...

Words are power. Use them wisely.

Breaking Me

I will…

Break my will…

Bend it to your…

Whims and ways…

I will take all of my contrariness…

And snap it apart…

And leave you free

To rule the broken pieces of me…

Until all that is left…

Is what you remade me to be….

I will break myself…

Again and again…

And though I don’t know when…

All this will end…

I will break myself…

Again…

If only to break

This unending trend

And there….

I broke myself again…

I'll add another name..
To my already lengthening list
Of my brothers... my sisters...
Another one... in thick black ink...
Because...
We will never forget.

Strength... Dear Tamar...

Dear Tamar,
We've never met. And up until a few weeks ago, I had no idea who you were. You and your family lived in relative peace and comfort until it was ripped away. I wish I could do something. I wish I had words to comfort you. But there is nothing I can do... and there are precious few words I could say that would give you even a drop of comfort... To lose your parents, and three siblings in one night? Such an unspeakable act should never have happened... It's terrifying to know what baseless hatred can drive people to do.
After watching an interview that you did with an Israeli news show, I am reminded of a quote that has helped me along...

You  never know how strong you are, until being strong is the only choice you have.

I think these words epitomize you. From the interview, you carried yourself with grace, poise, and promise, for yourself, for your siblings, for your parents who are watching you and for an entire nation that mourns with you. Your words about rebuilding, about not being broken, about being a nation that will live, and survive, are so powerful, and rang with love and hope.

I can't imagine the nightmare you experienced, or the pain you are enduring, but Tamar, from that small glimpse I had of you, I can see your strength and that will take you far. You have shown an evil nation that despite their acts of destruction, they did not destroy. You have shown a struggling nation, a tired people, a worn out, beaten, yet hopeful family, that we can endure, we can persevere, and we will survive.

התנערי מעפר קומי לבשי בגדי תפארתך עמי

Shake off the dust--arise! Don your splendid clothes, My people (Lecha Dodi)

Tamar, you showed me: They may beat us. They may kill us. But we will never succumb. We will wear our royal clothes, and we will arise. Am Yisrael Chai. Klal Yisroel will survive.

מכל לבי,

Rachelli Dreyfuss

Top Ten Things I Love About Purim

You can guess if this is sarcastic or not...

10. The obscene amount of candy and junk food that has now plagued my kitchen and dining room... Gown shopping after Pesach? Pesach in a month? No biggie... Now there are just uber loads of junk to eat... joy...
9. The stress about what costume to wear (Luckily, I was able to fulfill two dreams- dying my hair red and dressing like a pregnant-Chassidish-out-of-town-tuna-beigel!)
8. Mishloach Manos Themes (I didn't really have one... but you know that poem? Well... my teacher used the same idea for hers... sigh...)
7. The wonderfully obnoxious teenage boys who put on their hazard lights and drive SLOOOOWLY through the streets while they honk an air horn (Did I mention I was driving around for over four hours today delivering Mishloach Manos? No? Well... NOT FUN!)
6. The uber cutesy engaged, or newly married couples who dress all matchy-patchy (ok, sometimes it's cute...)
5. CHOCOLATE (another serious one...)
4. "Who is sober?"
3. The corny jokes... make it stop...
2. A new Maccabeats video (mixed feelings...)
1. The lady who sat next to me at Megilla with her Gragger... App.

Welcome to Purim 2011...

Your Moment is Waiting!

This year, with all the insanity going on, I was sorta of theme-less for Mishloach Manos... but, I think that the poem I sent with my theme-less Mishloach Manos, sums up the essence of Purim... Seize the moment... Esther did. She was given the ultimate chance to save Klal Yisroel from a terrible fate... had she not taken the moment, she would have been annihilated... her and her lineage..

The week preceding Purim, a friend and I read Rabbi Fohrman's book "The Queen You Thought You Knew" which provided a lot of insight into Purim and the regal Queen Esther. I wholeheartedly recommend this thought provoking book which, with humor and brilliance, sheds light on some of the most confusing parts of the Megilla.

Later, I hope to post some more thoughts on Purim (Yes, that's right, I have a lot to say...) Until then, here is my poem for you to enjoy!

(And yes, I designed the card... no theif-ing please!... Thanks to Google for the Dr. Seuss image...)

A freilichen Purim!

Fairytale

Can we exist
Behind the mask
We have made for ourselves?
That prevents us from seeing
Or being recognized as well?
You have hidden yourself
Clothed in peasantry
When you could wear
Robes of royalty...
You wear a crown
Of dirt and mud
Instead of gold and pearls
The mask you wear
Is as fleeting as
The moment before
The clock strikes twelve (12)
And this fairytale you think
You live in
Returns to
An unhappy ending.

What Is, Will Be (From the Archives)

Too busy to actually write a new post... though there is a lot on my mind, so here is something for now...


It is what it is
And what will be will occur
I promise
That the future will come soon enough
And one day, all those "over there"s
Will become your right "here" next door neighbors
Stressing out?
What's the point?
It's all in your perception
I promise it's not reality
And what will be, will be
And what is... is...

Do They Know?

Do they know...
That this is our month of joy...
And they have no hearts...
But to kill a young boy?

Do they know...
That the pain of the past is still here
That every gun shot, or stabbing
Is still etched clear?

Do they know...
That we all mourn each lost life
When they were victimized
By the terrorists knife?

Can they even comprehend
The profound pain we all feel
When we see those tragic pictures
So graphic.... and so real?

Do they know
That despite their unspeakable, vicious acts
We will still emerge, rebuild and always remember
The night of these attacks.

Do they know
That they may hurt, they may kill
But never, ever will they destroy
The strength of our eternal will.

Tests

Early morning, far too early to think
Here's your pen and paper
Get ready to....
Write
Read
Run...
This is your test
The trial that will
Defeat you?
Beat you?
Or meet you
At the end...
And cheer as you
Race across the finish line...
And over the next hurdle...
These are...
The times we face...
The struggles we endure...
And each one
Is perfect...
And pure...
You.
Can.
Do.
More.

Top Ten Rules to Posting to OnlySimchas!

I apologize if this has been done before... here is my take on the matter!

Top Ten Rules for Posting to OnlySimchas

1. Do NOT use excessive exclamation points in the announcement (ex. Simcha of Shprintze Faigy Hopperstein and Yitzy Fellergoldenshpiel!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

2. If you don't know the name of either party involved, DON'T POST IT! It looks bad and no one can share in the simcha! (ex. Lucky Chosson and Lucky Kallah.... or, Chosson Yitzy and Kallah Shprintze.... get it?)

3. In your comment, it is exceedingly unnecessary to recap the last fifteen years or fifteen minutes that you spent with that person (ie. remember that time when we did that thing (insert inside joke here). And OMG, that time at that place was SOOO FUNNY!!! Lollll (insert name of other parties involved here.)

4. The cel-phone picture? Again? Really?

5. Celebration pictures should not include photos of the food (it just makes us jealous that we didn't get to eat it....) flowers (yes... they are pretty... so?) or the centerpieces (plan on donating them to my simcha?)

6. YES IT IS A SIMCHA, AND YES WE ARE EXCITED BUT WHEN YOU USE ALL CAPS IT JUST SEEMS LIKE YOU ARE YELLING AT ME AND NOT IN A NICE WAY (see what I mean?)

7. Brooklyn, Israel is not a place. Never has been... never will be... Let's keep locations consistent. Please.

8. Inserting "Mazel Tov" before the simcha (ie. Mazel Tov to Yitz Fellergoldenshpiel and Shprintz Hopperstein) defeats the purpose of comments... you've said it all....

9. If you see it's been posted again... please... spare us from seeing the same simcha six times in the news feed...

(They are engaged? Oh look! They are engaged again! And again! And again... and again...)

10. Only REAL simchas people... we don't want to hear about your fish or turtle...

Mazel tov and happy posting! Oif simchas!

Terrible, Horrible, No Good...

Switch the name, and this book would fit my day perfectly. It started with waking up... as in, I had no interest in getting up and wanted to stay in bed. Then, in continued with, getting out of bed late, not eating breakfast... (and that is never a good thing...)... and then some really shocking, horrible, terrible, no good, very bad news... In the past week I have had at least five or more crying outbursts-- so not ok.
And after today's "scandalous incident" I am left to wonder-- What is it that G-d wants from me? It's true... there is A LOT I could be working on currently.... But really, what is the message I am supposed to be getting here? Truth be told, I haven't the faintest idea... Is it something of epic proportions? Or just... a little light on the blink...?
What's the meaning behind this message? Or... the message behind this meaning?

Waves

I wish I could glimpse

Behind the hand, ready

Pen in hand, poised

To viciously rip out

All emotion

In black… bold ink

Fast scribbles

Cannot capture

The raging sea within

That longs to burst forth…

Yet the paper is dripping

Soggy from…

The waves of the flood…

And we all simply

Float away….

Road to Symphony

I've watched the hands
Tick slowly in a monotonous tone
Like trying to decide who to call
And only hearing the dial tone.

Endless repetition
Of the same patterns day by day
Wondering when all the confusion
Will just go away

Simple answers used to be easy to find:
Blowing bubbles used to give me peace of mind
I wish that talking to You would clear the clutter
But how can it, if all I can do is whisper and mutter?

Strength comes from within
But I feel weak all around
I have been trying to find the music
And haven't heard a single sound

The symphony that used to follow me
Has become silenced and mute
How can this endless road to nowhere
Be called my chosen route?

The path that I follow
Or choose to forge as my own
Which will lead me to the gates
So that I may sit beside your throne?