Heroes

Raised upon platforms

Exalted in echoes

Treated like gold

And truth be told

It just shows how lacking we are

That we go so far

To treat another human

Like a hero

Did he go

To the depths of the sea

Did he find a cure

For a sickness so unnecessary?

Does he spout rainbows from his mouth

Or create magic when he speaks?

Did he shed light

In a world that was so bleak?

At the end of the day

When the sun fades away

He too will lie in bed

With a pillow under his head

He soul will be stolen

And only returned if he is found worthy

But not all are always privy.

Yet still, there are those

We treat with kid gloves

And see through rose colored glasses

But if you ask me

Those are the people

That need to be wearing the gloves

Digging in the dirt

Proving their true worth

Instead of making the rest of us

Question our own.

If only London Bridge would fall...

Don’t think I don’t notice you
It’s kind of hard not to
You’re just there
The elephant in the room
The following shadow
Spreading its misery and gloom
I find myself caught
Underneath your weight
Of which I cannot escape
Who can I blame?
To whom can I attribute this shame?
Who built this wall
Too strong to fall?
Father
Mother
Sister
Mister
No twister
Could destroy this
And it’s hard not to miss
Always there
Always everywhere.
Perhaps a fault of my own?
It is I, I should have known
Only I could have built it so tall
Too tall to ever fall
But perhaps I might have a chance
And now you ask
That I take it to task
To remove this barrier
I am no warrior
I stopped fighting
I’ve called a cease fire
I cannot go higher
I am just here
With this wall resting near
To keep my company
For that is a love
Of misery.

Getting an Edu(ma)cation

I never realized what power a person can have. How their control can literally change lives.

I was a substitute this Friday and last for preschool boys and I literally had a life changing revelation. (No singing choir though). Parents only want their child to be happy, to succeed, to be healthy and happy. And everyday they give that massive responsibility to their child's teacher to carry out. They have to believe that the teacher will mold and shape their children into that vision. It's frightening. And then, the teacher her/himself must live up to that incredibly difficult job. They have to show love and firmness, fun and strictness. They have to discipline, educate, model, perform and even teach! Being in a classroom with young kids just made me so scared for my future children. Will they learn? Will their teacher treat them like a curious child, or like a rebellious wreck? Will they fulfill their potential every day? Or fall through the cracks?

It's petrifying to think about.

So, I Think We're Related...

              

One question that I hear a lot is “Are you related to…?”

I’ve come to expect it when meeting new people, and I starting shaking my head and saying “no” even before they can finish their question. Jewish geography is great, but it doesn’t really work for me. My relatives who share the same last name as me aren’t religious so no one knows them, and the religious family that everyone is always asking about is not related to me. So, I have been content for most of my life to know that my family is the black sheep and I will never be a crucial connection in Jewish geography.

That is, until two day before I left for seminary something happened. Two days before I boarded a plane for the Holy Land happened to be my sister’s wedding. (And my mother’s birthday). In the midst of all the wedding flurry, my mother got a Facebook message from some lady claiming to be a relative. My mother explained what was going on and that we would get back to her. Mazel tov! My sister got married, I was home for one day of Sheva Brachos, and then bam, I was welcomed into my beautiful homeland.

I don’t really remember what happened that week (except for my first day… that was an adventure) but I somehow found out that I had a cousin (they WERE related to us!) and she was ALSO in seminary! Our first Shabbos was an in-Shabbos, but knowing where said cousin was in seminary, I embarked on the trek through the sweltering Jerusalem streets to find her. And find her I did! We had a reunion… or first meeting (?) in one of her seminary classrooms.

Now, to be honest, I’m not the “huggiest” person. (At least, not so much with strangers) But, how does one greet a long-lost cousin, a perfect stranger, but at the same time, a family member? Ok, we hugged. We gasped and giggled as girls are known to do and promised to keep in touch and spend Shabbos together during the year. Which we did. We went to my second cousins pretty frequently together and got to know each other a little bit better. And when her brother came to Israel, he also spent Shabbos with us.

Having had only one set of relatives who are frum (from the other side, so not that famous last name everyone asks about), it was very strange to suddenly have a new cousin to be obligated to. She didn’t have any family in Israel (my cousins there were the only ones I had) so I felt like I had to make sure she always had a place for Shabbos. Definitely strange.

Mazel tov again! My second sister got engaged during my year in seminary and her wedding was a few weeks after I came home. Our new cousins came, but sadly we didn’t really have time to bond and schmooze (Two weddings in nine months! Whoosh!).

We haven’t really kept in touch these past few months because of college, friends, life, etc., but in a way, had we not been cousins, we never would have been friends. We are two very different people with lots of different interests that don’t overlap. So while it’s great to have a new frum cousin, it also feels like an alternate reality, in which she just doesn’t really fit the picture.

I now have one new connection in my game of Jewish geography, but to be honest, it’s just weird.

So I Have This Friend...

And sometimes she makes me crazy! Ok, not sometimes. Always.
Now, don't get me wrong: she really is a great person. Her heart is in the right place and she does loads of chesed. But there is one flaw about her. It's all about her. If she did something for someone else, as nice and helpful as it was, she will martyr herself out to no end.
"I drove to three events this week! I didn't sleep but I like totally volunteered so much."
"I was the first one there so naturally I helped set up and was the last one there so obviously I cleaned the whole place, took out the trash, waxed the floors, and cleaned the toilets with my own toothbrush."
Ok, so I am exaggerating slightly. But only slightly.
Now, like I said, she is a nice person. But she is very me-centric. She has to be the best, spent the most, traveled the farthest, know more people, been there, done that at least a thousand times if not more.
And to be honest, it's starting to get to me.
So this post was half kvetch/half request for help.
How would you handle a person like this? How would you react to her endless stream of bragging and self martyrdom?
(To better illustrate this person, here is a video of a character she closely resembles in personality... I think you will get what I mean when you watch it)

Through These Eyes

If I asked you to hold my hand

Would you guide me somewhere safe?

I can't help but trust you

Your very presence assures me

How could you be

A monster

A mean old man

Or scary lady?

Will you tuck me in at night

And scare away all the things under my bed

Read me a story

And give me a kiss

Why would I ever suspect

That something is amiss?

I've been told to respect you

To understand that there is someone

Bigger than me

Smarter than me

Who knows more

Has seen more

And would only protect me.

I see the world

Through new eyes

I could never realize

That there are people

Who would want to hurt me

After all

I am only a child.

After hearing about the shooting in Newtown, CT and reading article upon article that tries to make sense of what happened, it's clear to me that what happened will never make sense. To descend upon a school of children, who are the most vulnerable, weak, and innocent in society, is an act that can never be explained, analyzed, rationalized, "psychologized" or understood. Don't bring proofs or reasoning. Just hug your child, sister, brother, or parent a little bit tighter. Give thanks for everything that is good in your life. And pray that those families who lost a loved one, an innocent child, or mother or sister can eventually find some comfort and happiness.

We Like It But...

Story of my life (from clientsfromhell.com)

"I really like how you edited the video by arranging each cut to the beats to the music. Let’s keep all that. Just one small thing - let’s change the music."

Goodbye

“Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting…”

-Peter Pan

I saw this quote, and it got me to thinking.... We never really said goodbye. One day we were talking and two months later, we're still not talking. But we never said goodbye. You've gone away. But we never said goodbye. So is that why I can't forget you?

But to start talking to you again would just bring up a whole series of issues that I am not interested in. I should just leave it alone. I should leave you alone.

But seriously... two months, and all I get is radio-silence? I get that you're busy, but honestly... it's insulting.

Ok, so I can't say goodbye to you personally, so I'll make a statement here.

Goodbye.

There, I said it.

I shall now wait for the Magical Forgetful Fairies to tap my head and erase you from my memory.

WhichWatch

I'm waiting
Watching my wrist
As the numbers stay stationary
But something moves
Telling me I am late
Early
On time
Past my prime
Or simply out of line
Perhaps
Flawed by design
Or
Perfection of my own kind.
Could twelve digits surround
As three hands move 'round
Make me realize
That even when I am lost
I can always be found
In the rhythmic pace
Of this tiny face
That sets the world straight
Keeping the same date
Or am I simply a prisoner
Locked up and trapped by
This intricate creation
That people say can "fly"
It's making me wonder
If it holds more power
In making me laugh
Or making me cry.

Job Wanted

When I signed on to be his "assistant", I prepared myself for shuffling papers, coffee runs and tedious tasks. I thought I would be sitting at a desk, watching as the hours pass by, mind numbingly slow, while trying to maintain a semi-decent composure. I wasn't really prepared for what my real job requirements would be.

He came in the first day, all smiles and good cheer, handing me a coffee.

“Mocha latte okay?" He asked, handing me the seasonally decorated cup, a jovial grin on his face. I took the cup, blank faced and utterly confused. Maybe I read the wrong job details? Maybe I was supposed to be telling him what to do?

I scanned my emails and, to my dismay, he was still the boss and I was still the assistant, only more confused than I was when I first walked in.

He swept towards his desk, dropping a coat on the floor, a briefcase near his desk, and a celphone on top of a pile of papers.

            “Rachelli, come in here please.”

            Making every effort to live up to the dutiful assistant I intended to be, I hurried into his office. The disarray I saw it in shocked me, when only moments earlier it had been spotless. I worked tirelessly before he came to make sure everything was in pristine order. Clearly his brain didn’t operate on “clean-mode.” I made a mental note to remember that, so I could avoid wasting precious time organizing his office.

            “I need you to do something for me,” he began, taking his eyes off his computer as he spoke.

            “Ok...” I replied, getting slightly nervous.

            “I doubt you’ll find it listed in your job requirements. It’s going to require some more skill... and creativity. And a bit of risk. Think you can handle that?” He asked, eyeing me cautiously. Eager to please, I nodded my head excitedly.

            Mr. Fried, or Josh, as he wished I called him, was a young entrepreneur, a bright mind with a lot of energy, creativity and drive. His father was the owner of the largest real estate agency in the city, and Josh seized the chance to get in the field. He bought houses, remodeled them, and sold them for nearly triple their original price, effectively becoming incredibly wealthy simply by having a great “in” in the business, and more charisma than any one person should have. His ability to hype people got him far. Contractors vied for his jobs because he was just so much fun to work with. Having daddy’s money to start him up helped him on his feet, and now he was buying at least one house a week, remodeling them in a few weeks, and selling for a nice profit. When I saw the ad he placed, looking for an assistant/secretary, it seemed like a great oppurtunity. Now I was starting to wonder what I got myself into.

            “I need you to scout a house for me. It’s supposed to be a real steal, but if anyone sees me there, it’ll be bad news. Can you do this for me?” He asked, his eyes opened wide, pleading. As his assistant, wasn’t this part of my job? Could I say no?

            “Sure.” He smiled. I swallowed all the saliva in my mouth, feeling it become dry in just a moment.

            What am I getting into?

Home (?)

What is home?
The place where I grew
Where I knew
I’d always be safe
And sound?

The building
Four walls and roof
Undaunted by wind and rain
An edifice
To hold all my pain?

What is home?
The structure that holds
Every physical memory
And every item
That ever belonged to me?

What is home?
The place where I buried my heart
For safekeeping and protection
Somewhere to return to
When I lose my direction?

Will I ever come back here?
Or must I say goodbye
I wonder what would happen
If I came back again
And called this home once more...

Rise

I did not think
I would be found
Ever
Yet, you came
Marching into my destruction
Ravaged by the enemy
Totally contaminated
Rivers of blood
Dirt
Rocks
Chaos
And I was,
Impure
Violated
Devoid of hope,
Abused,
Used,
Broken into
Tiny… fragile… pieces….
You came
In a ray of light
Your own battles fought
And won
Then, to come and rescue me
You cleaned me
Purified my hidden chambers
And then,
You lit a light within
Reignited a once lost flame
And it burned
Beyond the boundaries of reality
I, defying reality
Was able to rise
Once more.

Hands

Hands
Yours and mine
Aligned
Divine
Touching
Feeling
Knowing
Growing
As one
Searching
Discovering
Trying to find
Me in you
And you in me
Roaming
Until we come home
Hands held close
Too close
Too tight
Too perfect
Complete
Hearts beat
Breathing quick
I feel you
Slip deeper
Deeper
Hands
Held
Close

Another

Another
Girl
Guy
Engaged
Mazel
Tuff...
Tough.
Not
You
But
One
Day
By
You.
Her
Him
Let's
Goo
Ga
Drool.
Lchaim
I'd
Rather
Just
Drink

Easy

You know someone has bad news when they start saying, "I don't know how to tell you this but..." Bam. It hit harder than a kick in the stomach. It knocks out your breath. It takes away your smile.

S was one of those kids who could make any situation lighter, happier. I had the privilege of getting to know her this summer, and last summer and I saw a spark of someone strong, powerful, and happy. She wasn't oblivious to her illness. She took it in stride. As much as she will be missed, she is truly in a better place. I miss you S.

(I wrote this regarding something else, but I think it applies here as well.)

It’s easy to lose hope
It’s easy to despair
It’s easy to look at the sky
And think that no one is there

It’s easy to stumble
It’s easy to cry
It’s easy to look at this world
And think it’s all a lie

But taking the easy route
Never got a person far
And you won’t get anywhere
If you lose sight of who you are

It takes effort to grow
It takes strength to climb
It may look easy
But it even takes talent to rhyme

So if you look around
And feel like all is lost
Just remember, it’s worth every effort
To remain strong, at any cost.

When darkness prevails
And you’ve lost your light
It is buried inside of you
And it’s worth it to fight

Even if you feel like love is lost
Even if you feel like you’re at the end of your rope
If you call out in that moment of pain
Then you can always believe there is hope.

Lilui nishmas Henna Sara

This Moment

It's moment like these
Makes me wonder
How do I go on?
Near death
Near nothing left
Right before my eyes
No time
To think
To do
Bur You
Meant for me
To be here
To be near
Death
Nothing left
And I wonder
What's next?

SongDrunkLove

Pour me something strong
Something stronger than the last song
That was supposed to lift me up
I pressed repeat
But only feel defeat
Play this list
Or perhaps
Just pass the bottle
Before I throttle
Whoever is in sight
With all my might
Cuz the “strength of a song”
Is only how long
It will keep me from
Doing things I never thought to do
And if it were up to you
You would just press pause on me
Leave me be
And get your order
Leave baby in the corner
Move to the next melody
Played so steady
As I trip off
So disoriented
Gone to become
Reinvented
Or just rehabilitated
Into something
That someone
Could actually love.

Armor

Another disappointment
Drills a deepening hole inside of me
To combat this blackness within
I strengthen the armor I wear
The belief that this is for me best
That Someone knows I can pass this test
That something better is in store
Because He only wants to give me more
And if I can win the battles within my inner war
He will release the redemption
That I have been longing for
And so, I struggle through these battlegrounds
Until I will find my oasis of peace and satisfaction
That could not compare to the fraction
Of joy I thought I wanted to have now
And whether it will come today,
Tomorrow
Or in ten years from now,
I will mend my heart
I will build my city’s walls
That could never fall
Because I have fortified them
With faith
Belief
Love
And trust
With this, I know
I can go on.

That Which Time Cannot Understand

Time goes by

And time can erase

What all else cannot

Yet I have not forgotten you

The day still remains

Too clear and painful

When I heard

Again

And again

The news that was too terrible to bear

“He’s gone…”

And I tried to hold it in

Until, alone

I could cry

Release the pain

The frustration

And most of all

The wondering

Of why?

Why him?

Why so tragically?

Why so young?

Then and now

I can’t piece together

All these questions

All this confusion

And most of all

I can’t understand

How time can erase

That which time cannot understand

For Sale

I've changed

I am watching you change too

Into someone I barely recognize

And I wish this wasn't true

The power of this society

Has dragged you into its world

And as time drags on

I watch everything unfurl

If you sell your soul

You reach your goal

And they will have you

Completely in their control

Is this really a cult

Or a family you've joined

And I cannot decide on which side of the coin

You've placed your bet

But if they let

You may just accept the charge.

Do I still know you?

You said you would not accept

Perhaps only from me

And so you would regret

But still I expected

A little more...

I guess I just don't understand...

But you won't explain

Which leaves me in pain

But we both already knew that.

Phone Call

Riiiing... riiiiiing....

Hello? Hello?

Who is this?

Why are you calling?

 

Oh... I hear...

WHAT?!

It's everywhere???

 

I understand... yes...

Interesting...

 

Oh no...

Hashem Yiracheim!

 

Wait...

What?

 

Oh... but... I have a question...

 

 

What are you trying to tell me?

 

Wait,

Don't hang up!!!!

 

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

 

Why... did you...

Go?

Scary

It's scary to think about what we do in order to feel happy and fulfilled. Sometimes it's something as simple as eating something that may not be so good for us ... or something as frightening as putting ourselves into a dangerous situation... to feel the thrill... the exhilaration. And it may not be physical danger... emotional danger can be just as bad.

Yet, we find situations where we think we can be happier from it, when really, it's detrimental to our being.

It's like I have said before... it may be fun (not really) to fall down the stair case the first time, but only a true idiot would throw themselves down it again. So it really makes me wonder... why do we do the things we do? Why do we put ourselves into dangerous situations? Then again, it depends on the definition of dangerous. In one of our classes, the teacher is very big on "Comfort vs. Growth". If you are comfortable, you are not growing... you are falling. You may enjoy that plush comfy couch, but you are only sinking into it. So sometimes, in order to grow, you must be in uncomfortable situations. But what defines uncomfortable? And what defines the growth you gain from discomfort?

It's 1 a.m... I think it's time for me to go sleep....

Good night moon...

Guilty

We are all guilty.

Who can claim innocence

From the crimes we've committed?

Yet no one has admitted

To one word that's been said

Yet we are all responsible

For the people who are killed and dead.

Your friend?

Your family?

A neighbor or peer?

At the end of the day

Whether it's foggy or clear

Our hearts will contain

Every trace, every stain

Of every act

That we are unable to retract.

It's as if we tied the noose

Knotted tight so it could not come loose

As we vilified and ridiculed again and again

Like it wouldn't matter in the end

Despite the swinging body in the air

That we watched as it hung up there

And even then we could not hold back

Pointed fingers stretched out to show

That we were so smart

Yet how little we all really know.

For every victim we sent to the gallows

There should be a thousand criminals

Who shamefully rose

But no one will ever oppose

Any word they said

And no matter at all

The victim is already dead.

It happened once

It could happen again

And for all those who were killed

What will be of their end

We stomped them without shame

As we threw around their name

And danced on their grave

From the burial we gave.

None of us are innocent

We will all be held to trial

But until that day

We'll carry on for a while.

And what's even more ironic is who the criminals are...

Heartbreak

What's the reason for this heartbreak

This heart ache

The seeds barely had a chance

To latch their roots in the ground

They were blown away...

What cruel winds

Would do such a thing

To something so small

That only sought to grow...

This rose never grew its petals

It sat shriveled in thorns

Broken and torn

Just the sad remains

And bloodstains

Of a broken heart.

Memories

I keep trying to catch this memory

To hold it in my hand

Yet, it keeps flying away

Like wisps of smoke

As faint

And as choking...

 

Because the sound of your name

Hurts to hear

And I am reminded of the day

The moment

The second

When I found out the news

 

It feels like I have been running

And can't catch my breath

Gasping

Rasping

Yet, unable

To be still my racing heart

 

I keep trying to gain closure

But it's not just another chapter

What is this life without you?

What is this world void of you?

What is my life missing you?

 

I miss you...

 

Every single one of you...

Party

The little boy sat at the window, holding his chin in his hands. He stared out the window of his home, filled with excitement and anticipation. His friend, his role model, said he would be coming soon and that the little boy should wait for him to come because when he arrived they would have a party together. So the little boy sat and waited... and waited... He watched cars past by... and people walking their dogs... Soon, he got bored...

I am getting sort of tired of waiting and watching, he thought to himself, I'm sure my friend won't mind if I do something in the meantime while I wait. So the little boy turned on some music... he read some books... watched a few shows... colored... and as the time went by, he forgot that his friend was coming.

He occupied his time otherwise, not remembering his friend was soon to come. Then the phone rang... he picked it up... "ARE YOU WAITING??? I WILL BE THERE SOON!!!!!!" And the line went dead. The little boy was shaken up. He ran back to the window and planted himself, waiting attentively for his friend to come. He counted the seconds until... he lost track and became bored and distracted. He left the window to get something to eat... and then he decided he wanted to bake, and began baking cookies and cakes... and again he forgot his friend was coming... The phone rang again... but the voice wasn't as loud, "Don't forget... I'll be there soon!" The little boy sauntered back to the window... He wasn't nearly as excited for his friend to come... He forgot about the party his friend was planning... a huge festive meal, the most incredibly music... performances beyond anything he had ever seen... so he walked away again...

And that time, as he was busy with books and music and food, there was a knock at the door... but the little boy didn't hear it. He was too busy with his own amusements.

His friend stood in the cold... waiting... Then he looked through the front window where he expected to hear his little friend waiting... but he wasn't there... He could hear music in the distance... The little boy forgot about him.

The friend sighed deeply... he so badly wanted to celebrate but the little boy stopped waiting for him.

With a tear, he began to walk away... He waited so long to celebrate with the little boy... he decided he would come back when the little boy was ready... 

Upstairs, the little boy was singing along to his CD, totally oblivious to his friend downstairs... forgetting about the party... and his friend... He fell asleep, only to wake up in the dead of night, sweating profusely and shaking heavily... I forgot he was coming... I can't believe I forgot... He turned over, crying, shedding heavy tears...

Waiting at the end of the little boy's block was his friend. He could hear the little boy crying, and a tear of joy sprung to his eyes, and a small smile formed on his lips... He didn't forget me! I'll come to take him soon... He should not have to wait any longer... and neither should I.

Still Learning

I am still learning...

My flight to Israel was my first up-close and personal introduction to Israeli Charedi life... I was sitting in an aisle seat next to a rather large man (he had an interesting name, but I can't remember it now...) Anyhow, as we were all settling in for the flight, a Chassidish looking man came over to me quietly and asked to switch seats with me. His seat was next to a frum lady in one of the two-seater parts of the plane. I am an instinctually polite person so I quickly switched seats.

And that's sort of the theme of my life here... quickly shifting on the sidewalk, paying super close attention to how I am behaving... and acting... and dressing. This may spark some argument, especially given the recent state of the country over the Beit Shemesh controversy, and while I don't condone spitting on a eight-year-old, there is an sense of respect that must be given. Now, I am not the political type... at least, I try not to be. I've read and heard a lot about what's been going on there, I have an up-close look at life in Yerushalayim (Meah Shearim) and everything that goes on, and though I may not lean towards one side or the other, I hear both sides.

While it isn't ok to spit on people, berate them loudly on the street, call names or throw things, as the saying goes "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." For secularists in Israel, this somehow doesn't seem to apply... But if you are entering an area, the least you can do is respect their community. What do you gain by causing controversy?

I read an article in the Jerusalem Post about two girls who came dressed immodestly on to a bus hoping to stir some arguement. Much to their shock, they were spoken to politely, which furthered their fury in an attempt to make the headlines... Is it really so hard to put on a skirt? To cover up? And for the other side, not everyone can or will comply... can't you just close your eyes or look the other way? I read a recent article from another blog that added some new perspective to this, which I may post later... but for now... shouldn't our goal be about love and acceptance? Instead of hatred and rejection? Don't we all long to see the day when we are all dressed and behaving according to the will of Hashem, with Moshiach as our leader? We can't get there if we continue the way we are..

We can't go on like this...

And despite it all, I am still learning.

(Disclaimer: I do not claim to be knowledgable in any area of what has been going on, nor with the different perspectives of society... this post is simply my reflection on the matter.)

Tin Man

Leaky and creaky
Rusty on all sides

Like a tin man

Who needs a cleaning of hides

Soiled and sullen

He's rather lost his shine

Yet this tin man

Is all mine

 

Once he glowed

Luster and radiance

Burst from his skin

Like the brightness of the sun

Now he simply

Resembles the color of mud

Dirty and decaying

His appearance is dismaying

His heart is missing

He threw it away

He didn't think he would ever

Need it for another day

Yet, something happened

What it was, I do not know

But after this journey we took

His true colors are starting to show

 

Breathless

What captivates

And sedates

Just takes my breath away

My heart

Like a drum

The steady beat

What can compete

With how I feel

For you?

I wish for what

Seems so far away

Like a dream in the dead of night

Running through the streets

Of sleep

With the end

So far in sight...

What is more real?

Or more enchanting

Then a task that seems so daunting

To overcome

As time drags on

And beat the ticking hand...

In this race

There is no pace

And I am not prepared

I remain

Breathless, ashamed

In the gaze of your eyes

For I realize

How far I have to go.

Waiting

These are some of the strangest builders I have ever seen. Some of them come dressed as they should, with all the appopriate attire and gear and some of them come dressed for a totally different job. I sent them a memo... I told them how they should look... It's for their own good, after all. I don't want to see them get hurt.

It doesn't even look like they read through the job description. We are trying to build something... yet here they are with their sledgehammers and drills destroying the structure!

Ah, but look... there are a few good workers over there... diligently building... They are so devoted to their job and to their craft... they are even working overtime! They make me so proud... 

But what am I supposed to do about those ones... the ones that aren't doing their job right... At this rate, my building will take forever to be finished! Don't they know I am waiting? I just want to come home... I don't want to have to wait any longer! I even told them what will happen for them when the building is finished... they will join me in a lavish celebration! Their will be food and drink unlike anything they have ever tasted! They will hear music that defies the normal concept of composition and expression... 

Why aren't they doing their work properly?

Perhaps I should send start a flood.. to shake them up... to wake them up!

No... they are ignoring it...

What if I lit something on fire? Surely they will notice that!

They don't even feel the heat! The pain! They are so entrenched in their own business!

What if I took away things from them? Things they love dearly... What if I took away their siblings... and sent them somewhere else... or their parents... or even the unspeakable... their children?

Does nothing help these people??? They don't even notice all these messages I have been posting around the work site... It's as if the yellow paper and bold black lettering is just decorations to them!

But still... I love them dearly... I want to see them work hard... to devote their hearts to something... And even though now... they just aren't getting it right... I'll wait... I'll wait in this unfinished room, watching... Watching the good ones as they put up the walls, and install the lighting fixtures... Watching as the bad ones throw stones and mess up the paint job...

I don't know how much longer I'll have to remain here as the wind blows through the cracks... but until the day when my home is finished... I'll wait.

Credit

My mother called me the other night... and usually if nothing is going on, I go into guilt mode.

"I didn't do it!" I cried when I answered the phone, rehashing my day,  making sure I didn't do anything wrong. (Usually when I call it goes like this. My mother: "What did you do?" "How much will it cost me?" Or me "I didn't do it!" "I am so sorry!" Like the time I called about my 300 dollar phone bill... yea... anyhow...)

"Oh, but you will!" my mother replied. I was confounded.

Huh?

My mother proceeded to tell me that because of her fortitude and the like, she was able to help me get credits for my year in Israel through a program, which I previously was not a part of. Her timing was also impeccable: for the next two weeks, I will be taking midterms... And before, I was going to do my best but not make myself crazy because I wouldn't be receiving credits, but now, it's worth a lot more. I wasn't too upset- I have been spending a lot of time studying, if only to fulfill the nachas factor. But now, it counts. My grades could make or break how much time I spend in college, and even though I was all prepared for a four year Undergrad program, I am kind of excited that I may be able to finish earlier.

But then, it struck me as ironic... These classes always counted. Maybe not for college credit, but for my own knowledge and gain, for my parents to be proud, and for other various reasons (you can fill in the blank). Yet, now... it'll only really became apparent.

And sometimes, (wait for it...) we go through life... we have our tests... we may or may not pass... but do we really think about the credit we are going to gain? Midterms in the physical world, are like nisyonos in the spiritual world. There is studying, preparation, effort and time involved... and then the moment of truth- did I pass or not? Did I get the points or the credits I need?

Will I be able to come to college with a paper saying I earned X amount of credits? Or Y which is less?

Will I be able to come to G-d after 120 years saying I earned this and this place in Shamayim... or even more frightening, in Gehinnom? (Because we all go there at some point... It's not a bad thing! It's cleansing we all need- not punishment!) Will I be able to say, "Hey G-d, I worked hard, and I passed this test you gave me... now it's time for me to get the reward for it." Or worse... "I failed."

So... in the physical world, things are starting to matter... My grades can make or break my future plans... but in the spiritual world, they always mattered... how long does it take a person to figure it out? And when they do, will their efforts matter or will it be too late?

Think about it...

Late

Being in Sem, I have limited internet access... Thankfully, I can still look at Reader (That's how I still keep up with all my blogs... but lack of images and videos is kin of annoying)

Anyhow, I was scrolling through my old blog posts... and realized... I missed my own anniversary. 

I have happily, and somehow suprisingly, been at the ol' blogging business for two years and almost four months...

Happy late anniversary to me...

Now what?

Crazy

They were right

The rumors are true

People

Go

Crazy

Here.

 

They can't handle

They can't be in control

They simply

Go

Crazy.

 

But to remain sane

Is the name of the game

And trying to do so

They

Go

Crazy

 

Because if something is overheard

Or written down

It could tip the scales

And derail...

So they try

Not to

Go

Crazy

 

But these straightjackets

Don't quite look the norm

And the buckles don't shut so tight

But still

They

Go

Crazy

 

The cure

Is also the curse

If you simply don't know

What you are treating...

A bout of insanity...

Reality...

Spiritualty.

 

Happy New Year

Hello New Year

Whether you are mine

Or not

I welcome you

Because every ending

Is a chance to start again

To make a plan
To get it right...

Perhaps last night

The world changed a drop

When last year stopped

And a new one came

Began it's reign

And here it is

Shining bright

Through the night

Fight or flight

It'll all be allright