This weekend was awesome. Having spent it with, among others, two illustrious Bloggers (and having discussed blogging-related issues far more often and at greater length than I ever have before), I felt it would be just plain wrong to neglect mention of it in this forum. As always, SerandEz were perfect hosts--the food was amazing, the company stimulating, and the baby absolutely adorable.
In addition to blog-related topics of conversation, we had quite a few other deep and fascinating (and lengthy) discussions. One of these related to whether it is necessary to acknowledge the validity of approaches that conflict with our own, and whether by doing so one is crushing youthful idealism.
I shall not even attempt to recap the majority of the conversation, but for me, the bottom line was that it is absolutely imperative to try to understand the point of view of those with whom we disagree, for two main reasons. One is that, though idealism is wonderful, it is impractical to refuse to see how the world functions (even if you disagree with the methods by which it does). Idealists are the only ones who will ever be able to affect change, and if they stay in lala land and never open their eyes to the real world and to points of view that differ from their own, how are they going to do anything? If you simply say “the other side is garbage” and dismiss it, no one will listen to anything you have to say. You need to understand the other side in order to argue against it.
Furthermore…and I think even more importantly...it is crucial to understand that there is another perspective. That even though you may disagree with that perspective, it is an approach. It is valid. People who hold that approach are valid, and it is not right to harbor dislike and animosity towards them. We have to understand them in order to love them, to promote ahavas Yisroel. For me, this is the bottom line. Love your fellow Jew. The End.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
IMHO, Busses Should Be Non-Smoking
First of all, I just thought I ought to inform anyone still loyal enough to be checking this poor, seemingly abandoned blog that it is, in fact, not dead…the only hitch is that I have been doing so much living myself that I have necessarily sucked some of the life out of my blog. In other words, I’ve been super duper crazy busy. And you know what? I will continue to be this busy until March 20th. So if this blog is sporadic between now and then, I apologize. Also, I’ve stopped reading most of the blogs I like. I’m sorry. I still love you guys—I just simply don’t have time! Heck, I don’t even have time for my roommates! And, I know, I know, Chana will say “Well, make time!” And I will answer her, as I did this evening, saying “There are only 24 hours in the day. If I knew how to make more, I would!” Honestly, I don’t have the opportunity to procrastinate anymore—every moment is eaten up by some activity, and even my homework often gets utterly left by the wayside. (Case in point: I wrote an essay at 4:30 am on a red-eye flight into NY—having read only 15 of the 70 pages of required reading. Yeeeeah.)
But, despite all this, I couldn’t resist a brief reunion with my blog. I shall now recount an interesting experience from my very exciting and eventful weekend. My high school flew me home to be an advisor on their shabbaton, and placed me as the only authority figure in a bunk with nine 8th graders. Many fascinating, illuminating, and amusing events occurred over those two days, but I shall only tell you about one right now.
Once upon a time…
I was the only advisor on my bus to the campsite where the shabbaton was to take place. Picture this: I am sitting in the front of the bus. Smack in the middle of the 1.5 hour bus ride, I hear shrieks from behind me. I turn around, and see chaos erupting in the back of the bus. A Junior girl runs up the aisle to me and exclaims, panicked: “The back of the bus is filling up with smoke!” I look, and observe this to be true. And the smoke smells like burning rubber. Uh-oh. Not good.
Everyone in the back of the bus has gotten up, and most of them are panicking. The remainder are slightly amused. Two girls decide to alert the bus driver to the situation. They tell him rapidly and in high pitched voices about the disconcerting situation. His very apt and intelligent response is:
“Huh?”
An elderly gentleman, it appears he is somewhat deaf. Eventually, he is so besieged by panicking students that he declares, exasperated,
“I’m pulling over!”
He does so, and gets up to see what the matter is. Observing the copious smoke, he gets out of the bus and examines it from the outside. He returns, and informs us,
“We’re overheating like crazy! We’re going to have to switch to a new bus.”
At which point he returns to his seat and resumes driving.
The students, meanwhile, involve themselves in wondering why we are now careening merrily down the freeway as the smoke continues to billow forth, call their parents and inform them that our bus is on fire, and speculate as to whether the bus will explode. I decide that someone should tell a real authority figure about the situation. So I call one of the Rabbis in charge. I tell him:
“The back of our bus is filling up with smoke, and we will probably have to switch busses.”
The sympathetic and useful response from this esteemed educator? “Hahahahahahahahahahaha!”
Right. Eventually, we pull over once again. On an on-ramp. To the freeway. (No, don’t ask me why we stopped there. I have no idea.) Soon we see another bus on the horizon, wending its jolly way toward our still smoking vehicle. It pulls in front of our bus and stops. The kids eagerly get up and fill the aisle, awaiting their exit from our bus (whose air is now as clouded as that of an unsavory bowling alley). Our driver bellows at everyone to sit down, as we must wait patiently as the two drivers transfer all our luggage from the old bus to the new one. We sit.
Eventually, we are told that the kids may leave the bus, slowly, and in single file, since we are, after all, sitting on an on-ramp as cars whiz past. I, however, am asked to remain behind, to assure that everyone gets off safely, and that all the luggage is transferred. The bus empties, and I stand in front of the open bus door, staying as close as possible to the bus in order to avoid being hit by a speeding semi-truck. Another five minutes pass as the driver moves duffels and sleeping bags to the new bus. I stand outside alone, waiting, and every few seconds peeking anxiously into the bottom of the bus to see how much luggage remains to be moved. Finally, he is done. I verify that everything has been transferred, thank the kindly driver of the rescue bus, and board the new bus, where, thank G-d, my kids are handling everything just fine. (Luckily, most of the kids on my bus were older, and not as rambunctious—if I had had freshman boys, I do not know what I would have done.) The driver starts the bus, and the rest of our ride is blissfully uneventful. The same, however, could not be said of the rest of the shabbaton (cue ominous music)…
But, despite all this, I couldn’t resist a brief reunion with my blog. I shall now recount an interesting experience from my very exciting and eventful weekend. My high school flew me home to be an advisor on their shabbaton, and placed me as the only authority figure in a bunk with nine 8th graders. Many fascinating, illuminating, and amusing events occurred over those two days, but I shall only tell you about one right now.
Once upon a time…
I was the only advisor on my bus to the campsite where the shabbaton was to take place. Picture this: I am sitting in the front of the bus. Smack in the middle of the 1.5 hour bus ride, I hear shrieks from behind me. I turn around, and see chaos erupting in the back of the bus. A Junior girl runs up the aisle to me and exclaims, panicked: “The back of the bus is filling up with smoke!” I look, and observe this to be true. And the smoke smells like burning rubber. Uh-oh. Not good.
Everyone in the back of the bus has gotten up, and most of them are panicking. The remainder are slightly amused. Two girls decide to alert the bus driver to the situation. They tell him rapidly and in high pitched voices about the disconcerting situation. His very apt and intelligent response is:
“Huh?”
An elderly gentleman, it appears he is somewhat deaf. Eventually, he is so besieged by panicking students that he declares, exasperated,
“I’m pulling over!”
He does so, and gets up to see what the matter is. Observing the copious smoke, he gets out of the bus and examines it from the outside. He returns, and informs us,
“We’re overheating like crazy! We’re going to have to switch to a new bus.”
At which point he returns to his seat and resumes driving.
The students, meanwhile, involve themselves in wondering why we are now careening merrily down the freeway as the smoke continues to billow forth, call their parents and inform them that our bus is on fire, and speculate as to whether the bus will explode. I decide that someone should tell a real authority figure about the situation. So I call one of the Rabbis in charge. I tell him:
“The back of our bus is filling up with smoke, and we will probably have to switch busses.”
The sympathetic and useful response from this esteemed educator? “Hahahahahahahahahahaha!”
Right. Eventually, we pull over once again. On an on-ramp. To the freeway. (No, don’t ask me why we stopped there. I have no idea.) Soon we see another bus on the horizon, wending its jolly way toward our still smoking vehicle. It pulls in front of our bus and stops. The kids eagerly get up and fill the aisle, awaiting their exit from our bus (whose air is now as clouded as that of an unsavory bowling alley). Our driver bellows at everyone to sit down, as we must wait patiently as the two drivers transfer all our luggage from the old bus to the new one. We sit.
Eventually, we are told that the kids may leave the bus, slowly, and in single file, since we are, after all, sitting on an on-ramp as cars whiz past. I, however, am asked to remain behind, to assure that everyone gets off safely, and that all the luggage is transferred. The bus empties, and I stand in front of the open bus door, staying as close as possible to the bus in order to avoid being hit by a speeding semi-truck. Another five minutes pass as the driver moves duffels and sleeping bags to the new bus. I stand outside alone, waiting, and every few seconds peeking anxiously into the bottom of the bus to see how much luggage remains to be moved. Finally, he is done. I verify that everything has been transferred, thank the kindly driver of the rescue bus, and board the new bus, where, thank G-d, my kids are handling everything just fine. (Luckily, most of the kids on my bus were older, and not as rambunctious—if I had had freshman boys, I do not know what I would have done.) The driver starts the bus, and the rest of our ride is blissfully uneventful. The same, however, could not be said of the rest of the shabbaton (cue ominous music)…
Sunday, January 21, 2007
London Visit Boiled Down (to the tune of "London Bridge")
I've been back in school for a week now, and busy out of my mind. But it simply wouldn't be fair to ignore my trip to the other side of the pond, so for anyone who cares to see, here is a summary of my experience.
People/Places/Things I saw in London (by category):
Touristy:
People/Places/Things I saw in London (by category):
Touristy:
- Tower of London (where lots of people were tortured and died, before which they carved some pretty depressing ancient graffiti on the walls)
- The Crown Jewels (talk about shiny…makes Stern girls’ engagement rings look paltry and cheap--and that’s saying something)
- Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace (during which, to my bafflement, the Royal Band, bearskin hats and all, played a medley of Gershwin—a good American composer)
- Covent Garden (upscale shopping area, where we also saw a pretty good string quartet playing famous classical pieces in an open square…while very adeptly guilt-tripping observers into giving money)
- Leicester Square (lots of theatres, yet nothing like Broadway)
- Trafalgar Square (which contains a lot of famous stuff, like huge stone lions and Nelson’s Column, about which my ever-useful friend knew absolutely no history—but at least I can say I’ve seen it, even if I don’t know why it’s important)
- The National Gallery (from the outside only)
- Camden Town (a little like Greenwich Village, English style)
- The Tate Modern Museum (which was hosting a really cool exhibit that consisted of huge twisty metal tube slides that came down from each of the 5 floors, and which visitors could ride for free! We went down the one from the fourth floor, and it was well worth the visit.)
- Waterloo Bridge (great view of the city)
- UCL (University College London—not really a tourist site, but I was there nevertheless, and even attended a statistics lab without being asked whether I was actually a student there or not)
- The Tube (aka the underground—Mind the Gap!)
Jewish:
- 2 high schools
- 2 shuls
- R’ Tatz
- R’ Sheinberg
- One women’s learning program (organized by my friend)
- Extensive tours of Hendon and Golders Green
Just Plain Fun:
- Wicked (with British accents, for half the price of tickets in NY—what could possibly have been better????)
- Kasamba (‘nuff said)
- My friends’ families (English people are lovely!)
- A clip of an Iraqi TV talk show with subtitles (I wish I knew the link…but take my word for it, it was one of the funniest things I have ever seen in my entire life)
Things to know before going to England:
- They drive on the other side of the road! (I knew this, but it wasn’t on my mind when I got there…so the taxi driver looked perplexed when I tried to get in on the wrong side, and I narrowly avoided getting hit by cars several times after not knowing which direction to look when crossing the street).
- When they speak about “green men” they are not referring to extraterrestrials, but to the lights at crosswalks. (That took me a while.)
- There are no hechshers on food there…so if you anticipate getting hungry, you better pick up a Kosher Food Guide first…or carry an English friend around with you wherever you go. Also, learn some terminology or you could be very confused (crisps, biscuits, etc.).
- Things are more expensive there. Period. In order to avoid extreme frustration, pretend the pounds are dollars.
And there you have it, folks: SJ's guide to London! Now in (sort of) the same vein, it's time for me to head back to good ol' Survey of English Lit reading...fun fun!
Sunday, January 07, 2007
A Weekend in Baby Heaven
This weekend, my aunt and uncle and two little girl cousins who live two states away came to visit us for the first time since my brother’s Bar Mitzvah 1.5 years ago. I had the most loveliest time playing with my 4 and a half year old and 2 year old cousins. I wish I could record all the cute things they said and did, but there were far too many to count. This afternoon, a family friend and her kids came over to play as well…she has a boy who is 6, a girl who is nearly 4, and a 14 month old drop-dead gorgeous baby (and twins on the way!). With all the kids around, I felt like I had died and gone to baby heaven! Mmmm, delicious! I was so tempted to hide one in my suitcase and take it to
Before my family left for the airport just a few minutes ago, my 4.5 year old cousin came over to me and announced with a grave face that she’d miss me a lot. She then asked her Daddy for her phone number, which she recited to me, telling me to call her whenever I miss her.
Why is she so delicious?? I want one!!
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Tata and Cheerio!
Hello old Chaps! This fine, damp evening I am in high spirits, as I shall soon be departing to a far off location to whence I have never before hearkened! Can anyone guess where? And no, I don’t really think they speak like this there! That’s right, Poppets, I’m off to Jolly Old England! And I am quite excited about it too! (In case the overabundance of exclamation points didn’t tip you off already!) What brings me to visit our stuffy old cousins over there, you ask? Well, first off, I will take great offense to your slanderous appellation—who says English people are stuffy? They have rollicking good fun over there! (I love Brits!) And then I will answer your question—I am going purely for pleasure, which, after all, is the only reason to go anywhere (how Oscar Wilde-ish of me). I have always wanted to pay it a visit, and now life (and my parents) have finally afforded me the opportunity to do so! Not to mention that two of my very favourite people in the world happen to hail from the neighborhood (and that’s not even including Kasamba, one of my very favourite bloggers out there, who, incidentally, is not originally from England anyway!). I shall be imposing upon the hospitality of these two wonderful lovely incredible young ladies, who I was privileged to meet during my (not so) long ago days in sem in the Holy Land, and shall be forcing them not only to endure my company, but to show me around their fair city! I can’t wait!
Of course, the thing that excites me most is the prospect of being entirely surrounded by people with fantastic accents! In fact, I plan to come back with one myself (a fantastic accent, not a person). After all, I’ve always considered myself English at heart…my English friends tell me that I certainly don’t sound like most of the other vulgar Americans with their horrid accents, and I am a fan of Oscar Wilde and P.G. Wodehouse, and I’m quite accustomed to gray, drizzly weather (though I wouldn’t eat Marmite if you paid me, and I don’t drink tea…but disregard those piddling facts for now).
So, you ask yourself, when is this girl going to stop blabbing and leave already? Ha! Well, I’m afraid you are not so lucky, my friend…I’m not leaving till Sunday night! All this is just preparation! Because I am psyched! And what else is a blog for but to vent one’s thoughts and feelings, hmmm?? So, with that deep philosophic question to ponder, I will bid you farewell for now, for I have visiting relatives shortly to descend upon the house. However, worry not, for I shall return!
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
A Red-Hot Topic
The color red has been much under discussion recently. Yediot Achronot reports that the latest in the charedi war for tznius includes not only a ban of any red garments, but a call for women to purchase clothing only from a list of 30 approved stores. In reaction, Hot Chanie defends RaggedyMom’s red hair, and RaggedyMom discusses being a redhead. Never having been one myself, I can’t weigh in on the topic (though I’ve been an admirer of red hair ever since I read Anne of Green Gables in 3rd grade), but I will give my own take on the controversial issue of whether a frum girl should even think of wearing red. I am personally a huge fan of bright colors, and usually wear nothing else (orange being my personal favorite). However, there are situations where I will think twice before donning an eye-catching sartorial hue. While I don’t believe that wearing red is inherently abhorrent and untznius, if the color of your clothing will cause others to look at you askance, you do run into a tznius dilemma. The bottom line is that if your clothes draw undue attention to your appearance, then they are not tzenua. For the most part, in today’s world, wearing red or any other bright color will not call more attention to oneself than wearing black or blue. However, to a certain extent, I believe that tznius can be relative. What I would wear to class is different than what I would wear on a visit to Meah Shearim (that’s an extreme example, but even in less extreme cases I would think twice). There are places where wearing red will make people stare, and if people stare, that is not tzenua. So while I don’t believe that wearing red is the equivalent of wearing a tight-fitting tank top (which indisputably calls attention to your body, no matter where you are), I do believe in following the minhag hamakom and not causing yourself to stand out. And if the minhag hamakom is too difficult to keep—then perhaps that makom is not the place for you.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
The Sunny Side of a Rainy Day
With finals finally behind me, I am home once again, and, as usual, a little bored. Today it is rainy and stormy and pouring and gray...which doesn't really help improve the state of one's spirits. But as I sat here bemoaning the uncooperative weather, I remembered something I wrote for an assignment back in ninth grade, so long ago. I went back to my files and looked it up, and since it cheered me up, I figured I would share it with you, in hopes that it might also help anyone else experiencing the rainy day blues.
So here it is, my descriptive paragraph of days of yore:
There is nothing that gives me more of a sense of comfort than a rainy day. The rhythmic patter of the rain on the roof has a hypnotic quality. Sitting in front of a blazing fire, I feel its warmth as the flames make patterns on the wall. They are shadows, leaping up and down in a harmonious, never-ending dance. I hold a steaming cup of hot chocolate in my hands, and as I sip it, my tongue is filled with the taste of its warm, rich, sweetness. I swallow, and it soothes and calms me. I sit curled up on the sofa, and pick up a good book. I eagerly turn the pages, and as I lose myself in tales of strange lands and people I will never meet, I know that I am free from harm, safe and secure, warm in my house. Outside, the rain gets harder and beats mercilessly against the windowpanes. But it does not affect me because I am sheltered, protected, comfortable. The sound of the rain does not wane, and soon I can no longer keep my eyes open. As I fall asleep, a deep sense of satisfaction and happiness envelops me. Home is bliss, on a cold, rainy winter’s day.
Friday, December 29, 2006
My Tefillah
Hashem, please give me strength. I know You have a plan for me; please reveal it to me in the right time--and in the meantime, help me understand that there is a reason for whatever I endure. Help me to truly believe that everything is for the good. Help me to feel Your presence in my life every day, to feel Your hand guiding me and supporting me. Help me to grow from my hardships, to pass the tests You give me, to use them to become closer to You. Help me to be thankful every day for the thousands and thousands of blessings you shower upon me at every moment. Help me to learn from past mistakes, and to grow from them. Help me to treat people the way that they deserve to be treated, to be sensitive to their needs, and never to wound another with my words or actions. Help me spread Your Torah and mitzvot to those of Your people who are unaware of their glory. May my tefilot always be sincere, and may they reach Your heavenly throne. I love You, for you are my Father; I revere You, for you are my King; to You I owe my life and all that is good.
May the words of my mouth and the desires of my heart find favor before you, Hashem, my Rock and my Redeemer.
May the words of my mouth and the desires of my heart find favor before you, Hashem, my Rock and my Redeemer.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Procrastinators of the World, Unite! ...Tomorrow
Reading week is over, and finals have officially begun. My reading week was…well, the way mine typically are: rather unproductive. I can’t say I really did any schoolwork at all to speak of. You’re shocked? Well, you shouldn’t be. You see, I have a problem—and I’m finally ready to admit it:
I am a procrastinator. [hides face in shame]
Like, a really really BIG procrastinator. I am one of those people who is completely unable to study until the night before a test—at which time, I have been known to lose my cool, panic, stress out for hours, realize it’s too late to study, go to sleep, and then wake up early in the morning, an hour or two before the test, to try to cram the material into my poor mushed-up brain. This has been my system ever since high school—and the scary part is, it’s worked for me. But I can’t say it’s any fun. The problem is, though, since I never seem to have any awful repercussions for my irresponsibility, my negative habits are reinforced, and I don’t change my ways. This is bad.
So this year, I determined I would be different. At the very least, I’d cut out the stressing part, which serves no purpose and is rather horrible. To my own shock and wonder, I actually did it! This past semester I was actually able to minimize the amount of time I spent stressing out over my work! The solution, I think, was that I filled up my schedule with so many extracurricular activities that I simply didn’t have any extra time in which to stress. The little unscheduled time I had needed to be used to get the schoolwork done, so there was no room for the stressing time I was accustomed to.
However, the system broke down when it came to reading week. My extracurriculars were over for the semester, and there was no class. This left me with oodles and oodles of free time. I didn’t know what to do with myself—so I just didn’t do anything! I only had one paper to write (still unfinished), but since it’s not a research paper, I didn’t stress about it—or spend any time on it either. Instead, I hung out with my roomies (who I had barely seen of late due to my ridiculously busy schedule), reread a book for pleasure for the first time in forever (Pride and Prejudice is sooo good…if you are a girl, go read it! Or if you are a guy who actually appreciates great literature, read it too! :-), blogsurfed, and thought about beginning to study for my finals, but never actually did.
Now, finals have begun, and I am wholly unprepared. My first one was statistics, this morning, and I naively figured that since the final is open notes and the midterm was easy, I wouldn’t have to spend more than half an hour preparing. So I left it till yesterday afternoon. When I finally opened up my notes, I was shocked to see that I couldn’t make heads or tails of anything! My initial reaction was panic, but eventually I solicited the assistance of a friend and after studying for an hour or two eventually felt mildly prepared. Then, after lighting Chanukah candles, I went out and refused to think about the final any more—until 8:40 this morning when I arrived in the classroom to take it. The final is now over, and, fortunately or unfortunately, this system also seems to have worked out ok. Again, my irresponsibility is rewarded. Hoorah!
However, the finals coming up this week promise to be much more difficult, so I’m really going to have to study at some point…I wonder when I’m going to do that? Hmmm…
This procrastination thing is really getting out of hand…help!
I am a procrastinator. [hides face in shame]
Like, a really really BIG procrastinator. I am one of those people who is completely unable to study until the night before a test—at which time, I have been known to lose my cool, panic, stress out for hours, realize it’s too late to study, go to sleep, and then wake up early in the morning, an hour or two before the test, to try to cram the material into my poor mushed-up brain. This has been my system ever since high school—and the scary part is, it’s worked for me. But I can’t say it’s any fun. The problem is, though, since I never seem to have any awful repercussions for my irresponsibility, my negative habits are reinforced, and I don’t change my ways. This is bad.
So this year, I determined I would be different. At the very least, I’d cut out the stressing part, which serves no purpose and is rather horrible. To my own shock and wonder, I actually did it! This past semester I was actually able to minimize the amount of time I spent stressing out over my work! The solution, I think, was that I filled up my schedule with so many extracurricular activities that I simply didn’t have any extra time in which to stress. The little unscheduled time I had needed to be used to get the schoolwork done, so there was no room for the stressing time I was accustomed to.
However, the system broke down when it came to reading week. My extracurriculars were over for the semester, and there was no class. This left me with oodles and oodles of free time. I didn’t know what to do with myself—so I just didn’t do anything! I only had one paper to write (still unfinished), but since it’s not a research paper, I didn’t stress about it—or spend any time on it either. Instead, I hung out with my roomies (who I had barely seen of late due to my ridiculously busy schedule), reread a book for pleasure for the first time in forever (Pride and Prejudice is sooo good…if you are a girl, go read it! Or if you are a guy who actually appreciates great literature, read it too! :-), blogsurfed, and thought about beginning to study for my finals, but never actually did.
Now, finals have begun, and I am wholly unprepared. My first one was statistics, this morning, and I naively figured that since the final is open notes and the midterm was easy, I wouldn’t have to spend more than half an hour preparing. So I left it till yesterday afternoon. When I finally opened up my notes, I was shocked to see that I couldn’t make heads or tails of anything! My initial reaction was panic, but eventually I solicited the assistance of a friend and after studying for an hour or two eventually felt mildly prepared. Then, after lighting Chanukah candles, I went out and refused to think about the final any more—until 8:40 this morning when I arrived in the classroom to take it. The final is now over, and, fortunately or unfortunately, this system also seems to have worked out ok. Again, my irresponsibility is rewarded. Hoorah!
However, the finals coming up this week promise to be much more difficult, so I’m really going to have to study at some point…I wonder when I’m going to do that? Hmmm…
This procrastination thing is really getting out of hand…help!
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Happy Chanukah! (Hannukah? Hanuka? Channuka? Hannoocuh?)
With things over here being so hectic, busy, chaotic, and all-around crazy, I still have not yet come up with my next brilliant blogging topic. But since I seem to be currently experiencing a blogging urge, I'm going to just start writing and see what comes out. I apologize in advance.
I went to my friend's house in Philly this shabbos and twas a lot of fun. I got 12 hours of sleep. That was fun. Plus, at lunch I poured a jug of water on myself. That was less fun, more wet. (No, it wasn't on purpose. I was pouring and the lid just fell off! And those who have comments about how klutzy I am may just keep them to themselves, thank you!)
The Donut Saga: Another friend who came for shabbos was taking a nap on Friday afternoon (she was getting a head start on sleep) and woke up before shabbos and told me that she had a dream that our hostess was offering us donuts (the kind with colored sprinkles on top!) and that I refused, saying "Dai, maspik (stop, enough)!" I asked her why I would say a silly thing like that. She didn't know. From the moment she told me about that dream, I began craving donuts. And there were no donuts in the house where I was staying. Which was sad. Then when we finally got back to NY (after missing several trains due to a very exciting adventure trying to find a chanukiah for a slightly irresponsible and adventure-prone friend), I begged my friends to keep their eyes open for the alleged kosher Krispy Kreme at Penn Station. Then (cue euphoric music)...we saw it! And just at that moment, the gate thing rolllled down, signifying that it was closed! Noooooo!!! So I was sad. So we walked back to school, and got together our chanukiot (both normal and makeshift) and oil and wicks and said brachot and lit and waited (fruitlessly) for boys to leave the lobby so that we could sing. And then various bunches of friends came in and we greeted them...and then some more friends came in and announced that they were going to get pizza, so I begged them to bring me back a donut, and they said they would see, and they left...and then a few minutes later, in came more friends--bearing homemade donuts that they made! And even though they looked more like little brown latkes than donuts, they were sufficiently oily and sufficiently sweet to satisfy my craving! And I ate four! (stop staring and shut your mouth--they were really small!) And then I went up to my room and shortly thereafter there was a rapping at my chamber door...and there stood friend-who-went-to-pizza-store, brown bag in hand, brown donut in brown bag! I thanked her profusely because it was sooo nice of her to get it for me...but I'm afraid that the donut is just going to have to wait patiently until breakfast tomorrow. I don't think I can handle any more oil right now.
Oh! Other really creepy story...we were walking back to school from Penn Station, and on the street was a card table, behind which an unshaven man wearing a santa hat was sitting, calling out loudly, "Help the homeless!" in a deep, raspy voice. As we passed, he suddenly said, without even changing his tone or skipping a beat, "Give tzedaka! It's a mitzvah! It will bring you bracha and hatzlacha! A freilachen Chanukah!" As we turned our heads and looked at him in astonishment, he rasped, "That's right girls, don't mind the hat," pointing at his Christmas chapeau. We were in a rush (and also a shtick weirded out) so we didn't stop to chat...but the experience was quite an interesting one. Anyone have any theories as to how the guy would have known those phrases (and whether we should have stopped and given him tzedaka?).
Ok, now it is quite late at night and I must go to sleep--I have a full day of procrastinating to do tomorrow! Happy Chanukah to all, and to all a good night!
I went to my friend's house in Philly this shabbos and twas a lot of fun. I got 12 hours of sleep. That was fun. Plus, at lunch I poured a jug of water on myself. That was less fun, more wet. (No, it wasn't on purpose. I was pouring and the lid just fell off! And those who have comments about how klutzy I am may just keep them to themselves, thank you!)
The Donut Saga: Another friend who came for shabbos was taking a nap on Friday afternoon (she was getting a head start on sleep) and woke up before shabbos and told me that she had a dream that our hostess was offering us donuts (the kind with colored sprinkles on top!) and that I refused, saying "Dai, maspik (stop, enough)!" I asked her why I would say a silly thing like that. She didn't know. From the moment she told me about that dream, I began craving donuts. And there were no donuts in the house where I was staying. Which was sad. Then when we finally got back to NY (after missing several trains due to a very exciting adventure trying to find a chanukiah for a slightly irresponsible and adventure-prone friend), I begged my friends to keep their eyes open for the alleged kosher Krispy Kreme at Penn Station. Then (cue euphoric music)...we saw it! And just at that moment, the gate thing rolllled down, signifying that it was closed! Noooooo!!! So I was sad. So we walked back to school, and got together our chanukiot (both normal and makeshift) and oil and wicks and said brachot and lit and waited (fruitlessly) for boys to leave the lobby so that we could sing. And then various bunches of friends came in and we greeted them...and then some more friends came in and announced that they were going to get pizza, so I begged them to bring me back a donut, and they said they would see, and they left...and then a few minutes later, in came more friends--bearing homemade donuts that they made! And even though they looked more like little brown latkes than donuts, they were sufficiently oily and sufficiently sweet to satisfy my craving! And I ate four! (stop staring and shut your mouth--they were really small!) And then I went up to my room and shortly thereafter there was a rapping at my chamber door...and there stood friend-who-went-to-pizza-store, brown bag in hand, brown donut in brown bag! I thanked her profusely because it was sooo nice of her to get it for me...but I'm afraid that the donut is just going to have to wait patiently until breakfast tomorrow. I don't think I can handle any more oil right now.
Oh! Other really creepy story...we were walking back to school from Penn Station, and on the street was a card table, behind which an unshaven man wearing a santa hat was sitting, calling out loudly, "Help the homeless!" in a deep, raspy voice. As we passed, he suddenly said, without even changing his tone or skipping a beat, "Give tzedaka! It's a mitzvah! It will bring you bracha and hatzlacha! A freilachen Chanukah!" As we turned our heads and looked at him in astonishment, he rasped, "That's right girls, don't mind the hat," pointing at his Christmas chapeau. We were in a rush (and also a shtick weirded out) so we didn't stop to chat...but the experience was quite an interesting one. Anyone have any theories as to how the guy would have known those phrases (and whether we should have stopped and given him tzedaka?).
Ok, now it is quite late at night and I must go to sleep--I have a full day of procrastinating to do tomorrow! Happy Chanukah to all, and to all a good night!
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
A Must Read
This post over on Chana's blog is an absolute must-read. In it, she articulates (far better than I could) exactly why I am such a firm believer in "hard-core" learning (in depth learning from sources)--as opposed to what is commonly referred to as "fluff". Having actually attended a school where they take the opposite approach, she is far more qualified than I am to discuss the issue...though perhaps someday if I ever have free time (haha) I'll have a chance to write about it as well. Meanwhile, though her post is characteristically lengthy, it is well worth taking the time to read--and the comments are fascinating too.
Monday, December 04, 2006
20
A brief post to mark a momentous occasion...I'm 20 years old today. I have left my teenage years behind, and now enter an era of adulthood. And I am petrified. Yes, I have been oft reminded that it is just a number and doesn't really mean anything, yet somehow it does signify a change in status and an increase in responsibility that I feel unprepared to accept. I mean, come on, I'm still just a kid!
So, in order to try to cope with this milestone succcessfully, I now open it up to anyone who reads this blog to give me any advice you have for dealing with life as an adult. I could use all the help I can get!
So, in order to try to cope with this milestone succcessfully, I now open it up to anyone who reads this blog to give me any advice you have for dealing with life as an adult. I could use all the help I can get!
Thursday, November 30, 2006
A Girl Walks Into a Bar...
Yes, I know that just yesterday I promised a blogging hiatus. But I had an experience tonight that was both out of the ordinary and frustrating—an irresistible combination for a blogger. So, since I felt like writing about it anyway, I figured I might as well post it here. I hope you forgive me for yesterday’s misleading post. I guess I will now add a disclaimer to the disclaimer: I am on a break from blogging—unless something so blogworthy happens that I am necessarily compelled to violate my self-imposed exile.
Ok, so now on to the story…
Tonight I went to a bar for the first time in my life. Before you start ranting about the moral deterioration of today’s youth, I’ll relieve your concern by telling you that, no, I was not there to drink myself silly or to meet guys. In fact, I was quite resistant to the idea of going, as I had never planned to enter a bar, at all, ever. The reason I was there was because my creative writing teacher told us at the beginning of the semester that we had to attend a reading of fiction and write an essay on it at some point over the course of the semester. Of course, being good college students, my entire class left it till the very last second, and now the essay is due on Monday. So we all scrambled to find a fiction reading that was free and not too far away. And we did. There was to be a reading at an Irish pub right near my school tonight at eight. So a few friends from class and I decided to go. Beforehand, we did some research about the bar where it was to take place, since none of us are 21 yet and we wondered whether we would have trouble getting in. After looking it up, we hopefully determined that because it holds weekly fiction readings (as well as Irish language lessons), it was really not a bar, but rather a dimly lit cultural center that also happens to serve alcohol.
We got there tonight just on time, at 2 minutes to 8. The pub was small and narrow with a low ceiling—and the only part of my assumption that turned out to be correct was that it was indeed dimly lit. The only other people there were two college girls from another school who also needed to hear a reading for a class. My friends and I situated ourselves on a leather couchish thing against the wall near the small platform where a shtender with a microphone waited expectantly for the absent author to appear. We had ample time to observe our surroundings and comment on the novelty of actually being in a real live bar, because the author was late. It was fun for a few minutes, but then it got later--and the author still didn’t come. We started getting worried, and we asked the bartender (a normal-looking 30ish lady with a thick Irish brogue) whether the author was coming. She said that she didn’t know, because she “just provides the rrumm” (room or rum?) so we sat back down and chatted amongst ourselves. After we had waited about 40 minutes a few girls left, but two of my friends and I still waited hopefully—because we really needed to hear the reading tonight in order to write the essay in a timely fashion. At 9:01, over an hour after the reading was scheduled to begin, we finally gave up hope and left. The End. Great story, no?
Overall, it was an extremely frustrating experience, because not only did I go to a bar for nothing, and not only did I waste over an hour of my incredibly busy life, but I still have to take even more time to find another reading to go at some other point! Now it looks like I have to go to yet another bar tomorrow night to try again (two bars in two nights—I don’t know what has become of me!). To try to look on the bright side, I guess it can count as an interesting experience. Maybe I’ll even get a short story out of it someday. My creative writing teacher would be pleased.
Ok, so now on to the story…
Tonight I went to a bar for the first time in my life. Before you start ranting about the moral deterioration of today’s youth, I’ll relieve your concern by telling you that, no, I was not there to drink myself silly or to meet guys. In fact, I was quite resistant to the idea of going, as I had never planned to enter a bar, at all, ever. The reason I was there was because my creative writing teacher told us at the beginning of the semester that we had to attend a reading of fiction and write an essay on it at some point over the course of the semester. Of course, being good college students, my entire class left it till the very last second, and now the essay is due on Monday. So we all scrambled to find a fiction reading that was free and not too far away. And we did. There was to be a reading at an Irish pub right near my school tonight at eight. So a few friends from class and I decided to go. Beforehand, we did some research about the bar where it was to take place, since none of us are 21 yet and we wondered whether we would have trouble getting in. After looking it up, we hopefully determined that because it holds weekly fiction readings (as well as Irish language lessons), it was really not a bar, but rather a dimly lit cultural center that also happens to serve alcohol.
We got there tonight just on time, at 2 minutes to 8. The pub was small and narrow with a low ceiling—and the only part of my assumption that turned out to be correct was that it was indeed dimly lit. The only other people there were two college girls from another school who also needed to hear a reading for a class. My friends and I situated ourselves on a leather couchish thing against the wall near the small platform where a shtender with a microphone waited expectantly for the absent author to appear. We had ample time to observe our surroundings and comment on the novelty of actually being in a real live bar, because the author was late. It was fun for a few minutes, but then it got later--and the author still didn’t come. We started getting worried, and we asked the bartender (a normal-looking 30ish lady with a thick Irish brogue) whether the author was coming. She said that she didn’t know, because she “just provides the rrumm” (room or rum?) so we sat back down and chatted amongst ourselves. After we had waited about 40 minutes a few girls left, but two of my friends and I still waited hopefully—because we really needed to hear the reading tonight in order to write the essay in a timely fashion. At 9:01, over an hour after the reading was scheduled to begin, we finally gave up hope and left. The End. Great story, no?
Overall, it was an extremely frustrating experience, because not only did I go to a bar for nothing, and not only did I waste over an hour of my incredibly busy life, but I still have to take even more time to find another reading to go at some other point! Now it looks like I have to go to yet another bar tomorrow night to try again (two bars in two nights—I don’t know what has become of me!). To try to look on the bright side, I guess it can count as an interesting experience. Maybe I’ll even get a short story out of it someday. My creative writing teacher would be pleased.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Disclaimer in Advance
I would like to apologize in advance for the blogging hiatus which I am obliged to take. Basically, my life right now is full to the brim with schoolwork and extracurriculars. Since I have barely a second to spare for breathing, eating, and sleeping, the blog is going to have to take a backseat until I have made it past this next two weeks or so.
In other news, I just got back to NY on Monday morning after a brief trip home for Thanksgiving, which was awesome. My family had a huge Thanksgiving dinner with 20 people and a TON of food. My family is quite patriotic, and very into Thanksgiving--as well as willfully ignorant of the potential halachic issues of taking it too far (and when I say too far, I mean too far...just trust me on this). Despite that minor issue, it was fun, and really really nice to be home again.
Anyway, I have now spent more time than I can currently afford on blogging, so I must get back to the pressing obligations of my ever-hectic life (which, btw, I love, no matter how much I complain or how stressed it may sometimes make me...and I am incredibly thankful for everything in it...shoutout to G-d!). I will rejoin the world of active bloggers in due time, iy"H. Till then, hope you all have a lovely couple of weeks!
In other news, I just got back to NY on Monday morning after a brief trip home for Thanksgiving, which was awesome. My family had a huge Thanksgiving dinner with 20 people and a TON of food. My family is quite patriotic, and very into Thanksgiving--as well as willfully ignorant of the potential halachic issues of taking it too far (and when I say too far, I mean too far...just trust me on this). Despite that minor issue, it was fun, and really really nice to be home again.
Anyway, I have now spent more time than I can currently afford on blogging, so I must get back to the pressing obligations of my ever-hectic life (which, btw, I love, no matter how much I complain or how stressed it may sometimes make me...and I am incredibly thankful for everything in it...shoutout to G-d!). I will rejoin the world of active bloggers in due time, iy"H. Till then, hope you all have a lovely couple of weeks!
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
NCSY: Why it's Awesome
This weekend I attended a Regional NCSY Convention. It was the third shabbaton I’ve attended with this region, and like the two shabbatonim before it, it was an amazing experience.
As an advisor, I was there to hang out with the kids, and that’s what I did. I reconnected with kids I had met on the previous shabbatonim, and met new kids as well. I find NCSY incredibly inspiring because it brings together Jewish teens from all different backgrounds with advisors who are excited and committed to Yahadus (not to mention a little nuts, for the most part) as well as staff and administration who are so dedicated that it’s almost hard to fathom.
I personally believe that being involved in organizations like NCSY is one of the most important things that a young Jewish adult can do. Reaching out to high-schoolers to show them that being Jewish can be fun, cool, and inspirational is absolutely crucial to the survival of the Jewish people. The intermarriage rate today is devastating, and far too many kids have no idea what Judaism means.
Over the weekend, I became close with two girls from a public school located in a community with no religious Jewish life at all. These girls had attended the “Hebrew Culture Club” run by NCSY in their school, and had been persuaded by the head (the Director of Outreach for the region) to come to regional. They knew absolutely nothing about Judaism, and definitely didn’t know what they were getting into when they signed up to come for the weekend. (The head of outreach later told me that during a discussion of intermarriage in the club one week, both of the girls had said that they’d marry non-Jews without hesitation.) I hung out with these girls practically the entire time, and it was really fun. They were supernice girls, and unlike many of the day school kids, actually listened when I asked them to do something or go somewhere. Yet, these really sweet girls didn’t know what shabbos was, couldn’t figure out why we were constantly praying out of backward books, and were fazed by the idea of wearing a skirt for all of Saturday. I didn’t push any information on them, but instead tried to make sure that they had a good time. I really think that the most important part of being an advisor is just making a connection with the kids, really being a friend and showing them that you care—and the rest will follow naturally.
On the shabbaton I also had the opportunity to meet/re-meet many many kids whose lives have been changed by NCSY—kids who have started keeping kosher, who are dying to keep shabbos in a non-shomer-shabbos home, who want nothing more than for their parents to allow them to go to day school, or to Israel after high school. Seeing people (high school kids, no less!) who sacrifice and struggle so much to be better Jews never fails to inspire me. Too often I take my life for granted—the fact that it is so easy for me to keep shabbos and kosher, the fact that I have opportunities to learn Torah everywhere I turn, the fact that I am surrounded by so many wonderful examples of Torah Judaism. Seeing kids who have to fight for every inch, for every mitzvah, reminds me that I am incredibly lucky. As much as one may think that the advisors are on the shabbaton to give to the kids, I find that the kids are often the ones who end up giving to the advisors (as cliché as it may sound, it’s true!).
Overall, it was a wonderful (and completely exhausting) experience, and I can’t wait for Winter Regional!
As an advisor, I was there to hang out with the kids, and that’s what I did. I reconnected with kids I had met on the previous shabbatonim, and met new kids as well. I find NCSY incredibly inspiring because it brings together Jewish teens from all different backgrounds with advisors who are excited and committed to Yahadus (not to mention a little nuts, for the most part) as well as staff and administration who are so dedicated that it’s almost hard to fathom.
I personally believe that being involved in organizations like NCSY is one of the most important things that a young Jewish adult can do. Reaching out to high-schoolers to show them that being Jewish can be fun, cool, and inspirational is absolutely crucial to the survival of the Jewish people. The intermarriage rate today is devastating, and far too many kids have no idea what Judaism means.
Over the weekend, I became close with two girls from a public school located in a community with no religious Jewish life at all. These girls had attended the “Hebrew Culture Club” run by NCSY in their school, and had been persuaded by the head (the Director of Outreach for the region) to come to regional. They knew absolutely nothing about Judaism, and definitely didn’t know what they were getting into when they signed up to come for the weekend. (The head of outreach later told me that during a discussion of intermarriage in the club one week, both of the girls had said that they’d marry non-Jews without hesitation.) I hung out with these girls practically the entire time, and it was really fun. They were supernice girls, and unlike many of the day school kids, actually listened when I asked them to do something or go somewhere. Yet, these really sweet girls didn’t know what shabbos was, couldn’t figure out why we were constantly praying out of backward books, and were fazed by the idea of wearing a skirt for all of Saturday. I didn’t push any information on them, but instead tried to make sure that they had a good time. I really think that the most important part of being an advisor is just making a connection with the kids, really being a friend and showing them that you care—and the rest will follow naturally.
On the shabbaton I also had the opportunity to meet/re-meet many many kids whose lives have been changed by NCSY—kids who have started keeping kosher, who are dying to keep shabbos in a non-shomer-shabbos home, who want nothing more than for their parents to allow them to go to day school, or to Israel after high school. Seeing people (high school kids, no less!) who sacrifice and struggle so much to be better Jews never fails to inspire me. Too often I take my life for granted—the fact that it is so easy for me to keep shabbos and kosher, the fact that I have opportunities to learn Torah everywhere I turn, the fact that I am surrounded by so many wonderful examples of Torah Judaism. Seeing kids who have to fight for every inch, for every mitzvah, reminds me that I am incredibly lucky. As much as one may think that the advisors are on the shabbaton to give to the kids, I find that the kids are often the ones who end up giving to the advisors (as cliché as it may sound, it’s true!).
Overall, it was a wonderful (and completely exhausting) experience, and I can’t wait for Winter Regional!
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Freedom of Choice?
I don’t know if everyone already saw this article, or if it’s already been thoroughly blogged about (I only read a select few blogs), so if this is repetitive, I apologize.
Yesterday, the NY Times reported that "New York Plans to Make Gender Personal Choice." I found this article so preposterous that it would almost be funny—if not for the fact that it is real. Instead, I would have to describe it as extremely scary.
Basically, the city’s Board of Health is considering implementing a rule that states that a person may change the gender documented on his/her/its birth certificate if he/she/it has statements from a doctor and a mental health professional supporting a gender switch. The person will have to have lived in the proposed gender for two years, but the rule gives no specific medical requirements. In other words, you would be able to change the sex on your birth certificate even if you still had all the biological traits of your birth gender!
According to the NY Times:
“The change would lead to many intriguing questions: For example, would a man who becomes a woman be able to marry another man? (Probably.) Would an adoption agency be able to uncover the original sex of a proposed parent? (Not without a court order.) Would a woman who becomes a man be able to fight in combat, or play in the National Football League? (These areas have yet to be explored.)”
Is anyone else baffled by the idea of a “freedom to choose” your gender??? This brings a whole new meaning to the phrase “pro-choice.” It just shows how the concept of individual rights, if given no boundaries, can be taken to frightening extremes. Since when is it a basic human right to select one’s gender?
I am appalled by the depths to which our culture has sunk even to be taking such a thing seriously. Not only are we prepared to allow people to live their lives as a member of a different gender than the one in which God created them, but we are actually prepared to totally eliminate all trace of the fact that God “chose” a different sex for them than they did. Frankly, the whole thing seems slightly delusional. Secular people will label religious believers as closed-minded and willfully self-deceptive for attempting to reconcile science with religious dogma, yet some of the same people are prepared to accept this total denial of biological reality. It just doesn’t make sense to me.
“Joann Prinzivalli, 52, a lawyer for the New York Transgender Rights Organization, a man who has lived as a woman since 2000, without surgery, said, ‘It’s based on an arbitrary distinction that says there are two and only two sexes. In reality the diversity of nature is such that there are more than just two, and people who seem to belong to one of the designated sexes may really belong to the other.”
Really? That's news to me!
I’m sorry, but this seems simply bizarre!
Yesterday, the NY Times reported that "New York Plans to Make Gender Personal Choice." I found this article so preposterous that it would almost be funny—if not for the fact that it is real. Instead, I would have to describe it as extremely scary.
Basically, the city’s Board of Health is considering implementing a rule that states that a person may change the gender documented on his/her/its birth certificate if he/she/it has statements from a doctor and a mental health professional supporting a gender switch. The person will have to have lived in the proposed gender for two years, but the rule gives no specific medical requirements. In other words, you would be able to change the sex on your birth certificate even if you still had all the biological traits of your birth gender!
According to the NY Times:
“The change would lead to many intriguing questions: For example, would a man who becomes a woman be able to marry another man? (Probably.) Would an adoption agency be able to uncover the original sex of a proposed parent? (Not without a court order.) Would a woman who becomes a man be able to fight in combat, or play in the National Football League? (These areas have yet to be explored.)”
Is anyone else baffled by the idea of a “freedom to choose” your gender??? This brings a whole new meaning to the phrase “pro-choice.” It just shows how the concept of individual rights, if given no boundaries, can be taken to frightening extremes. Since when is it a basic human right to select one’s gender?
I am appalled by the depths to which our culture has sunk even to be taking such a thing seriously. Not only are we prepared to allow people to live their lives as a member of a different gender than the one in which God created them, but we are actually prepared to totally eliminate all trace of the fact that God “chose” a different sex for them than they did. Frankly, the whole thing seems slightly delusional. Secular people will label religious believers as closed-minded and willfully self-deceptive for attempting to reconcile science with religious dogma, yet some of the same people are prepared to accept this total denial of biological reality. It just doesn’t make sense to me.
“Joann Prinzivalli, 52, a lawyer for the New York Transgender Rights Organization, a man who has lived as a woman since 2000, without surgery, said, ‘It’s based on an arbitrary distinction that says there are two and only two sexes. In reality the diversity of nature is such that there are more than just two, and people who seem to belong to one of the designated sexes may really belong to the other.”
Really? That's news to me!
I’m sorry, but this seems simply bizarre!
Monday, October 30, 2006
Kol Sasson V'Kol Simcha
This weekend I went home for a wedding. Leaving school smack in the middle of midterms: not a good idea. I missed three tests. Count ‘em—THREE. Yeeeah. However, despite the mess that I am in now that I have returned, the weekend was super duper incredible. The wedding was that of a very close family friend—a 36 year old baal teshuva whose new kallah is a 33 year old baalas teshuva. Both of them are amazing people, and have been searching for their beshert for a long time. There were a lot of things about the weekend and the whole experience of the wedding that I found truly inspiring:
1) The wedding was simple by today’s standards. The couple didn’t have a big budget, so a group of close friends pitched in and really took over many of the important details. My mom was in charge of the flowers and decorating (since there was no florist), among other things. Though I wasn’t around for most of the planning, once I was home, I was included in the mad rush to make the wedding a success. It was amazing to see how everyone in the community rallied around the chassan and kallah. The wedding was such a community effort, with everyone contributing and participating to make the wedding beautiful. This was expressed this most clearly to me when, after the shabbos kallah, the overwhelmed kallah asked if the women who were still there (her closest friends and family) could chip in and help her say sefer tehillim. It is a minhag for the kallah to say it on her wedding day, but our kallah simply needed help. So we all volunteered and split up sefer tehillim between us, each woman taking as many as she could handle, depending on her time constraints and level of skill in Hebrew. It really made it so clear that we were all pieces of one whole, as we all shared in the kallah’s experience and her joy.
2) The wedding was in the chosson’s hometown (which is also my hometown), so the kallah’s friends and family all had to be put up at different people’s houses in the community. On Friday night a family in the community hosted dinner for the 35 out-of-town visitors and their hosts. We were there, and I had the opportunity to meet the kallah’s side. It was so lovely to meet so many new people, every one of whom was so incredibly nice and friendly. Both the chassan and kallah have hashkafically diverse families and backgrounds, so at the wedding, there were all different types of people—from Aish, Chabad, Modern Orthodox, non-religious, even Breslav—and everyone got along so well, and joined in together to be mesameach the chassan and kallah. Though unfortunately the Jewish community often has problems of sectionalism and a lack of unity, an experience like this weekend reminds me how beautiful it is when Jews are united.
3) Since the chassan and kallah are both baalei teshuva, many of their friends are as well. I met and spoke to so many amazing baalei teshuva this weekend, and meeting them just gives me hope for the future of klall Yisrael. I am so awed and inspired by people who have come to yahadus later in their lives and embraced it with hearts so full that the enthusiasm and joy that Torah brings to their lives simply overflows. I have so much respect for them, and just being around them and hearing their stories makes me so incredibly happy.
4) The chassan and kallah themselves. I’ve known the chassan for years, so his uniqueness is already old news to me (though he’s also great)—but the kallah, who just came into our lives a few months ago, is one of my new favorite people in the world. She is amazing. About a month and a half before the wedding, she was getting ready to move from her old city to her new city (the chassan’s hometown). She had all her possessions packed in a U-Haul truck, ready to be moved. She left the truck, locked, in front of her apartment while she went to spend shabbos away, and when she came back, the truck had been stolen. The kallah lost all her physical possessions in the world. I cannot even imagine handling a catastrophe like that, but the kallah did, with grace and a positive attitude. I can’t even fathom it. Plus, she is just so warm and knows exactly what to say to each person to make him/her feel appreciated and special. Anyone who knows me will know that I am not the type to say something like this, but…that girl just has the most beautiful neshama. She’s truly incredible, and I am so so happy for her and her chassan and wish them the happiest, most wonderful life together. (Sniff, sniff, ok, wipe away my tears)
Anyway, the wedding came off beautifully, the chassan and kallah were glowing, and we were all going out of our heads with joy. The weekend was a wonderful experience, and it made me appreciate my home and my community all the more. Hoorah! But now I’m back, and it’s time to return to the drudge of school and midterms. So off I go…drudge, drudge, drudge…
1) The wedding was simple by today’s standards. The couple didn’t have a big budget, so a group of close friends pitched in and really took over many of the important details. My mom was in charge of the flowers and decorating (since there was no florist), among other things. Though I wasn’t around for most of the planning, once I was home, I was included in the mad rush to make the wedding a success. It was amazing to see how everyone in the community rallied around the chassan and kallah. The wedding was such a community effort, with everyone contributing and participating to make the wedding beautiful. This was expressed this most clearly to me when, after the shabbos kallah, the overwhelmed kallah asked if the women who were still there (her closest friends and family) could chip in and help her say sefer tehillim. It is a minhag for the kallah to say it on her wedding day, but our kallah simply needed help. So we all volunteered and split up sefer tehillim between us, each woman taking as many as she could handle, depending on her time constraints and level of skill in Hebrew. It really made it so clear that we were all pieces of one whole, as we all shared in the kallah’s experience and her joy.
2) The wedding was in the chosson’s hometown (which is also my hometown), so the kallah’s friends and family all had to be put up at different people’s houses in the community. On Friday night a family in the community hosted dinner for the 35 out-of-town visitors and their hosts. We were there, and I had the opportunity to meet the kallah’s side. It was so lovely to meet so many new people, every one of whom was so incredibly nice and friendly. Both the chassan and kallah have hashkafically diverse families and backgrounds, so at the wedding, there were all different types of people—from Aish, Chabad, Modern Orthodox, non-religious, even Breslav—and everyone got along so well, and joined in together to be mesameach the chassan and kallah. Though unfortunately the Jewish community often has problems of sectionalism and a lack of unity, an experience like this weekend reminds me how beautiful it is when Jews are united.
3) Since the chassan and kallah are both baalei teshuva, many of their friends are as well. I met and spoke to so many amazing baalei teshuva this weekend, and meeting them just gives me hope for the future of klall Yisrael. I am so awed and inspired by people who have come to yahadus later in their lives and embraced it with hearts so full that the enthusiasm and joy that Torah brings to their lives simply overflows. I have so much respect for them, and just being around them and hearing their stories makes me so incredibly happy.
4) The chassan and kallah themselves. I’ve known the chassan for years, so his uniqueness is already old news to me (though he’s also great)—but the kallah, who just came into our lives a few months ago, is one of my new favorite people in the world. She is amazing. About a month and a half before the wedding, she was getting ready to move from her old city to her new city (the chassan’s hometown). She had all her possessions packed in a U-Haul truck, ready to be moved. She left the truck, locked, in front of her apartment while she went to spend shabbos away, and when she came back, the truck had been stolen. The kallah lost all her physical possessions in the world. I cannot even imagine handling a catastrophe like that, but the kallah did, with grace and a positive attitude. I can’t even fathom it. Plus, she is just so warm and knows exactly what to say to each person to make him/her feel appreciated and special. Anyone who knows me will know that I am not the type to say something like this, but…that girl just has the most beautiful neshama. She’s truly incredible, and I am so so happy for her and her chassan and wish them the happiest, most wonderful life together. (Sniff, sniff, ok, wipe away my tears)
Anyway, the wedding came off beautifully, the chassan and kallah were glowing, and we were all going out of our heads with joy. The weekend was a wonderful experience, and it made me appreciate my home and my community all the more. Hoorah! But now I’m back, and it’s time to return to the drudge of school and midterms. So off I go…drudge, drudge, drudge…
Sunday, October 22, 2006
New Yorkers: To Bash or Not to Bash?
Last week, over on Ezzie's Blog there was some discussion of the issue of “New York bashing.” As a proud out-of-towner, I must admit that I am guilty of possessing some negative stereotypes about certain NY Jews and their attitude. However, I acquired these stereotypes based on real-life experience, and of course I don’t apply them across the board. The truth is that before I went to Israel for a year after high school, I had practically never met a New Yorker in my life. It was only then that my eyes were opened with a vengeance to the concept of in-town vs. out-of-town. I quickly found out firsthand about some of the issues with the stereotypically “New York” mentality. When I started going to school in NY the following year, I found out even more. No one will deny that the differences between being a Jew in-town and out-of-town are plentiful. I’m not going to discuss the pros and cons of these differences here, but I will weigh in on the appropriate time, place, and way to point out flaws within certain segments of the Jewish community in New York.
My final disclaimer is this: I am close friends with a ton of in-towners, whom I love to pieces, and many of whom display none of the negative stereotypical characteristics of in-towners. There are far too many Jews in this area to make a generalization about any group—inevitably, every group has an infinite number of variations within it. If you are a New Yorker reading this, it should in no way be taken as a personal attack. It is very possible that you are among the New Yorkers who are as well-mannered, considerate, and sensitive as any out-of-towner could ever hope to be. That said, it must be acknowledged that, unfortunately, there are many New Yorkers who do not share your attitude. Any negativity is directed solely at those who display behaviors that merit it. Ok, now to what I wanted to say:
The bottom line is this: Orthodox Jews need as much good publicity as they can get. If I was to write an article for a non-Jewish publication, I would never ever write about problems with pushy NY Jews. Instead, I would write about positive examples of Orthodox Judaism. And if a non-frum person or a non-Jew out-of-town said something negative to me about New Yorky Orthodox Jews, I would respond with an adamant defense, and tell the person that that’s not the case at all. I would say that the problems the person encountered were probably the result of the hectic NYC mentality, which affects Jews and non-Jews alike, and is not a problem unique to the Jewish community. If the person persisted, and cited examples, I would say that it is unfortunate that he/she had encountered people like that, but that the majority of Orthodox Jews in New York are not like that, and that those people, who should indeed change their ways, are exceptions and not the rule.
However, I think it entirely appropriate to discuss problems with the mentality and actions of certain NY Jews in a private setting. If there is no discussion of these issues, then the problems will only be propagated and ignored, and we are all at risk of falling into the same kind of behavior. As someone who lives in NY (temporarily), I am, of course, prone to the possibility of acting in the ways that so disturb me. By talking about the issues that undeniably exist among certain populations of NY Jews, I attempt to keep myself and those who hear what I have to say away from those behaviors. There is a delicate balance between speaking out to correct behaviors when needed and perpetrating sinas chinam. However, the fact that it is tricky does not mean that we must keep entirely silent about the problems we see. If nothing is said, nothing will be done, and no Jew should feel content to merely sit back and watch the amount of chillul Hashem that sometimes occurs. As frum Jews, we are all responsible for one another, and the actions of any one of us affects the image of the entire group. We need to offer mussar in whatever way we deem will be most effective--but without being overly harsh or allowing personal bitterness to infiltrate our reaction.
A friend from NY pointed out that sometimes we out-of-towners don’t realize that what we say may be offensive to NYers—that our flippant comments may often be insensitive. I think that we should always be conscious, and avoid making comments purely out of annoyance or spite. Yet, when necessary, we should offer tochacha in whatever way we think may actually get the message across and keep people from acting that way again.
My final disclaimer is this: I am close friends with a ton of in-towners, whom I love to pieces, and many of whom display none of the negative stereotypical characteristics of in-towners. There are far too many Jews in this area to make a generalization about any group—inevitably, every group has an infinite number of variations within it. If you are a New Yorker reading this, it should in no way be taken as a personal attack. It is very possible that you are among the New Yorkers who are as well-mannered, considerate, and sensitive as any out-of-towner could ever hope to be. That said, it must be acknowledged that, unfortunately, there are many New Yorkers who do not share your attitude. Any negativity is directed solely at those who display behaviors that merit it. Ok, now to what I wanted to say:
The bottom line is this: Orthodox Jews need as much good publicity as they can get. If I was to write an article for a non-Jewish publication, I would never ever write about problems with pushy NY Jews. Instead, I would write about positive examples of Orthodox Judaism. And if a non-frum person or a non-Jew out-of-town said something negative to me about New Yorky Orthodox Jews, I would respond with an adamant defense, and tell the person that that’s not the case at all. I would say that the problems the person encountered were probably the result of the hectic NYC mentality, which affects Jews and non-Jews alike, and is not a problem unique to the Jewish community. If the person persisted, and cited examples, I would say that it is unfortunate that he/she had encountered people like that, but that the majority of Orthodox Jews in New York are not like that, and that those people, who should indeed change their ways, are exceptions and not the rule.
However, I think it entirely appropriate to discuss problems with the mentality and actions of certain NY Jews in a private setting. If there is no discussion of these issues, then the problems will only be propagated and ignored, and we are all at risk of falling into the same kind of behavior. As someone who lives in NY (temporarily), I am, of course, prone to the possibility of acting in the ways that so disturb me. By talking about the issues that undeniably exist among certain populations of NY Jews, I attempt to keep myself and those who hear what I have to say away from those behaviors. There is a delicate balance between speaking out to correct behaviors when needed and perpetrating sinas chinam. However, the fact that it is tricky does not mean that we must keep entirely silent about the problems we see. If nothing is said, nothing will be done, and no Jew should feel content to merely sit back and watch the amount of chillul Hashem that sometimes occurs. As frum Jews, we are all responsible for one another, and the actions of any one of us affects the image of the entire group. We need to offer mussar in whatever way we deem will be most effective--but without being overly harsh or allowing personal bitterness to infiltrate our reaction.
A friend from NY pointed out that sometimes we out-of-towners don’t realize that what we say may be offensive to NYers—that our flippant comments may often be insensitive. I think that we should always be conscious, and avoid making comments purely out of annoyance or spite. Yet, when necessary, we should offer tochacha in whatever way we think may actually get the message across and keep people from acting that way again.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
A Lesson in Appreciation
This year, Hashem is teaching me to appreciate things I usually take for granted.
At the beginning of the year I got sick and lost my voice entirely, for nearly a week. That week was incredibly agonizing—I had never thought about how important it is to have a voice. Not only was I practically isolated because I couldn’t carry on a normal conversation with anyone, but I couldn’t sing—which may not sound like such a big deal to you, but to me, it made all the difference. I sing all the time (when there are no men around, of course), and when I sing, I am happy. Sitting in kabbalat Shabbat that Friday night, unable to elicit even a squeak to contribute to lecha dodi, I panicked. What would I do if my voice didn’t come back? How could I ever survive? Thank God, I was well again a few days later, with a renewed appreciation for the ability to speak and sing.
On Rosh Hashanah I stubbed my toe really hard on the way back from tashlich (don’t know what that says about whether I was successful in throwing away my sins, but that’s another story). I was in pain for the rest of the day, and during the next couple days I couldn’t walk without a limp. I realized then what a bracha it is just to be able to walk, run, and skip.
Yesterday morning I went to my laptop to check my email, as I do first thing every morning (being the internet addict that I am), and found that my internet wasn’t working. That afternoon when I came back from class it still wasn’t working. I called Verizon, and after trying things for about 20 minutes, the customer service representative told me that he couldn’t help me but that they’d work on fixing the problem as soon as possible. Only this afternoon was I finally re-connected. Having no internet connection yesterday made me extremely nervous and frustrated. Every time that I clicked on the Internet Explorer icon and my Yahoo homepage failed to appear I wondered why I didn’t appreciate my internet connection when I had it. Not having the ability to check my email every 5 minutes, to read the blogs I read, to check onlysimchas, etc. really threw me off. Not to mention that in this age of technology the majority of my homework requires the internet in one form or another to complete. It may sound a little silly, but when my internet was finally restored I thanked Hashem from the bottom of my heart.
This year, I hope to be a more thankful person in general. Hashem gives me so many gifts every day, and the very least I can do is appreciate them. I really do believe that thanking Him every day for those things I take for granted will not only make me love Hashem more, but will make me a happier person as well.
At the beginning of the year I got sick and lost my voice entirely, for nearly a week. That week was incredibly agonizing—I had never thought about how important it is to have a voice. Not only was I practically isolated because I couldn’t carry on a normal conversation with anyone, but I couldn’t sing—which may not sound like such a big deal to you, but to me, it made all the difference. I sing all the time (when there are no men around, of course), and when I sing, I am happy. Sitting in kabbalat Shabbat that Friday night, unable to elicit even a squeak to contribute to lecha dodi, I panicked. What would I do if my voice didn’t come back? How could I ever survive? Thank God, I was well again a few days later, with a renewed appreciation for the ability to speak and sing.
On Rosh Hashanah I stubbed my toe really hard on the way back from tashlich (don’t know what that says about whether I was successful in throwing away my sins, but that’s another story). I was in pain for the rest of the day, and during the next couple days I couldn’t walk without a limp. I realized then what a bracha it is just to be able to walk, run, and skip.
Yesterday morning I went to my laptop to check my email, as I do first thing every morning (being the internet addict that I am), and found that my internet wasn’t working. That afternoon when I came back from class it still wasn’t working. I called Verizon, and after trying things for about 20 minutes, the customer service representative told me that he couldn’t help me but that they’d work on fixing the problem as soon as possible. Only this afternoon was I finally re-connected. Having no internet connection yesterday made me extremely nervous and frustrated. Every time that I clicked on the Internet Explorer icon and my Yahoo homepage failed to appear I wondered why I didn’t appreciate my internet connection when I had it. Not having the ability to check my email every 5 minutes, to read the blogs I read, to check onlysimchas, etc. really threw me off. Not to mention that in this age of technology the majority of my homework requires the internet in one form or another to complete. It may sound a little silly, but when my internet was finally restored I thanked Hashem from the bottom of my heart.
This year, I hope to be a more thankful person in general. Hashem gives me so many gifts every day, and the very least I can do is appreciate them. I really do believe that thanking Him every day for those things I take for granted will not only make me love Hashem more, but will make me a happier person as well.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Back to School
Today I successfully traveled from my home-sweet-home all the way back to the excellent educational institution which serves as my diras arai. It is very nice to be back among my (always entertaining) roommates and esteemed colleagues, but I am rather dreading the inevitable return to homework and class and stress (compounded by upcoming midterms and the scads of extracurriculars in which I am involved this year). Nevertheless, I am glad glad glad to be here. However, I must warn that this likely heralds an era of neglect of my dear blog--though it is also quite possible that I will find that I am already too attached to my new friend to let go so soon. We shall see. Anyway, detested Spanish homework awaits, so I must run. Farewell for now!
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