I was thinking the other day about my jumping Jumbo prowess. I can jump real high, and that – is cool. The thing is, I’ve tried running and jumping stam azioy, and I can’t jump that high.
Not without that bar set.
If the bar is there,
I’m flying,
I can focus myself,
see my aim,
and know to go higher to pass the hurdle.
Without it, I’m throwing darts with my eyes shut.
Metaphor Moral: Set goals
I got lost last night. We were looking for the sign, but didn’t see it.
So we turned.
We went down a wrong road for a short while, until recognized it was in fact a wrong road, and the sign we were looking for wasn’t coming. So we turned around and retraced our steps. And instead of turning, this time we went straight, along the road we started out on.
The sign was right there,
just a little further ahead.
We just had to keep going straight all along after all.
And besides for getting home at a decent hour, I got a little lesson to share with you.
Edit: I guess some people didn’t fully grasp my metaphor. I hate explaining them, it’s like explaining a joke and it loses its “Aha!” But for the sake of being understood, here’s what I meant:
Sometimes in life you’re looking for a sign, signal, that this is where you’re supposed to be going.
Or you know where you’re headed, you just can’t find the sign or the right path.
So we veer of course trying to “find the sign” that will indicate to move foward,
and then we see the sign isn’t coming, so we retrace our steps, get back on the original path and go down a bit
and the sign comes.
You should have just continued straight all along.
You just gotta hold out a little longer and have a little faith.
Worse than the wedding where you don’t know anyone but the chosson or Kallah, is the wedding of your cousin that you have nothing but a few genes in common.
If you don’t know anyone, yeah, it’s awkward standing there on the side, or holding hands with people you can’t even make small talk like “what are you doing these days” with, but you have enough of an excuse to yourself why you’re really not a social leper.
By cousins’ wedding you know a lot people, most of them intrusive aunts, suspender attired uncles, hand wringing greased boy cousins, and ginormous pouf, headband wearing girl cousin. They are not really your type. But you are not judgmental, or elitist or exclusive, so you kiss your aunts dry, hairy, or caked face, wave to your uncle, ignore the boy and make small talk with the girl.
You: “Hi!”
Her: “Hi!”
You: “So, How you doing?”
Her: “Great, B’H”
You: “What are you doing these days?”
Her:“I’m a(n) __________.” Or “ I’m going for _____________”
You:“Wow! Do you like it?
Her:“Love it, B”H”
You:“Nice.”
Her“What about you?
You:“I’m ________________”
Her: “That’s really nice. Do you enjoy?”
You:“Yeah, it’s amazing.”
Her: (trailing off) “Yeah…”
You: (sparl of desperation)“Is that Tante Breindel there?”
Her: “Umm..yeah, that’s her touquise sparkled suit”
You: “What a character!”
Her: “Ye.”
You: “I must say hello to her! Can’t wait to dance.”
Her: “Yeah, me too.”
Sorry for wasting your time and writing the entire conversation, but that’s really it, the whole interaction. And then you beam pearly whites at each other from across the circle when you dance. I’m not even getting into the cousin that’s getting married. (You have to dance with her cause you’re cousins, but you have even less to say to her than your classmate, and it’s way more awkward because, well you should know her better…)
Then there’s the actual dancing, your mother, and all you aunts and extended family are watching you. How do you dance, are you leibedig? Smiling? Leading? Standing on the side? Maybe that’s why you’re not married.
And the dancing…it’s for the friends, you’re just there for filler, and because your grandmother would disown you if you didn’t.
And the worst is that you just can’t explain away to yourself why you’re so pathetic and antisocial in this environment, because technically, you know a lot of people here.
And then it gets worse, the celebration isn’t over yet, you still have to go to, Shabbos Sheva Brachos, and you used up all your small talk by the wedding and you just sit there quietly listening very intently to someone from the other side bumbling over his dvar torah. FUN!!!
This post is guest written by my friend (and frequent commenter) Manly Lips/ Jennifer. It was written by my desperate request, because my mind is drawing a blank and I did want to leave you guys with nothing. Enjoy!
My lovely friend asked me to post a piece of written art
I wanted to refuse, but I just didn’t have the heart
She said that I can write of any topic that I choose
As long as it’s half-normal, a post that she can use
I thought a bit about it, staring at my screen
Weighing all my options – what was it between?
Should I write about my married life?
Nah, they’ll find it boring.
Stories of my kinderlach?
Ha! They’ll soon be snoring.
Dating stories? Oh dear, no – way too overused
College woes? I think not – none will be amused
What I need right now is a chunk of nice free time
With homework done, apartment clean – preferably before 9
Babies sleeping, me relaxing – well rested and fed
Cuddled up and cozy in my nice, warm, comfy bed
THEN I’ll have the stamina to fulfill this task
To think of something newsworthy – to do as I was asked
But, oh well, I’m quite afraid that to me it seems
The above will occur but only in my dreams. GOOD NIGHT!
For those who cared to have notice, posts of mine have been featured in the past three Haveil Havalim, the latest one up at Here in HP, check it out.
Ummm…I’m trying to figure out how I feel about it…well it’s flattering that my posts made it, but considering I’m the one who submitted it, not so much so. Tooting my own horn is a bit awkward for me, but if nobody will, I have to, to move myself forward.
You don’t know how hesitant I was to submit my first post.
There’s the fear of rejection.
The fear of “do I measure up”.
The fear of being to too full of myself, arrogant, and boastful that I’m submitting my own piece
…but then I did and it wasn’t so scary, and I was featured…three times…is that a reflection on my writing, or Haveil Havelim isn’t a really a standard?
Going back to “tooting your own horn”, I wanted to know how people feel about that. Should people propel themselves forward by their own energy, or should let people do it for them…or course there’s a balance, but what is it? I’m really not comfortable with the idea of selling yourself…maybe that’s why I’m not so big on the whole shidduch information thing…
In the meantime…I made it, apparently, so what’s the next step? Have I reached my zenith, or am I just holding myself back with self-doubt masking as modesty?
Woah, was it windy today.
There is something so exhilarating about walking against the wind. You know you’re going somewhere because you’re aware of every labored step. I may have walked in this direction every day, and it’s almost rote, but today there’s something pushing me in the opposite direction, yet I keep my course, because my goal is now so much more apparent; I’m calculating the steps till I reach it. It’s hard, long, I sway and falter at times, but I’m still going in the right direction.
So many times in life, everything is good, everything is just fine, and we live our lives. And it because rote. And we don’t feel like were doing anything, like we’ve stagnated somehow. Some reason or purpose is gone.
Then come the pressuring wind pushing us in the opposite direction, a direction that is not our own, that doesn’t serve our purpose and is in fact quite backward. It is now that our rote steps take on meaning. We are conscience of every move we make and the course it will take us. Our goal is now so much more apparent; we’re calculating the steps till we reach it. We sway and falter at time, but we’re still going in the right direction. And now we have reason why.
I’m suffering from a quasi writer’s block. So I’m copping out and posting a MEME that Tembow tagged me in a while ago. It’s half serious, half, well, not so.
Basically I had to complete the sentences…I’m not tagging anyone, but feel free to complete it in the comments section.
1. I wish I could…always be consistent in my thoughts and actions, and go sky diving
2. My biggest fear is…to live the life that happens to me and not the one I make, and that my bangs will turn me into helmet head if not blown properly
3. I hate to…doubt myself and sit at computer screen blankly watching the cursor blink on and off and I don’t know what to write
4. I love…getting answers, and being right
5. Today I will…read, and eat, and sleep
6. Yesterday I…slept A LOT
7. My hair is…the best ever, you should be jealous of me. Really
8. I will never…be stupid, or cute (I became cute to my students because I’m young butthat doesn’t really count.
I went to Kever Rochel the other day. It was an interesting experience.
I was having a difficult time relating to the whole “Mama Rochel” thing, when I can just go “Tatte” at the Kosel.
And then I got it.
Me by the Kosel, is a student talking to a teacher.
Mama Rochel is a mother talking to the teacher by PTA.
When a student talks to a teacher, s/he humbles herself, flatters the teacher, asks in the nicest of ways, begs, pleads, and the teacher nods and listens and appreciates the student having the guts to approach her directly, and will definitely consider what the student asked, explained and said, but when it comes down to it, the teacher will do what s/he thinks is best.
Before we get to PTA, there’s the pre-PTA where the child tells the mother all the issues and gripes s/he has with the teacher.
“Tell her not to pick on me.”
“Her tests are so hard.”
“She doesn’t even know my name!”
Then comes PTA.
There is no greater advocate for a child than his/her mother.
“She’s really smart and creative, you have to give her a chance.”
“Call on her when she raises her hand.”
“She needs a modified test.”
“I think a different approach is necessary.”
“My child doesn’t think you like him/her.”
“You give to much homework.”
“My child really tries, I know you don’t see the effort in the results, you should see her work.”
“My child doesn’t think you even know her name.”
And when it comes to parents’ comments, teachers generally listen, because they know the parent will have no problem calling them again and putting them in their place.
So, yeah, I get the Mama Rochel thing now.
We all want to lose weight. Most of us do nothing about it, but it’s one of those big things people want to accomplish in their lives, on par with Climbing Mount Everest and becoming president of the United States. It’ll be totally awesome and cool if you did, but the statistical likelihood of that happening is just above nil. Today, I would like to push the numbers a bit more in your favor and bring losing weight on the level of getting a PhD and buying a full set of Louis Vuitton luggage.
The answer: Eat JellyBellys.
Generally when people eat something that they like, the initial taste is great, invigorating and very pleasurable. After that, it’s all downhill. Yes, the food still tastes good, but the repetition of the taste dulls the senses and it becomes a bit rote, no matter how sweet, salty, crunchy, spicy or smooth the food is. And herein lays the difference in JellyBellys.
Forget about the sour flavored, tropical or fruit bowl assortment, I’m talking about the standard 40 flavor variety. First off, it’s only 4 calories a jellybean. Second there are 40 flavors. Third, every little bean is a different flavor, you have the pleasure of renewal with each bean, and even when have say, a bubble gum, then blueberry, then caramel and then bubble gum again, it’s like you never had the bubblegum so you end up appreciating the flavors a lot more than the given 40!
Finally, you have to concentrate when you eat the jellybean to figure out what flavor you’re eating. This is done in two steps. First you take the jellybean out of the bag. Then you turn the bag over and try to match up the jellybean color with the color and name on the back. This is very difficult as there are about 5 shades of red and another 3 shades of orange that on the back have a minutia of difference in shade. Next you have to eat the jellybean and thoughtfully chew and figure out if the shade of red you’re eating is cinnamon, or very cherry.
This takes a bit more effort than the mindless inhalation of a bag of potato chips, or shoveling a piece of cake down your throat, therefore you end up eating less, and also they say your supposed to eat slowly and give you stomach time to send the message to your brain that you are in fact full, and no, you do not have room for JUST one more cookie, so by eating jellybeans you give your stomach more time to process…and all you people who took A&P can fill in the blah blah blah’s of this.
Moral of the Story: If you want to reach the equivalent of Superman eat JellyBellys.
