A long time ago, Little Duckies nominated me for the Liebster Blog Award. Of course I was very flattered, and wanted to respond right away. But I didn’t and then life got in the way, blah blah blah, but now I am now ready will an able to accept the award. The Liebster Blog Award is given to new bloggers with less than 200 followers. The rules are:
1. Tell 11 things about yourself.
2. Answer 11 questions from the blogger who nominated you.
3. Nominate 11 bloggers, and post 11 questions for them to answer.
4. Contact those bloggers whom you nominated, to inform them of their nomination.
11 things about me
I’ve been teaching High School (10th & 11th grade) since I’m 17. Been teaching 12th grade for the past 2 years. This has always been my dream job. Except for the pipe dream on opening my own school.
I love reading cookbooks and cooking shows (Top Chef is my favorite), actual cooking – not so much so – unless there’s no deadline (so supper’s never fun)
I have been coveting a Hermes scarf for years. My husband bought me one after we had our first kid, and it is as awesome as I always imagined it to be.
I can spend hours in my closet putting together new outfit. But it usually works out that the days that I have no time, I don’t like what I’m wearing, and then I spend time I don’t have, getting it right.
Ever since I read Pride and Prejudice in 12th grade, I’ve always related very strongly to Mr. Darcy. Particularly the fact that everyone thinks he’s a snob, when he’s really just uncomfortable in the environment. And then I took a personality test (one of those free ones online)– and after I got the results it says “Famous people who are…) and Mr. Darcy was listed among others who share the same personality profile as me!! I’m not crazy (it’s an INTJ btw).
Recently (as in January) I was published for the first time ever – in the Mishpacha magazine. It was validating, but even more super validating is that they’ve accepted another piece of mine. Hood-ay.
I’m an optimistic pessimist. I expect the worst, always. So when it doesn’t happen, life is wonderful. I’m constantly in state of happy surprise. You should try it.
I love to do research. Research a product, a condition, a topic; I love it. So much so that at my family’s Channukah party, we played a game and part of it was that we each had to offer something of ourselves for someone else to potentially win – I offered to research something, anything for someone. All the people in college were disappointed that they didn’t win it.
I’m have a seriously hard time coming up with 11 things about myself. I’m either super private or super boring – which is it?
I was a Harry Potter freak when I was younger. So much so, that I actually applied and was accepted to write for MuggleNet (didn’t do it in the end). And I got suspended in 11th grade because of Harry Potter. Fun Story.
I love children’s books. So impactful. Some of my favorites: Ish, The Dot, Love You Forever, The PaerBag Princess, Yo! Yes!, The Giving Tree, The Gift of Nothing, Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus…and loads more. (Btw, I cry for real every time I read Love You Forever out loud)
My Answers to Little Duckies questions.
1) What do you consider to be the three most important things in your life?
My husband, my children, myself (I have to value myself, before I can truly value anything else)
2) What made you decide to start blogging?
I wanted an outlet for my writing other than my own word files. I wanted the feedback, the acceptance, the push to write more. Not sure if I achieved all that, but I love my blog all the same
3) Books or television? Why?
Books – they are more engaging and at the same time leave for room for interpretation.
4) If someone accused your child of bullying theirs, how would you react? Why?
I’d probably go quiet, nod my head listening, and say something like “I’m sorry this happened, I’m gonna go talk to my son and hear what he has to say. I’ll be in touch with you, so we can resolve this.”
5) What subjects do you enjoy reading about?
Sociology and History
6) What do you consider to be the most important factor in a marriage?
The marriage itself. When I was single I read William Glasser “Choice Theory” in marriage. What he said stayed with me, I thought it was brilliant.
When there is conflict in a marriage – each side is wary of giving in, apologizing, conceding. They don’t want to be perceived as weak, that they condone whatever happened, or that they were the wrong party. What you need to realize is that your marriage is more important that you as an individual. You choose your marriage over yourself. And when you apologize to your spouse even though you don’t think it’s totally warranted, you’re not weak – you are giving into the marriage not to him. It’s not a concession, it’s a choice.
7) There are many, many older (30+) singles today, as well as a high rate of divorce. What do you think is the cause?
I think every marriage has its moments. The moments where we are truly fed up with certain aspects of our spouses, and we think if only for another moment “I don’t have to put up with this.” And then what happens in the moment after that moment is what makes the difference – do you voice that, do you shelve it, do you resolve it (through many different means).
People keep saying it, and no one wants to hear about it anymore – but we are a generation of instant gratification, and of “I” am special. So making a clear choice in that third moment becomes more difficult. In a time that celebrates “me”, the “we” in marriage is secondary and it’s easier to choose yourself over your marriage then it was in previous generation.
As for singles, in not all, but many cases, the same concept can be applied.
8) Why did you choose your city of residence?
Didn’t really choose… My husband was learning there, I choose to support my husband’s learning efforts, and ergo landed here – even if I’m not particularly fond of the place.
9) How do you and your spouse handle finances?
He takes care of the bills, but I know what’s going on. We talk about big purchases. We budget. We save. We try. So far so good.
10) What is your favorite household chore? Why?
I can’t answer this question. Is there even such a concept as a chore being anything other than a detestable necessary – why else would it be called a chore? I suppose I like to read cookbooks, not the actual cooking, but the planning before it. (useless I know)
11) The classic: If you won the lottery, what would you do with the money?
I’d buy an old country house, with a wraparound porch and the most impractical layout ever, but possess all these little nooks and crannies, and stairs leading nowhere. And of course it’ll have lots of windows. Big windows, glorious windows, with sun raining in. I don’t want to ever flick on a light switch. And then I’d hire a housekeeper, so that I don’t have to look at a Clorox toilet wand again in my life. Maybe I’d start a hachnosos kallah organization, or donate a lot of money to one. I’d go back to school, get a degree in English for interest sake. I think I’ll open a high school, always wanted to do that. Also I’d buy my husband a few presents he’s been dying for – a megilla, a tur, a second car. Other than that, I think I’d keep everything the same. I might buy 2 sweaters a season instead of 1. Or buy meat once a week instead of none. That’s it. I’ll probably end up doing most of it without winning the lottery – it would just make it easier and happen sooner.
11 Questions for my Nominees
1) Chocolate or Vanilla?
2) Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings?
3) Who was your favorite/influential teacher, and why?
4) What did you wanna be when you grew up. What are you today (or are you still growing up)
5) What’s your favorite (or one of your favorite books) and why?
6) What is(are) your pet peeve(s)
7) What is the biggest problem in the Jewish Community today?
8) Do you have any proposed solution to the previous question?
9) Where do you see yourself in 20 years?
10) People who __________ are idiots. Fill in the blank.
11) What can always make you smile?
And now for the Nominees (I only have 5, sorry)….Drumroll Please…
“Zichron Yaakov Tzedaka,” she answered, her hands fumbling around one her many manila envelopes finding change for another teacher; she was always doing some chessed thing or another. I crouched over the desk and wrote out a ten dollar check. She handed me three red tickets.
“Write your name on it; the display’s past the double doors; put the tickets in there.
I nodded smiling; I had seen the display for the last week. Every day when I walked to class, the opportunity to win a set of linen or aMarc Jacob watch mocked me.
“You know this money is going straight for tzedaka,”
She nodded, “Ye, I know, that’s what I put this auction together for.”
I shook my head and laughed,
“No, I meant this money is lishma, yeah, I’m putting a ticket in, but I never win anything ever, Publisher’s Clearing House doesn’t even send me letters”
“Really, nothing? Ever? Most people have won something or another, even if it not a Chinese auction, but a scratch off lotto or the like.”
“Nope,” I said almost proudly, “Nothing. If it’s based on luck, I’m sure to lose. I’ll win you any game of spit. War, I lose every time.”
She shrugged lightly. “Drawing’s this Thursday.”
She left the teacher’s room. I left too, I was running late already, I had to pick up the kids, but make a stop first. My sister organized abone marrow/stem cell blood drive, and was harassing me to be swabbed.
“You have to show support for my effort” she said.
“I don’t have time.”
“You could save someone’s life,” she changed tactics.’
“The likelihood is small, and really, I just don’t have time.”
“I’ll pay the extra $10 dollars at the babysitter that you keep your kids there a bit longer and just do it.”
“Fine,” I conceded. “I’m doing this for you. Because, really, you know the odds, you’re the coordinator, and keep your 10 bucks, I’ll do it lishma.” I winked.
The whole thing took five minutes. Swab here, here, here, and here. Lost all my lipstick to the q-tip, but I got a nice membership card telling me I’m a donor, and did my second good deed for the day. Then I walked back to my car all the way across the parking lot, because there are never spots up front when I arrive – plenty now, but none then.
It doesn’t even bother me anymore, it’s my mazal, I’ve come to accept it. Am almost proud of it at times. and it keeps me from doing stupid things, like trying incessantly to call into the radio station, praying to be the 107th caller and win a new cd, a free pizza or something of the sort. I don’t hope for rain, or to make the bus, I plan ahead instead. It’s ok, don’t pity me, I’m happy, I just have nosort of luck when it comes to any sorts of odds.
My chicken soup was up, and the fish already made, when her name showed up on the caller id Thursday night.
“I won I won I won!!” I shouted by way of answering the call.
“Ummm, actually,” she started.
“You can’t tease me, calling Thursday when you’re supposed to be drawing the Chinese Auction.”
She laughed, “We drew the winners for the auction, have no fear, your streak is still alive.”
“Phew!” I joked, “Close call. So what can I do for you?”
There was a moment’s pause, and when she spoke again her voice was more serious, earnest, concerned,
“I volunteer for Gift of Life, you’re a match to someone, would you be willing to go for further testing?”
It took a moment to register.
“You won.” She said softly.
I guess I did.
“I won, I won, I won!” I repeated my opening line.
I broke my streak on the mother load.
(Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, though inspired by real events)
Tonight we were doing an early spring-cleaning, just one closet. Out came the old coats, the worn out shoes, the broken kitchen appliances, and assorted memories.
There was a large leather portfolio that I dump unceremoniously on the side. It was just waiting to be placed in an organized allotted space. My father passed the wreckage that was the cleaning, and spotted the portfolio.
“My old stuff!” he said excitedly. He picked it up, cleared whatever was on the kitchen table with the sweep of his hand, laid down the portfolio and opened it.
Inside was my father’s old work. His work as a graphic artist, years before computers were standard. Where the artist actually had to be one, and not rely on the manipulations and clip art of present day (not minimizing today’s graphics artist, but it’s a completely different field with a different set of skill requirements).
He pulled out papers where he created an accountant’s sheets. He drew ALL the lines. Perfectly. He pulled out posters he created for concerts where all the elements where pasted on top of each other and then printed together. Brochures, where he drew the products, and the simulation of person trying it. He pulled out a yellowed New York Times, where an ad he created had ran. He pulled out several envelopes and letterheads in which logos he created graced. And then he just took out fun things that he drew with an advertisement theme. It wasn’t just, oh I put together the logo or I worked on it; he CREATED it.
“Ta,” I said. “You were amazing. What happened?” He just laughed and said something like,
“I’m so busy just printing now, I don’t have time to patchke on this stuff, besides, this is not how it runs anymore.”
“But, you’re so good!” I protested. He smiled for the compliment but sighed slightly.
“Maybe when I retire I’ll go back to it.” He said optimistically.
I always prided myself on having some artistic skill, I knew I got it from my father, and I’ve seen plenty of his personal work. But seeing today how he utilized his talents for business was successful and loved it, made me feel a bit inadequate in my dabbling in the arts.
But he’s not using it anymore. He loved it. He was great. But real life gets in the way.
I don’t want that to happen to my talents. I want to use them, for them to be me, not for me to tell my children years from now,
I generally ignore WordPress’s daily prompts, except today. It wasn’t an exceptionally brilliant or intriguing prompt, but my mind responded to it, not on a logical level, but a very emotional one, and I feel compelled to write about her.
My 12th grade Navi teacher changed my life. Well, not she herself, I did that, but she was a very large catalyst. I can’t say she was brilliant educator; I slept through most of her classes. She was though an exceptional teacher.
After yet another period resulting in drool pools on my desk and line patterns on my forehead, she called me over.
I stood there hand on hip waiting for her chastisement.
“The Navi speaks to me, TYTT,” she said. “It doesn’t do it for you. And that’s ok. Everyone has different things that pull and inspire them. I can’t have you sleeping through my class though.”
She had started off well, that spoke to me, but not sleeping through her class, wasn’t really an option, my eyes would just glaze over, I couldn’t fight the boredom.
“I’m giving you this sefer,” and she handed me a non-descript book, with a picture of stone staircase on the jacket cover. “I want you to read it, and take notes on it. Summarize it, jot down your own opinions, if you agree, disagree, any questions you have. This will be your curriculum. And your notes, your test. Ok?”
I looked at her questioningly, this seemed too easy, just read a book and take some notes, but I accepted the book, and the task.
And that book answered all the questions I never knew I had. And I felt secure in knowledge and not just faith. Things, religion, mostly, made more sense to me.
Thought is one thing, action another though.
I still slept through all my other classes, Historia, Chumash, Beer Tefillah, Hashkafah, Parsha… none of them got through to me, not like that book did.
But I graduated High School realized quite suddenly that no one was telling me what to do. No one was telling me what was right and wrong appropriate or not. I’d have to live my own life, make decisions and choices on how to lead it. And the thoughts finally translated to action.
I chose to be a teacher, and I chose to marry a man like my husband, and chose to live the lifestyle I now lead. And a whole lot of other smaller (and medium sized) choices too. My life wasn’t happening, I was making conscious decisions to make it so, spurred on by the contents of that book. I was living inspired.
I had clarity on the cycles of life, on daas torah, on the conflict between hishtadlus and bitachon and other big ticket questions.
I read his other books, listened to his shiurim and I my life changed, for the ever better.
I owe my wonderful life to my 12th grade Navi teacher. When I invited her to my wedding, I slipped in a little note,
Dear Rebitzen ——-,
I don’t think I’ve ever fully expressed, and explained how much I appreciate what you did for me in 12th grade. I know, it seems simple enough, a good idea that panned out: Give a disinterested student an interesting book, have her be involved in something Jewish during your class instead of her drooling on the desk in slumber.
But had you not done what you did, I would not be who I am today. And I would not be marrying the person I am; I have you to thank for that.
By just being the shaliach, introducing me to the works of R’ Akiva Tatz, and from him, R’ Dessler, I am forever indebted to you. Those books changed my perspective on everything, it explained so much, and my life, outlook and actions reflect that.
I hope to share in many more Simchas with you. And anything good, anything of merit, anything I or my husband, or children, or generations to come accomplish, is all because of you.
I would have never came across R’ Tatz and his work if not for her. And even if I would have, I don’t think I would have had the patience to fully concentrate on what he was trying to convey. Twice a week, I had 45 minutes of intense depth and inspiration that I got to comment and question. And today whenever I need a little pick me up, when life starts feeling monotonous, I go back to the book – she let me keep it.
I’m a 12th grade teacher now, and on the short Shabbosim, with the long Friday nights, I have my students over for a little oneg. Together we learn Living Inspired, and I love seeing the light behind their eyes, when it clicks for them, the way it did for me back then.
WordPress sent me my end of year and I’m not posting it. I’m embarrassed of my stats, not that I blame them really. I don’t post often enough, and I totally ignore the first room of cultivating readers – responding to their comments – I’m just not good at it, I feel like I have nothing smart to say. And then I don’t market my blog by commenting on other blogs – same comment on comments – I don’t have anything intelligent to add.
I also feel like the Jewish Blogosphere has changed so much since I started blogging, or maybe it’s the same and I changed. In any case, it used to be this really cozy place where everyone commented on everyone’s posts, exchanged meme’s, linked to each other, had conversations that started in the comments and sometimes went off to e-mails. I feel like I knew those bloggers. But they’re all gone. I can’t remember the last time my Google Reader bolded their title alerting me to a new post.
The only one’s still around are BadforShidduchim, and Princess Lea who went from the best commenter ever to the best blogger ever. (Had to give that shout out, she really is awesome, no?)
So my stats dwindled as did my posts, energy, and commitment.
My life changed, and I haven’t yet figured out how to write about some things without trespassing on other people’s privacy (namely my family). That severely limits my material.
And I’m busier, and a blog while fun, and a wonderful outlet for expression, is not a priority.
So many times I’ve wanted to just close it down – while I still have some grace and dignity, and readers. But I like my blog, and it’s just as much for me as it is for you. So I think it’ll stick around another year, as I hope will you.
Here’s to a new year (well, not really new, just Gregorian new) and more sporadic intelligence – if there ever was any.
“TYTT, don’t beat yourself up. You’re very busy, and stressed, so what if you didn’t write and made a cookbook for your sister instead.”
I breathed deeply, I love supportive mothers.
“You didn’t read the last paragraph did you, what I did was just a manifestation of an underlying trait which indicated a lack of passion in an area I thought it existed.
“Ye ye,” She brushed me off, “The cookbook was a one time thing, writing is not, apples and oranges.”
I smiled, maybe supportive mothers have a point.
“But there are always one-time things that get in the way.” I said tugging at the loose thread of her theory.
“Fine, don’t write, be a defeatist. What nareshkeit are you so busy with anyway?”
Well, if she put it that way…This is what I’m so busy with, or was so busy with – one of those pressing one-time things that spring me into action…
Driving home from the co-op one day my cochlea’s were stimulated. I was listening to Radio Kol BeRama – The Jewish Music radio station in Lakewood, when a song that I actually liked came on. The station plays way to much gravelly Carlbach for my taste, but I had no patience plugging in my ipod, and even less patience for song selection (I’m so freakin’ lazy, I know!) This song though was different. It had a sax, and no trumpet, a rarity in Jewish pop. The lyrics were a mix of a posuk and English words (buncha singers have been doing that lately, notably Avraham Fried and Benny Friedman). The vocals (a duet) were trained and smooth – another Jewish rarity. And I enjoyed. I even still remember where I was while listening to it – County line and Madison, waiting for the light to change, with Crystal Lake realty to my right, and Exxon on my left – it’s a long light; I didn’t mind.
I thought I recognized Ari Goldwag’s voice; actually, I was pretty sure it was him; his voice is pretty distinct; somehow he makes a bubble stuck in your throat sound good. Figuring a quick Google search would garner me the song, I got right to it – a good song it worth any time in the world, everyone knows that. But I didn’t find it.
I searched by the lyrics I remembered. Nothing. I combed MostlyMusic’s website for the song title (which I totally made up, but just assumed based on the song content). I went through Ari Goldwag’s discography, his website, nothing. I searched the lyrics again. Nada. And I gave up. For the time being, that is.
A few days later, I was bored, and writing takes too much thinking, so I took another stab at it. Nothing. Searched YouTube, all English Collections: fruitless.
A Motziah Shabbos later, I somehow ended up on Radio Kol Berama’s website. Once there, I figured might as well take another stab. I submitted a song request just a description of the song, and assumed artist. Of course I was in Brooklyn at the time, so I couldn’t tune in, and of course I was called away from the computer, so I couldn’t even stick around for a possible streaming. Strike three. Or so I thought.
I was frustrated, and disappointed. Seriously, how elusive can a Jewish song be?! It’s such a small world.
Fast forward a few weeks and a random perusal of my Facebook news feed, a friend posted an audio clip, with this message:
I have this one recording of this song, does anyone know who sings it and what album its from?
IT WAS MY SONG!!! And someone else was looking for it too! Misery loves company. Now that it wasn’t just me, I was spurned on to resume my search (I’m so altruistic, no?). I qualified for Albert Einstein’s definition of insanity. I went through the same motions as before, no change in results , none.
This time though, I ended up at the Jewish Music Review blog. In a moment of inspiration, I e-mailed them, maybe they would know. On this blog, there was an article about Yitzy Spinner’s new website. Could Yitzy Spinner be the second half of the duet? Ari Goldwag and he were in Miami Boy’s Choir together, did they keep up? I re-searched MostlyMusic this time under Yitzy Spinner’s work, again, nothing. I went back to Jewish Music Review, and clicked the link to Yitzy Spinner’s website, maybe it would provide me with more insight. It didn’t.
In the corner of the website was a “Contact Yitzy” link. Intended for potential gigs, I made other use of it.
Hi, I heard a song, Eilecha (I made up that title). A mix of Hebrew and English lyrics. I recognized Ari Goldwag’s and I think your voice singing it. For the life of me, I can’t find a record of the song anywhere. I loved it, and am desperate for a copy of it. Do you know what I’m talking about? Can you steer me in the right direction? Thank you.
Impressively, he responded within the hour,
Nothing that I can think of. Did you try going through Ari’s music?
Dead end. Again. But a stroke of genius prodded me, or maybe it was stupidity, because why didn’t I think of it before – E-mail Ari Goldwag. Easily, I found his e-mail address on his website. And he too responded quickly.
My heart quickened, and a smile burst forth when I read his succinct response,
it’s from Sheves Achim 2. I sang it with the Bell brothers.
I found it!!! I spread the joy to my Facebook friend, who of course realized that she had the cd uploaded on her computer all along.
The resolution to this quest of course completed my life goals, and I lived happily ever after. Not really, but at least I got a song that I really love to listen to.
My friend’s thought I was insane for going as far as to e-mail the (assumed) artist to find a song that I heard once and enjoyed. I think it’s just indicative of my nature, and writing problem. Do I want in bad enough – it would seem not – again.
Sorry, supportive Ma, it’s not a defeatist writing, but a realist.
(I tried posting the song, but wordpress is not so generous with embedding mp3′s, so those of you who are friends with me on FB, can check it out, I posted it, or try the links above)
I’ll write when I have time, is what I and every aspiring, but lazy writer says. I have ideas, I wrote 5 books – in my head, but pen to paper, never happens.
I’m different, I said. I REALLY don’t have time. No excuses. There is no time. Teaching, prepping, marking papers, cooking, cleaning, diaper changing and plain old mommying (just as I sat down to write this my son came with a Dr. Suess book “Mommy, read a ducky feet!”), make up my entire day, there is no time for jotting down a few epiphanies.
Then my sister got engaged, and is now married (Mazal Tov RL!!!) and I wanted to give her a special gift. Nothing you can buy in the store (Can’t afford that anyway), but something from the heart, practical, and hand- made for her – a cookbook, with a monthly menu, and tips for the kitchen (When you have no time – use the stovetop. No patience – the oven).
I remembered when I first got married how overwhelming the whole kitchen experience was. Forget about the actual cooking, where I had zero to little experience, what I found most frustrating and anxiety provoking was deciding what to make in the first place. Once I knew what I was making, everything was much easier and focused. My sister has about the same cooking experience as me, and I figured she’d probably fall prey to the same mental torture as me, hence the menu.
Of course, since I have no time, this cookbook seemed to be more like a pipedream than an actuality. But I really wanted to do it, just like I really want to write. The wedding got closer and closer, and one morning I woke up and the Shabbos Kallah was a less than week away. And it was the end of the term, insane marking, essays, quizzes, rubrics, averages – big pain, little time.
I really wanted to do it though, so I did. I just did. I sat down, and did it. I even went to Amazing Savings to buy a nice loose-leaf (awesome store!), and then the Dollar Tree for sheet protectors (AS didn’t have). It was done in a night and day. That was it. Probably took about 6 hours total. I don’t know where I found the time. Everything I usually do in that time was accomplished too.
It’s motivating to realize that if I want to do something, it will get done. Very depressing though to realize I maybe don’t want to write as much I think I do.