if i could

a discussion in class about choices,

mistakes,

decisions,

second chances,

 

and if you could do it over

would you?

should you?

could you?

 

said many students

they’d love

they’d want

they’d die

 

me?

not sure

don’t think

no.

 

wishing when it happened,

that it had gone differently.

that I said something else.

that some things didn’t happen at all.

 

those moments with the pause

of shame

of frustration

of desperation

 

smiles not meaning happiness

but, sarcasm,

but, grief

but isolation

 

people ask,

“Why do bad things happen to good people?”

“Only the good die young”

“She’s so sweet, but suffers so”

 

the unsatisfactory answer:

they can handle it

G-d loves them

it’s a test

 

i don’t know

if i’m a “good” person

if i “handled” it

if i’ve passed

 

i do know i’m here

to-day

just now

this moment

 

because of what

i’ve done,

didn’t do,

gone though,

 

all is

for better or worse,

the good with the bad

the joy in the sorrow

 

i am me,

because

despite

contrary

 

of

it

them

all

 

and i kinda like me.

so no,

so sorry

so, whatever.

 

i choose

no reset

do over

groundhog day.

Paternal Prediction revisited

Old School Graphic Design Tools

Today’s WordPress Prompt reminded me of this post I wrote 5 years ago – it’s as relevant as ever.

I hope I don’t turn out like my father.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my father.

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,

“Y’know I had blog when I was younger….”

My Animal Instinct

http://www.baldeagleinfo.com/ http://www.bsc-eoc.org/avibase/avibase.jsp?pg=summary&lang=E…; (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Today’s post is brought to by Plinky. I answered today’s question, of which animal I’d choose to be:

If I had to choose which animal to be, I think I’d go with the American Bald Eagle.

They are lookers.

They are strong

They are powerful.

They are respected.

They are talented.

They are smart.

They are also an endangered species, so anyone who messes with them is instantly considered a jerk.

Depressing Discoveries

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.

I Just Don’t Know

I’m typing this post from my phone. It’s a pain to capitalize, use apostrophes, and frankly say anything more than I need to. Basically, an atmosphere not really conducive to writing, unless you’re Hemingway succinct – I haven’t reached that level of mastery yet (or probably ever).

So why am I subjecting myself to such obvious torture is a good question you ask. I cancelled the internet service in my house, is the simple answer, or really that is the answer, it just leads to the next question that has a more complex or elusive answer, why did I cancel my Internet service?

I’m not sure. I know it’s good for me. Good for me, on a few important levels:  socially, mentally, and spiritually.

But I feel a little torn, because I always held myself as the voice of reason, crying the internet is a tool, and that it’s the people that use it that are good or bad. And now I seem like the extremist, which I never want to be; the Rambam says to take the middle road with everything (but anger) and this is not it. And now I have to get off my soap box, because I can’t preach moderation if I’m not living it myself (I hate those people who say it’s ok to do something, but they don’t do it themselves).

Suddenly though, I find so many more hours in my day. Hours to to do the things I never get around to: organizing my pictures into albums, patchening a little on supper, playing with my children uninterrupted, with full focus not waiting for something to download, process, or what-not. I have time to breathe and live. And it’s amazing to discoverI can be a fully functional member of society without reading Yahoo’s article “10 Things Your Waiter Won’t Tell You”. I’m enjoying the freedom I never knew I had given up, and with access on my phone, I’m still connected when I need to be, but I’m not going to be idling hours away browsing.

We’ll see how it all works out long term. The people at Verizon say I can keep my service on “vacation” for nine months before it’s made permanent. Nine months…nine months to create a new being of myself-if I choose.

But will I? I just don’t know.

Take it From Me

Kach es Sheli, from Avrhom Fried’s new album has got me thinking, and once again recognizing the pathos of my mindset.

He sings,

“Rebono Shel Olma, Ani Yodeiah, ShBais Hamikdahs Hashlishi aino bunoi mei avanim, hu vunoi me demaos, v’im cul ma shatah tzaruch rok dmaah achas, kach es sheli”

Creator of this world, I know that the third Bais Hamekdsh is not being built from stones, but from tears. And if all that you need is one more tear, take it from me.

When I listen to it, I feel inspired, like I can do this, we are close, redemption is near, and I can be a part of it.
But then I look around at my life. I sit and complain all day, about the smallest the thing. The driver that doesn’t know to ease into the intersection when making a left turn, the secretary that misplaced my papers – again. When it takes me more than thirty seconds to decide what to make for supper, when my kid gives me a run for my money when I try to change his diaper.

Kach Es Sheli?

Who am I kidding. I can barely handle day to day stresses gracefully, appreciatively, what nerve do I have asking Hashem to make me cry for my benefit. I’m not even appreciating the tears he gives me on a regular basis, am I an idiot? A glutton for punishment, asking for more?

It’s a beautiful song, but if I’m very honest with myself – that Kach Es Sheli – let him take Avrhom Fried because, well, I’m a baby who cries from everything, but I’m not an idiot who attempts a muscle to look strong and says “punch me” hoping the other person won’t take me seriously.

60 Second to a Minute

Alarm clock (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’m coming to appreciate how lazy I am.

Of late, there have been a few songs sporting the lyrics
“Hayom Kutzer Vehamelacha meruba, vhapoalim atzeivah v’haschar harbei, ubaal habeis dochek”

Roughly translating to,

“The day is short, there’s a lot of work, the workers are lazy, the payoff is great and the owner is concerned.”

It’s a metaphor to this world and the world to come and man is lazy. (for those of you not religiously or literary inclined)

I don’t know why these lyrics are generally matched with catchy tunes, but I find myself hearing them very often – mostly in the form of A.K.A. Pella’s new album, and I’d like to think that they thought for a moment or two about the words that they chose for the song, so I in turn should consider them – and I did – and am.

Now, while I know I have lazy tendencies, I’m not usually slapped in the face with them.

Three weeks ago I was offered a tutoring job that would go through June. I wanted the job, it was a high school girl, with issues right up my alley. My only hesitation though was the time – 9:15 to 11:15 in the morning. I usually didn’t even look groggily at my alarm clock (with no alarm set) until 9:30. How would I possibly manage to pull myself together: up, dressed, fed, ditto for kid, drop off the kid, and be someplace 15 minutes before I even ordinarily scowled properly at the coming day. And besides, a woman in her 8th month doesn’t have that much energy to spare, right?

The money was good though, and with the summer coming, and no jobs, but a baby scheduled, I couldn’t just pass it up.

“I’ll try it out.” I told my husband. “See how it works, how I feel.”

And reassuringly he said,

“Whatever you decide, it’s your decision, I’m good either way.”

So, I took the job, secure in my husband’s support and my option to back out. Two weeks later, I’m ashamed. Did I seriously wake up that late every day? Did my day really not start until I left to teach around two? Was it possible that I never stepped outside, or ran an errand until I had to leave to teach. What was I doing with my time?

Yes, breakfast with my kid was an entire morning’s affair, so was getting him dressed, and changing his diaper. It was leisurely, bordering on lazy, nah, let’s be honest, it was lazy. Now it’s astonishing what I can accomplish in 45 minutes these mornings. And come 11:15 I’ve already achieved, and I’m up and about, doing things I previously felt I had NO TIME for (like I’d constantly tell my husband). My day is profitable (literally and figuratively) at a time where I’m generally wishing I could put my kid in for an early nap. Its horrifying to discover at my age that I actually have the capability to be efficient, and even worse, I might actually be a morning person after all.

My husband too – he’s davening at an earlier minyan so he can still see me in the morning, and I drop him off at yeshiva a 45 minutes before seder even starts (about half hour before he’s usually there). It’s almost a shame the amount of prime parking spots I pass while dropping him off. And he’s learning more, writing more, accomplishing more – in a day that both of us thought had no time in it.

And now I’m left wondering, how much work have I left undone in the field? How much will I have to answer for? Yes, I may have accomplished, but I’m learning that I’m capable of a lot more. How many more hours will I discover in my day, and how soon will I unearth them?

The day is short, there’s a lot of work, and sometimes this worker is not lazy, though the owner’s still concerned.

On Giving Up

I am a pessimist. And somehow I think G-d only runs my world, and everyone else’s just runs course with nature.

There are people, who I am very ashamed to admit, I have given up on. Given up on them getting married, having children and those other big milestones in life that some people have a hard time reaching (growing up, is another).

Lately though, my pessimism, and no expectation attitude has come under fire. One friend had a baby, a neighbor is pregnant, another person I care for, married for ten years, has put on her first skirt with an expandable panel (I cried when I heard that).

And then there are the engagements, classmates, who we predicted in High School would be the last ones, well, they are the last ones, but they’re doing it all the same. People who were staff members, when I was camper in camp, popping up on OnlySimchas, my sister’s sister-in-law, 42, announcing her engagement. These things are happening, all over around me.

I feel like G-d is clobbering me on the head, saying “Believe! Not just for yourself, but for other people too”.

It’s hard though. When you give up, you lose all expectation, and you just accept. Accept the status quo, you don’t fight, you don’t try and most of all you relinquish responsibility. I didn’t daven for them, I didn’t take challah for them, or say perek shira, or shir hashirim for 40 days. It was convenient for me to think they were hopeless, because then, I wouldn’t be obligated to go that extra mile. I wouldn’t worry, or feel bad every time I saw them, because I just accepted that this is who they were.

I sound terrible, cold-hearted, and selfish, I know. But part of me is also uncomfortable with the fact that I have wahat other people want so desperately, and I don’t always appreciate it the way I should (referring to children here, not marriage, that I appreciate very consciously), and maybe I have a bit of a guilty conscience. It’s a way for me to distance myself from others, make myself less uncomfortable, by putting them in a different league.

But things keep happening, Baruch Hashem. I get so happy, excited, joyous from the news, and then elated and also baffled by being wrong.

I may soon have to acknowledge my tehilim and stop being a passive observer.

Or I may be human, and wait for “one more sign”.

Evolution (or attempts at one)

I’ve always been fascinated by the written word, and one of my life long goals is to publish a novel, but and there’s a very big but, that doesn’t mean I have an iota of talent. There are plenty of people out there who dream of becoming the next president, Oscar winner, and quarterback for the Colts, and well, to be kind—they suck. They have no skill, no talent, no finesse, nothing but a dream. Martin Luther King may disagree with me, but I think you need more than a dream to fulfill your dreams.

If you were to read the research and study people who you consider to be a success, you’ll very often find one common denominator – drive, ambition, desire, which in turn leads to effort and productivity. The dream starts the engine, the person has to drive the car from there. These successes most often had good foundations, some talent and skill which were developed further. And getting back to myself, I don’t think I’m that talented as a writer. Maybe a bit more so than the average person, but really nothing too significant. I have however always wanted to be a writer (since 5th grade at least), and I have studied writing, observed craft, and well, have written an awful lot. I was not the most talented, original or natural writer in High School, or College, I was the only one who wanted it though, and of my classmates, as far as I know, I’m the only one with a blog (going on 4 years!), and I teach writing.

So while, I haven’t achieved my goal—yet, and I don’t think I’m that good—yet , I’m definitely WAY better than I used to be. I look back at my earlier masterpieces and cringe, there’s no structure, development, character, craft, it’s wanting from everything that qualifies as “good writing”. Through a lot trial and error, practice, learning and yes, desire, I’ve improved. And while I’m not the next Austen or Woolf, I think I have a shot at entertaining you.

If you want to see the evolution yourself, it’s documented in this blog. Start from the beginning, and you’ll see the progression. Or if you have no patience, and want the work done for you, I’m willing to post old works of mine, on the condition that you promise to be nice – some are that bad. Let me know in the comments – and raise your glass to many bad (but entertaining [in a laugh at me way]) posts! Your choice.

Update: 

Ok, I’ll admit it, this post was a cop-out. I’m suffering a minor writer’s block and figured I could put of a few post of old stuff, with the disclaimer that they’re well, not so good. You don’t seem to buying it, or all that interested. Don’t blame you if you wanted to read bad writing you could just— nah, I’m not gonna go there. In any case here’s to inspiration, and time and patience to actually follow it.

My New Psychic Prowess

“Ring ring”

TYTT: Hello?

Other Person: Hi

TYTT: Hi

Other Person: Whats up?

TYTT: Nuffin much.

Other Person: Did anything today?

TYTT: Buncha stuff.

Other Person: Like?

TYTT: Laundry.

Other Person: Fun.

TYTT: Yup

Other Person: Dats it?

TYTT: No, I cleaned, E threw up in three different spots.

Other Person: Eurgh!!

TYTT: Ye, it was kinda gross, I had to get rid of all the big undigested pieces before I could tackled the juices and smell

Other Person: You’re grossing me out.

TYTT: Sorry.

Other Person: Did anything exciting today?

TYTT: Ummm…not exciting, but I did a lot.

Other Person: Like?

TYTT: I cleaned my fridge, and pantry, told you I did laundry, three loads, middle of folding the second, I tutored– two different jobs, made lunch, and suppers on the way. Oh, also, I prepped for tomorrow, marked papers, and fixed up a report.

Other Person: Wow!

TYTT: Yeah, I’m productive. Making you feel inferior?

Other Person: Well, you never asked how my day was, maybe I did more than you.

TYTT: Nah.

Other Person: You’re doubting my capabilities?

TYTT: No

Other Person: Then are you gonna ask me about my day?

TYTT: Nope

Other Person: Why not?

TYTT: I already know what you did – you drank coffee, got a new dress, are excited for your friend’s wedding,went to sheva brachos last night, made cookies, ate ice cream, coveted other peoples clothing.

Other Person: Wow, you have ESP?

TYTT: Nope, just friends with you on Facebook.