birthday blessings.... to you.

happy birthday to me.
and to you, every blessing in the world.
have a wonderful life, full of meaning, sensitivity, passion, happiness, love, success, health, growth, and connection.
MASHIACH NOW!

Birthday Blues...

Yeah my birthday's on Tuesday. (Hebrew.) So what. What do birthdays mean anyway...
For me, it was supposed to be an acknowledgment of how far I've come, how I may have grown, matured.
But no.

Instead, I have been quite shockingly and rudely informed that I have not matured, that I have not grown. That I'm just the same as I've always been. And worse.

What right does anyone have to make another person feel miserable? What gives them the right to put down others in order to feel good about themselves, pure.

How can someone sleep at night having poured kosher salt on old wounds, causing new abrasions and lacerations to form where the scabs habe practically disappeared altogether?

I do not sleep when I have hurt another person... I would not be able to live with myself knowing that I had caused similar pain to another individual...

G-d must have His reasons for permitting pain. Yet, why this messenger? Messenger of torment...

I am tormented by the thought that here I am, turning 20, and perhaps I have not accomplished much in this world. Perhaps I have not made this world a better place. Perhaps my doings are not needed...

Tough-chick is turned emotional and sensitive by seeing others hurt and internalizing pain. Pain doesn't pass me by any longer. It lingers, becoming fused with my blood.

Every day I jump out of bed. I love what I do and who I am. Passionately.

I pride myself in my positivity. I use my positivity to bring just a little more happiness to an otherwise pessimistic world. But eventually pessimism conquers. Why is that? Why can't optimism conquer all!

Yet, I know that if I let every unfortunate, unplanned, awful, even evil thing that occured affect me, I'd be that shy, withdrawn, muted skeleton lurking in the shadows.

Look at me! I'm no skeleton! I'm in no way shy or silent. And this post here proves I'm not withdrawn!

I am out there. I am happy. I really, truly am. See that, and don't feel the need to bash it. Don't feel the need to make a truly happy person unhappy, a secure person insecure. It's just not fair.

I will not allow it to take me over. I will not permit another's paranoia and jealousy threaten my happiness or identity. It has been the goal of too many people, too many times.

See my strength and resolve.

As I said previously, in a previous post,
The Sweetest Revenge is living well. Just because I might be having pre-birthday blues, I will still be happy and exude that happiness to others... it's not them that were targetted anyway.



Hopefully I'll be able to celebrate my English birthday in NY - give my true friends a good time at least...

LET ME VENT, ITS MY SITE. NOT EVERY MALE IS A MAN!!

Alright. Reality has hit.
It's like driving, kind of. Whether or not you are driving smartly and safely, the other driver may not be. Your safe driving may minimize the wreckage of an accident (G-d forbid), but you have no control over the other drivers on the road...

(Although I was taught to always drive on the "defense", NYC and LA have brought out the "offensive" driver in me.)

The same is true on shlichut. (A road...shluchos..) Whether or not I am "driving safely and cautiously" I have no control over the "other drivers on the road".

In this case:

"driving smartly" = I am shomer negiah. Period.
"other drivers" = horny men i like to call "kakas" which to me means "sleaze"

Now, everyone here knows what my (our) job here is. Everyone knows that a) I work for the Rabbi b) I am polite and friendly even if "I'm sorry, I don't shake hands" ...

FIRST OF ALL - EXACTLY WHAT AM I SORRY FOR? I'M NOTT SORRY THAT I'M RELIGIOUS! HECK NO. I'M A JEW AND PARRROOUD OF IT!

It has only proven to be beneficial to me, to not permit guys to touch me. Suddenly, either men become uninterested or otherwise respectful and mindful of my "boundaries"...

I'll really vent now. Two incidents - two men. i wont even call them men. ill call them animals. bc what it is is animal instinct - "i want, so i shall get". First guy - totally aware of how we work... grew up in Brooklyn, knows exactly whats going on... Got lil "shikkur/tipsy" on Simchat Torah and proceeded to hug me. Not only was it inappropriate and he knew so, but he did it out in the sukkah where there were tons of ppl, the Rabbi, my co-worker, everyone. I couldn't slap him, I couldn't do anything but stand there stiffly so that the guests and Rabbi wouldn't think I'd consented.

Now the second guy... he REALLY makes me mad. Israeli. The REAL israeli kaka. full-blown. He completely disregards the fact that we CHOOSE not to touch and be touched by men. (hes a child.. so far from "man") He purposely stands SO close, slides RIGHT by, sqeezes his way just so, so that he skims me in the slightest way so that I have a doubt in my mind as to whether or not he really did touch me. Forget about violating me, have so respect! The other night it went too far. He let the back of his hand brush against my lil tush... im telling you, and i know i promised my friends that the next time id do something serious about it, well... i couldnt! this was at Shabbat dinner! There were close to 200 ppl there! And this was in the kitchen. I knew I'd blow a fit, get all crazy-dramatic right then, so I stormed out, so as not to blow it indoors. The steam is still hovering over the building we rented out for that event...
What a complete AH. The next two times he came up to me I told him very distinctly that I was not going to talk to him, and that either he or I will leave. First time, I did. Second time, he did. Good.
And the next (G-d forbid for him, cuz im a tough chick) time... oy Hashem help him. He'll be yelping in pain. Be it in the synagogue or out in the middle of the street...

What do I learn from this?
Well, when I came, I lost my tough-chick-ness. Well, i didn't really lose it, but I put it away temporarily. I thought - on shlichut out here, I gotta be nice to everyone. No matter what. I remember that first time a guy hit on me while I was on the job and I caught myself thinking, wow, here I am, and I'm actually going to be polite (tho still professional) back.

It's not like that. Guys will be guys wherever. No matter what you think you are, who you think you are, what I think I'm doing. Yeah, I'm protecting myself against more serious things, but these small things matter as well, especially when they add up.

Ok, I'll go for some coffee right now. I needa chill.

Rug jerked out from beneath us...

I’m laying her trying to imagine what that phone call must have sounded like… and felt like, both on his end and on the recipient’s.
“My father. My sister... We got into an accident. My mother needs help immediately… My father… My sister… There’s nothing I can do…”

I can’t really imagine it at all, though I try, because my brain instinctively shuts it out. When I see him (please, G-d, he should have a complete and speedy recovery) my heart will feel so heavy, I’ll automatically cast my eyes to my feet, the floor between us, his shoes. Then slowly bring my eyes up to meet his, my eyes brimmed with tears. A kid needs his father. And his only sibling…
I only hope that he will find the strength to continue living his life, that he will experience joys that will lift his spirits and his heart. I hope he will bear many beautiful children for his mother. Only then, might they feel a sense of solace and comfort.

Hashem, You test us time and again. You place such a tremendous amount of responsibility on the shoulders of Your Nation – by having the heaps of trust in us that You do. Each time You expect us to be strong, to rise above the incidents that through “ Providence” have shattered our lives. You trust that when You pull the rug out from under us, we will remain upright, with a jump in place our only change in stature. You trust that we will not permit ourselves be swept off the board, whisked away with that rug You so daringly tugged from beneath us…

Well, we will not lose our balance. We will exceed Your greatest expectations and will thrive with an appreciation for life like never before. G-d, may You only see this and be satisfied with it, affecting You in ways only You can see… And grant us the final, and long overdue Redemption.

Our place is no longer in this mad world, where black and white are laced in grey and no one can see the straight path ahead.

Take us to a place where we will be able to see the beauty in Your Will. Where appreciation will be our everlasting emotion, holiness and purity our reality in our thoughts and actions, and “Baruch Dayan HaEmet” our only words.

Take us there, Hashem. Now.

www.chabadtexas.org/donate

a texas tragedy

Our hometown in texas hosts such a special community.
why tragedies continue to befall our community we do not know, but what we can do is pray. we can pray that this is the final tragedy, that this is the end to galut, and that from here on out there will be only joyous occassions to celebrate.

There was a terrible accident today. A family was westward-bound, to their annual sukkot vacationing spot. How could they have known that this would be their final family car ride..? Both father and daughter were killed on the spot. Peretz, the son, made the desperate call back home. He and his mother were admitted to a medical center nearby...to the intensive care unit. His mother, Masha, just got out of surgery. We are waiting to hear good news. As well as good news concerning Peretz, who is also in critical condition...

your prayers will only help - for PERETZ BEN MASHA & MASHA BAT SONIA.

please keep in mind that Jews all over are suffering. and a unified community in texas mournes yet another tragedy.

baruch dayan ha'emet. may Hashem comfort us.

MASHIACH NOW

by passing this on, you are creating a chain of mitzvot. thank you.

Am I Jewish, Rabbi?

"Is my mother Jewish or my father Jewish?
What do you mean?
I'm half-Jewish. My dad is...so yeah.
Why do you ask, by the way?"

Oy. If only he could imagine.

My exposure to such letdowns has only just begun. Sure, I’ve heard stories…People did try to prepare me…But none compare to how I felt when I was shocked with the realization… No, ______ was not Jewish.

It all began on a Friday night here at the Rabbi’s house. It must have been pretty late. Most of the students (20) had gone home. Approximately 4 remained. Guys. They’d stuck around to have a few extra “L’chaim”s with the Rabbi.

With one guy, in particular, I’d had a connection. We’d chatted about Judaism and I’d felt his fire. His passion for Judaism. It always excites me when someone shares that enthusiasm with me. I felt honored that he’d come over to me to say, “Shabbat shalom” and to point out that he really had come. He’d made me smile.

As the last of the straggling guests stumbled none the too soberly out the front door, I turned to the Rabbi, smacked the table, and with a gleeful grin proclaimed, “Rabbi, I’ll bet you that ­­­­­­______ will be frum, or at least frummer by the end of the year." (a more religious Jew)

Yet, instead of sharing my excitement with me, the Rabbi sighed. Deeply. His eyes showed pain. Pain at the inevitable news that I’d made it his task to be the bearer of.

My heart sank. I knew. He didn’t even have to say it.

This boy was not Jewish…

Why am I so bothered by it? Troubled by it constantly?

Because I’d seen his passion for Judaism! Maybe not his Judaism. But Judaism.

And now I know why.

The bright eyes are mirrors of his soul. The soul that is bereft of an evil inclination that a Jew would have, thereby making his service to G-d that much simpler. So that he desires. And is not restrained, as Jews are! He performs Mitzvot to the best of his knowledge. And with infectious joy.

Yet this boy remains a goy.