i think i always choose the hard way. i have a hunch that the challenges i have experienced in my life are created by me. i don't know why i do it. maybe it's because i'm just so 'driven' that i crave things that are beyond my comprehension. this results in lots of rewards - degrees, jobs, leadership positions, you name it. it also results in a lot of pain. i can't be happy with what i have - i always need more. it's not a financial thing (which seems common under this condition) but more so an emotional, psychological factor. i can't be satisfied with a close friendship, relationship, job, school, or experience. it always has to be something more. i have an extremely difficult time looking at my life and saying 'wow, i am comfortable with where i am' because i continually need to be growing. and not just growing at a natural pace, but growing at a very unnatural, propelled pace. with this rapid pace, comes a lot of loss, and that is something i am experiencing for the worst right now.

when i need more, i run from what i have. i did this in high school, twice. i went to three high schools before i graduated. in college, i almost transferred so many times. i could not believe that i walked across the stage in arizona at the end of three and a half years. i honestly don't know if i could have made it, doing the same thing, for a typical four-year college career. it's just too much for me. i can't be too happy with something. as soon as i reach that point, i break. i run, fight, yell, quit - you name it. i cut off ties and i move on. who knows if i really move on. i'm sure there's some emotional baggage that remains deep within me, but for the most part, i do move forward and onto the next 'bigger' step.

so when it comes to happiness, maybe i'm not as happy as i appear. my smile might not be as real as you'd think. my excitement, laughter, love - you name it - might be an act for everything i'm running from inside. i don't know any of this for a fact because all of these things feel real to me. but, they easily could be illusions.

i think i might need to build on what i have in the present instead of jumping toward something new while releasing who i currently am. it might not be worth it to continually be changing the channel. even if it's a commercial, it might be worthwhile. with all of this, comes patience - a quality i innately lack. i wish i had more of it. if i did, i'm sure i could stay put and embrace my experiences and those around me instead of throwing them away as i run toward the limitless sky. well, the sky is limitless and i could keep on running. do i need to do that though?

i need to find myself right now. the solution might not be so far away from what's right before my eyes. it could be, but i have a strong, strong feeling that it's not. i think i would rather work toward perfecting the me sitting here typing into this computer window than the me i 'could be' if i run somewhere new. there's nothing wrong with the present and what i've got, including who i have, close to me. now, i need to embrace this.

little black heels

you may call me a flip flop, but i call myself someone who is in tune with my feelings, continually affected by my surroundings.

with being affected comes perspective and with perspective comes choice. i sometimes look at my kids at hebrew school and middle school and i realize how little choice they have in their lives. their parents decide things for them and they are left to bear the consequences of these decisions, which, more often than not, are not what they would have chose on their own.

my perspective on life has been really bad this past year. i've been a total downer and i know it. for those of you who met me this year and think differently, well, i wish you knew me before last august. when the middle school gym teacher came up to me one day and called me smiley, i literally jumped. i had not heard that phrase since last summer. prior to august, everyone called me smiley. this was because i constantly had a smile glued to my face. i won 'spirit' awards and i was incredibly upbeat, even when i was sad. i remember going home for a weekend this year and picking up my high school softball spirit award and thinking 'who won this award? it couldn't be me.'

what happened this year is now the past and has merely left a trail that i can either dwell on or learn from. i'm going to choose the latter. i don't even know if i'm ready to learn from it and dissect all of the things that went wrong, mainly with going to YU and having the worst internship imaginable (or unimaginable). i know i can learn from this but, like i said, i'm not ready. i need time to digress from this situation, to just be me.

i decided last week to cheer up. it wasn't that hard either! i think my friends were not used to me being so eager to hang out - but two close friends gave me the incredible advice that it's okay to be sad. more importantly, it's okay to tell your friends you're sad and that you need them. i did just that and i've had people calling nonstop. i have more friends than i thought i did! i have a new gym partner (and i've been working out, almost every day!), have had too many shabbat invites to accept, and have attended so many classes, lectures, and Jewish activities that i am drowning (in a good way!) in new information. i'm eating great, cooking a lot, and, like i said, talking with people who i haven't talked to in a long time, and it feels great. i'm also working aggressively on my research and... hopefully we will be published in a few weeks! i think that might just mark the best day of my life thus far.

i decided to wear my only pair of black heels the other night too. i had not worn them since freshmen year of college. why would i? i'm not the type to wear heels on shabbat or to fancy occasions. i don't know why exactly... but i never get that craving to just go out in heels. anyways, a friend inspired me to throw them on for yom ha'atzmaut (israel independence day). we were in a rush and i didn't have time to analyze the plans. before i knew it, i was in the car with friends, wearing my little black heels, ready to drive to the party in mid-town.

i realized that these shoes gave me confidence i don't typically illuminate. i was standing next to someone who i had never felt like an 'equal' to before - but these heels helped my confidence resurface. that same confidence that took the back burner last august.

i felt comfortable at this penthouse bar in mid-town, on the roof, surrounded by friends and new acquaintances and i realized that life is exciting. my life is exciting. somehow, i had forgotten this. my life used to be incredibly exciting! i use the phrase 'i miss college' a lot - when really, it's not just college i'm missing. i miss the fun and laughter... and at that moment at the bar, i was surrounded by young jewish professionals, wrapped in my friend adam's sweater. i stood on this roof and embraced the bright lights glimmering from the tall buildings around us. in the midst of the chilly night, i was warm again. i was laughing, smiling, resurfacing memories, and making new friends.

i made the choice to put on my heels. i also made the choice to go out and celebrate yom ha'atzmaut with friends. i've made many choices over the past week that have left me sitting here, all alone at 9:45 pm, with a smile glued to my face. this is me - and i hope this never changes.

the last train home

59th Street came and went. I knew the rest of the ride was going to flash before my eyes and be over before I knew it. That's what express trains are for - to make things rush past your eyes so fast that by the time your pupils catch up, you've jumped eighty streets and you're at your front door.

The A train is the train that would best describe me. I'm an express kind of girl. I don't like to live in the moment; I live in the future and ignore everything in the present until it becomes the past. I want things as fast as I can get them and then, once I have them, I want to run with them to the next thing. I can't sit still. I wish I understood where this came from.

But tonight, I wanted to slow down. I felt the speed and it took over my stomach. My eyes came into focus and I noticed every hole in the wall, section of graffiti, or burnt out bulb in the crevices of the A train tunnel. Tears engulfed my face and I sat there staring aimlessly through the wet glaze over my eyes. I felt the train move throughout my body just as I felt my body become glued to the seat. I wanted the train to stop. I didn't want to get off.

Endings happen. Just as my journey on the subway approached my destination, everything I knew about New York City shut its doors. It lingered a bit down Fort Washington Avenue and then it ended. I turned back to see if it was still there and it wasn't. That was it. I walked into my lobby, scared of what was behind me. My security blanket had drifted southward as I entered my building alone.

Hunter College informed me I am an official resident of New York City. I can only guess what that means and I don't know if I fit the role. I know New York City through people and experiences, but when those are lifted out of the picture, I'm left with hollow memories. Empty thoughts, empty feelings, empty ideas, empty laughter, empty happiness.

I wonder where life will take me next. I wonder what stop is after 181st Street - I've never taken the train that far or seen the road less traveled. I am heartbroken and lost, yearning for a comfort that my expansive down comforter cannot provide.

My longing for comfort angers me. It angers me how people have relationships with their families and friends that span their lifetimes. I wish I had this. I wish I could be hurt, beat up, brought down, and all that goes with the lows of life, and still be brought back up by people in my life who would do anything for me. I want people who will defend me even when they know I'm wrong. 2,000 friends, a bunch of college and seminary Rabbis, and people back in Boston who are attached to me through empty familial titles don't defend me or support me. They don't back up my decisions, big or small.

I'm not sure where to go from here but I hope time will heal these wounds and guide me back on track. And I hope that for my own well being, I start to feel the train, and all the motions of the world, ride the rails at their true pace.

join the conversation

yesterday, i attended the jofa conference at columbia university. it was a day celebrating feminism and prompting conversation on controversial issues within the modern orthodox world. i never understood feminism nor do i consider myself a feminist. i still don't quite understand the phenomenon, even after spending nine hours at the conference listening to speakers discuss 'feminist' topics at length.

i was drawn to the conference from the moment i saw an advertisement online. the topics sounded so intriguing - ranging from mehitzahs (physical dividers between men and women that exist in most orthodox synagogues) to the creation of new rituals. there must have been over fifty classes to choose from! i was intrigued, signed up, and convinced my friend nina to sign up too.

nina and i arrived in an overtired, overly caffeinated daze. we hurried in, found seats in the back of the big auditorium, and began looking through our course list to see who we wanted to hear speak for the rest of the day. just as quickly as we began searching through our conference pamphlets, we found ourselves gazing forward, about a hundred and fifty feet away, toward the front of the room. there was a woman there, speaking about her new identity as a rabba. she was recently ordained as the first female, orthodox rabbi by a yeshiva close by. her words were mesmerizing and i quickly closed my book to listen fully. she spoke of many issues which permeated throughout the entire conference, including equality, knowledge, understanding, and dialogue. this woman standing before the few hundred women and men in the columbia auditorium, had defied the odds. not only that, she had defied the boundaries set forth for her within her religion. she questioned it, persisted, never gave up, and ultimately, prevailed in her quest to become a jewish leader - one with a title equivalent to her male counterpart.

the first class i took was on prayer through art. nina actually ditched me to go downstairs for a more heavy topic (women of the wall - i really wish i had heard that, too!) and i stayed upstairs in a small conference room with five others ranging in age from their early twenties to mid seventies. the speaker began by introducing the idea of expression through artistic dimensions and shared some of her own artwork. it was stunning. she was inspired by prayer - both communal and personal - and expressed it in a very clear way in her artwork. she then gave us worksheets to pick a prayer, personal or communal, and create our own piece of artwork. i thought for a moment and immediately knew what to create.


this quilted piece represents how i was feeling about prayer. i am the bottom right corner, sitting amidst the world. the sky is above the world, with god hovering within it. i am saying the shema blessing, which begins with the hebrew word "shema" or "listen" in english. the letters are scattered and uneven. they are going upward, toward the eternal, but are not quite making it. there is a barrier of purple between me and the prayer and between the prayer and god. it's like the words are there but the connection is not quite formed.

i went to many other classes at the conference, all of which inspired me more and more to learn about my personal role in judaism. my religion is not about my husband or my family or my rabbi. it's about myself and how i personally fit into the mold - and, how i don't fit into the mold. an example of this can be pulled from a class i went to on ritual and traditions. the speakers were incredible! they talked about how women are often excluded from ritual. this doesn't simply mean they are stuck behind the opaque mehitzah, but that the rituals are just not for them. an example of this involves a three-year-old boy. at this age, it is believed that boys should begin the process of adulthood and there is a ceremony, often involving a first hair cut, that allows this child's life and entrance toward a true childhood, to be celebrated. there is no equivalent ceremony for a girl so one of the presenters created one and called it a simcha (celebration in english) bat (daughter in english). this celebration was not simply a birthday party either. it was bringing the daughter up to the torah scroll, in front of her whole congregation, and presenting her to it and it to her. this moment was a milestone in her life and after that day, her role in the her family and community was transformed.

as i traveled from room to room throughout the day, i thought about all of the jewish people, both men and women, in my life who had given up on their faith. this is such a common theme in life. if something's too tough or if you don't agree with it, cross it off your list. that's it. but why don't we ever embrace who we are? some things are just part of us. if you hate your hair color, why not work with it instead of changing it? why do people reject religion simply on the premise of hearing one thing they don't agree with?

i also thought about the jewish men and women who i don't know personally but are very well-known in the world. the example that stuck in my mind throughout the conference was supreme court justice ruth bader ginsburg. recently, i reread the book 'stars of david', in which ruth bader ginsburg is interviewed. she was chosen to be a part of this compilation because she is 1. famous and 2. jewish. but, she has ditched the religion. she states it's not a part of her life anymore. despite being raised in a fairly observant home, she believes that the gender roles and negative attitude toward women are what drove her away from it. she gave up on something that was intrinsically part of who she was -- no, IS. who she IS. though i strongly feel that ruth bader ginsburg is one of the most influential members of american society, i often wonder who she would be if she had embraced her jewish identity from a young age and allowed it to mold the person who she has become.

in my opinion, the theme of this conference was dialogue. "join the conversation" was the term coined for the logo. this isn't a NEW concept. let me put it this way. when my students, often my 8th/9th graders at the reconstructionist synagogue i teach at, comment about hating god, disliking judaism, or thinking kosher is just plain stupid - i tell them that i love their opinions and i want to know more. once when this happened, i opened up a chumash (torah prayer book). i showed them the torah's text (on the top right) and then i said - "class, what else do you see on this page?". and of course their answers are just mumbles of "lots of hebrew". well, i then explained that this "hebrew" that they see is a dialogue that jews have created throughout our history. and then i explain that this dialogue is treated with utmost importance - we, as modern jews, listen to it in almost the same light as we listen to god's words of the actual torah! now this blows them away and i'm sure they probably don't buy it. but - it's the truth. judaism stresses dialogue, conversation, questioning - you name it. you can't have blind faith in something you don't agree with. at least i don't believe that.

listen, i'm not saying all of this orthodox business comes easy to me. i miss lobster and clam chowder more than you can imagine. but what i am saying is that i am on a lifelong quest of questioning who i am and seeking answers. i might not be entirely comfortable or accepting of everything i was born into, religion included, but i am eager to expand my knowledge of my identity instead of that of someone else.

grandma

I remember flying for the first time on my own to Florida as a little kid. My mom and dad were so worried about me but I had no fears at all. It was exciting. I don't remember the details but I know that I was so excited when I felt that first brush of air on my face as I stepped from the airplane onto the jetway. It was warm and the sun was shining through the cracks around the entrance to the airport.

My Uncle George was waiting there and after we picked up my luggage, he drove me to my grandmother's apartment in West Palm Beach. She lived in a building that was filled with other grandmas and grandpas. I remember her dining room table, probably since we still have it now. And, I remember her Swedish meatballs. They were really sweet and she served them in a giant pot. I remember her swimming pool and that her laundry machine was in her kitchen. There were mirrors in her dining room and once we sat in her bed together reading the newspaper.

And that's really all I remember.

A week ago my great Aunt died and my dad sent me the obituary. He also sent me my grandmother's from 2004. Reading her short biography brought tears to my eyes. I barely knew her for reasons that I will never truly accept or understand. I visited FL a couple times when I was very little but that was basically it. She lived far away, it was too expensive to visit, it was more important for other people to go instead of me - the list was endless. I never really accepted these excuses back then either. After screaming, crying, and protesting to go, the fights would eventually calm down and I would, once again, not be on a plane visiting West Palm Beach.

I wish I knew my grandmother. I wear her pearl necklace a lot and I feel beautiful in it. I think I can learn a lot from my relationship, or lack thereof, with my grandmother. I can learn a lot about family, both the one I come from and the one I will soon begin (b"H). I read about her accomplishments and I see clearly the person who I want to strive toward becoming. I want to be a leader, one of both my family and my community, and be the helper when help is needed.

Below is the obituary from 2004.


SOPHIE B. LIPSITT, 92

WEST PALM BEACH, Fla. -- Sophie B. Lipsitt, 92, of Arden Courts Assisted Living Residence, formerly of New Bedford, Mass., died Saturday, Oct. 23, 2004, at home. She was the widow of David J. Lipsitt.
Born in New York City, she was the daughter of the late Sidney and Rebecca (Eisenstadt) Bogorad. She lived in New Bedford since early childhood; she resided in Florida since 1973.
Mrs. Lipsitt was a longtime member of Tifereth Israel Congregation, where she was president of its Sisterhood and Hadassah. She was a member of B'nai B'rith.
For many years, she helped the blind by typing manuscripts into Braille in English and Hebrew. With a lifelong commitment to volunteerism, she was a nurse's aide during World War II, a docent at the Flagler Museum and a helper at Morse Geriatric Center in Florida. She gave freely of her time and talent to a variety of charities.
Survivors include two sons, Marc Lipsitt of West Conshohocken, Pa., and Jeff Lipsitt of Boston; three grandchildren; a stepgrandchild; and a sister, Evelyn Sacknoff of Fall River, Mass.
She was the sister of the late Samuel N. Bogorad.
Her funeral will be at 1 p.m. tomorrow at Tifereth Israel Congregation, 145 Brownell Ave., New Bedford. Burial will follow at Plainville Cemetery, New Bedford.

summer termination

How do I even begin to reflect on the most influential summer of my life? I want to write a million words to explain how I feel about my departure from my first "year" in graduate school but I don't have the slightest idea how I could even begin to formulate what I want to express.

Today we terminated our program in a healthy way, sharing our feelings about each other, social work, our teachers, and ourselves. We talked about what we learned and how we learned it. We shared deep stories. We laughed a lot. And we cried a lot. We played basketball, ate homemade food and ice cream, and wrote each other notes. We sat in a circle. We stood in a circle. We communicated one-on-one.

Looking around the room today at the people who I began this program with just under two months ago makes me realize the importance of relationships, understanding, accepting, and learning from differences, and the true value of experiential education. We have changed so much both individually and as a group and I know that without the people in my program, I would never have grown and learned as much as I did.

Words cannot begin to express how meaningful this summer was for me at YU but I am so thankful for every moment I had.

Kisses

So, they are everywhere. It's inevitable. Everyone's doing it. And if they aren't doing it, they are planning to do it, really soon. I'm perplexed by New York more and more each day that I live here. But something that is impossible to ignore is the amount of men and women who line the busy streets completely smitten for one another.

Then there's the religious folk. I think religious people have a lot more up their sleeves than you would think. They just hide it better, that's all. I don't mean this in a critical or cynical way, just in an honest, "I know you're saying and doing exactly what I'm doing, except behind closed doors", kind of way. It's interesting the way religious Judaism manifests itself in American society. I've been thinking about this for a while since I've been back in America. I'm seeing religious Judaism from a very new light, one that I have never experienced before. I grew up secular in Boston, became religious in Arizona, and then studied in Israel. These places are all so different in terms of religion. New York is on an entirely different wavelength, one that I have yet to figure out.

School's done in one day. In many ways it feels like this "one day" is much longer than it is since I still have one more paper to complete. I think this summer was one of the best learning experiences I've ever had. I grew so much through this program and when I say 'this program' I mean through my professors, my peers, and my readings. I can't believe how phenomenal some of my professors at YU are. Seriously, one of my teachers was the best teacher I have ever had and this is something like my 18th year in school. I learned the most from simply being in her presence, as cheesy as that sounds. The readings were great too. I think you can learn everything you would ever need to know to be a social worker from them. I mean, aside for hands-on experience, but that comes with time. I couldn't believe the breadth and depth of some of our textbooks. I sincerely enjoyed the topics in them. And the people in the program, can't forget them. I really love them. I was looking at our class picture by the GW bridge earlier today and I realized that for the first time in my life, I was staring at a picture worth thousands of words. I know so much about each and every person in this picture that it feels as if we are a family. What's ironic about that is that all of us have only known each other for six weeks. I love how much I've grown through each person I've shared class time and social time with and I know that I'll cherish these relationships forever.

Back to the kissing, or lack thereof at 590 Fort Washington. I miss having intimate friendships and I don't mean that in a sexual way. I mean it in a sincere way. I have more friends than I can count on my fingers and toes but NYC is still a lonely place. I want a solid, core group of friends. I'm so curious when this will occur. I'm curious how it will occur, where these mysterious people will come from, and what they will be like. I'm most curious about where to find them. Like finding the person you'll marry, I'm sure it will happen where I least expect it. But how does one go about solving the problem of lonliness when the solution is such a mystery?

School's out and that means I can begin experiencing New York. I don't know where to begin. The UWS confuses, intrigues, excites, and sickens me - all at once. Does that make any sense? I was there tonight on a date with my friend Rachel and I experienced that entire mix of emotions - and more - throughout the evening. We ate great food and talked for hours at a beautiful Asian restaurant. We people watched (and saw couple after couple after couple...of course) and strolled the streets of the West Side. I took the train home feeling almost fulfilled. Something was missing though. And I'm not sure what it was.

new york update

So, I don't know how this all came to be.

But it did. I somehow have snagged myself a great job (well, two if you count being a research assistant), great apartment, and great friends. I am en route to getting a great internship and passing my first "year" of graduate school with high grades. I'm sincerely happy and sincerely confused about how this all came to be. I'm not questioning anything but questioning everything at the same time.

New York City is so much fun. It's confusing, exhilarating, fun, exciting, lonely, surprising, and beautiful all at the same time. It's a place that is very much based on perspective: If you're positive, you're life will be positive. If you're negative, well... you're life will be negative. It's all about how you see things and it's quite difficult to stay positive with a smile on your face all the time. But when I succeed at doing this, I succeed at everything I set my mind to. From this, I've learned that in New York, anything is possible.

I am growing as an up-and-coming social worker in so many ways. I can feel myself coming closer to the career I want to find myself settling into. Now, from the girl who pays attention about 10% of the time (if that) in class, writes papers the night before they are due, and frolics around the city with anyone and everyone until dawn (often on weeknights), this is quite the feat. But I'm learning and growing and developing at a rapid rate. My friends see it happening in me. I'm getting along with my family (both sides) for the first time in my entire life. Yes, in 22 years. And I'm financially independent and proud of it.

Of course there are things and people I miss. But, like in Israel, they tend to keep coming to me. I love it. I'm looking for apartments for the fall and I'm contemplating sharing a room... but I think that I can't do that because I love having visitors. So far, four days have not passed since a close friend or family member has visited or stayed over with me. It's amazing. I love this feeling and I never want it to end. More importantly, I love living in New York and I never want that to end.

hmph.

i'm sitting here right now, listening to ashlee simpson, wondering how this day had as many ups and downs as it did. such is life. i had a nice dinner tonight with friends down the street, actually made a new friend, and felt a little more comfortable in new york. i think this is a day-by-day thing. soon, i'll be very comfortable but it's going to take time. and i need to learn to be patient.

i honestly haven't read much for school so far. i also have barely paid attention to anything in any class. i don't think i'm learning very much. i'm reading tonight and catching up but i still don't feel like i'm learning very much new information. i don't know what this means either. school has always bored me though so this isn't new. i remember how convinced i was that i had a.d.d. in high school and my psychologist continually reiterated to me that i was just bored in class and had no real symptoms of a.d.d. i'm not so sure i agree though. my brain is all over the place, all day, every day. i can't sit still for more than five minutes and i can't stay on topic regarding anything. once again, i don't know what this means.

i look around and i think to myself that it might be exciting to live a little on the edge. i don't know how to do this but i think i need to investigate a little more within the walls of this city. washington heights may geographically be on the edge of manhattan but it could definitely not be described as a neighborhood inhabited by those doing so. i'm going to shul this weekend for the first time and i'm curious what the experience will be like.

i talked to my best friend today on the phone and i realized that, yet again, we are separated by not only distance, but communication. in one way or another, i'm separated by communication between most of my friends lately. i need to come to terms with this. it just sucks though and there's not other way to describe it.

so, living in new york has made me quite cynical if you haven't been able to tell from this post and others lately. i'm trying. well, not hard enough, but i am trying. after dealing with the awful administration at yu today, i realized that being cynical for about 10 minutes every day is what i must do in order to function here. these people are really capable of driving someone absolutely insane. nothing is easy around here and i feel as if nothing ever gets accomplished. i really cannot believe how far behind the times this school is as well - everything is done on paper instead of the internet. it's 2009. c'mon.

back to reading about cultural diversity and death. and back to convincing myself that this is worth $20,000 in loans.

New York, New York

So here I am, in Manhattan at last.

I always had a hunch that at some point in my life I would wind up here. Well, it happened. Reality still hasn't set in though. While walking to school today, I saw a bunch of people hanging out on their front stoops. It reminded me of Sesame Street. But no, it was just Washington Heights.

I've been here for a little over two weeks now (excluding a five day vacation in Arizona) and I'm surprisingly happy. Much happier than I had expected. I have a beautiful bedroom up on Fort Washington Avenue. I've made it comfy and cozy. It is filled with all of my favorite things, including my comforter from college and my happy lamp. The hardwood floors and high ceiling are stunning and make me so thankful for everything I have around me at all times.

School began last week. I am taking 12 credits, which is five classes (and another which begins in a couple weeks). It's a lot of work but I don't feel stressed at all. The program is filled with people from all backgrounds. People range in age, as my professor said, "From 22 to 80". Well, I'm still 21, so take that. I'm by far the youngest person in the program. Typical though. That's how things always work out for me.

On that note, I'm turning 22 this week. It's been quite the year. I graduated college, studied in Israel twice, traveled to Greece twice, and visited Italy and England. I made hundreds of new friends, gained a strong sense of confidence of where I stand in my Judaism, and began a master's program. I began my twenty-first year in Greece, so drinking wasn't too exciting because there is no 'legal' age enforced. Then I spent half my twenty-first year in Israel, another country where the age doesn't matter. So, I must say that I didn't get my time's worth in the American bar scene. Oh well, I'm sure I drank plenty. I'm thankful for the times I don't remember just as much as I am for those that I do.

I'm alone in my bed tonight, like most nights. Last night was an exception and the thunder and lightning made me thankful for those around me. New York City is a lonely place. I'm sure I'm not the first to make such a statement. This place is filled with twenty-something-million people and I've never felt more alone in my entire life. Sometimes a good hug from someone familiar is what is necessary. Other times, like during my lunch break today, the loneliness prevails and I begin to cry. This has happened a lot lately. Today it just happened to occur on the corner of 186th and Amsterdam, right in front of school. The tears that I have shed are silent and lonely tears. I think that they are filled with sadness rooted in the deep feeling of loss I've experienced since leaving Arizona in December and Israel last month. It hurts to leave those close to you.

So I don't know what is in store for my future. My iCal is empty for the first time in years. I had no plans tonight. I have no plans tomorrow night. I might see Sam Thursday night and then Friday night is Shabbat, which I have left the plans up to my friend Luba. Apparently, we are staying local. This is definitely going to be one of those birthdays where the phrase "if you don't expect anything, you can't be disappointed" can be perfectly applied. I guess I'm due for a not-so-exciting birthday since my last birthdays have been spent dancing on bars in Paris (19), bar hopping in Tiveria, Israel with my Aish friends (20), and galavanting through Athens with Laura and my cousins (21). I don't sense that Washington Heights can top those. I hope that doesn't mean I'm getting too old to have a good time.

22 does scare me though. It seems like a crappy year. I probably shouldn't go into a new year with such a negative attitude. I spoke with a friend the other day who is older and said that she wished she could have stayed 22 forever. I think I feel that way about 21. It's crazy to think that a year in my life could be more amazing, exciting, and eventful than the past 360 days have been. But that's the way the world works. Who knows, I could meet the man of my dreams. I could actually learn Hebrew. I could learn to play guitar. I could finally spend a good amount of time (though never enough) with my best friend. These could potentially make the year a runner-up to 21. I still don't know about surpassing it though...

Well, that's about it for the ranting and raving of my last Tuesday as a 21-year-old. Here's to two more days of classes, a day off, Shabbat/my birthday, and Sunday with my parents. Let's go New York City.

presence

Presence is something that surrounds us and supports us. Daily, we are surrounded by people who hold the world around us together. Like glue, they provide the support network necessary to breathe clean air and to put your right foot in front of the other in the creation of a stride. Without presence, we would not be able to be the people we are. We rely on others, on the world, for the simple, common answer of “this is how the world works”.

During times of loneliness I often look around and search for presence. The lonely feeling is created by a lack in the presence of the support network we need to propel us on our daily journeys, beginning with stepping out of the front door early in the morning.

Presence is a strong force. It’s not about being surrounded by thousands of people or about being home alone late at night. It’s not about sitting at a big family dinner with everyone from your parents to your third cousins present. It’s not about being in a classroom of twenty familiar faces. Presence is about when you have what you need, who you need, surrounding and supporting you. Simply being there, listening, holding, and comforting another is a stronger force than anything I can imagine. Being attentive to someone, with open ears and open arms is the most attentive thing you can do. It’s selfless. It’s caring for someone and putting your own needs aside. It’s nodding, repeating, and agreeing, even when you disagree.

I learned through an experience this week that presence can comfort the saddest of us. It can calm the frustrated, sooth the hurt, and provide for you in the hardest moments. My love for those who have reached out to me, in good times and bad, with open ears, arms, and most importantly, hearts, has drawn me to understand the importance of presence and that I know I must make it a priority to reciprocate this feeling to others around me.

welcome back

The simple phrase “Have a great day” is beautiful to both say and hear. My ability to properly converse in America has brought me back to my positive self. I am able to say what I want, when I want, to who I want. Communication is so vital to functioning in the society you are in. I need to get to the point where I am able to do this properly in Israel or I don’t see a future in happily living there for the rest of my life. I’m sure I can learn enough Hebrew to survive and function as part of society, but the basic fact that English is my native language, the language where I can fluidly express my thoughts, feelings, and ideas, is something that cannot be ignored.

I went to Target yesterday and realized how easy it is to walk through one doorway and see everything you would ever need for life right before your eyes. Really, this doesn’t happen everywhere. Don’t get my wrong, I love shopping in Israel but the difficulty of searching at a different store for each of the fifteen items on my shopping list can get very tiring.

I’m in New York though. It’s not so temporary either. I have an apartment that I will officially move into on Monday. I have friends who live subway rides away throughout the island of Manhattan. I feel like a small fish in a huge, endless ocean. I don’t know any of the tricks to living here and I don’t know where to begin. But I do know that I have to begin somewhere and that I will begin somewhere and that soon enough, I will get to a point where I am comfortable.

I can’t believe how tumultuous my arrival in America was and I take that as a strong sign that America is not the place for me, despite my positive communication and shopping experiences. I feel like the stuffed animal in the toy vending machine, while my family is the claw. It has a terrible grip on me. It’s barely holding me at all and my fur is about to disconnect from my body and drop me flat on my face. But it hasn’t yet. I’m just dangling there. Hanging over the world, struggling to sit up straight but still being physically supported by the claw above.

I need to be dropped. I need to fall, hard. I need to experience the world without the claw, from the bottom, with everyone else. I need to find my way up again, financially, socially, and emotionally. I can’t dangle anymore because it hurts too much. I’m not being held like a winning stuffed animal would prior to being dropped down into the prize bin.

Separation is hard, especially from those who bring you into the world and ultimately raise you. I don’t think this should ever stop, but in my own life, it will. I’m sorry if people get hurt along the way but I need to take out the loans, settle into this new city (and ultimately into a new country), and face the world for the first time without being held up at all.

a winding road

My days left in Israel are rapidly transforming into memories while slowly disappearing before my eyes. I have a mere seven days left here on this trip to Israel. I currently sit here as an American tourist in a foreign country. I don't even have a student visa. Next time I come back, I may be Israeli. I have many feelings toward this (making aliyah) but I don't know how to put them into words yet.

This trip has been fabulous so far. I don't know how I could ever manage to put these last few months into words either. My growth, both physically and spiritually, has far surpassed any of my aspirations coming into this experience. I have learned so much about myself in relation to the world around me, to Judaism, to God, and to my individual growth. I have experienced people and places that surpass anything I could have ever envisioned. I have seen people dressed in so many different ways and speaking so many different languages. I have experienced the world through a special, unique lens that has allowed me to become saturated in the culture around me. At times I felt as if I were drowning but it was always a good drowning, one where I was still breathing. Being overwhelmed (especially on a spiritual level) became a common feeling. I learned to open my eyes a lot wider on this trip. There were days when I would wake up, look around me, and not believe where I was. Whether it was submersed in a sea of black hats on the 2 going home, driving a friend's sports car around the Kineret, walking into Magen David Adom all alone to donate blood, or sitting on a picnic blanket while bbqing at Gan Sacher for Independence Day with friends, I was always somewhere new. There were weeks that I would travel for hours upon hours across the country and back, experiencing desert, sea, lakes, mountains, city, and resorts, all within days.

I sit here on the staircase at school and look around me. I see faces walking by my that I have known for a very short period of time. Yet somehow, they have become my best friends. We have built something together. We have built ourselves, our community, our world. We have gone through the good and the bad, the educational and the not-so-educational, the bar nights and the movie nights. Together, we have questioned ourselves and the world around us. Our conversations have become the thread that has woven itself through the past few months and leaves me here today. I am filled with the words of many languages, spoken from many people, that I will take with my for the rest of my life.

I have realized that I am capable of many things. I am in control of my life for the first time ever. Financially, I have come into myself. I have learned to budget my money, my time, and my education. I have begun to understand the consequences of actions, and have really seen the importance of analyzing causes and effects prior to making big decisions. I have learned balance. Emotionally, I have discovered outlets of support, ranging from teachers, to close friends, to my journal. I have learned how to be independent and how to have alone time. I couldn't do that before. I would cry from the fear of being alone. But I have realized that being alone is beautiful. I experienced this for the first time on an independent, spontaneous trip to Pisa, Italy. I traveled there, explored, and learned. I took pictures, soaked in the Italian sun, and became one with the world around me. I felt content that day while sitting on the bright green grass underneath the leaning tower.

So this winding road must continue. And on it, you will find me, moving along. Whether it be through an airplane, a car, a train, a bus, or simply by moving my feet, I will somehow reach the next destination on my journey. My life has become a puzzle that I have realized is not worth solving. I don't know how to solve it. Even if all the pieces are sitting right before me on the table, I will not be able to solve it correctly. And every time I think I can complete it, I need to take a step back and realize that it's not even my job to complete it. There is much less out of our hands than in them.

I'm scared for the future, but that's normal. I'm scared for graduate school, for moving to New York City, for balancing being a religious Jew and a typical American girl at the same time. I don't know what to expect. But in two years, I will be a social worker. A real, live social worker, with the abilities, both intellectually and on paper, to counsel others. I will be the adult. Soon, I will be cooking dinners and building a home of my own. I will look around and for some reason, I think I'll still be just as scared as I am now. It's part of growing up, and contrary to what many believe, growing up isn't just something that happens when you're young.

Spring Vacation

Sweet Home Arizona

I haven’t written in a while and I apologize to those who were anticipating more updates from my adventures abroad. I just concluded Pesach break, which, as you can probably tell, is quite a bit longer than the actual holiday. I traveled North (to Drew’s Kibbutz), South (to Eilat), and West (to Florence and Pisa, Italy) and had many adventures that would take much too long to write about. School is now back in session and I moved up a level so now things are a little more challenging. Yesterday was our first day of classes and it was very long (like all Sundays). It’s been months and I still have no adjusted to functioning like a normal human being on Sundays, especially when you function like a normal person and go out on Saturday nights. Somehow, this system still perplexes me. And somehow, Israelis function within it just fine.

As a result of my busy day yesterday, I woke up late, and took the bus to school at noon. ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ was playing on the bus radio and of course it made me miss Arizona. Every time I hear that song I think of ‘Sweet Home Arizona’ playing loudly at the Big Bang. I miss those nights. I miss singing at the top of my lungs and dancing around with my best friends. I know this is a normal feeling but sometimes, like this morning, it just catches up with me. If I had stayed in Arizona longer… Okay, can’t play the ‘If’ game. I know things will be a lot easier in the fall when more of the people I care so much about are in the same place as me. I want to fast forward through the summer and all my classes and get on with my life in Israel. I know that’s not the best attitude because it’s definitely not ‘living in the moment’ but I can’t help it. My feelings toward being with the people closest to me are too strong and I can’t resist missing them every day.

I could take this entry just about anywhere because there really has been so much going on. A few weeks ago, I went to Eilat with a few friends and we had a great, relaxing vacation. We layed out at the beach or the pool almost every day. I met the lifeguard at our hotel and we actually started speaking in Hebrew. This was a first for me because I never use the language. I’m some type of combination of embarrassed, shy, and nervous and never speak up even when I know how to say something. So, after him prying for a while, I opened up and we began speaking. It was nice and refreshing to know that I could do it and when I made a mistake it was okay. I got really tan that week and really became closer with my friends from school. It was nice to spend quality time with them so far from our academic environment.

After Eilat was Pesach. This is the only holiday I have ever cared about – quite common amongst secular Jews living in America. Because of this, I knew I had to spend the seder with someone special, so that someone ended up being Rabbi Manning and his family. I realized very quickly that I was in the right place. I had Nina by one side and Rabbi Manning’s son Asher on the other. I was comfortable, understood what was going on, and contributed. I felt as close to being with my own family as possible. The seder was quite long… much longer than I am used to. But, it was a lot of fun. During Chol hamoed (the middle days of the holiday) I went up North to my friend Drew’s kibbutz. It was an unforgettable experience. We had so much fun together. We cooked all day on Friday for Shabbat and made unbelievable meat, fish, and soup dishes. She brought me on a tour of the kibbutz (I had really never seen a place like this before) and fell in love with the North immediately. The trees and animals, the hiking, the people, the culture – it was beautiful. We drove through the Gilboa mountains, drove to Tiberias and had a fancy dinner on the water (where Netanyahu was also eating), and went to Haifa to see a movie. I was so relaxed being up there. I watched television (not too much, just the Red Sox on repeat), began reading a fabulous book (more about that later), and really felt comfortable with myself, a common theme that spreads across this entire Pesach break. I felt comfortable wearing normal clothes (and yes, sometimes that included larger than life pants) and felt comfortable exploring on my own. The last day of the holiday I spent at Moshav Modiin at a wonderful family who I met a few weeks back. I felt similarly there as I had felt at the Kibbutz. I was very comfortable, very happy, very positive. There was singing and dancing and delicious food and very dynamic personalities surrounding me the entire time.

About ten minutes after returning to Jerusalem that night, I realized I needed to leave. I know, this is terrible. And really, it’s not an insult to the city because of course Jerusalem is a fabulous place. It is probably the most important city to me in the world. But my specific environment in Jerusalem, which always begins while waiting for the buses to Har Nof, is not where I belong. It’s difficult but at the same time, I know it is all a part of this important experience I am having. It’s just a little culture shocking when I get back from trips from the North or the South… or even across town.

So the book Drew let me read is called ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ and documents a woman’s travels across Italy, India, and Indonesia. She is searching for herself and somehow finds herself in each of these places, while picking up the language, meditation techniques, and new friends along the way. While reading the first section on Italy, I was immediately inspired to go there. So, I went online, booked a flight, and was now going to Rome three days later. I called up my roommate from freshmen year and I asked to stay with her and her sisters in Florence and then went into Shabbat knowing that I would be leaving first thing Sunday morning.

I flew to Florence feeling like I was a bird. I could do anything if I spread my wings and took off. I landed, navigated my way from Rome to Florence while making friends (Israelis!) along the way, and met Elyse at the train station in Florence. I couldn’t have been happier or freer. I spent the next few days sightseeing and spending quality time with her and her sisters. Florence is a truly remarkable city. I have a lot of close friends who have studied abroad there and they have never said a negative thing about it – and they were right. I toured around by myself a lot but also with the girls. I got to spend Elyse and Lindsey’s 21st birthday with them and we celebrated all night long. One of my favorite parts of Florence was seeing the synagogue. It was the nicest synagogue I had ever seen and is thought of as one of the most beautiful in all of Europe. I felt very small inside of it but as the same time, like I fit in perfectly. I was in a foreign city but I felt very at home. It’s a very unique feeling. I felt the same way when I went to shul in Paris, in Prague, and with Jews in many other places. The language, the culture, the overall feeling really make something very foreign seem perfectly comfortable.

So overall, the travels of Pesech break were incredible. I learned a lot about myself and about the world around me. I will try to write more often from now on because there are an infinite amount of topics to write about while in Israel – I just need to find the time to do it!

Jerusalem, in the palm of your hand.

Today was breathtaking yet all I can think about right now was how delicious my frozen yogurt was a little while ago down the street. Will write more about this very, very soon. I am so tired from hiking!

Defining Moments

Yesterday was terrible.

I woke up this morning entirely not in the mood to go to school so I slept through my alarm, with all five snoozes included. Soon after the fifth, I got a phone call that my interview for YU was actually scheduled for today and the woman and myself had both made errors saying "See you Tuesday" the last time we spoke. I ended up waking up faster than expected and have been in a daze for the last two hours.

I think I'm just being moody. I spoke with Rabbi Shurin for a while yesterday about all of the things bothering me and I felt comforted afterward. Not exactly better, but comforted. I felt secure with my feelings but still upset that I'm feeling so saturated with everything going on.

Today I get to see where my life takes me. I'm curious if that place will be Israel or New York - or some interesting combination of both. I don't know which I prefer and I know that today is definitely not my most Zionistic day being here. I am praying that my lack of enthusiasm does not show through my big smile and pretty outfit.

I felt secure with my decisions last week and insecure with with them now. These are big decisions. I'm a real adult, with a draining bank account, with big decisions on the line. I apparently have not "found myself" yet as a Jewish woman, though Rabbi Shurin attempted to convince me otherwise.

When you become religious in America, you're given one option: Move forward. It's a black and white game and you're on one side of the spectrum no matter how you look at it. The last two months have been a whirlwind for me because I have been exposed to so many different types of Jews. I was with close friends in Boston, New York, and London. And of course, close friends in Israel. I was surrounded by tons of "Modern Orthodox" and "Traditional" Jews... and something (well, many things) about this lifestyle greatly appealed to me. I like how these are categories, but within these categories, there is so much flexibility and what appears to be a lesser degree of judgement. I see judgement continually while living in a true "frum" environment and it is absolutely sickening me. I can't handle being around it and I don't want to be a part of it. I mentioned to Rabbi Shurin that it almost reminds me to extreme Islam and how they abuse the words in their holy scriptures. I've been experiencing the same thing in my own religion and I can't bear to be around it right now. I know it's important to not judge Judaism but the Jew, but sometimes, it's just too hard to do otherwise.

I was speaking with a girl in school the other day about the time table for a swimming pool at a local hotel and as we were talking, I could feel myself becoming more and more excited. Images of my memories lifeguarding at the YMCA in Boston and the PAC-10 pool in Arizona were flying through my mind. Splashing with friends, swimming laps, teaching lessons to little kids. I couldn't stop smiling as she told me more and more of the details. This feeling felt so normal, so me. It felt like the me before I came to Israel the first time. It felt like the me who knew nothing other than her Conservative synagogue that I had my Bat Mitzvah at nine years ago.

I sit every night and watch my roommate while she watches television shows on her computer. At first I didn't understand how a girl who was raised quite religious and went to religious schools could sit and watch television. That is so not what you're "supposed" to do in this community. I did not understand her Desparate Housewives or The Hills until last night when I realized that we need these things to stay sane. We are Americans (or British or Australian or whatever else) and we need this "normal"ness or we will go crazy and become saturated. We need to stay in tune with ourselves and grow closer to G-d and religion through acquiring knowledge in our classes and life experiences. The rest will come. Life is a growing process, not just Judaism. Though I strongly believe that Judaism should be (and realistically is) intertwined in every part of my life, I need to look beyond it and realize that I'm still me, needing the swimming pool and television just as I did when I was 16.

11/10

Tonight on the bus ride home from Neve Yaakov, Caroline asked me how I would rank this year's Purim and I responded "11 out of 10". It was truly a phenomenal experience with great friends, close teachers, and the comfort and excitement of Jerusalem surrounding me.

Today we exchanged presents in the morning around the MRC apartments. Kate made me a gorgeous watercolor painting and I put it up on my window. We ate lots (... and lots) of hamantashens that we made the other day in the Gush with our teacher Osnat and we sang and danced around the apartment. I stopped by the Mannings to wish them a happy Purim and give the kids presents and then about 15 of us met up at the Central Bus Station to head out to Rabbi Shurin's in Neve Yaakov for his seudah (meal).

Rabbi Shurin's family is mindblowing to me. As an only child, simply having a roommate is a culture shock. The Shurin's have ten children and it's incredible. We met a lot of them today and celebrated with them at the extra long table. We ate delicious food, sang, listened to stories, drank wine, and laughed ... we laughed a lot! People told so many jokes. My favorite was: What happens when you squeeze a shul (synagogue)? You get Jews!

There were quite a few moments when I looked around me on all sides and realized how happy I was to be surrounded by such special people. My roommate was across from me, my other friends to my left and right, and my Rabbi sitting at the head of the table. When we got off the bus, I also saw Joe from Arizona. Now that was a small world, "only in Israel", moment. I don't typically like big social situations but this was definitely an exception.

I just got home and I realized that my bright mood has dimmed a bit after reading the news. There are so many rockets being fired at Southern Israel and it is sickening. I don't understand. I can honestly say that. It boggles my mind how someone could shoot a rocket at someone else, how someone could kidnap someone else, or how someone could blow something up like a bus. I can't comprehend this. Today was a very special day for the Jewish people because Purim is a time to celebrate miracles and all of the amazing feats the Jews have accomplished throughout the years - most importantly, those rooted in getting rid of evil people from the world. It is such a shame that these people exist. There are two sides to every story and it is astonishing to me how so few people in the world are so blind to the reality of the situation here in Israel. These rockets are not a joke. They are not toys that we play with or stories simply being told. They are big projectiles being shot at people's homes, schools, synagogues, and streets. They are hitting people. They are destroying properties. They are emotionally harming people forever.

If someone shot a rocket at Boston or at Tempe, President Obama would not stand for it. The American people would not stand for it. There is absolutely nothing that justifies what is going on and I cannot even begin to comprehend how nations in the world feel it is necessary to donate money to rebuild Gaza... when Gaza is shooting rockets at a civil country. It is disgusting and really sets us back in terms of the celebrations across this country.

Chag Sameach!

I'm learning more and more about what it means to be Jewish as each moment passes during my time in Israel. Today was no exception. It's 2:45 am and I just got in from a fabulous night with my amazing friends from school.

I can briefly list the things I did today, beginning with spending the entire 'day' getting to and from IKEA in Netanya (we left at 10 and got back at 7) with Sabrina. We had so much fun though! Despite taking so many buses, getting lost a few times, missing out on our trip to Tel Aviv, and everything taking about 5x longer than expected, we ended up getting to IKEA in one piece and getting exactly what we wanted. I just peaked in and Sabrina is sleeping happily with her new pillow (a real pillow, not an 'Israeli pillow') and my happy lamp is bright and shining in my room. I feel SO at home right now. I don't even want to think about anywhere else I have ever lived - this is home and will always be home. Thankfully, IKEA has come to my home.

When we were at the store, the employees erupted in Purim songs and were playing intruments and singing all around the store. I took some great videos of the action. It was like one big party. And totally an "Only in Israel" moment!

After, I ate hamantashens and heard the megilla for the first time. Yes, the first time. I feel like 95% of the things I say, do, hear, and experience in Israel are really brand new to me. I wasn't raised religious or exposed to most of this stuff. I learned a little about Purim as a kid in Sunday school but that's it. Sabrina had to give me a brief synopsis before we got the shul tonight. I was so excited to go to a new shul too. This one was on Brand, a few doors down from us. It's where Rabbi Manning and Rabbi Sedley daven. Luckily, we saw the Sedley's and I felt at home versus like a visitor at a random shul. Rabbi Sedley even found me an English translation of the megilla (a rarity in Har Nof). We made noises every time we heard Haman's name and listened attentively to every word.

Then, Sabrina and I put on our costumes: matching black mice with little black ears that we picked up for 7 shek. The perfect, cheap costume. We took the bus to the shuk and walked through Nachlaot to our friend Leia's house party. The walk was so much fun - we saw people of all ages dancing through the streets. People were singing and drinking everywhere! We became friendly with a guy from Toronto while walking there and we ended up helping each other navigate the way. Finally we got to Leia's and it was filled with our friends from school and from Shearim, another school in Har Nof that my friends go to as well. It was so fun dancing and celebrating the holiday. It's amazing to dance and drink but listen to girls give dvar Torah's (speeches) and give each other blessings deep from their hearts while partying like crazy. It shows that religious girls truly know how to have a good time - and it's sincere as well. It's so important for me to be exposed to people like this and these kind of situations. This is a huge reason why I love my school: girls come from all backgrounds and form this cohesive unit that truly shines.

After, a bunch of us walked to the Old City, through the Old City, to the Kotel, and most importantly - into the deep walls of the arches beneath the Kotel. It was beyond amazing. Words cannot even begin to describe this experience. We davened (prayed) for a long time amidst the deep Earth. We were surrounded by stone and all we could smell was the mustiness of the depth around us. It was a really fascinating experience. It was also quite funny because we were dressed up as a mouse, a leopard, and a bee... and we were praying at the Kotel. Only on Purim!

Then we attempted to get home (for quite a while) and realized (not for the first time) that taking a taxi from the Kotel is no easy feat. We really wanted to squeeze 5 of us into one taxi and finally one let us. It was hilarious. We blasted music the entire way home and pretended like our tiny taxi was a club.

I'm finally home and cannot stop smiling. I don't want to go to sleep despite it being 3 am because I am so happy. I've never celebrated Purim (halachically) before. I've never done a lot of these things before; but thankfully, I know that I never want to live my life any other way.

My Mirpesset

I spent a large portion of my shabbat day out on my mirpesset (porch, in Hebrew). It was a beautiful day in Jerusalem; the sun was shining, warmth filled the air, and the smell of spring was all around us. Our view is incredible - from our mirpesset, you can see the Jerusalem Forest and all of the suburbs surrounding Jerusalem from the West. Har Nof is on the very edge of the city and you can almost see Tel Aviv from it. I bet you could if you had binoculars on a clear day.

Shabbat was so relaxing. I slept a lot. I had amazing meals at both the Mannings and the Sedleys. It was my first Shabbat to ever spend in my own bed and I loved it. It was strange without my roommate here but my friend Nina came and we had all of our meals together. I loved not having to pack an overnight bag. I also loved waking up in the morning and seeing an entire closet full of clothing to choose from versus whatever I had quickly packed into an overnight bag the day before. Shul is across the street so while the Rabbi was speaking (in Hebrew, so not entirely worth listening to) I walked home, got my sunglasses, and walked back. It's amazing to be able to do that.

Between the Sedley's at lunch and the other MRC apartment for 3rd meal, I sat on the mirpesset and ended up falling asleep. I was just staring outward at the beautiful view before me, thinking over and over again how much I want to call Israel home. Not just 'home to the Jewish people' but home to me. I want to live here so badly. I want to experience this feeling every 7th day - and not in the way it is experienced in the US. I want to experience it in full - I want to walk down the streets of the neighborhoods and not worry that a car will drive through. Imagine that: a busy neighborhood where three year olds are running around in the middle of the road and playing games with friends (often without even being supervised by parents) without the fear of cars hitting them or dangerous strangers. Last night, it was interesting to hear Sarah Manning talk about how in Israel you train your kids to talk to strangers versus avoid them. It sounds so silly, but it's so smart. If they ever need anything, a stranger can and most often will help them. I've never experienced this anywhere else. And, I'm not only referring to your home neighborhood - it's like this almost everywhere in Jerusalem.

Third meal was so nice tonight - it really took over what I had been lacking for over a year of being religious. I spent it with a lot of the girls from school at another apartment. We all either made or brought food and ate, sang songs, laughed, danced around, played games, and relaxed together. It was incredible to be around such a great group of people who are 'on the same page' as I am. As amazing as the Jewish community in Arizona is, I always found it so challenging to get ready for Shabbos alone or to be sitting at a table on a Friday night next to my closest friends who were all discussing what party to go to after the meal finished.

At the same time, I miss Arizona. I wish everyone I loved was right here, experiencing Israel in the same way I am.

I hope that can happen soon :)



*Pictures, from top to bottom: My mirpesset at sundown, my side of my bedroom, Idan Reichel at the Idan Reichel Project concert, a Jerusalem sign, the view from my mirpesset down Chai Taib toward Jerusalem, and lastly, the Kotel in the Old City at night.

Friday: Some pre-shabbos thoughts

Friday's in Israel are by far my favorite day of the week. Unlike everywhere else in the world, Friday means it is officially the weekend. I haven't written much lately because I am trying to distance myself from 1. America and 2. the internet. I'm not doing a very good job at either but I really am trying to at least acknowledge when I am giving more attention to things that are not 'real' or 'in the moment' than to the important people, places, culture, life, and history that is right before my eyes. Too much of my first week in Israel was spent on my computer but I know that spending my time like that was what I needed. Now, I don't think I need that anymore.

My classes have been going really well. I'm starting to catch onto Hebrew but I get very embarrassed and still won't ever use it. In life, you're either a leader or a follower. In every situation you find yourself in, you have to quickly decide, "Will I step forward or will I let someone else take the lead", and in terms of speaking Hebrew, I always step backward. I'm not sure if this is a problem because at the same time, I have learned that patience and letting others teach you (instead of being a know-it-all or guessing) is often the best choice in difficult situations. Maybe for now it is the best idea. I hope that soon I am able to take the reigns though because I know deep down that I can do it.

Graduate school options have been irking me lately. I've spoken with a lot of people who I consider very trustworthy and whose opinions I truly value. These conversations have been helpful and have provided me with the guidance I need to proceed forward in the decision making process. Currently, I would like to stay in Israel. Ideally, I want to do the Block program at Yeshiva University, which means I would spend the summers in New York City and the school year in Israel.

I find myself growing more and more intimately attached to Israel as my time here progresses. Arizona is a very easy place to live. Boston is a very comfortable place to live. New York City is exciting... and practically every other major city in the world in has treated me well. I adored Paris and London and could even imagine spending part of my life in Athens. But Israel is different. It's not just the Jewish element. Or the Zionistic element. It's not the food. Or the people. Or the history. It's everything combined. Israel is a place where I feel closer to the neighbors in my apartment building who I have never met than I do to the neighbors in my condo complex in Arizona who I saw daily. It is a place where bombs and rockets are falling a couple hundred miles away and I feel safer than I do in my house in Boston. Israel is a place where I have things in common with almost every single person here. It is a placed overflowing with history and culture; a place where you could not be bored if you tried. I could never list why I love Israel in one blog entry, or even in twenty. It's not a matter of liking or loving it either. It's a matter of just intrinsically knowing that the feeling I have about this country, including the land and the people living here, is more real than any other feeling I have ever experienced toward a place.

But yes, I am living a "life of hardships" as my Dad repetitively told me I would be doing if I decided to come here. I gave an interesting dvar Torah on this topic in Arizona and in the Heights before I came. After learning more about the Exodus from Egypt to Canaan (the land of Israel), I began to think more about the situation from a bird's eye view. So we have one land, Egypt, where everything is abundant. It is the most fertile area around because of the Nile and all of us know that fertile land = the ideal place to live.

So why on Earth would God tell us to leave Egypt? More importantly, why would we listen?! We had it all. Without getting into specifics (and of course there were hardships), it just made no sense to me why God picked Israel. If you look at Israel from a topographic (I think that's the right word) standpoint, you see a desert. More specifically, Israel is really small (about the size of New Jersey). You see a small river running through it, a sea on one side, and a very small lake at the top. Other than that, it's primarily desert, uninhabited by most people, animals, and plants. Things cannot grow in the desert! So, why here?

Dad, you could not have said it better. Israel is a land of hardships. It's true. But, is the word "hardship" as negative as we make it out to be? I can give a few examples to explain why I strongly think the opposite.

1. This past summer, I was here during the Shmita year. This means that crops were left to rest and Israel was basically at a shortage of all fruits and vegetables. I remember going to the grocery store at the end of the summer looking for strawberries and I heard someone say, "There are no more strawberries left in Israel". What on Earth?! How do you run out of strawberries?! Well, during the Shmita year, you sure do.

2. On top of every building in Israel is a dud shemesh. It's a big tank that controls the heat and hot water system. Before showering or using any form of heat, you must turn it on. And immediately afterwards, turn it off. This sounds like the most tedious activity ever... and I honestly cannot argue otherwise.

3., 4., 5., 6., and so on. We recycle, we use public transportation, many don't use paper towels, heat is only used for a couple hours a day at maximum, our water is vital so we take short showers and never let the faucet run, etc.

Israelis care a lot about where they are living. They work hard for the minimal resources they have. Kibbutzim exist all over the country, where people are working for their food, energy, and sustenance. Things are not easy here at all and despite minimally complaining, that's okay. It's okay for things to be hard. Everything doesn't need to be as quick and instant as Americans believe. Sometimes it's cold when you get out of the shower. Sometimes you can't find your favorite fruit at the grocery store. Sometimes the bus comes at 9:15 instead of 8:55 and you're late for school.

That's what work is though. This is a nation continuing it's relationship with the land it lives on and has lived on forever. Just because we have computers and cell phones, high power stoves and heating systems, and plastic water bottles galore, we don't need to abuse them. We need to continue developing a relationship with this special place because when you work hard for something, even if it is so hard it becomes a true "hardship", the results become far greater than you could ever previously imagined.