SPAM

“If you go by spam as a reflection of what’s going on in this country, there is nothing but men with small penises trying to refinance their mortgages.”

(Source: http://www.forward.com/articles/2754/)

What do you hope to have happen by the end of the day?

I hope to finish my video that I accidentally deleted on my mac.

http://vimeo.com/2164626

My New Year Resolution

Accepting what I have, for what it is.


(more to come.)

On the first night of Hanukkah

"On the first night of Hanukkah my true love gave to me...one spinach artichoke dip."

Blogamos.

This is my and Michelle's attempt to write a joint blog entry. Tonight we celebrated the first night of Hanukkah. Finding ourselves at a local pub, for local grub. Stephanie had ordered too much, and needed a take-out bag. (Unfortunately, the box was styrofoam - but she couldn't waste the food.) As we exited the pub, out on to the icy death trap sidewalks of the Upper West Side, a man approached us a few blocks out. From the man's appearance and begging eyes, we anticipated the ubiquitous request for money. To our pleasant surprise, he sped through his words to ask for one simple thing: the food in our take-out container. Without a moment's hesitation, we handed him the food. He thanked us kindly. And we continued on in our separate directions.

Some people truly rely on the kindness of strangers to satisfy their hunger. Living in NYC, it can be easy to ignore the beggars who ask for only money, or reject your food offers. However, tonight our eyes were opened to the fact that some people really do need our help (and our spinach artichoke dip).

NOTE to New Yorkers: Don't let your leftovers go to waste; your leftovers may just be another person's dinner.

A broken toe is OK, as long as it looks good.

As I hung up the phone with my doctor, after discussing the cures to my broken toe, "be careful", he said. Just as the pedicurist says "be careful" once she finishes putting the topcoat on my nails; only she says it with more conviction. And i couldn't help but think: Does she say it that way because she doesn't want me to come back to take up more of her time because I smudged the polish? Or because our society has become more concerned with the way we look, than our health?


P.S. Turns out my toe wasn't really broken, just stubbed (bad).

In Sickness and In Health

(This was to have been posted around Rosh Hashana 2008.)

Perhaps sickness comes at a time when you feel almost bored with life. You are forced to stay in; unable to do the ordinary things you do in any given day. Until that day comes, when you are no longer sick, and you reveal excitement - as each ordinary thing becomes new and treasured once again.

Maybe I am in a time when I have to appreciate the things going on around me...And what better time for me to be sick, than the beginning of the new year.

I need to start writing these things down.

Miss, do you work at that school?
No.
Oh. (Slight look of worry. )
Why? Do you need something?
Yeah. I need help.
What's going on?
Those girls are trying to fight me. And I didn't do anything. And my brother was here, but he had to get someone else, so he left and I am waiting for him.
Ok. Well, do you want me to walk you back to the school? Or I can stay with you.
I was already with security, and they told me to go home, and then I came outside, and the girl said she wanted to hit me.
So, you want me to wait with you?
Ok.

We stand at the intersection of the crosswalk. I ask her a few questions about school. I also ask her if the girl is still over there - and if her brother said how long he would be. I tried to make small talk about the "christ mobile" in the playground next to us. A young woman dressed as a princess, and a white guy with an Eastern European accent, singing "god is good" with 5 small children dancing up and down to the booming voices coming from the loud speaker set up in the van - as if there aren't already
enough noises in the Bronx - I wondered if it was a common occurrence. She said "no".

I suggested we move to the side of the playground fence, so as not to be in the way of pedestrian traffic, and hopefully moving out of site of the girl who was waiting to fight her. Although, I couldn't help but think "is this girl really in trouble, or is she trying to ploy me away from the crowds so her friends could jump me and steal my backpack of Scantron materials? Or maybe shoot me on a drive-by and she would run away with my back pack. I was thinking that maybe they would shoot my arm; my first time shot - in the Bronx - ...seems about right. I would probably scream out in pain; need to go to the ER. But, I would go back to work the next day. I have been roaming these streets for almost 4 years...and besides, what are the chances of getting shot again? I couldn't tell what she was thinking, she kept a look of toughness on her face.

A few more minutes went by...

There he is.

We both turned to the right. Her brother was either the one walking alone, or surrounded by a crowd of teenage boys in baggy clothes -obvi - "here's my chance to run" was the thought lingering in the back of my mind.

They hugged a passionless hug.

Thank you.
You're welcome. Bye.

I turned and walked away; crossing the intersection; walking up the subway platform. Did I just prevent her from possibly getting seriously injured or worse?

Roommates

Ping-pong: the ball gets hit back and forth across the table. The table is stable, and usually grounded in one spot. The ball, on the other hand, follows the hit of the paddle – and with exact precision can be hit back and forth, indefinitely. You are never really sure when the opponent will mess up and hit the ball off of the table.

I use this analogy to compare it to my living in NYC. I go back and forth,; and depending on the outlying factors (the paddle) that may sway me in either direction – I never know when I will actually feel “settled”.

I do feel settled in my new apartment. Tonight, my roommate Rachel came back from two months in Israel. She left the day after we moved in. I loved having other roomies for the summer, but I knew the apartment wouldn’t feel like home, until Rachel got back. And it does. It feels so natural; we complement each other in ways that told us we would be good living partners – and I still believe it.

Do Kids Make You Smile?

My answer: YES.


I got home from work today with a craving to walk around the reservoir (I love that I crave it). My pace was quick; not quite yet a run. Thoughts of sameness kept entering my mind. Because one of my goals in every day life is to not give in to habitual patterns - when boredom may begin - I thought about running to change things up a bit. I couldn't get myself to start even a jog (I think it is because I know that once I start, I am going to love it and wonder why I haven't been doing this all along...and, I also think, I like the feeling of knowing that I want it - while still having a bit of doubt that I can actually do it, because then I know i can succeed...) Anyway...

In my fast-paced walking, with a mediocre attitude of making my walks a habit, I noticed a few people running by wearing the same shirt. It read on the back: I am... (and I could not get the last part -- a name of some sort -- it's irrelevant even so.) I saw a few more people run by, with the same shirts, but this time they seemed a little younger (maybe early high school). I figured it was some kind of after school sport, or race, i don't know... A few minutes later, as I am nearing the end of my route, I hear lighter footsteps from behind - I knew it had to be a child; only because kids are natural runners, as their bodies sit on their feet with perfect posture, and their legs glide through the air...if you listen closely, you can always tell when a child is running. The child's footsteps got closer. As soon as he passed me, I noticed he had on the same shirt - it must have been some kind of group. Somehow, at the moment I saw the child's face, I felt mine light up with a smile. At first, I wasn't sure if it was because I heard him speaking Spanish (and we all know I am a sucker for foreign languages) or if it was because he paused for a moment beside me, and we were walking at the same pace. But, something about being in the presence of a child made my negative thoughts disappear.

This incident - with all of its details - took place in a matter of minutes, seconds even. I thought about how I am no longer surrounded by kids every day, as I was when I was teaching (not even in the summer, when I was a nanny). I can't help but wonder how my students effected my smile-ability when I was teaching...because, when I look back on my days in the classroom, I first think of the love and devotion I had to my students. Secondly, (but, sometimes first mentioned when talking about it in conversation) I think of how drained I was at the end of every day, and how I felt such a void; something I was never able to pinpoint until I ended my career (maybe paused) as a teacher.

However, if this one runner - whom I came into contact with for less than a minute, and didn't say a word to, was able to generate a smile (great enough for me to notice), who's to say how often I smiled as a teacher?

Looking back, my students always told me that I smiled a lot; more than usual. I never thought twice about it, because I have always considered myself a "smiler". I also remember being told, in my teacher-training-days, not to smile for the first few months of school. I knew there was no way that was going to work for me (and why would I want to greet another human being with a frown?). I smiled before I even saw my students the first day -- I don't think I STOPPED smiling the first day.


So, why all of this? ...I have realized how the people I interact with on a daily basis have gone from kids to adults, without a gradual progression either way. I used to spend my entire day with students - and now I spend it with teachers. The only effects I could feel were the sighs of relief from not being so stressed out and feeling like a failure every day. I just wonder: how many more smiles would I have in a day if I were still surrounded by kids?