Lucky

In the queer mess of human destiny, the determining factor is luck. -William E. Woodward

I am persuaded that luck and timing have, in my case, been very important. -Mike Wallace

Timing and luck is everything, at least in my life they seem to be. Sometimes I wonder if people realize how lucky they are that their timing is right; that they are able to have the one they love with them, or willing to move with, and for, them. That they can be with that person, without anything preventing them from doing so.

I was talking to a friend earlier tonight. She is starting law school in the fall, moving to a new city, and her boyfriend is, in all probability, going with her. I know she realizes she is lucky that he is, but I do not think she realizes how lucky she is to have him going with her. What I would not give to have my boyfriend here with me. To have our timing just right so that he can be with me, or that I can be with him. What I would not give to have it work out the way I want, the way he wants, or the way we both want. What I would not give for that. 


I keep cursing my luck, because it is just my luck, that things would work out like this. I have cursed everything and almost everyone. I curse the fates, destiny, and yes, even G-d, for their timing. And even though I am big believer in "everything happens for a reason," there are times where I want to say "Screw that." Times when I wish that someone, fate, destiny, G-d, or whomever, had decided that I do not need another obstacle in my path. That for once in my life, I deserve to have things to work out for me, however that may be. That I deserve to be lucky, too.

Then, I see or hear something that reminds me that I am lucky. I may not be able to be with my boyfriend, or even be able to talk to him every day, but I am lucky enough to have someone who loves me, for me. To have someone who accepts me as I am, quirks and weirdness and all. I am lucky to have someone who is good to me, so good to me that there are times when I question what I did to deserve him. I am lucky because I am able to follow my dream, and to have a boyfriend who is able to follow his, even if it means we have to be apart for awhile. I am lucky to only have to wait another year (probably, hopefully) to be with him, and not three years, or five years, or ten years. Lucky that I can see him when I have a break, even if it is only for a few days. I am lucky to have friends and family who are always there for me, who love me, and are willing to listen to me gripe, complain, whine, yell, and cry about how unlucky I am. Lucky.


I am lucky.

My Greatest Adventure (Yet)

Today will mark the beginning of my greatest adventure yet. It is the beginning of many things. I head off to law school today, but not just that; it marks the beginning of my living completely on my own, being completely independent, and being away from home for a long period of time. I will also be in a new city and state, too.

I know this is something I have always dreamed of, but I am not going to lie, I am scared. Terrified, actually. All of these firsts, and I will be completely alone. When I need family and friends with me the most, my first day of law school, I will be alone. But everyone keeps telling me that I am strong, that I can do this, that I can handle it all, and in my good moments, I believe them. In my bad moments, well, that is when I need them the most. But they are only a phone call away. Either way, this is something I need to do for myself. I need to find out if law is right for me, and I need to find out that, as terrifying as it may be, that I can do this.

So, here's to my greatest my adventure, yet.

25 Life Lessons

Yesterday was my twenty-fifth birthday, and as I turn a quarter of century old and prepare for a huge change in my life, I cannot help but think about the life lessons that I will take with me. So, in honor of these major life events, I decided to write about these important life lessons I. I have no doubt that there is a vast amount of lessons yet to be learned, but in the meantime, here are those 25 lessons that I will be taking with me (in no particular order):

1. Be yourself. People will love/like you for who you are.

2. Have confidence and be confident. It shows.

3. Do not be afraid to love, to risk your heart and take a chance. It is one of the scariest things you will ever do, but it can end up being one of the best things ever.

4. Don't be afraid to ask questions. It is better to ask questions and get it right in the end, then to mess up because you were too afraid to ask.

5. New experiences are great, but don't forget that the ones in your past are where you learned most of your lessons.

6. The same can be said for friends. Make new friends, but don't forget the old. They helped you get to where you are today.

7. Speaking of friends... "Friends are like bras: close to your heart and there for support." Lean on them when you need, be there for them when they need. A true best friend is one of a kind.

8. Take care of yourself, inside and out. It is important, more so than you know.

9. Laugh. Whatever happens in life, do not forget to laugh, including at yourself. "Carry laughter with you wherever you go."

10. Do not forget what your passion is. Follow it, live it.

11. Take responsibility for your actions and words.

12. Forgiveness is not for other person, but yourself. Forgive, but you do not have to forget.

13. You are stronger than you think. Much more so.

14. Work hard. Only you can get what you want.

15. We all make mistakes, we are human. "Mistakes are part of being human. Appreciate your mistakes for what they are: precious life lessons that can only be learned the hard way."

16. Trust yourself. Trust your instincts, and what you believe.

17. Enjoy the simple things in life. They are more beautiful, and most times more fleeting, than you realize.

18. Live in the here and now. The past is gone, and the future is yet to come, but now is already here.

19. Slow down long enough to notice the people and things around you.

20. Do not act like a child, but do be child-like.

21. Time does heal all wounds, so give yourself (and time), time.

22. Find something to believe in.

23. Do not take yourself too seriously. No one else does.

24. If we all threw our problems into one big pile and saw everyone else’s, we’d grab ours back.

25. Life is what you make of it, so go out, enjoy it, and make the best of it.

Let Me Explain Myself

In a month and a half I will be twenty-five years old. In two months, I will be moving to a completely different city and will be completely on my own for the first time. In two months, I will no longer have to explain myself to my mom, tell her when I am going out, where I am going, or with whom. I will not have to worry about the looks or the side comments after I come home late at night (or early in the morning). I will not have to let her know if I will not be home when she comes home from work. In fact, I will not have to tell her anything unless I choose to share it with her.

I know she does this because she cares, worries, and loves me. I get it, I do. I completely understand and I love her for it. But to me, there is a line between between being caring and worrying about your child, and treating your twenty-five year old daughter like she is a fifteen year old teenager. I am an adult. I am responsible, independent, and have a good head on my shoulders, and it would be very nice to be treated like that every once in awhile. Sometimes I feel very stifled. I mean, if I am old enough to move out and go to law school, I think I am old enough to go out with my friends and not have to explain myself to mother, right? I certainly think so. I do not think I am asking for much here. It would just be very nice to walk out of the house and not have to tell anyone where I am going, who I am going with, or what time I will be back. Do not mistake me--I will miss my mom greatly, but at the same time, it will be nice to finally, completely, feel like the adult I am.

I Want My Mommy

These past few days I have been sick; sore throat, sneezing, low-grade fever, you know, the typical cold. Aside from curling up in bed into a little ball until it goes away, all I want is my mom, and I am not ashamed to admit it. Yes, I am almost 25 years old, but when I get sick, no matter what it is, how old I am, where I am, all I want is my mommy. There is nothing like a mother's hug, touch, and care to make a person feel better, even when they are at their lowest. There is nothing like a mother.

I was considering this the other day, and I realized that this will be the last time in a long time I will be able to go to my mom for comfort when I am sick. The next time I become sick, I will be in Michigan, 250 miles away from my mom and the comfort of her arms. This hit me like a ton of bricks. It was probably the one thing I had yet to consider about my move. I had considered everything else but this. Yes, I can call her, and we can talk, but it will not be the same. She will not be there to hug me, to feel my forehead checking to make sure I do not have a fever, she will not bring me chicken soup, or just be there to lean against. I will not have that anymore.

I will have to learn how to cope without her, in all things. Not only will I have to comfort myself when sick, but I will have to be my own sounding board, make my own dinners (and breakfasts and lunches), remind myself of the thousands of things I need to do, and many other things. I am positive that she will still do whatever she can over the phone, but it will not be the same. She will not be there. It will be up to me.

In the meantime, I will take whatever I can get, and then some. Like I said, there is nothing like a mother.

Around The Table

As I sat down to the dinner table at my aunt's house on Erev Rosh HaShana, I noticed how much it has changed in the past ten years, how much the seating arrangement and the people around it had changed. Yes, I know many things change in ten years, but I did not expect to see my role, the new teenager who recently started high school, played out by the oldest of my younger cousins, M. It never occurred to me that I would see myself in my younger cousin. Nor was I expecting to be placed in my older cousins' shoes.

Ten years ago, only one set of my older cousins had children (two daughters), and the other two sets of cousins were married, but no children (yet). Ten years ago, it was I who had just entered high school, I who did not want to be placed at the "children's table" (which essentially just consisted of myself and my younger brother), I who wanted so badly to sit and talk with my cousins like the adult I thought I was. It was I who was being asked about high school and what teachers I had, about the homework, classes, and books I had to read.

But as we sat down to begin our meal this year, I realized that it was not myself caught between childhood and adulthood, it was not I who had just entered high school and wanted to sit with adults in my family. I was already there. I was sitting at the table with the adults, talking to them as if I was one. M, my fourteen year old cousin, was in the role I used to play, and I was playing the role of the older cousin, the one she wanted to sit next to, to talk to, the one she looked up to. 

As she and I walked to my aunt's (her grandmother) house the next day from synagogue, talking like we never have before, I realized how nice it was to finally be at this point, to be able to talk to her more like the adult she is becoming, instead of the child she used to be. Then I thought to myself how nice it was that things were coming full circle, and that who knows, maybe in ten years, she will have the same revelations as I just did.

Autographs

The other day my mom told me that my aunt found my grandmother's "Autograph" book. Later at home, I got the chance to look at it. It is a book from my grandmother's grammar school days, with "autographs" on each page. It is almost like a yearbook, but without pictures. Actually, without anything from a yearbook except for the last few pages that classmates scribble all over, signing them and writing messages. Each of her friends signed a page, mostly writing a poem or something witty. I am not sure if what they wrote is original or taken from elsewhere, but I copied the ones I liked.



Here today, gone tomorrow,
So do many joys depart.
But the gladness of your friendship, 
Lives forever in my heart. 




You asked me to write, 
What shall it be?
Three little words, 
"Think of me"




May your life be as bright as Broadway at night, 
As smooth as a Rolls Royce without flat tires. 




Isn't love a funny thing?
It's somewhat like a toy
If you want your heart broken, 
Just give it to any boy. 




When you have the children, 
One, two, three
Name the tallest one
For me. 




May your life be like a deck of cards,
When you're in love, hearts.
When you're engaged, diamonds. 
When you're married, clubs.
When you're dead, spades.




When twilight draws it's curtains,
And pins them with a star,
I hope you will remember me, 
Although I may be far. 



A ring is round and has no end, 
And so is my love for you, dear friend




In your chain of friends
Consider me a link, 
But not a missing one.



I wish you Dempsey health, 
Rockefellers' wealth, and
Shakespeare knowledge. 




If you see a cat in a tree,
pull it's tail and think of me. 




As the ripples flow, 
the ship at sea may roll. 



I write here not for beauty, 
I write her not for fame, 
I write to be remembered,
So here I sign my name. 




I wish you wealth, 
I wish you health, 
I wish you Rockefellers' gelt. 




Health to make you happy, 
Wealth to make you blest, 
That is what I wish you, 
Leave to G-d the rest. 




I thought, 
I thought, 
I thought in vain, 
Now I've decided to write my name. 




Roses are red, 
Shoes are tan, 
Bananas are yellow, 
And so's your old man. 



Sugar is sugar
And salt is salt
If you don't get a sheik, 
It's your own damn fault. 




Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust,
If the bughouse don't get you, 
Then Hyman must. 




Look into the future,
Remember the past, 
Remember the fun, 
Remember the fun in Mrs. Wilson's class. 




Leaves may wither, 
Roses may die, 
Friends may forsake, 
But never will I. 



Friendship is a golden chain, 
That binds two friends together, 
And if you do not break this chain, 
We'll be two friends forever. 




There is a golden chain, 
That binds two hearts together, 
If you will never break this chain, 
We will be friends forever.




When you are in the parlor, 
And your man is by your side, 
Be careful when you kiss him, 
For his mustache may be dyed.




When you are married and have twins, 
Remember me for the safety pins. 




May your life be like an arithmetic:
Love added,
Sorrows subtracted,
Friends multiplied, 
Joys undivided. 




When day is done, 
And shadows creep,
Think of me, 
When you go to sleep.



Yours Till
(I am not sure what these mean, or if they have any meaning, but on some of the autograph pages, people wrote a "Yours Till" before signing their name. Below are all of them.)

Yours till I can quit talking.


Yours till the Statue of Liberty has twins.


Yours till angels play jazz.


Yours till misers part with their money.


Yours till the kitchen sinks.


Yours till the Eskimos wear evening gowns.


Yours till angel play St. Louis Blues.


Yours till fathers give their sons good allowances.


Yours until we walk our heads.

Rejection Letters

The other day my mom asked me, "If you heard anything, you'd tell me, right?" She was referring to my law school applications and whether or not I heard back from any schools yet. I replied, "Yes." Truth be told though, I heard back from one school a few weeks ago and did not tell anyone, for two weeks. In fact, I just told my best friend, A, the other day. I still have not told my mom, though I know I have to.

One reason I kept it to myself is that it makes me feel like a failure, even though this is not the first law school rejection letter I have ever received. I felt like a failure last year when I received five rejection letters (though granted, I was expecting all of them). Then, I felt like a failure when I received my most recent LSAT score (because of all the hours of studying I put in), and now I feel like a failure with my latest rejection letter. It is just one thing after another.

Part of the reason this rejection letter was so much more of a disappointment and failure is because this time, I aimed low when applying. I am only applying to schools that I have a chance of being accepted at, so when one school like that tells me "No, sorry, even though we are on the lowest tier as far as law schools go, we still do not want you," it naturally makes me feel like a failure. (That is not what they really said, but that is basically what it comes down to.) The letter also made any hope I had of getting into other schools disappear.

Another reason I did not tell anyone until recently is not only because I feel like a failure, but because I am the type of person that needs time to absorb and process this kind of information, and in this case, the disappointment and failure. I did the same thing when my ex-boyfriend and I broke up. I did not tell anyone right away as I needed time to process and absorb. This time, not only did I need time, but as I said, it was, is, a disappointment. A great disappointment. Yes, it was only one school out of about six, but a rejection letter is still a rejection letter, and failure is still failure, no matter what. So when I received that letter two weeks ago, I read it, left it on my desk for a few days, then ripped it up and recycled it, not telling anyone anything. I was in no hurry to broadcast my rejection, to anyone.

I Just Can't Win

Do you have one person where, no matter what you say or how you say it, what you do or how you do something, you will just never win? I do. Boy, do I have someone exactly like that. I have blogged about this person before, and frankly, I am sick of blogging about him, but then again, blogging is a great outlet and right now I need that.

If you guessed my brother you would very correct. Last week we had a fight. I will not go into details because, well, I don't want to. But we had a fight, a big one. Then again, when he and I fight, we do not do it in small doses. We go all out. Though now "all out" is either through text or email since he no longer lives at home. Ever have a fight with someone over email? It's just about as fun as having a fight with someone in person, which is no fun at all.

So anyway, the fight. I'll give you some detail since it will make this easier to understand. We were fighting over the car, of course. It is a fight we have had many times before (and it is getting very old). He feels that since he is never home and I have the car "at my disposal," that he should get the car when he is home, even if it is "my night" (as per our previous arrangement, which I think is beyond ridiculous now that he is not living at home). Therefore, he goes ahead and makes plans with friends, assuming that he can have the car that night, even though he has yet to ask me. There is much more to it than that, and I know that by not explaining it more that I come off as the "bad guy" here, but it is too intricate and long to explain, and like I said, I do not feel like going into detail. I will say this though, my biggest problem with the whole car issue is that he assumes that, if it is my night for the car, that I will give him the car so he can use it (which I usually do), and on the rare occasion that I do not, he gets mad and plays the "It's not fair to me since I'm never home" card because he already made plans based on an assumption.

Every time we fight it is always the same thing (and usually about the same thing). We start out slow, trying not to fight, not blame the other, and talk it out like the adults we (supposedly) are. And each time it fails. He ends up getting mad because he is not getting his way, saying I talk to him like a child; I end up saying that calling me names does not help (nor does it help with trying to talk to him like an adult) and that I am talking to him like an adult, like I would talk to any other adult. And we go back and forth, him pointing out what I did and I point out what he did. In the end, it is both our faults, and I know that, but in the end, I also feel like no matter what I do or say, or how I do or say, I just cannot win. I talk to him like an adult and he says I talk to him like a child. If I try talking to him differently, he has a problem with that. I try to compromise so we can both win (as I did with this latest fight) so that it is fair to both of us, he does not like the compromise because he thinks it is "not fair" to him. I say no, he gets mad at that. Everything I say or do is wrong.  I just can't win with him.

But it is not just when we fight that I feel like this. Apparently, I can't drive well enough for him, I talk too loudly, and I don't eat properly (I eat too fast according to him), among other things. I gave up a long time ago on ever not getting criticism from him in some way, shape, or form. I also gave up a long time ago on ever winning with him, so-to-speak. Nothing I do is right by him, which is fine by me. After all, it is my life and I do not need his approval. But it would be nice to not feel like I am walking on eggshells, that when we fight to know that he is not going to nitpick something. It would be nice to know that I can say something to him without worrying about his reaction, even when we are not fighting. But I know that is impossible because I know that nothing I do or say is going to be good enough for him. It's just how it is. It's just how he is.

I am not saying that the fights are his fault only. They are not, and I know that. We both have tempers, and they tend to be at their worst with each other. Nor am I saying that this is about winning and losing. All I am saying is that, for once, it would be nice to fight and not have him tell me that the fight escalated on his end because of the way I talked to him, or because I was being "unfair" to him, or whatever else he may nitpick. It would be nice to not walk on eggshells with him all the time, and, in a sense, win.

Homecoming

Everyone who knows me, or follows me on my blog on a regular basis, knows that my brother and I do not quite get along so well. Yes, we are civil to each other, but we do not really talk to each other or share much, if anything. He finds me annoying, and I find him, well, insufferable. So when he moved out into his "own" apartment six months ago, I was in heaven. I felt like I was on Cloud Nine. And it has been great, for everyone. Except for the twice a month (or more) he comes home.

Every other week my brother comes in on Sunday morning, goes to an appointment, and then returns to his apartment (up until recently, my mom drove him back). Occasionally though, he'll come in on Saturday night and spend the night. I hate that. I absolutely hate it. In fact, I dread it. Why? Because it means I have to deal with my brother, hear him lecture my mom and me on one thing or another, have him contradict everything we say because he has to be right (if we said the sky was blue, he would say it's orange, and no, I am not kidding), and other things that make him impossible to deal with. It drives me up the wall and frustrates me to no end.

During these weekends, I have taken to locking myself in my room when he comes home, or going out if I can (which is hard, since Saturday night is "his" night for the car; I thought we were too old for this by now). Basically, I avoid him. However, that is difficult when he comes in for longer than one night, like he did this past weekend. He came in on Friday and stayed until Sunday. As much I would have liked, I could not lock myself in my room all weekend. I had Shabbos dinner and lunch with him and my mom, in which most of the time I said nothing. Once it was over, instead of joining my mom in the living room and keeping her company for awhile like I usually do, I went straight into my room and stayed there. Saturday night I got lucky-I babysat for my cousins, so I was able to get out of the house and away from him. And Sunday, well I usually sleep late, and by the time I wake up and am dressed, he is pretty much gone, so I do not really see him on Sunday.

But still, just those two meals, and whatever other interaction I may have with him over those weekends (and in some cases, holidays as he likes to try and come home for them), are awful. I dread those weekends so much, that it literally puts me in a bad mood the whole time he is here. Once he leaves though, all that changes. My mood improves and I am much happier. If I could do a happy dance, I would. In fact, I think I have a few times.

My brother is not an easy person to live with, and the older he got, the harder it became and the harder he became to deal with. Now that he has moved out and I do not see or interact with him on a daily basis, we do get along a bit better, but it does not necessarily mean that he is easier to deal with. He is still the same person, still just as hard to deal with, and his long weekend or holiday stays just enforce that. I know that this will not change any time soon, nor will he, if at all. So, I until I move out, this is just something I am going to have live with and try to cope with on my own. If anyone needs to reach me every other weekend, I will be in my room, hiding.

A Rant About My Brother

This week I spent about four hours shopping for my brother. On two different days. I know that may not seem like a lot of time, and I guess it's not, but I am not ranting about the time I spent doing so; I am ranting about the fact that I do his shopping for him every other week, which is funded by, yup, you guessed right, my mother.

My brother does not live at home, and has not for three years. He dormed at school for two years, and is now living with two friends off campus, but near school. He has a job, which, while may not be great pay, is still a job and still gives him money. Now, I know it may not be enough for rent, food, utilities, and other essentials, in which case I can understand my mom helping him out. However, it is not like that. My mom gives him a nice sum at the beginning of each month, enough to help with the odds and ends. Yet, in the middle of each month, my mom is giving him more money. Why? Because my brother believes that one thing or another should be split with my mom, and, my mom being my mom and babying my brother agrees and gives him the money.

But wait, there's more! Not only does she give him money at the beginning and middle of the month (and sometimes more), she pays for the shopping that I do for him every other week. And since I do the shopping, I know what she pays for that as well. Basically, I know what she outputs for him in a month, give or take.

What bothers me about this is not that she helps him out financially (well, it does, but I'll to that later), but the fact that he was the one who chose to move out, live on his own, get a job (though he did not have a job the first two years), and be independent. Yet, I do his shopping for him, and my mother basically funds everything for him. He goes to work, goes to the gym, goes to school, and goes drinking. Am I the only one who sees something very wrong with this picture?

Now, I do not expect him to be completely independent. I know what it is like to go school and work at the same time, and while that may have been awhile ago for me, I did not forget. But, to me, if you choose to move out and live on your own, that means accepting a lot more responsibilities than what you had before. That includes doing your own shopping, funding some (if not most) of your own living, and not doing anything extravagant (like going out drinking every weekend, buying expensive foods, and buying clothes from Express, Ambercombie, etc.). It means living within your means and doing things for yourself. All of which he does not do.

I do not know what bothers me more: the fact that he does not do things for himself and live within his means, or the fact that my mom enables him by agreeing to do his shopping and financially supporting him more than she should. Now, I know I am only the daughter/sister, and some of you will say that I do not know all of what goes on, and that I should mind my own business.  However, as I said it bothers me. It really bothers me. But I also do know what goes on (I see and hear, and my mom tells me, granted, not everything, but enough), and it is my business. It was made my business when I was asked to do the shopping for him.

It bothers me not only because my brother takes advantage of my mom, and my mom lets him, but it bothers me because my mom has a hard enough time making her ends meet. She is not poor, but she is not rich. Far from it. There are months where she struggles financially, and then to have to help him on top what she already does can make it very hard. And my brother knows, he is very aware of what her financial state is, but does not seem to give it second thought. For instance, he needed a tutor for chemistry. When he got this tutor, he went to my mom and told her they should split it asked her if they could split it. She agreed. So, now she gives him money for that as well. And don't get me started on the cell phone.

As I write this, I see the figure in my head of what she gives him. I see her doing things he should be doing (like mailing books he sold online), I see myself spending four to six hours every other week doing his shopping or some other errand for him. I see it, and it frustrates me and pisses me off.

Part of the reason it pisses me off so much is because my brother sometimes makes fun of me for still living at home at my age. Truth is though, I may live at home, but I more independent than he is, and will probably ever be. I pay my own bills, buy my own groceries, pay for my own health insurance, and pay for whatever else I may need or want. In fact, I pay rent (when I have a job). The only thing my mother pays for is my shelter and the groceries we share. Yes, she has helped me out in the past when I needed it, and she just did as well for a Kaplan LSAT class, even though I refused at first (those classes are so damn expensive!), but I keep a running tab; I write down what I owe her, and I pay her back when I can. Not to mention, I pull my own weight around the apartment. But my brother, what does he do? He does not and will not pay her back, he does not live here so he cannot help around the house (and when he does come home he does not do anything, including washing his own dishes), and he does not do his own grocery shopping. (Which, by the way, my mom defends explains by saying that he does not have the time, but he has time to go to the gym six days a week? It does not add up.)

I know I should probably mind my own business, but it frustrates and upsets me, especially when I see my mom struggling to make ends meet, and then to have to help out my brother, financially and otherwise. I have tried talking to my mom about it, but she just shrugs it off or tells me not to worry about it. But I know that is not going to happen, so I guess I will have to deal until either my brother becomes truly independent or I move out (and I am betting the latter will come before the former). Anyway, that is my rant. Thanks for listening.