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.

Where I'm Supposed To Be

"There are many things in life that will catch your eye, but only a few will catch your heart...Pursue those."-Michael Nolan 

Years ago, thirteen to be exact, I decided that I wanted to be a lawyer. I have no idea what made me decide that, if anything specific sparked my interest, I just remember deciding it one day. It was my passion, my dream, and I worked extremely hard to achieve it. Yet, here I am now, wondering if this is where I am supposed to be.

A week ago, I started my second term as a law student, and honestly, I am struggling. Not because the work is hard (though it is), not because there is just so much work to do in any given week (though there is), and not because I miss my family, boyfriend, and friends (though I do). I struggle because the passion that I had coming into this five months ago is no longer there. It is gone. I have absolutely no desire to do this anymore, and the only reason I am here is due to obligations, responsibilities, and the difficulties that would arise should I decide to leave. Granted, there are times when I will be in class and something will greatly spark my interest (something not on the Internet), but then I come home, back to my apartment, where I have to sit down and do my work, and it will be the last thing I want to do. It used to be that I did not mind doing it at all, sometimes I even wanted to do it, and that while reading for school, I would find certain things interesting, even in a class I hated (ahem, property). Now though, I do the work because I have to, and sometimes I have to really force myself to do it. The passion is just no longer there. 

I was telling my boyfriend this the Saturday before school started. Actually, I was telling him how I did not want to do this anymore, and trying to explain that the passion was not there. I also refused to go back, may have even stamped my foot a few times while saying it (not that he could see). It was the last thing I wanted. But he refused to let me do that. He made me promise that I would give it two weeks, so I have until this coming Sunday to fulfill my promise. By then, I will have had two weeks to readjust, rediscover my passion, think this over, and hopefully decide what to do, what I want to do. But it is five days away and I still have no idea. 

People wonder, rightly so, whether or not this has to do with my boyfriend, and as much as I want to say no, I cannot. Of course he has something to do with this. He is in Israel, I am here. He has thirteen months of service left in the army there (which he may extend), I have three years left here. At the very least, it will be a year before we can be together, and if I know my boyfriend, it will probably longer because I am sure he will want to extend. And I am not going to ask him to not do that, for me. But more than just the fact that we are apart, it also has a lot to do with just wanting him here to be with me, to support me, encourage me, and just be here. There is only so long I can do this alone. Only so long before it gets to me. 

I know I am not really alone. I have good friends here, and family and close friends a four drive away. But as much as I love everyone here and back home, it is different. Having friends and family close is great, but having the one you love with you is even greater. There is nothing like having the person you love with you on the journey you are taking, during stressful and overwhelming times, in your corner, cheering you on. Or just knowing that when you walk in the door, he or she is going to be there (and if you are lucky, with dinner ready on the table). Knowing that he is here, with me, can make all the difference in the world. 

But that is a smaller aspect of this mess. The larger aspect is, like I said, the lack of passion. If it is not there, then why am I here? Why am I wasting my time, energy, brain cells, and money on this? I wonder, how does that kind of passion disappear in the span of five months? Not to mention, if I do not have the passion for it, then I am not motivated to do well, which will be a disaster when it comes time to find a job. As I sit and wonder where the passion went, the passion that I had for thirteen years, I wonder if this is not a sign from the universe or G-d. Maybe I am not supposed to be here, at least not right now. Maybe I am supposed to be elsewhere. Maybe this was all to lead me to where else I am supposed to be (though it would be helpful if G-d or the universe would give me a hint as to where that is). 

Then I think to myself, if I am supposed to be elsewhere, why I am so unsure of where that is? Why is it so hard to get there? My mom has always said that if something was bashert (meant to be), that it would not be so difficult, it would be easier to get there. Everything would work out. Yet I feel so confused, so lost. I feel that everything is a mess and that nothing is working out. This is not the way things were supposed to be. This was not how my life was supposed to turn out. 

I know I do not have to decide anything now, but the more time that passes, the more involved I am and the later it gets to do anything about it this term. The more I consider my options, the more I lean towards sticking it out this term, and, if I still feel the same way next term, maybe I will take it off, think about what I really want, without having to juggle school at the same time. In the meantime though, I am staying here, because right now, more than anything, I need to believe that this is where I am supposed to be. 

Living the Dream

And wanting to run away from it. I am doing what I have always wanted to do, what I have dreamed of doing for twelve years, and lately, all I want to do is quit. I want to run back home, back where I don't have the immense amount of pressure, stress, and work that I do here. Where I can go back to my part-time job while I try to figure out what else to do with my life. (Journalism, maybe. See? I've given this some serious thought already. I've even seriously considered moving to Israel and doing something there, but what I have no idea.)

But I don't run, anywhere. I stay here and tell myself that this is my dream. This is what I fought to be able to do for two years. This is why I moved away from my family and friends, from everything I have ever known. How many people get to live out their dream? I am one of the lucky ones, I know that. But I still cannot help but think that maybe I am not cut out for this. Maybe, just maybe, this is not right for me after all. Just because you want to do something, doesn't mean you should do it. Then I ask myself if I really believe that, if I really believe I am not cut out for law school, and I say "no." Truth be told, though, I do love (most of) this. Granted, some classes make me want to shoot myself or the book (property law anyone?), and reading cases can be extremely boring, but there are some classes and subjects I really do enjoy.

I realized recently that part of the reason I want to go home is because, aside from the stress, once my best friend moves back I will be all alone here, and as much as I like living alone, I'm still alone. There is no one here, physically, to give me comfort, to talk to, or just be here with me. Yes, I have friends here from school, and as great as some of them are, it's not the same. They are not family, not my boyfriend, or friends that I have known most of my life.

Everyone keeps telling me to give it a year, especially current and former law students. And I will. I knew before I got here that this was going to be extremely hard and stressful, and I still have those nagging doubts all the time, especially when I'm feeling overwhelmed, stressed, and pressured. But I also know myself, and I know that if I really did think that I could not do this or if I really wanted out, I would be out by now. I would not be hemming and hawing over it; it would be done. Yet, it's not, and I am still here, living the dream.

A Dose of Reality

I am not really one to run from reality. I threaten to run, and often times do my best to avoid it, but I eventually face it, and of my own volition. But there are certain things I actually do run from and do my damn best to avoid. The list is short though. These days there is really only one thing I refuse to confront--my boyfriend being in the Israeli army. I absolutely refuse to think about it, refuse to think about what it truly means and what the potential consequences are. 

Then there are nights like tonight, where something happens, some awful news about someone you know (maybe not personally, but you know the person all the same or you have some connection to him/her), and I am forced to confront it, forced to think about it. 

Tonight I heard that someone's brother was killed while serving in the Israeli Defense Force. It's horrible, extremely saddening, and terrifying. This was my dose of reality. I feel for his family, I truly do. But as sad and awful as it is, I could not help but think of my boyfriend, who recently joined the IDF. It made me think of things that I greatly prefer not thinking about. I have no problem thinking of him as a soldier, in the Israeli army. My problem is thinking about what that truly means, what the consequences really are. It made me realize, yet again, that this could, in reality, happen to him. And it freaks me out. It scares me like nothing ever has before. So I retreat, back into my world where my boyfriend is just a soldier, where he looks awesome in his uniform, and everything is fine. Until that is, my next dose of reality hits. 

The Witching Hour

Many people, usually mothers, commonly refer to their most challenging time of day as "The Witching Hour." It is that time of day (or night) when everything is chaotic, the kids are not cooperating, and nothing seems to be going right. Lately, I have been referring to a certain time of night as my "witching hour." It is that time of night when I start to breakdown, slowly losing my resolve and my optimism.

The time it begins usually varies, but I can always feel it creeping it up on me between 7PM and 8PM, and then the later it gets, the stronger it gets, until I give in. I just break. I have a mini (or full blown) meltdown, like the one I had a few posts ago. Some nights are better than others. Some nights it does not hit me as hard, and some nights it is more of a punch than a hit, as you have seen. It is on those nights that I question whether or not I can survive this, and it is on those nights that I know I cannot.

I try to distract myself, and it usually works, at least for awhile. It helps if I have something to do, like reading and briefing cases, or watching shows online or on TV, or talking to my friend or my mom. Sometimes, when I feel it coming and coming strong, I purposely bury those feelings and thoughts and force myself to concentrate on whatever it is that I am doing. But other times, no matter what I do, nothing works.

I have come to realize that the way I feel at night, the questioning and doubting, is just an exaggeration of the way I occasionally feel during the day. During the day I feel more positive; I am more positive. It is then that I think, "OK, three years is not a big deal. It'll fly by. I can do this," and I believe it. But then night comes, and I start doubting myself, and the later it gets, the less doubt I have that I can do it and the more conviction I have that I cannot do it. I think that deep down, even when I am optimistic, I know that I will struggle greatly to get through this and that it will be extremely difficult for me, but at the same time, I also know I do not have another choice.

Routine

It's funny how your whole life can change in a day, yet your day to day routine can change very little with it. I completely uprooted myself, changed my life, where I live, and yet, my routine in the mornings and nights have stayed the same. I still go straight for the coffee pot when I get up in the morning, then take a shower, get dressed and ready, and proceed with my day. At night, I still stay holed up in my room (though now for different reasons), occasionally venturing out to watch TV and eat, and I still stay up late.

However, while my day to day morning and night routines have not changed, the rest of it has. Unlike college where a person goes to same classes multiple times a week, I only go to each of my classes once a week. Each day is a different class, different professor, different subject, and while that is routine for the week, it is not routine for every day, and for me, that is a good thing. Honestly, if I had to take the same classes multiple times a week, I think I would go nuts from the monotony of it.

Yet, each night after class, I do the same thing. I do my work, though I work on a different subject almost every night, I usually do spend the same nights week to week working on the same subject. And sometimes, I do spend more than one night on a subject. I do have somewhat of a routine here; I fell into one here the same way I fell into one back home. It is just a different one, and it varies a bit day to day, which is good for me since I hate doing the same thing day in and day out. Routine is nice, but variation is even nicer.

Surviving

I honestly have no idea how I am going to survive the next year to year and a half. My boyfriend joined the army today. He is officially an Israeli soldier, and tomorrow (well, today actually), he signs a contract for service for fourteen months, with the possibility of extending it to eighteen months. Eighteen months. A year and a half of rarely seeing him, not talking to him often, of worrying about him. A year and a half of just not having him with me, of not being together. I do not know how I am going to survive it.

As if that is not enough, he might be there for three years, if he gets into the program that he wants. I will barely survive the fourteen to eighteen months that he will definitely be there for, but three years? There is no way I can do that, and I am not just saying that because of the way I feel now. I have been thinking about this for months now, trying to convince myself that I can handle a year and a half, that I can even handle three years, but deep down, I know that is not true. Like I said, I know I will be able to the eighteen months, it will be hard and long, and I will barely get through it, but I can do it. However, I know I cannot do the three years. It is just one of those instinctual, gut feelings, of something that you just know.

I feel horrible, hypocritical, and selfish for feeling like this, for having to tell him this, I cannot help it. One or both of us needs to come up with a better way to make this work, in a way where we both get to pursue our dreams and be together at the same time. In a way where I am not miserable every night and crying myself to sleep. I am sure there is a way. There has to be a way. We just have not found it yet.

Granted, I could always move and go to law school there, but as I have said before in other posts, not only is that not my law school dream, I would be alone in a strange city with barely any friends and family, where I am no longer familiar with the language, and I would be in school in a foreign country. Law school here is hard enough, doing it in a foreign country would be even harder. Plus, I would only see him once every three weekends.

I do not want him to give up his dream for me, nor would I ever ask him to do that, and he would never ask that of me. At the same time though, right now I feel like the only way this will work is if one of us puts our dream on hold in order to be together, but I do not want either one of us to do that. Yet, there must be a way. There has to be a way in which we can be together and achieve our dreams. In the meantime, I just have to survive.

My New Beginning

I believe everyone deserves a new beginning in life, a fresh start, and as I write this, I am in the midst of mine.

I am sitting in my (fairly) new room, in Michigan, with my law school books spread out around me. I have been here for a month, and while I acclimated and adjusted well, I still have moments where I will look around and think, "This is my new life," and wonder how I got here. Never in a million years did I think I would go away for law school; I was never the type to just up and move away. I am still not that type. Yet, here I am, in my own apartment, going to law school, making new friends (but keeping the old), and truly being an adult. And it is everything I ever dreamed it would be (minus one thing--my boyfriend).

Yes, there is an insane amount of work to do; yes, it is extremely stressful; yes, I miss my family; yes, there are a lot of late nights and threats to drop out (my boyfriend can testify to that); and yes, sometimes I cannot fathom the thought that this will be my life for the next three years (in a bad way), but honestly, despite all of that, I love it. Ok, I do not love the amount of work (or the work itself always), but I love everything else about it.

I love class and learning about the law. I love being on my own, being fully responsible for myself. I love making new friends and hanging out with them. I love being able to go out and not having to tell anyone. I love not having to answer to anyone (except myself). I love it all.  This is my new beginning. 

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.

They Come in Threes

There is a saying, "All good things come in threes." Others say that bad things come in threes. I would say that whether good or bad, major events tend to come in threes. In the span of one month, I will have had three major life events happen. The first one already has happened. My boyfriend left to go back to Israel. The next one, occurring in a week, will be my moving to a completely new city and state. Finally, the third will be starting law school.

Before any of them had even happened yet, I was fine. Since my boyfriend leaving was the first event, it hit me hard. I had a great deal of trouble adjusting to it, mainly because he was gone and I miss him terribly, but I also think that a little bit of what I was feeling was reality hitting me. As I said, before he left I was fine. Before he left, all three things were still in the future, about to happen. I knew they were coming, but they had yet to happen. None of it was real. Then my boyfriend left, and the first bit of reality hit me. He really did leave. Then it was real, and that made the next two events real as well. I really am moving. I really am starting law school. All it took was for one piece of reality to hit me, and the rest came crumbling down right after it.

I knew none of them would be easy for me. The first one certainly was not. In fact, by the time everything is over, the first one will probably have been the hardest of the three, with law school coming in as a close second. I do know though, that the next two are scary. I am not so scared of moving to a new city or state and truly being on my own for the first time; what I am scared of is law school-- the work load, the effort it will take, but mostly, whether or not I will be able to handle it, whether or not I will succeed. It is all coming threes, and sometimes, that is not a bad thing at all, but in my case, I just wish they would have spaced themselves out a little better.

Making the Right Decision

Last January, I wrote about being at an impasse, what decision was the right one. I just reread that post and realized that not much has changed. The only things that have changed are that I am moving and going to law school, and that he is definitely going into the army. As I read the post, I realized that while I am still torn, maybe more so now, that this time it is different. This time, we are certain of each other, certain that we want to be together, and while I have always dreamed of going to law school, and still do, I also desire to be with him more than anything.

It has been my dream for thirteen years and I am finally going. I cannot give up on that, or postpone it. I have been fighting to get in for two years, and I now that I finally am, I cannot just give up on it. Who knows if I will ever get the chance again. Not to mention, I do not want to become that woman who gives up everything for a man, even if I do love him more than anything; I do not want to lose myself, or my dreams, and I do not want to regret it later in life because that would not be fair to either one of us. Plus, I know he does not want me to give up on or postpone my dream, and sometimes that is the only reason I am still going.

But the dream I have of being with him is a different kind of dream. Every fiber of my being wants to hop on a plane right now and just go there. And in my head, I know how irrational and stupid that would be. It does not make any sense. Even if I hopped on a plane now, he would be in the army in a little over a month and then I would be completely alone, in a foreign country, with no job, support system, anything, and I would barely ever see him (one weekend very three weeks). So what good would it do for me to give up or postpone (almost) everything I have ever wanted? None. Yes, I would get to be with him for a month, but in the end, it would not do anyone any good. At the same time though, I tell myself that while I would barely see him, it is better then never seeing him (he will have leave for one month every year, which is very much like never).

I realized the other day that a big part of my problem is not knowing how long this is going to be. He can do eighteen months in the army, three years, or any amount of time really, depending on what he wants, the unit he gets into, and what the army decides. I also came to the realization that I can handle eighteen months, but two or three years is too much for me. There is no way I can do that. I can say that for certain right now, and I know this is true because I do not just feel this way when I am missing him and miserable. I feel this way when I am feeling better and am optimistic, believing that we can do this, but thinking that I cannot do it for three years. And I know people will say "You'll be in law school and will be busy with that, and time will fly." Yes, time will fly. I am very aware of how quickly time flies. But there is a difference between time flying for eighteen months, and time flying for three years. There is a difference between being able to handle something on a smaller scale and being able to cope with something like this--being away from the person you love, the person you want to be with. Either way, I know I cannot handle three years.

Over the past few days I have come up with a few different ways this can go, and compromises to make this work after eighteen months (at least I think they are compromises, and fairly good ones at that). In one, he is only doing eighteen months in the army, and after that, he comes back here, stays with me while I finish law school. If he really wants to go back to Israel after I am done, then we will go back. In the other scenario, he does three years in the army, and everything is just reversed. I go there after eighteen months (I have not quite figured out the law school aspect of this yet, but I will), he finishes the army, and we can come back to the States so I can finish my law degree. After that, well, we shall see. But those are my solutions (so far). Yes, I am aware of how crazy this sounds, to be planning this now when neither one of us knows what will even happen within the next month. As I said before though, I hate not knowing how long this will be, and knowing I cannot survive it for longer than eighteen months, I need to find some solution, even if it is too early to make those kinds of plans.

Basically, it all boils down to that we are each doing what we have to do, for ourselves. He has to follow his dream; I have to follow mine. I know this. We did this before, and I know we can do it again, but it is not going to be easy. (And the time difference certainly doesn't help either.) But we take it one day at a time, and whatever happens, we will handle. Either way, I know that he is what I want; we both know that we want to be together, and we will both work to make it happen. Just one day at a time, but in the meantime, I just have to keep telling myself (and have others tell me) that I am, that we are, making the right decision.

Back To Normal

Today, my life returned to normal. Or what I thought was normal. If you had asked me two months ago, normal was going to work, preparing to move, going out with friends a few times a week, sitting at home at night watching TV basically doing whatever needed to be done. I was just going through the motions. Now though, that is no longer the case. In fact, I now realize it never was my normal.


The last two months, my ex, and now current, boyfriend was here visiting. In those two months, I realized that those times in my life without him were never normal. There was something missing. Normal is being with my boyfriend, having him in my life (on a more regular, boyfriend-like basis), talking to him, listening to his endless fountain of information about anything and everything, watching TV shows with him days after they air, and just spending time with him. I realized that that is how my life should be. That is my normal. He may not be here right now, but he is my normal, and always has been. And somewhere, deep down, I always knew that.

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.

Some Things Never Change

Change is good, as scary as it may be at times, change is good. Yet sometimes, it is nice to see that certain things never change.

My ex, and someone whom I still consider one of my closest friends, came in from Israel last Tuesday. In the time he has been here, we have hung out quite a bit. At first I was worried things would be awkward between us; we have not seen each other in almost a year, nor have we seen each other since before we broke up. Yes, we remained friends and still talk, but seeing each other for the first time in almost a year can be a bit nerve racking, at least for me.

I do not know why I was worried, though. It is almost as if he never left. We still hang out, talk, argue, and even do the same things. He still spends the majority of time on his computer, doing G-d knows what. He still leaves his stuff spread out all over the place, among other things. In other words, he is (basically) still the same man I know, the same man I came to love.

However, some things do change. The obvious one-- we are no longer dating. Another, we are both taking our lives in very different directions. He is going into the Israeli army; I am moving and going to be starting law school. And while we both may essentially be the same people, there are subtle changes. The two that stand out the most for me-- he is more mature, and more focused. So while he is still the same man, he is somewhat different. And I am sure I have changed a bit as well, but for that list, you will have to ask him.

Still, it is nice to know, and see, that while some things do change, there are others that never do.

Looking Back

I was looking at some Facebook pictures a few weeks ago of people that I went to high school with, ones that I have not seen or talked to since we graduated six and a half years ago. In these pictures, they were drinking, doing silly things, dancing, etc. Essentially, being young adults. When I saw the pictures of them with drinks in their hands, I thought to myself, "We're not old enough to drink," forgetting that, in fact, we are.

You see, when I see people that I graduated high school with, whether in pictures or in real life, people I no longer have any contact with, I am immediately a teenager again, back in high school, with braces and bad hair, and so are they. I temporarily forget that we are all full grown adults, on our own, with jobs, significant others, and everything else that comes with being an adult. For a few seconds there, I am transported back to high school.

Once I come to my senses and realize that I am almost twenty-five years old, about to move to go to law school, and that we are all of legal drinking age, I breath a huge sigh of relief, so thankful that I am no longer in high school. I am not saying that I did not like high school; I did. I had fun. But that part of my life is over and done with. I am no longer that person. I am on a new path; I like where I am, where I am going, and I would not change it or go back for anything.

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.

The Need for....Change

Every so often in life, I get this urge to change something. Nothing big, just something to shake things up, make life a little different, a little exciting. It does not have to be something that I do to myself, but it has to shake my life up a little bit. It does not have to be anything major, either, but it has to be fairly substantial; nothing like going out and buying a new pair of shoes. It can be as simple as (another) piercing, cutting my hair, or buying a new mattress (which I did not do). But it has to be something.

Lately, I have been having this urge. I have this desire to do something, make my life a little more exciting, because you know, my life is not already exciting enough (with all the upcoming and past events, holidays, and moving). Really, I do have enough excitement in my life right now. There are (or were) the loads of Jewish holidays this month, next month I have two bridal showers (one of which I am helping to plan), a bachelorette party (which I am planning), a wedding, preparing to move, and some other things I am sure I am forgetting. So why in the world do I feel the need to bring some more excitement to my life? I do not have the time, energy, or patience for much else at the moment, yet, the desire is still there. And it is going to stay there. This is one time in my life I do not need any more change or excitement.

The Optimistic One

The essence of optimism is that it takes no account of the present, but it is a source of inspiration, of vitality and hope where others have resigned; it enables a man to hold his head high, to claim the future for himself and not to abandon it to his enemy. 

-Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Optimist: A man who is chased up a tree by a lion but enjoys the scenery anyway.

-Walter Winchell

A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty. 

-Winston Churchill

I am the optimist in my family. My mom, my brother, and even my father, are pessimists. My aunt, my boss, and best friend are pessimists as well. I am surrounded by negativity on a fairly constant basis. Sometimes it amazes me that I am so optimistic. But I am. And I thank G-d for that. It enables me to see the bright side in just about anything and everything. Even in the smallest, most trivial situations, I see the bright side, while most everyone else I know is focusing on the negative. 

Sometimes I honestly do not understand how people can look at the world, the people around them, and especially themselves in such a negative way. To me, there is always a positive. It is not easy hearing their negative remarks either, about others, themselves, or anything, and it eventually gets to me. It frustrates me, sometimes quite a bit. There are times where I simply cannot stand to hear it and have to walk away before I say something hurtful to them about it. And there is only so much I can say to them, so much I can do, and only so many times I can try to put a positive spin on things, before I just give up. 

I know I cannot change the way they think; only they can do that, and they have to want to do it. But, for those out there wondering why being an optimist is so great (other than the fact that looking at the world in a brighter light just makes things better and easier), here are a few reasons to be one: better health, longer lives, less stress, persistence (we do not give up easily), and better emotional health. Those sound like some positive outcomes, right? Now if I could just get my family and friends to see the bright side of this...

The Dawn of a New Dream

I have one more application to send in my quest to get into law school, yet I am hesitating. I am unsure if I want to send it in. If I should even bother. I have sent in four or five other law school applications this year and all have been rejected. The odds are not on my side for this last one. In fact, I think it is safe to say the odds are completely against me. So I hesitate and wonder, and in the meantime, contemplate my other options.

I am unsure if I want to give up on law school and instead focus on something else. Yet, that is what I seem to find myself doing. My problem though, is what to focus on. Yes, I have other areas of interest, journalism for one, but that is not what worries me. What worries me is if I can see pursuing one or two of those areas and doing that for the rest of my life. Or should I go to graduate school and get a degree in something else? But then I am confronted with the same problem: Can I see myself doing that one thing (the thing I spent two more years of education and money on) for the rest of my life? I am not sure.

The weird thing is, I am okay with giving up on law school. No, it is not great, but it is not the end of the world either. Yes, it was my dream for twelve years, but that does not mean I do not have other dreams, or that dreams cannot change. Of course they change, and they change because we change. Maybe, despite how long I have wanted to go to law school and be a lawyer, maybe I was never meant to be one. Maybe I was always meant to be something else.

My Bad Habit

Admit it: You have a bad habit. We all do. In fact, some of us probably have more than one. And that is fine. It is human nature to have a bad habit or two. Some people crack their knuckles, some chew on ice, some play with or chew their hair, and some bite their nails, like me. Granted, that list is not all-inclusive, but I think you get the idea. We all have bad habits.

As I just mentioned above, I bite my nails, and pick at my toenails at times (it is actually called onychophagia). I have ever since I can remember. There is even a picture of me when I was about nine months old lying on the changing table, with my foot in my mouth, attempting to chew on one of my toenails. Needless to say, I started early. Now, twenty-fours years later, I am still doing it, though sometimes I do not even realize I am doing it. I am no longer lying on a changing table, nor do I stick my feet in my mouth, but I still bite and pick my nails. It drives me absolutely bananas. And it really pisses me off.

I hate looking at my nails, seeing the little nubs of my fingers, with the even smaller nubs of my finger nails. (OK, that is not true. My nails are not that short, but they are not long and beautiful either.) Over the past ten years I have tried everything, really, everything, to stop biting my nails. You name it, I have (in all probability) tried it. Nothing has worked. Or maybe it worked temporarily, but in the end, I always go back to the tried and true--biting my nails.

I have read quite a bit on this over the years, and everything I have read so far says that nail biting is a reaction to stress, anxiety, excitement, boredom, inactivity, even hunger, and can be a learned behavior from family members. It is also very common (which really does not make me feel any better about it). Over the years, I have also discovered why I bite my nails. I bite due to all the reasons I just mentioned (except for hungry and learned behavior). If I am stressed or anxious, I bite. If I am sitting idly, doing nothing, I bite. If I am watching TV or relaxing, I bite. I bite. Apparently, I do not need a reason. What I have realized though, is that the reason I bite when I am not stressed or anxious, just bored, watching TV, or relaxing, is that I need something to do with my hands. They have to be kept busy. For me, that is the hardest part of not biting my nails. I can resist the urge to bite, I can stop myself if I realize I am doing it, but if I am sitting doing nothing, and my hands are free, I find it very hard to give my hands something to do to keep them occupied.

The last five to six months have been my best, though. I really stuck to it. Granted, I spent quite a bit of money on manicures, but they really helped. I did not bite my nails. Ok, maybe I picked at them, but it was much easier to stop when I saw a manicure on them (or to begin picking at the manicure instead--whatever works, right?). It was also much easier to stop once I actually saw that I had nails. Seeing the actual, real nails on my hands and fingers went a long way for me. Why? Simple really: Because I saw that I had nails, that I could, in fact, grow and have (semi) beautiful nails. I saw the results of not biting them, and I loved it. Not only that, but I was able to use my nails. I absolutely loved it.

I worked very hard at maintaining those nails. I got manicures, gave myself manicures, I made myself stop biting them, resisted the urges I had to do so, and continued to grow nails. And I did it. No, it was not perfect, and yes, I will admit that I did bite some off at times (especially the weaker ones which are so much easier to pick off and therefore so much harder to resist), but I did it. I had nails.

Then, there was a stressor. And off they came. That was about three weeks ago now. You would think that since then I have started to grow my nails again, right? Wrong. Now that they are gone, it is much easier to just continue picking and biting them off. I have nothing to look at, to see what it would look like if I let them grow. All I have are stubs, and the memory of what they used to look like. But I cannot go on a memory. It is very difficult to do this based only on a memory. I need to see it in front of me. I need proof. I need a nail, preferably three or four, to see that I can do it. But I know I can do this. I know. I have done it before, I can do it again. But I just need that one nail, that one starting point, yet I know I will never get it if I keep on picking and biting at what I have left.