Sick Day

This, folks, is the petri dish -- Ulpan Etzion. 

There's a trend that people have told me about but that I've been very skeptical of until now. Yes, when Tuvia and I met we were both rocking pretty gnarly colds, but I'm suffering an all-out, full-blown something bad right now. They call it "cholah chadasha" -- it's a play on olah chadasha (new immigrant, with cholah meaning sick).

I blame Ulpan Etzion because it's a petri dish of sickness at the moment with half the ulpan down and out with something or another (teachers included). I thought maybe I would be okay, but with other students around me hacking up their own lungs and not the proper way (into your elbow, people!), I've been afflicted.

Lucky for me, Mr. T is a master care-taker. Yes, he's been plying me with hot water paired with honey and lemon juice, he went out and got me medicine, and he even made homemade Chicken Soup -- aka Jewish penicillin. Yes, I'm breaking my weekday no-meat rule because it's a proven fact that the qualities found in Chicken Soup do have a healing quality. With lots of sleep, lots of healthy nosh and rest, I'm hoping to bounce back in the next few days. I hate being sick, and I'm such a dude when I'm sick. Also? Missing ulpan sucks, and not being able to take two seconds off from work because even the internet is accessible from home so work in my world never stops is kind of lame.

The good news on top of the sick news comes three fold.

1. My wedding dress is in the country! Yes, it passed through customs and is floating around somewhere in the country. I just need to get it, try it on, get it tailored if need be, and find some shoes and a veil. Oh, and get a haircut. My hair is a little out of control right now. 
2. Mr. T and I are going to England for Pesach! Holy wowie zowie. We're going to stay a few days after the chag because so much is closed during Chol ha'Moed (the intermediate days) because Easter falls around the same time as Pesach this year, and I've never been to England before. Color me utterly stoked to be able to visit the land of my forefathers (quite literally). 
3. We were approved by the vaad to live to Neve Daniel! Our lease starts on February 1, and come February 20, we'll be living there as a family. Stay tuned for a video tour once I get it semi-set up. Yes, Mr. T and I will have a home of our own! I'm super stoked. And iBoy will have a space of his own, too. 

There is nothing else in the world that I need or want right now than to get my life started with Mr. T. The only thing I really need is a KitchenAid with a grain grinder for my new kitchen. Why? I am SO eager to get back to baking challah (yeah, I can't eat it, but making it is therapeutic and important to me) and baking yummy things. Also, grinding my own grains is a lot cheaper than buying them pre-ground in this country. 

Now? Back to hot beverages. And resting. And watching television. 

Ask Chaviva Anything!: Of Aliyah and Marriage

Now? Another installment of Ask Chaviva Anything!

As an American who married an Israeli, I am bracing myself for the move to Israel in a few years. I feel paralyzed by fear sometimes and, just as quickly, guilt-ridden for not wanting to dive head-first into what I know is the right place for us as Jews. I am also a convert, and feel devastated that I'll be leaving my family here. Can you give me any advice or motivation on how to stay positive?

This is a tough one. A very tough one. And I'm not sure it's one I'm fully equipped or prepared to answer because I come from a pretty different place than you. I only saw my family so many times a year and relied largely on e-communications to keep in touch, I wasn't married, and the motivation to move to Israel was wholly my own. That being said, I think that having the time to plot and plan almost makes the entire waiting period worse -- you'll hyper-analyze every aspect of what could possibly go wrong on the move. It's an incredibly frustrating thing you're going through, I can only imagine. 

So I'm going to put this one out to my readers. Does anyone have advice? 

The next question?

Can you post more of your cute apartment?

Yes! But only after my closet shows up. Hopefully it will be here by November 21. Stay tuned!

Here comes another, closer to home. 

I thought you weren't looking to get married again or so you said on the blog multiple times awhile back. When did this change?

Late last year/early this year I had said I wasn't sure I wanted to get married again. But that's also when I was dating someone outside Judaism, was bitter and angry about a lot of things, and was still coping with divorce and family problems I was having. A lot of therapy later, making the decision to keep my happiness at Number 1 on my priorities, and making aliyah, marriage has been in the cards. The truth is, my desire not to get married was largely a result of the guy I was seeing not wanting to get married. I was doing my best to believe in the "marriage is a sham" bit. But I want very much to get married, to have kids, to do my part in growing Am Yisrael. Shockingly, it's not nearly as easy as I thought to meet people in Israel.  

And we'll end with an easy one. 

How long do you think you'll stay in Israel?

Forever? I made aliyah -- I moved here, permanently -- and my intent is for Israel to be my home indefinitely. I'm not naive enough to think that life hands us things we are most unprepared for, so who knows what is in store for me, but making aliyah means moving to the land, possessing it, making it my home. So that's what I'm doing!

What is This Life?

Late August 2011 on one of my many trips alone to the Poconos.

On these trips I'd speed around the tight, curvy corners 

of Valley Road between 84 and 6.

I prayed to lose control.  

Wait. How did I get here?

Nearly 29, selling all of my belongings, moving to a perpetual "war zone," starting over -- again -- after so many fresh starts. How do I know if this one is the one? I just know, that's how.

A year ago, I knew that my life was over. I say that in the most literal way possible. A year ago, I saw two ways out of my life: divorce or suicide. The latter seemed like a more noble approach to the situation. I'd failed to make my marriage work. It was me who couldn't fix it, so it was me that failed. I could even muster the strength to ask out, so what kind of person would I be to anyone else? The reality of the financial and emotional impact (of losing everything I knew -- friends and family) seemed too strong to handle. And all the while, I played the part of me, Chaviva. Age 27. Blogger. Wife. Teaneck, NJ Orthodox Jew. Strong, confident, stable. Happy above all. Here, on this blog.

It was a dark space. A very, very dark space. I owe my being here to several friends who helped me baby-step through that scary part of my life. They are angels on earth.

I vlogged on September 1, 2011, about a debate between my ex-husband and I about whether -- when there's one breadwinner -- the person not pulling in the bulk of the cash can treat the other person. I watch that video now, and I see the deadness in my eyes. I was attempting to fix the break in the levee with duct tape.

On September 6 I blogged about the world of Jewish women bloggers and whether when I started this blog I intended to be anonymous, for the content to be public or private. I wrote about how the things I didn't discuss on this blog could fill entire libraries. I wanted to speak, but I was distracted.

More duct tape for the levee appeared on September 7 when I tried to explain and ask for help in my battle for a new, proper full sheitel, because my ex-husband didn't believe in sheitels and couldn't validate the expense. So I bought a fake wig. I stressed out. People began to see something was up.

After realizing life is greater than death, and with the support of friends and realizing that I am stronger than I appear, I asked for a get on September 12. You have to understand -- it took me nine months to ask for the get. We spent a lot of time in therapy trying to fix things, but I think that we both knew that it wasn't going anywhere. Finally requesting the get is probably the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. Period.

By September 14, I put my blog on hiatus. "For the High Holidays," I said. Clearly I was lying.

Faster than was expected -- than anyone expected -- we were divorced according to the Jewish religion on September 20.

On September 25, I revealed what was happening. I was getting divorced. I was moving to Colorado without a job, I was starting over. "It's going to be an interesting 5772," I said. Boy was that the understatement of the year.

I arrived in Colorado on September 28 and was thrust in to the Colorado scene for the High Holidays. It was a strange circumstance to be in -- new, newly divorced, surrounded by strangers.

What. A. Year.

The pendulum had a mighty swing in both directions this year for me. From feeling free and released from a dark depression, to finding myself in a relationship with someone unexpected, to finding myself and my teshuva, to deciding to make aliyah.

Yes, a year ago Denver felt like the right move. And now? Israel seems perfect. Am I a nutjob? I don't think so. Look at what I wrote a year ago:

Why Denver? Well, I didn't have this blog back in 2005, but if I did, you would have heard me sing the praises of Colorado as the healthiest place on earth. The moment my wheels hit Colorado, I felt the need to eat healthy, to be healthy, to feel healthy. I went through a heartbreak there, but it didn't smack me in the face like it did elsewhere, because I was mentally and emotionally healthy. I was able to cope and move on. When I lived in Denver, I went running and walking, I ate fresh vegetables and maintained a mostly vegetarian diet, I explored the state, I got out. I did things. I was happy, I was healthy, I was positive about my future and confident in who I was. Everyone keeps telling me Denver's a horrible choice because there are no single frum folk there. To that, friends, I say, "I'm not interested in dating at the moment. Seriously?" 

Why not Israel? Divorce is a big enough shock to my system right now. I need a change, so I'm starting small with a move to Denver where I can regroup, clear my head, and find some inner peace. The balagan of Israel is too much for the tender state of me right now, so stay patient. I haven't ruled it out. After all, the world is my oyster at this point.

I think I knew. I just needed to take stock. But people were right -- Denver is a horrible choice because there are no single frum folk here!

So will 5773 be as crazy with the balagan as 5772 was? I don't think so. I foresee more of a wave of changes than a pendulum of heavy swinging back and forth. There's something about the great ease of everything with this move -- the aliyah process, the paperwork, finding the apartment, how quickly my stuff is selling, my being able to keep my job. Everything is just fitting into place without hesitation. 

I think I'm finally doing what HaShem wants from me. To take the land, to make it my own, to dwell there, and to take the happiness that I've found into a home and to grow Am Yisrael. 

But nothing in life is absolute. I'm not that naive. But stick with me friends, for another year, and let's see where the road takes me. Okay?

Aliyah Update: Vlog Style

The Test of the Dangling Carrot

Mere moments after I made the decision to make aliyah, a magical golden carrot appeared floating in the midst. It seemed perfect, just right, meant to be. Except that the dangling carrot was not in Israel, it was elsewhere. And it got me thinking whether I could put my long-awaited decision of aliyah on hold.

I knew deep down the answer was no, but I considered my options. I let the carrot dangle. I, the mule, watched the carrot carefully. I coveted the carrot. I followed the carrot.

Then, somehow, the carrot was gone. Decision made. My heart broke a little, I had trouble sleeping, and then I woke up feeling differently. It's aliyah, folks. It's fulfilling the ultimate mitzvah!

The carrot is in Israel. And it's not on a string. It's real.

This felt like the first test of HaShem (well, that and all the bureaucracy of having to wait for apostilles on my various legal documents from three different states). The question being whether now that I've made the decision for aliyah, will anything stop me? Will I be able to handle it? Will I follow through?

Duh. There are a bajillion reasons I would follow through.

"There is a positive, biblical commandment to dwell in Eretz Israel, as it says, 'You shall possess it and dwell in it' (Devarim 17:14, 26:I)."

That comes from Sefer Chareidim (Mitzvot Asei HaTeluyot B'Eretz Israel, chap. I, sec 15).  Chazal say that this mitzvah is equal to all the mitzvot of the Torah (Sifrei, Re'eh 28), and it is one of the 613 mitzvot according to the Ramban and the Rashbetz.

So test away, throw carrots my way, roadblocks, mounds of bureaucracy and stress -- I'm going to plant my feet in Israel and never look back. 

I've got a whole lot of bitachon. More than I've ever experienced before in my life. I'm happier than ever, I'm more excited than I've ever been. Bring it.

Big News: Aliyah + Saving Money

Well, okay, I did it: I've applied for aliyah (aka returning/moving to the land of milk and honey -- Israel!). Oy va voy. Big step, right? Huge step. We're talking Hulk-smash-style step! But guess what? I'm single, I'm happier than I've ever been in my memorable memory, and I'm ready to take this major step that I've been fantasizing about for many, many years.

Whoa. I'm moving to Israel. 

Hopefully by the end of the year. And when I get there, well, I'm praying that there are loads of my Twitter and blog friends at the airport to meet me. (I've always dreamed of being greeted with someone holding a sign with my name, and shockingly, it has yet to happen.) I'm hoping for a quick-and-easy transition into the workforce (or that my current employer will let me continue rocking out the work I'm doing until I find something and they find someone). Times of Israel is hiring a Social Media Manager, and, come on, I'm perfect for such a gig, right? Think they'll wait for me? And then, of course, there's finding my zivug and reuniting with the mishpacha I grew to know and love while back in West Hartford, Connecticut.

Of course, this is no easy thing for me. Well, I take that back. You guys know me, and you know how easy it is for me to pick up and relocate. I always bounce back -- financially and emotionally. Yes, I know Israel isn't like moving from the East Coast to the Rockies. There is a new language, new food, new economics, new hardships, new challenges. But guess what? That's life! You meet challenges everywhere you go, and I'm prepared to rock those challenges like a hurricane. (Catch that reference there? Oh yeah. I'm classy.)

Over the past few weeks my spending has all but ceased. I went to the grocery store one day and purchased some hot sauce and agave and veggies to make a salad for a Shabbat meal I was attending, but my extraneous spending has completely stopped. Go me! Oddly enough, most of the spending that goes on in my life is on groceries -- begin a gluten-free ovo-vegetarian isn't cheap. Organic veggies aren't always cheap. But I'm eating in-season, which lowers the costs immensely. (That means that if I can't get jicama, I can't get jicama, and I deal.)

So now -- the time of savings! -- is a perfect time to rock the SNAP Challenge by Mazon. Technically the challenge was for this week, but I'm going to attempt this challenge next week with bloggers Mara of Kosher on a Budget and Susie over at Daily Cheapskate. So what is the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) Challenge?

Participating in the SNAP Challenge is simple: eat for one week using only the amount of money you would have if you relied solely on SNAP to pay for your food. By taking the SNAP Challenge, you will directly experience the struggle that nearly 1 in 7 Americans – including nearly 25% of all American children – face every day. You will learn first-hand how difficult it is to afford nutritious foods, avoid hunger, and stay healthy without adequate resources.

We three blogging queens are going to give you an example of three types of typical American households: The Family of Five (Mara), The Couple (Susie), and The Single (me!). You'll get to see how the three of us cope with feeding our families and ourselves on a small budget. For me, that means one week at $31.50.

So the journey begins! Saving money, saving myself.

There's More Than Lemons, Chavi

As I'm sure you can all tell, there's a lot of tension in my life these days. Divorce, moving, readjusting my entire idea of what it means to be me. It's weird how this life change, more so than any other I've experienced (and I've moved a lot and changed communities a lot) has really shaken me to the core, making me reconsider what I want, where I'm going, and what makes sense to me in life.

Don't worry, I'm still a committed Orthodox Jew. I'm just trying to figure out what that means.

After the divorce, a lot of people commented with gam zu l'tovah -- this too, is for good. I find myself saying it a lot, although I don't find myself saying it to others much. I think that the phrase can really confuse the emotions. Bad things happen to good people, life changes, and the world keeps spinning, but staying positive is the hardest part.

I'm infamous for focusing on the negative. My friends have told me that, my exes commented on it, and even my therapist says that I need to figure out a way to get out of it. I can't take compliments, and when the world hands me lemons, all I see is lemons; at least, all I focus on is the lemons. I might make lemonade, but I'll still be looking at those darn lemon peels.

Since September, I've gotten a speeding ticket, rear-ended a car, had my phone stolen, become quite broke, left my car windows open so my passenger seat was full of snow, and ... well, there's more. But again, I need to refocus.

When I went out to my car this morning and opened the driver's side door only to notice that I left the window cracked (this is Denver, it was warm yesterday, snowy today), I felt relieved that the wind blew the snow in the opposite direction. Then I looked at my passenger seat: snow everywhere. Yes, I'd left the passenger window open, too, and I wasn't so lucky. I stood there, in the snow, smiled, shook my head, facepalmed, and laughed at myself.

Gam zu l'tovah. 

It's taken everything -- all the lemons -- over the past several months to bring me to a point where I can laugh at my misfortune.

My place in life has always been as a caretaker. I take care of people, I help them, I guide them, I counsel them. This is both my greatest attribute, I think, and my greatest flaw. Why? Because I forget that I'm here, that I'm also on a journey and that my problems, my concerns, my feelings are just as valid as those who I am here to protect, guide, and speak out for.

I have a lot going on, and I want to than you all for your patience, your kindness, your outreach, your love. I'm trying to get over the lemons, but it's going to take a while. But as long as I can figure out how to laugh at myself, I think I'm going to be okay.

Ir Ha'Kodesh?

Photo taken from kumah.org via Google Image Search.

Another Shabbat has come, another week has passed, and I've officially been (Hebrew calendar) married for 2 months and 1 day. Tomorrow, on the Gregorian calendar, actually marks the two-month anniversary of my being wedded to the man, the myth, the legend, Tuvia (a.k.a. Evan). It feels like boatloads longer that we've been hitched. We got married, settled quickly, and finally having all of our stuff in one place has helped us feel like an old married couple. We have a home. A home in Teaneck, New Jersey. So?

See, there's one thing I can't get over: When people ask me how I like living in Teaneck, it's always with a tinge of hesitation, like it's a loaded question. And when I say it's wonderful, facial expressions almost turn into a question mark. As if to say, "wait, you like it there?"

So what is it. What do you know/think about Teaneck? What is your impression of Teaneck? Have you heard about this city, its Jewish population, its rep in the greater Jewish world?

Tell me about it. Let me know what you think about this city I now call home, this city that I absolutely love.

And with that, I bid y'all a Shabbat Shalom!

Fourth of July: In and Out Like a Ghost

It's Tuesday July 6, and Independence Day just zipped on past me. In fact, yesterday zipped past me. I think it's the first Fourth of July in years that I really haven't thought much about the day or longed for July 4ths of years gone by.

This picture probably describes what I was doing on the Fourth better than I can.

Or maybe this one? 

We were on a bridge, driving back from Connecticut with a UHaul full of the rest of our "stuff." I didn't see a single burst of fireworks, and I only heard a smattering of poppage. It was depressing, mostly because where I come from, that is to so say where I grew up in Southern Missouri and Eastern Nebraska, the Fourth of July was a big deal.

I remember attending one year an installment of the dualing neighbors in their fireworks displays that rang in at $2,000+ at each house. Other years I went out to the lake with friends and watched the fireworks. One year I even hosted people at my parent's house; it was the July 4 after graduating, in 2006. We grilled out, had a water-balloon fight, and accidentally blew fireworks off in the garage (much to my father's dismay). Afterward, we went across town to watch the big display. That, folks, was a year to remember. A few years back I was in Oak Park with my then-boyfriend, drinking bears, playing bags (Chicago style), and ogling a friend's new baby. The year after that -- my last in Chicago -- I schlepped out to the local harbor, plopped down with hundreds of other people, and waited for the fireworks to begin. I watched people order Latino corn treats off carts, children edging near the water and parents pulling them back. It was a peaceful, calm, and, for me, perfect way to celebrate Independence Day.

And this year? Moving boxes, packing boxes, emptying boxes, staring at boxes, wondering when it will all be done. Painting, trying to find time to eat, nursing back pain, knee pain, leg pain, arm pain. One thing's for sure: I was never cut out to move heavy or light objects up and/or down stairs.

I was joking with Tuvia that I am a thinker, an intellectual. Worse came to worse, I wouldn't be able to snuff it physically with the rest of them. Thinking about the Holocaust, the camps, those who couldn't snuff it, it depresses me. Would I have been one of them? Such a morbid thought for Independence Day, but that's the way the cookie crumbles right now.

We hope to have everything painted and unpacked by Friday. Hopefully Shabbos will come in to a well-organized, settled, comfortable house that feels like a home. Come Monday, I'm back to being a student (for the time being anyhow, as I have to start and finish my grad exam in two weeks). It'll feel good to be back doing something that I'm good at: learning, writing, positing.

Back to the unpackin' and paintin' grind, folks. Be well!

Falling in Love, With Teaneck, New Jersey.

I. Love. Teaneck!

Okay, let me start over. I know, we're new and it's that honeymoon period of newness and awesomeness, and technically we haven't even moved in yet, but we spent last Shabbos in Teaneck and, frankly, I'm in love. The community is young, vibrant, impassioned, and ALIVE. Alive. Yes, I felt alive and active and excited the entire time I was around the other individuals and couples in the apartment community. I mean, we were only there for one Shabbos, and I already feel like I have a new community-family, because they opened us with welcome arms (EDIT: of course I meant "welcomed us with open arms, but I spoonerized that, and it's so funny, I'm leaving it there!), put a roof over our heads, fed and fed and fed us, and took part in conversation and Jewish geography with us. What's more to ask for?

The amazing thing about the community is that the welcoming wagon is a serious one. We're moving in on Thursday/Friday and folks are willing to host us for meals, cook for us for the first week, help us literally move the boxes and furniture, and to help unpack. I mean, wow. I'm not saying other communities aren't so gracious, but it's the proactivity of these folks that astounds and elates me.

I didn't spot a single doily over the weekend, but I did spot some strange and interesting styles of covering ye olde locks, which I may or may not write about depending on how I think the community would react. The interesting thing about moving to Teaneck is that I'm starting to feel an underlying sense of self-censorship, but not actual self-censorship. Like, I shouldn't blog about certain things for fear of people reading them and/or getting their panties in a bunch about my most-of-the-time benign comments, but at the same time knowing that I can't help but blog about them.

So, just to test the waters (like a 3-year-old with a crayon and nice, clean white wall), I have to mention this interesting hair-covering style. I think I'll call it the "Captain Jack Sparrow." It's where you take a scarf and sort of tie it back, pirate-style, but with all your locks still dangling out freely. Like the un-tichel, tichel. What I don't get is how it fits into the whole tefach of hair thing. It's sort of like edging on not covering, while still covering. I did see one woman at a kosher restaurant elsewhere in Jersey recently sporting such a scarf, but she definitely had a fall on underneath. I give mad props to the women who choose to cover like this, I just don't know how the greater Orthodox (modern and otherwise) community approaches that kind of style.

Speaking of, I'd really like to get some knowledgeable source in the arena of the halakot and community standards of hair covering to guest post something for me as far as what is hardcore, what is lenient, and what is necessary and what is not. I want to be a whole heckuva lot more informed than I am right now.

I also am seriously pondering the sheitel or fall, now. I don't know why. I'm very not down with the sheitel, but I'm not sure WHY I am. Some look so chic. But is that the point? I'm also struggling with what to do with my hair -- cut it? Let it grow? It's at this uncomfortable impasse where I can't really leave the back out but it really doesn't want to stay up despite the amount of clippy and rubber things I attempt to keep it in with. It's Hair Wars 2010. Suggestions? I haven't had it long since 2001, so it might be fun to grow it. I wonder how Tuvia feels?

I have a bucketload of posts I'd like to write, many of them based on experiences (all good, by the way) in my new Teaneck community. I got the impression that most of my new friends don't read or keep up with blogs (although they seem to be obsessed with Friends and Seinfeld, so I'm planning on watching EVERY season/episode from start to finish on BOTH of those), so I might just be in the clear. I pride myself on a positive dialogue about any and all of my queries and curiosities when it comes to halakot and community standards, and I don't see that changing. Any baggage brought to this blog by individuals I can't freak out about. After all, it's baggage.

Stay tuned for more exciting and intriguing adventures in the life of Chaviva G. Hrm ... maybe someday kids will call me "Mrs. G." Which, of course, reminds me of one of the greatest shows of all time: The Facts of Life!

Ruby Tuesday -- on the road!

I thought I'd pop in to post a quick Ruby Tuesday photo from my travels thus far. This one is from the Starlite Lounge in Lincoln, Neb. -- my favorite all-time bar/lounge, for its retro feel and faux martini drinks.

For those keeping tabs, I'm presently in Ohio, near Pennsylvania. I'm stopping off today in Philly to visit a friend, then on to CT tonight and moving in tomorrow. I'm hoping to move in so that I don't miss all of the Nefesh b'Nefesh blogger conference. Darn the time difference!

Be well!

A mini break.

So I won't really be blogging much probably until late next week, if not beyond that, mostly because I'm en route (as my last blog mentioned) and as such I don't have easy access to internet, nor do I really have the energy necessary to dish out meaningful and relevant posts. Please keep me in mind, though, as I travel. I can use all the helpful prayers I can get.

In the meantime, here is a thought that I hope to blog on at some point in the not-so-distant future: Torah as given to Moses and the Israelites by G-d versus Torah being taught by G-d to Moses and subsequently the Israelites. Is the wordage necessarily different? Significant? Important? I think so, yes.

Until then ... Iowa from the road (circa August 13) says hello.

The next few weeks, then UConn.

So it is, that in a mere two weeks, I will be leaving Chicago for a week-long trip prior to my arriving in Storrs, Connecticut, where I will be attending school to acquire a master's degree in Judaic studies. It's a two year program, and whether I end up in a PhD program in New York or Israel or elsewhere or if I end up meeting my beshert and starting a family or if I end up doing school temporarily in Israel or converting Orthodox or working at some Jewish organization, well ... those things are yet to be seen/decided/figured out. I could, of course, get hit by a bus tomorrow -- who knows!

When I leave Chicago, I'm making the (semi-) brief trek to Lincoln, Nebraska, where I spent my adolescence and undergraduate years. I'll be spending time with my little brother, who is 16, meeting his new (and first) girlfriend. I'll be going to the restaurants that I so miss, eating the food that I remember as distinctly Nebraskan, visiting the locales (the CoHo) where I would sometimes spend eight hours a day studying biblical Hebrew. I'll be in Lincoln for about four days, hopefully seeing old friends and having drinks and doing that "last hurrah" kind of thing before I scoot off to Connecticut, where I plan to make some lifestyle changes. Of course, I say that I plan, but we all know how planning goes -- most of the time it doesn't. I hesitate to make any grandiose statements, and at this point making those statements without my big WHAT IS MY THEOLOGY post would probably result in some criticism and furthering opinions about my sincerity. So, let's just say, my time in Nebraska is meant to be a full, all-out time of enjoyment and good times.

I'll then make the 22-hour drive from Lincoln to Storrs over a few days. I'm still not sure how I'm splitting the trip up, or whether I'll be stopping at all. I know driving 22 hours is pretty brutal, and it's difficult because I'll be driving through several states were friends -- some whom I haven't seen in years or met at all -- reside. In a perfect world, I'd loop through Indiana and Ohio and Pennsylvania, making stops to see e-friends and college friends alike. Then again, the price of gas and the thought of turning my car in after the deadline make my wallet weep. So chances are, it'll be a straight-shot.

I am hoping, though, that when I am in Connecticut, that I will be able to make at least once-a-month treks into New York city for Shabbos with (at present) e-friends. I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be on Shabbat, especially with my ever-evolving Underconstructionist existence. Plus, if I'm going to meet a nice Jewish boy, the chances are good that I'll be able to pick one up in NYC, nu? From what I can tell, there's a mighty (or perhaps just visible) Jewish presence on the U of C campus. There's a Hillel (with their own website!) and Chabad, and it appears that they have cross-denomination services on Shabbat (this intrigues me immensely -- egalitarian? which prayer book? women leading services?). West Hartford, a half-hour jaunt from Storrs, has a mighty Jewish presence, including an active eruv. They even have a weekly Jewish newspaper: the Jewish Ledger. It seems, though, that it might be easier for me to go to NYC than to get to Hartford. Shocking, eh? My plan is to stay on campus for Shabbos, see how services are, and perhaps develop my own Shabbat habits. But it's hard to write about what I want to happen, thinking about what will happen. I guess in about a month, I should have already experienced my first Shabbat, as well as having experienced the opening Jewish BBQ festivities, and hopefully I'll have some idea of what the Jewish presence on campus is like.

And I know what some reader is thinking: Who cares? Well, I care. My undergraduate school had about 90 Jews enrolled (or was it 60?), and of those, there were about 15-20 who were actually "actively Jewish," as in, showed up for Hillel events and took the Jewish studies courses and what have you. I'd be happy with even 100 Jewish students who show their faces every now and again. I mean, in a state with 6,000 Jews, most of whom live in Omaha, it was tough cookies as far as making a Jewish connection or finding a mate went. So I'm excited at the prospect of a more prevalent, populous community. And the thought of even being near NYC, an American Jewish mecca, well, really gets my gears going.

Community, folks, is a BIG part of Judaism, being Jewish, living Jewishly. At least, it is for me!

Some updates.

So here I am. I am alive! My first post on Jewsbychoice.org got a lot of responses, and I thank everyone who had kind words to say and personal stories to offer. The world is such a big place full of Jews here there and everywhere, and it's nice to at least make connections in the ways that we can.

And now the new stuff: I've moved.

I guess that's the only major change in my life, but it's an important change. I'm waiting to get my Internet set up at home (cheap-o AT&T!), and until them I'm lurking in coffee shops and the library around the corner. The moment I get Internet, I'm going to focus on two graduate school applications: University of Connecticut and University of Michigan, the latter which I was accepted to last year but neglected to defer (life changes quickly). Why, you ask, must I wait till I have web at home? Being out and about, there's a lot of distractions. People, drinks, things and stuff. In the comfort of my own home, I can spread out on my vintage table and really dig in to the applications and the essays.

Yes, I had spent a long time planning on doing Hebrew College online for graduate school, but what it comes down to is that I just flat don't want to. If I'm going to school, I'm going to school. I'm sitting in a classroom and raising my hand and harassing professors during office hours and really getting in the face time to make people say "damn, she'll do great things one day."

This means that when (or if) I get in, I'll be moving -- again. This time, elsewhere, and I'm completely stoked about it. I love Chicago, but when you gotta go, you gotta go. I've been here briefly, but you gotta do what you gotta do (cliche, cliche, cliche!).

So there's that. In addition to school and moving, I'm also a lot closer to my synagogue. This means going to Saturday morning Torah study (G-d willing!) and also to the Adult Ed classes on the weekend and the Tuesday night Jewish movie at temple, too. Talk about stoked. If I'm going to fill up my time, it better be with all the Jewish things that make my world go 'round.

So the world keeps spinning and I'm hopefully moving closer to goals of personal fulfillment. I'm 24 years old now, and it seems like everyone back in Nebraska who I knew in high school is married, and if not married, then engaged. I have a hard time with this because I'm only 24, it doesn't seem like there's a huge rush, but it's stressful. I'm not one to set myself up to those around me, but it's like watching your friends fall in combat (extreme comparison, but you can sense the idea of loneliness). It's definitely Midwestern ideology, but that's how it goes I guess. But I'm going to try to get everything else in order before I start REALLY wondering "when?"

In unrelated news, I picked up Maggie Anton's first book in the Rashi's Daughters series, this one about Jochaved. It's definitely a far cry from the fluid storytelling of Anita Diamant's "The Red Tent," but I can still appreciate the years and years of research and work that went into Anton's efforts. It feels forced at times (it's as much an entertaining read as it is a historical approach that attempts to educate the readers about Middle Ages Jewry and Jewish customs), such as when explaining certain aspects of Jewish life. But how does one really casually explain certain customs and practices of Jewry without feeling forced anyhow? Maggie Anton is speaking here at a congregant's house at the beginning of November, and I'm pretty stoked. If anything, it'll be interesting to see how she traced the genealogy and compacted all of the history and customs into the texts.

A brief catch-up.

I'll admit I didn't get around to blogging on T'rumah last week. There are a bounty of reasons for it, including that I didn't get through it. The reason being that there's been a lot going on, and I left for Chicago on Friday (I'm still in Chicago, actually). So I'll briefly explain what's been going on, and then there'll be some bloggin' on this week's parshah, T'tzavveh.

I met with my boss last week to explain that I will no longer be working where I work as of March 16. Ian (that's the boyfriend) is flying out that day and we're driving all my goods to Chicago, where I am moving. I've been in Chicago since Friday just visiting, I needed a getaway. Also, when this trip was planned, the move to Chicago was not completely in stone. The past month has been incredibly, completely world-wind. I've taken a big leap and decided that I'm going to move to Chicago to pursue at least a piece of my world that I've been putting off for nearly three years. That's the boy, of course. I originally was going to tryout at RedEye (Chicago's free daily that's run by the Tribune Company), but after talking with my boss and finding out that there have been some "concerns" about my focus lately, I canceled the tryout. It isn't worth getting another newspaper job when it is so, 100 percent clear that I'm just not in it anymore. It was clear at that moment, when she issued her support and excitement for me that I realized I can't do newspapers anymore. I can't do the hours, the lifestyle, none of it.

So I'm moving to Chicago in nearly two weeks -- jobless. Anyone who knows me will know that this is probably the most outlandish, insane thing I could possibly do to myself, mostly because I am incredibly money conscious and paranoid about being broke. Especially after learning to NOT live from paycheck to paycheck these past six months or so. But here I am, throwing it to the wind and, with my savings in tow, I'm hoping to tough it out and find a gig working 9 to 5 or something like it. I don't really care what I'm doing, though I'll probably pursue a Jewish-oriented gig (Jewish Federation or the like) or a library position. I'm also applying for editing jobs, but only at places that are not, I repeat NOT, newspapers. I can edit, I love editing. Just not like that.

My reasons for moving are many. I already mentioned the boy, but there's also that I loathe Washington DC and that my job is obviously not working out. Additionally, I've compromised and neglected synagogue and my dedication and commitment to the Jewish community (for my personal growth, this is no type of competition) for the past eight months. I can't do it anymore. It's not something I'm willing to compromise any longer, and I thought I could for a little while, but there's a part of me that has suffered, and I now need to regain that part of me that used to sing when I stepped into synagogue.

Ian and I went to a shul here north of the city on Friday. I really liked the rabbi, but not so much the service. I struggled to focus on the material and the prayers because I was too frustrated that they were using the siddur from the 70s and that the congregation seemed stuck somewhere between Reform and Conservative. It shouldn't have bothered me, but it did. Well, and the fact that the wall behind the bimah looked like a giant wall of matzoh (it was supposed to be a makeup of the wall in Jerusalem, I believe).

Anyhow, I'm moving to Chicago in two weeks. I'm stoked, and if anyone who happens to read this regularly lives there or near there, let me know and we'll get coffee. Otherwise, I raise my Chai to the future, in hopes that I'll find what I'm looking for in study, focus and happiness.

Amen.

Where I've been.

So I've been out of town. I spent about three days in Chicago this past week. It was a minorly spur-of-the-moment trip to visit the city that I call my "happy place," to hopefully see some snow (which I didn't), to get away from the monotony of my existence in Washington and to see someone very special to me. Aside from the unfortunate bit with the snow (the storm showed up a few days after I left), it was everything I could have hoped for. The kind of days you pray for, that lift you up and give you hope. That rekindle the fervor for life. The kind of days you want to live everyday. What does this mean? Well, it means that hopefully by summertime, I will have moved to Chicago. I don't have a job lined up, I don't have school lined up, I don't have anything but a place to put my head and stuff lined up. (I hope.)

I'm not a very spontaneous person, but if there's one thing I've figured out while being completely alone out here on the coast with nothing but Torah, reading and coffee to keep me company, it's that I spend too much time considering how easy things are that I don't put enough effort in changing them. I waited till the last minute to take the GRE and apply to graduate school. I should have started the process in May or June. Instead, I waited till November and gave myself a month to figure things out. My desperation opened my eyes to a lot of things.

So I'm going to go after the things that make me happy. There's a person, there's a city and a job can't be that hard to find in a city thriving with the Jewish presence. Graduate school will come when it's ready, and if I get accepted to Connecticut or Michigan, well, I'll figure that out when I get there. But I want to give myself a better shot at things. Because there are ways in which we can fulfill happiness, and it's how we prioritize those things that expresses who we are. I need my Shabbat, I need a warm bed, I need the feeling of love and warmth and kindness. Ani mevinah. It took awhile, but ani mevinah.

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In completely unrelated news, I was riding the Metrobus the other day and was shocked to find this written on a cushion of the bus I was on. It was my normal bus route, and the seats typically are covered with all sorts of scrawlings in permanent marker by teens in "gangs" like the "Lench Mob." It's incredibly sad, but sort of amusing that these middle schoolers are sporting gang names and symbols years after the bloods and crips -- two of the bloodiest gangs -- called it even. Yah, MS-13 is still around, but they're an incredibly DIFFERENT breed of hoodlum (if you don't know about them, they're a Salvadoran group, almost more like the mob, as they're known for using machetes to remove people's body parts). These kids are kids. But I saw this and have no clue what the writing below the "NO JEWS" stands for. If anyone knows, I'd be curious to know for sure. It's the first bit of anti-Jew scrawling I've seen, ever, in graffitti.

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And no Torah this week. Next week, though. Sh'mot got my attention, but not as much as it deserved. I'll proceed with Exodus next week, and perhaps pick up some of the questions/thoughts I had from Sh'mot.

Be well!