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March 28, 2006 Dear Mortimer,*
I know, I know. This
letter, like my period, is WAY overdue. I promised to write, and I
promised to keep in touch, knowing that we are both terrible at phone calls,
what with time difference, and our busy busy lives.
But better late than
never, I always say. So forgive me, and when you have a moment, sitting on your
Jerusalem
balcony, grant me the honor of writing you this small note.
And given that I just
looked up the weather in your neighborhood, Sokolov St. is currently experiencing a
temperature of
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Sunny
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High
65°
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Meanwhile, on 107th Street,
closer to Harlem than the Upper West Side
(where the Jews live), I am experiencing
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Cloudy
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40°F
Feels Like
32°F
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Weather.com actually
says, “Brrrrr! Bring pets inside!” Can they say that? What are they implying??
The point is: I am
cold, tired, and feeling more nostalgic than ever. I know that in Israel I was
also prone to breakdowns, to being nervous about my life and my future, but for
some reason that logic doesn’t stop me from wishing I was on the other side of
the Atlantic Pond.
Mortimer, I miss you so
much and I miss not being able to pick up the phone and call you. I got your message
the other day and wanted so much to call you back, but my phone just makes a
weird beeping sound when I try, and I don’t have a landline to use. It’s
unbelievable to me that we can land man on the moon, and yet I can’t think of
better ways of keeping in touch with one of my most favorite people in the
world than to formulate a Microsoft Word document to stick in the mail.
What’s scary to me is
that I am so used to planning my life at a few months at a time. And now is the
time to settle, to get a degree, to sit for a while and think. I am suppressing
every urge to travel and feed this wanderlust that makes me crazy. Every day,
as I struggle to not purchase a ticket and run away, I wonder if I really don’t
have a disease that makes me want to shirk any and all responsibility.
All in all, things are
fine. I am as successful as I could hope to be here in NYC, even if New Yorker
ideology doesn’t sit so well with me. I don’t know anything about Sopranos, and
everybody knows it. TV is a god here, and I get yelled at when I try to talk to
people on the subway. For some reason that’s frowned upon.
I am so curious about
your life, and to hear about what you’re up to. Are you really moving to Tel
Aviv? Any awkward stories? I’ve been away for a few
months now, so there MUST be a few!
This past Saturday,
Marc and I took the free shuttle to IKEA. For me, it was such a trip down
memory lane. I saw your coffee table, your curtains, and thought about what
makes a home. By the time we got to the blankets and I saw the one that I
bought for your apartment, I nearly cried. I don’t know why it was so intense
for me, but it represented a year and a half of memories and feelings of
motivation and happiness.
And don’t worry, I am
having some awkward and funny experiences over here too! Last week I
road-tripped to Atlantic City
with my friend Talia. I got a speeding ticket for $1,000 and then got the cop
to take it away. I drank and gambled and had strange men pay for my drinks. I
am spending a lot of quality time with old friends and lamenting over NY life
with them as well. I feel lucky to know so many great people and to be working with
Rutgers Hillel and YJ, two places where I feel like I can really accomplish
something and make a difference.
But I am SOOO excited
for the summer, it’s crazy. I am trying so hard to concentrate on the present,
and know that it all leads to something greater. I know that I have never been
one to silence the passions and hopes that I have, and that when the time comes
for the next adventure, I won’t be too stuck to get up and leave. But as of
now, I am only a few weeks and contracts away from committing to being in the
NY area for the next 4 years. And if you know me, that is an unbelievably
insane concept.
So that’s where I’m
holding at the moment: Thinking about being stuck here, yet trying to believe
that I’m really not stuck at all. Paulo Coehlo once said that "If you can concentrate always on the
present, you'll be a happy (wo)man. Life will be a party for you, a grand
festival, because life is the moment we're living right now". And I’m
trying hard to believe that.
Yet, Jack Kerouac put
it even better when he said, "I was nuttier than a fruitcake and happier
than ever.”
And that’s all I can
say in two pages. Also, I can’t believe Janice* and Dennis* are engaged! I have
engagement parties every weekend. It’s nuts. And wait till I tell you the
stories of my shidduch dates!
Send my love to my
lovers in J-lem (You know who you are). Let them know that I miss
them all, and that my NYC apartment is always open to them.
Mort, be well and I
hope we will talk soon. If it wasn’t clear by now, I miss you!
Love,
Rebecca SOLOMON Leibowitz aka Leibofest2006
* Name has been changed to protect the unintentional
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| "If you can concentrate always on the present, you'll be a happy man. Life will be a party for you, a grand festival, because life is the moment we're living right now" - Paulo Coehlo
On the very busy days, when I am running from 107th street to the subway to the Hadassah house to the Port Authority to Hillel and then back again, I wonder when my old life ceased and this new one began. I also wonder how I could, for the third day in a row, forget to eat a decent meal or get a decent's night sleep. Even after an exhausting day, where I vow to go to bed early the next night, the insomnia sets in.
And on moments like these, I wonder, If I won the lottery tomorrow, would anything change?
A younger and more idealistic (foolish even) version of myself made a vow to never consider money when making goals. Who cares about money? I should concentrate on what I love. And life was simpler when I had the money to do it. Now, I've been hit with the broke truck and have responsibilities and bills to pay.
Still, I AM passionate about what I do, to the point that I confuse emotion with profession.
I think back to where I was a year ago. This time last year, I was sitting on a balcony in Jerusalem, letting the fact that I had just returned from a trip to Poland, where I wandered around Treblinka and Auschwitz finally sink in. So much happens in a year.
Now, I sit on my windowill in NYC, watching rats scurry in the courtyard. And I long to be back in Israel, where just the fact that I was traveling made me feel worthwhile. Yet, I know that when I was there, I was just as prone to breakdowns as I am now. Nothing has changed but my surroundings.
Except this time, I am forcing myself to settle. I am making commitments for the next four years, when I used to plan only six months at a time. And I'll concentrate on this present and be thankful for this gift.
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| i've been on the verge of writing for quite some time now - trying to make that comeback - deciphering the code that drives me to be that fun-loving, happy-go-lucky friend that i coerce myself to me. it's that part i was born to play - when those who i love and that love me - turn to me to be that spontaneous, adventure-delivering nut that keeps her cool when life gets overwhelming for all us twenty-somethings...
but more than being on the verge of a come-back, i've more often than not been on the verge of tears...
when asked how "life is going?" the best adjective i have at the moment is "okay."
"okay", while a good hechsher for kosher food products, is a frustrating description, when, given my gre vocabulary training, i should be using words like, ALACRITY, GRANDIOSE, and even EBULLIENT. but i would be fooling myself.
in the Big Apple, i feel small and insignificant. in a former life - during college times and even in israel or jetsetting across the global in an attempt to satiate my w-a-n-d-e-r-l-u-s-t, i felt big and important. i felt ready to take on any challenge and to prove that I Alone could take on the world. now, at the center of the world, i struggle to focus on my own personal center - my heart - and wonder how to translate passion into action. | | |
| Is it better to be a big fish in a small pond...or to challenge yourself with the unfamiliar?
No matter what cliches I use to address the question of the hour, the issues are still the same.
Attention: Anyone who has ever tuned into this highly accessed blog - I need your help!
Imagine the most comfortable place you could ever be - the place that makes you happy, that makes you feel appreciated, alive, and more yourself than anywhere else.
Now imagine the chance to attain something even greater. There is no promise, but you are given the chance to challenge yourself, to chart untested waters of what you have been, up to this very moment in time, afraid to do.
I am always talking about my own identity - as a Jew, as a Zionist, and as a social servent to the Jewish communuity around me. I know it makes me happy, and in turn, I have been offered scholarships at a good school - Wurzweiler - and good work in the Federation system. This is a good niche for me, and I'm good at what I do. They've made it very tempting. Is it an offer I can refuse?
On the other hand, I don't know what else is out there. The Jewish thing has always been a good fit. But now, for the first time, I am being offered the chance to attend another community altogether - the NYU or Columbia community, with a field placement that would be altogether more challenging, more unfamiliar, and most of all, very less Jewish.
In one fell swoop, all the letters came at once, asking me for responses. And I'm at a loss as to what to answer....
I could use all the help on this one that I can get. | | |
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Leave Starbucks and start walking, admiring the view of Central Park immediately to your right. Pass the upscale bars and buildings with doormen shining the already golden poles that announce the suites of the prideledged. Keep walking, until you smell the gourmet grocery stores, kosher cafes, and overhear the white boys with black kippot flirting with Jewish girls in puffy coats.
Keep walking...just a little bit more...
If you're riding the Subway, you'll more rapidly notice the Great Divide. So what if the trains a little crowded? With ipods blaring all around you, you're white and you're camouflagued. As you head uptown, however, they all slowly dissolve. It's so subtle, that when I am absorbed in my notebook, I forget to look up, and when I do, I am suddenly the minority - vulnerable and in plain view on a background of darker skin tone.
In my neighborhood, Spanish sounds is 24 hours a day. My eyes move to the beat, as I watch an occasional rat scurrying under a parked car, just as I pretend to not see the occasional dime bag being exchanged with a flash of cash on my front steps.
From the very first moment a child is handed a crayon, he is ordered to stay within the lines. We all have our borders and our limits - the people and places that make us comfortable, and the places where we feel lost and vulnerable. Somehow, I always find myself exactly in the center.
Mitch Hedberg, a hero of ine until drug abuse led to his untimely demise, used to say, "If you had a friend who was a tightrope walker, and you were walking
down a sidewalk, and he fell, that would be completely unacceptable."
Like a tightrope walker, I strive for balance. I focus, picking up the pace, and I feel the concrete division between my comfortable identity and the potential to be anything under my toes. It's exciting, and I am overwhelmed.
Sometimes, I am distracted by the view and my balance is lost. And other times, but not too often, I wish I was as solid as the barrier on which I live.
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