Thursday, August 17, 2017

Writing Again

The post title is only quasi true. While I am writing at the moment, I can't promise that I will ever write again on this blog in the future.

I'm not quite sure why I stopped. I'm not quite sure why I'm starting again (it is partially because I got a comment- though I only saw it because I needed to login to this account for a reason entirely unrelated to wanting to check my email) but here I am again.

When I started writing this, I didn't have what to say. I'm still frankly not quite sure what I am going to say. But I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't try. I was talking to my mother a few weeks ago, and she said she had a need to talk to someone. Who "someone" is may or may not ever be a topic of conversation on this blog, but suffice it to say, it's hardly as simple as "just call".

But, nevertheless, considering the circumstances, I told her to just call. She said, "I don't even know why I want to call, or what I would even say!" My reply: "You don't have to, call. When you speak to him, you'll speak from your heart and say what needs to be said."

So here I am, writing, I suppose, one of the things my heart is telling me to say. Some things, can't be written on a blog, especially when there are people who know I am who may very well end up reading this. Whether they see it tomorrow, or someone close to me, one day reads it, a filter is necessary.

In recent months I've considered starting another blog. One where no one knows who I am, where no one would ever figure out who I am, one where I could say what I want, how I want, to whom I want, whenever I want. Where I could rant and rave at some of the "unfairness" of life. Where I could rhapsodize about the beautiful world we live in. Where I could attempt to illustrate the incredibly complex, yet oh so glorious Torah that I have the opportunity to learn. And on and on.

But no, that's not me. As much as I try and convince myself that I could remain anonymous, I'm too... me... to be able to pull that off. I'm talkative, like to talk about things that happen in my life. That leads to identifying information, such as where I live, my level of frumkeit, my job, my age, my family, my friends, etc. etc. With that much information, finding me would be possible.

I know that even this blog, where perhaps none of you have figured out who I am unless I told you myself, I've had to modify what I want to say, and how I say it.

It's ok that that's how it has to be, but it's also not a "safe place" where I can pour my heart out about everything going on in my life. And with so much always going on in my life, in recent months in particular, writing here just hasn't had the same appeal it used to. It's a haven for some of us people, but I don't think it suits me or my writing style all that much.

There's so much I want to write about. As it turns out, what I thought I was going to write about, I touched on in a way almost none of you would pick up on.. That's ok. Apparently this is what I wanted to write about.

I guess the thought I'm walking away with, for myself, is reinforcing the idea of "just call." That's very much me. I say what I want to say (it most definitely has its "foot in mouth moments") and don't care all that much what people think of me. Take me for who I am. If you don't like it, that sure isn't my problem.

Saturday, December 20, 2014

Favorite Picture

Favorite animal+favorite fruit= favorite picture.

Is this not ridiculously incredible and adorable?!

HT to S

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Random LinkedIn Invitations

Considering today's significance in my own life, it's rather odd that I'd be writing, of all things, about random LinkedIn invitations, but eh, why not. I want to start writing again (on both blogs!) and writing about something random is better than not writing at all.

For the third time in recent weeks, I've gotten an invitation to connect on a frum girl that I don't know.

I don't remember if it's been every time, but I believe I've had shared connections with all of them. No one I'm close to mind you, and if they were attempting to set me up with a girl, it definitely wouldn't be going through LinkedIn. In one case, the connections are a shunned cousin and a former employee.

Now, if they were in a similar field to the one I'm in and were looking for a job, I could understand. But no, they aren't. Only of them is in a field that my business would even need. Accounting, in case you were wondering. But if that were the case, then you'd think there be an InMail to go along with the invite. Nope. Just the invite.

I'm at a loss here people. Why are frum girls inviting random frum guys to connect on LinkedIn? Is LinkedIn the new "I'm going to add him on Facebook because I'm interested"? Ya, no. At least, I hope not.

Then there's my response to the invitation. Accept? Ignore? Do I accept and then follow up with an InMail asking what's up with the invite?

Anyone? Any ideas?

Monday, November 10, 2014

Music to my Ears

Oh, Amazon, you are amazing. Not because of Amazon Prime, not because of your incredible customer service, but because of your music.

I called today about two issues that I was having, and I was, naturally, put on hold (in that sense, they are like every other customer service). Instead of playing jarring music, with random interruptions touting their services, they played classical music.

Two weeks ago, ordering contact lenses, i was put on hold and was ready to hang up. The music was painful. My ears were actually hurting.

Calling T-Mobile, the music sucked and they interrupted the music with some annoying dude talking about how awesome T-Mobile is.

I had to call Optimum last week to set up internet for an office I'm opening. Same as T-Mobile. Awful music, annoying dude.

And then I called Amazon. I got nervous about what music and annoying stuff they were going to be talking about when I was told I was being put on hold. You can't imagine how ecstatic I was when classical music started playing! I was in heaven.

Keep up the good work Amazon. A lot of companies could learn from you.

Sunday, August 24, 2014

Harry Potter, Smart A&&

One day, feeling under the weather, I decided to give "fanfiction" a go. I've read my fair share of it, and decided it would be fun to try my hand at it. I've always said that the one form of writing I'm incapable of is a story, plot and all. I figured, if there's to be a place to start, fanfiction, with characters already in place, would be it. It also allows for people to comment and let me know what they think. 

Disclaimer: I own not a whit of the Potter Universe. It's all JK's. I wish I owned some of it, but alas, I don't.


"Harry Potter, I bestow upon you the title, The-Boy-Who-Lived."


Albus Dumbledore sighed, "I suppose I shouldn't have expected an elegant acceptance speech from a 15-month old."

"You're an idiot, whoever you are. What kind of a stupid name is 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'? 'Savior of Humanity,' 'Killing Curse Killer,' 'Scarface,' I don't know, but 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'? Honestly? That is bloody lame. You want an elegant acceptance speech, give me a good title."

Albus Dumbledore fainted.



"Albus, how do you explain this?"

"I can't Minerva, maybe it has something to do with Harry surviving the killing curse," Dumbledore replied.

"I am right here you know, old man Albus. It's about time I learned your name by the way. And no, what the bloody hell could surviving a killing curse have to do with me being able to speak? What, you think Voldemort left a piece of him inside of me or something and shazam, I can speak?"

"Er, well, you see..." Dumbledore stuttered.

Harry Potter giggled hysterically. "You really thought that?"

"Young man, watch your mouth when speaking to the greatest wizard of our times!" Minerva McGonagall snapped.

"Old man Albus, here? He's the greatest wizard of our time? What about me, the "Killing Curse Conqueror"? C'mon... Please," Harry whined, before breaking out into giggles once more.

"Young man-"

"Minerva, he's only 15 months old," Albus soothed with a placating gesture.

McGonagall huffed, and glared at the precocious young boy.

"Harry, when did you learn to speak?" Albus asked.

"When I was 3 days old. Funny story, that. Padfoot was teasing me about my hair and I had had enough of it. So I levitated him into the bath and turned on the tap."

"Hold on," Minerva interrupted, "You did what?"

"Minerva, keep up, will you? I levitated him into the bath and turned on the tap. Anyway," Harry continued, blissfully unaware of the shock followed by a glare being directed his way, "Padfoot started screaming for help- I stuck him in place under the taps- so I let him know if he stopped making fun of me, I'd stop."

"You stuck him in place too?" This time it was Albus who interjected.

"Slow too, are you old man? Age getting to you? Get your ears checked, they say that's the first thing to go. And rude to boot, the both of ya. You two need to learn some manners."

Again, the adults in the room were too stunned at being put in their place by a 15-month old to come up with a coherent reply.

"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, my parents and Moony had burst into the room just as I finished giving my terms to Padfoot. The four of them up and fainted. It was finally quiet until Mum woke up. That didn't last long though. She looked up at me, went 'eep' and fainted again. That 'eep' was the first noise I had heard in 7 hours. The cycle of them all waking up and fainting went on for 2 days! 2 days! I had to feed myself, bathe myself, put myself to sleep- seriously, what 3-day old puts himself to sleep, I ask you- give them nutrition potions. Let me tell you, it was a traumatizing experience."

Albus put his hand up. "Harry?"

"You're supposed to wait until I call on you, but the hand-raising is a start."

"This story sounds very funny, but can we get back to the matter at hand?"

"Uh, hell no, I'm in middle of a story! Rule number 1: Never interrupt a story. That was Dad's rule. How that came about is also a good one! It all started-"

Seeing Minerva about to interrupt, Harry continued, "Wait, I'm in middle of a different story. That's what you were going to say, right?"

Not seeing the older lady's look of dismay, Harry took up his tale once again. "Where was I? Oh, right, traumatizing experience. Anywho, when they finally stopped their tiresome fainting and 'eeping' I insisted they all shower. Except Moony, that is. He was in his 'other' form, if you know what I mean?"

"OTHER FORM?" Both of them shrieked.

"OW! What the hell was that for? That hurt! Albus, you shriek like a girl. You should work on shouting like a man, not, well, whatever that was."

Minerva fainted.

"Oh no," Harry sighed, "Thank heavens you're still conscious, Albus. I'm tired of taking care of fainting people."

"Enervate," Dumbledore intoned, waving his wand at his colleague.

"Eep," was all Minerva managed before falling unconscious once more.

"That sounded exactly like Mum's!" Harry giggled.

"Enervate," Dumbledore tried again.






"Give it up, Albus, I have a story to finish, and besides, it took you a day of me waking you up before you finally stayed that way. I'm impressed she lasted this long." Harry said with a smirk. "That whole 'enervate' and wand-waving thing, totally overrated by the way."

Dumbledore fainted.

"DARN IT! I really wanted to finish my story!"


What'd you think? Want more?

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Ethical Question

I recently discovered that I was in possession of forged money.

I tried using a $20 bill at a convenience store and was surprised when my buddy behind the coutner did a double-take when he saw the bill. He suggested that it was a fake, and then used that handy marker thingy to confirm his suspicion.



I'm pretty sure that's a first for me.

I was with a friend at the time who said I "could try passing it off" to someone else.

I called a friend who knows more about these things than I do, and he told me that a bank wouldn't honor it (I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, but for some reason I was...a little bit.)

He then suggested what my friend did: pass it off to some unsuspecting fella and let them deal with it.

So, what would you do?

Option 1: Pass it on.
Reasoning: Who knows how many more hands it would pass through before it finally made its way to a bank. Maybe at that point it would be in poor enough condition that it would make its way through. Or, maybe it'll somehow get destroyed before it'll ever make its way to a bank.

Option 2: Give it to a bank.
Reasoning: Pray that the bank you go to has a policy of "we'll give you the money because we're going to pass it on to the FBI, who will then catch the people involved, who will then give us millions as a cash reward."

Option 3: Destroy it.
Reasoning: It isn't destroying money, because it isn't money. No one else should have to lose $20. I got stuck with it, let that be the end of it.

Option 4: Deliver it to the FBI.
Reasoning. See Option 2. I'LL get the millions cash reward.

Option 5: Cry.
Reasoning. I lost $20!

Option 6: Give it to a younger sibling/relative as a prank.
Reasoning: Do I need a reason?

Pretty sure the options have gotten exponentially worse, so we'll stop there. I do have more, but you'll have to ask for more to get more (what a horrible way to encourage comments!).

What would you do? One of my options or something else?

Let me know, in the comments below (accidental rhyme woohoo!).

Sunday, August 3, 2014

Saved by the Bell

I started writing a blog post about someone. Without getting into it, it wasn't the niiiicesssst of posts. It would have been done in a way that the subject would never have known it was about them. There would have been a disclaimer saying as much for anyone who might have thought it was about them.

Then my Calendar notified me about an event, a special event. An event that I started just that week.

"Don't speak Lashon Hara".

It was one of my sister's who called me with the idea that each member of our family would take on hours in which we would commit not to speak lashon hara, with the goal being that we would managed the entire 24 hours in a day.

The idea, I was told, is that it should be as easy as possible. Hours that you have a chavrusa, davening, sleeping, working, etc. It isn't supposed  to be difficult, it's just supposed to happen.

Except for a brother learning in Israel, we're all in the same time zone, so we couldn't have filled the hours with sleep, but if we could have, I'd imagine, we would have.

Thankfully, being in a largish family, we don't have to take on 6 hours each, so that's definitely a boon to it actually happening.

Anyway, as I was saying, I started writing this post about someone. And then, hashgacha pratis, my phone calendar notified me that I was up to bat for my family. I was on the clock towards completing my part in the 24 hours.

I had written two lines of what was going to be a poem, when I stopped myself.

Not speaking lashon hara is more than just "not speaking lashon hara," it's about watching what we speak!
As people I know love saying, "it's not just about the letter of the law, but the spirit of the law."

Halachically, could I have written the post? According to my limited knowledge of halacha, absolutely. Is it in the spirit of "guarding your mouth"? Eeeeeeehhhhhhhh, not so much.

So, thank you sis, for acting on the idea you heard, including me, and helping our family grow in Torah and Yiras Shamayim. You're an inspiration to me, the family, and undoubtedly others.