Why I Will Not Make A Good Gofer

This morning, I was about to leave for the caf when D2 said to me, "Oh, Erachet, are you going to get breakfast?"

"Yep."

"Do you think you can get me a cup of coffee?"

I hesitated. Coffee was not the sort of thing I was much experienced in. In fact, I had never made a cup of coffee before in my life.

"Sure...but I don't really know how..."

"Oh, it's easy! Okay? I'm going to explain it to you."

"Okay."

"Okay," said D2, and began slowly. "You take a cup. Then you fill it up about this much with coffee. Then you place it under the milk thing and fill it up some more with milk. Then you put two sugars in."

"Okay," I said. "I can probably do that."

So I went to the caf and, before I knew it, there I was standing in front of the coffee counter. I had never paid much attention to it before. I stared at it for a moment, D2's instructions suddenly becoming incredibly complicated.

I couldn't find a place where you get coffee from. There was a big urn that said "Caution: Hot Water" on it. Then there was a machine with three different kinds of milk. Three! Next to that was another machine with spouts for either cappuccino, french vanilla, or hot chocolate.

Okay. First thing first. Take a cup. I can do that, right?

I started to reach for a cup and then hesitated. There were two different kinds. Did D2 want a large cup? Or a small one? I tried to remember if she had specified but, my mind blanking on me, I had to use my own judgment. I figured I'd get her a large.

Large cup in hand, I then tried to decide which of the three flavors on the machine could one possibly mean when asking for "coffee." Clearly, the answer was not hot chocolate. Was it cappuccino? French vanilla? I had absolutely no idea and, after two whole minutes of deliberation, I stuck the cup under the spout labeled "cappuccino" and tried my luck.

After the cup was about 3/4 full, I decided it was full enough and went over to the milk. Here was another complication. Did D2 want whole milk? Skim milk? 1%? At home we get 1% milk so I figured that was safe.

As I was adding the milk, another girl looked at me with keen interest. "Is that good, what you do? Cappuccino and milk?"

I felt a little startled. Was there something wrong?

"I-I have no idea," I stammered, trying to sound like I knew what I was doing. "This is for someone else."

But something about her question made me think I had made a mistake. When she then took a small cup, put it under the "Caution: Hot Water" urn, and brown liquid came out, I knew I had completely messed up.

I decided to skip the two packets of sugar and instead covered the cup and brought it back to my apartment.

After having gotten wrong the size of the cup, the milk, and the coffee, D2 later told me she'd give me coffee-making lessons.

Make Today Matter

You know what I realized?

This may seem obvious, but even when you have a bad day, it's not good to go to bed upset. The idea that, "Well, tomorrow will be better" is a nice one, but why can't today end off well, too? I think you should be happy about having lived each day of your life, even if there are things that happened that day that weren't amazing. I think it would be nice to try and find at least one good thing that happened, or to do something at the end of the day that makes you feel good. I don't mean to be selfish, I mean to try and be happy.

Each of our days is a gift and I don't think we are meant to dismiss days as solely bad, or as a waste of a day. Even if you do waste time, it's good to do at least one productive thing per day, to do at least one thing for someone else, to do at least one thing that makes you feel good about yourself.

Not every day has to be the best day ever. In fact, if every day was, amazing days would become routine and then they wouldn't be special. But each day should still make you feel happy or fulfilled in some small way. You should go to bed at the end of it and be able to say, "Today mattered."

Thesis Poetry

This is sort of like Finals Poetry, only slightly different. I'm going to write it on behalf of nearly everyone in my apartment who is writing a thesis. (Although I had a post some time ago saying I was done, I merely meant "with a complete draft." It is still being edited and all that.)

Ahem.

I do not like my thesis-
Though it seems to like me.
I really need to finish it--
It will not let me be!

It bugs me when I'm eating
And when I'm sleeping, too.
It prods me when I'm reading
Or even at the zoo.

This stupid thing won't go away.
It's hateful and annoying.
Its unrequited love for me
Is burdensome and cloying.

Do not believe I get this way
With all who come to court.
It's just this thesis I can't stand--
I wish it would abort!

I've started writing now and, well,
The topic's quite appealing.
But I still hate my thesis so,
'Cause all my time it's stealing.

The only way to make it stop
Is facing it like rivals.
And then as rivals we shall join
Towards both of our survivals.

For if I end up well and sane,
Then so will what I'm writing.
So I guess I should get to work,
So we can stop this fighting.

P.S. To my dear thesis, I aver--
I'll always think of you as GRRR.
But in a loving sort of way,
Okay? :)

Shabbos Is Coming

It's Thursday night at the end of both a long and oddly quick week. I did a lot this week: wrote a lot, worked on editing my thesis, and even went home once. I didn't have my 10:25 morning class at all this week, which was weird. It made each day feel like I didn't have very much class at all (well, because I didn't). But it was nice. It was so great to have a significant amount of time each morning to work on things.

Yet through it all, no matter what happens or doesn't happen during the week, there is always Shabbos at the end of it. A friend said to me at the very beginning of the week, "Shabbos is important." It's important to think about even on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday...even before you can say TGIF. No matter what is going on in your life, there will still be Shabbos. Not just the day, but everything that Shabbos brings with it.

No matter what your worries are, your stresses, your difficulties, or even your joys, Shabbos will still be there, like a hug. You can't watch TV, you can't go on your computer, you can't really go anywhere. There are almost no distractions at all. You can actually daven without feeling like you need to be anywhere else. You can finally give people your full attention. You can really spend time with family and friends. You can take a rest from everything in the outside world that is yanking on your sleeve trying to get you to attend to it.

I know it's "only" Thursday, but tomorrow is Friday night. So no matter what any of your weeks have been like, I wish you all an amazing Shabbos.

Focusing On The Good

Sometimes it seems like so many horrible things are happening around you and all you can think about is how disturbing and upsetting they are. As someone said to me recently, "bad things seem to come in bunches." It makes the world seem like such a dark place, even though you know it's really not. And you sort of realize that you can't always help make things better or happier, that sometimes things are just bad and there's nothing you can do about it. But that feeling alone is such a bad feeling, too.

It's just very difficult to see family and friends go through tough things and feel like you can't make anything any better because, well, how could you?

During the height of the intifada in Israel, I was in high school. I worked on various school publications and we were always writing about horrible things going on in Israel. It got to the point where another girl and I decided we wanted to start a newsletter devoted only to good news. We never actually did, but I think the idea behind it says something about...something.

Sometimes terrible things happen, but that doesn't mean an end to all good things. It doesn't even mean that good things aren't happening at the same time as the bad. I suppose it's all about what you allow yourself to see. And it's okay to feel happy even if other people are feeling sad.

Surrounded by bad news lately, I wish I had some good news to share. Does anyone else? I have heard some good news lately from various people, actually (interestingly, it's the same piece of news from completely unrelated people), but the more the merrier, you know. The good news I can think of to share is also kinda scary, but...my college graduation is three weeks from Thursday (yikes).

This is a good thing because this week in school I suddenly came down with some Senioritis. And it's exciting to graduate from college. But it's a little frightening because I have no idea what I'm doing once I graduate or where I'm living. So...it's a bit intimidating to leave a comfortable world and step into the unknown. But I am told it is also exciting, so we shall see. :)

In any case, I suppose it's normal to feel completely powerless when it comes to helping other people. You try your best, but sometimes you wish you could give more than is in your power because you feel they might require more. It's uncomfortable to feel like you can do all you can and it still might not really help.

This post could go on forever in circles on the same topic. I think this Calvin and Hobbes pretty much sums it up. I love Calvin and Hobbes. In fact, I'm going to share a fun site with you of Calvin and Hobbes by subject.


I hope you all have a great day and think happy thoughts. The world is a good place, even when terrible things happen - and even when terrible things happen in quick succession.

You know, I think the world would be a fascinating place if there were special effects and dance numbers, don't you? A little too scary to imagine, huh? :)

The Kazoo Snafu

There once was a man
Who played the kazoo
And he tried to enter a band.

But the band did not want
To have a kazoo
And held up their snobby hands.

The kazoo-player sniffed
And tossed up his nose
And said to them, "I will show you!"

He went to a street corner,
Pinned on a rose,
And played the Kazoo Snafu.

It went--
Hmmm hmmm hmmm
Hmmm hmmm hmmm
Screeeech!

And from all over town
The folks came to look
And they paid him a penny each.

"I'm rich!" thought the player--
Thought pennies were gold--
And took this good sign as his cue.

He gathered his money
And, feeling quite bold,
Skipped off while still playing Kazoo.

He's now near a hundred
And lives like a king
And none wish to tell him what's true.

Though he lives mighty fine--
Never paid for a thing--
His life's one big happy Snafu.

Spring

This story is written l'zecher nishmos all who have passed away recently, for there have been way too many. Specifically, if I am not completely out of place to say so, David Rottenstreich, Aliza Shull - a close friend of Serach, Ezzie, and Moshe, and also for my aunt's mother - whose funeral we are going to today. May all their family and friends be comforted. Baruch dayan emes.

(Feel free to ignore this post if you would rather. I am not talking to anyone in it. I am just sharing the way my mind wanders.)

***

It’s been a hard winter. The cold lasted for longer than usual. Only just this week the weather started getting warmer. Not quite warm yet, but warmer. I’m supposed to be asleep but I can’t seem to settle into that relaxed, unthinking state. Too much is happening around me.

For a young bird, the beginning of spring is a puzzling time. Everything seems so dead from the winter – like the icy wind has killed every piece of greenery (except for those resilient pine trees, of course, though they, too, seem dead in a way). The animals leave, like us birds, or burrow into a warmer place to wait for the sun to bring heat once again. The world feels empty.

Our return when the winter takes this long to melt away makes me feel concerned for the world. Will the earth sprout again? Will the trees bear leaves? Will the flowers bud and blossom? Will the stream burble joyously over smooth stones and gush with its own tinkling music? Or have we returned to a world stuck forever in winter, never to bloom again?

I perch on a low branch and shiver with the cold, mourning over the heat that determinedly keeps away. While I tremble in despair, a strange series of sounds pricks my ears. I perk up and look around for the source of the rich, musical voice. It fluctuates between deep trumpeting—

Chaw! Chaw! Chaw!

To a more twittery—

Wurgle wurgle wurgle…

And then—

Tttttttt….

With finally, a whistle—

Shwee! Shwee!

“How marvelous!” I exclaim, hopping to the edge of my branch and craning my neck to see in all directions.

There, in a nearby tree, sits a beautiful bird of a misty green color. He is clearly trying to get attention. Sometimes his chest booms out that great “Chaw!” call. Other times a velvety calm overtakes him and he sweetly twitters away. When this goes on for a short while, he seems to lose patience and tweets in a frenzy, rather like a frustrated honking goose.

“Can’t anybody get some sleep around here?” grumbles my father from a branch above my own. I fly up to him.

“But I think it’s wonderful!” I chirp. “I can’t believe all that noise is coming from just one bird!”

“It’s because he’s mating,” my father yawns, ruffling his feathers and trying to drop back asleep. “Go to sleep.”

“Oh, but I can’t!”

I fly to a branch even higher still and watch the green bird. I wonder who he expects to answer his mating call. Is not every other bird asleep?

Strangely, the sounds that so irritate my father begin slowly to help me relax. If the green bird is searching for a mate, he must see a spring that I am still not aware of. The thought comforts me, for it means that this unnaturally long winter does have an end, after all. I try to see spring, too.

As I fall asleep, I dream of a tiny white bud at the end of everyone's unnaturally bare branches. One day, they will grow into beautiful flowers.