too personal for jewlicious...

Some of the things I write are too personal to post up on Jewlicious, so I've been keeping them in a folder on my desktop. Most haven't made it to their full potential, a few didn't really come out the way I wanted. It's been over a year since I've posted here, I kind of forgot I'd created this for myself, and whoever else was interested in my driveling...

The next posts will be from the 'archives' or rather, the trash bin, of this year's posts that never made it to WordPress.

Here's my audition piece for the Jdate blogger gig that I didn't get...

There’s something that happens during the introduction, whether through IM, email or in person. Whatever that something is, it creates a chasm between him and me. The erosion begins when he asks what I do, and I say that I work in the Jewish community. Suddenly I’m SuperJew or a representation of all this guy finds troublesome with Judaism, a stand-in for the Rabbi that caused him never to return to shul after his bar mitzvah or a fountain of information about what other Jews believe.

In reality, I am none of those things. I had an average upbringing in a diverse, and very Jewish, suburb. I grew up Conservative but haven’t been to services much since Yom Kippur. I’m struggling to discover what God means to me. In short, I’m like so many of you, my fellow Jdaters. Whatever our surface differences, and no matter our reasons, we made the decision to try to find a Jewish significant other.

It would seem that Judaism is a part of our self-concept, so much so that we consider it a priority in finding a suitable date…relationship…fill in the blank here. But what does Judaism mean in this context? Is it just a characteristic on a checklist? Or a defining trait that allows one to be not Jewish, too Jewish or Jewish Enough? And is it legit for any of us to judge another’s for their Judaism?
For me, and I’m sure many others, the desire for Jewish continuity and a strong Jewish identity is a driving force in life, in work and in love. As I’m not the only young Jewish professional I know deemed “too Jewish” to date, one has to wonder…what defines “Jewish enough” for the average Jdater?

on getting older

With a recently passed birthday, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about this past year. While speaking to my therapist this week, I came out with a profound thought that I’m sure has crossed your mind at one time or another. This year went by so quickly. While each day passed, maybe it didn’t seem so fast, but looking back…where did the time go? And as I was thinking I realized that when I’m having a rough day or watching a bad movie, sitting in a long program, watching the sunny day while I’m at my desk, I wish that time would pass faster. But those are hours or days of my life that I’m wishing would pass faster. Well it sounded more profound on the couch…
You can’t help but think about your own mortality. It’s all a part of the human condition. So not only am I reviewing my past, but looking forward and considering how to live my future. That’s what I’ve got for you today.

Single Jewish Female

No I'm not here to assume your identity - although if you've got a good life, I might be game. It's been a while since I've written anything, and not for lack of things to write, but for work completely taking over my existence. Now that work is slightly at bay- after an amazing experience in New Orleans and a relaxing vacation in Israel...the time has come to start the writing once more. Although discussing the past has gotten a little old... so here are thoughts on my current existence.

When I first moved to Allentown in July, there was a line of Jewish moms with bios and head-shots of their sons, nephews, cousins, next door neighbors, friend's sons etc, waiting outside my office door. Word spread so quickly of the new single Jewish girl in town that I had more yentes banging down my door than men. sad but true.

The ladies let up for a bit during the winter months - their inherent vulnerability meter must have been frozen. But now that spring has sprung, they're back again in full force. They're breaking out the army veterans and the lovable younger brothers - one who just happens to be the last 25 year old standing on Wall Street... Really how can any self respecting woman - Jewish or not - say no to any of those? You should have heard my mother when she heard I turned down the 25 year old attorney.

Who's to say what will happen with this latest slew of semi-eligible bachelors. But I do know that Jewish mothers just can't deal with Single Jewish Females. Not just my mother - or mothers of other SJFs for that matter - but all Jewish moms seem to think that we are obviously missing the most important part of us, a man. And they generously, passive aggressively and enthusiastically, take it upon themselves to rectify this.

What's a girl to do? It's nearly impossible to say no, mostly because they won't let you. Each one of them has just the right man for you: what if the one time you say no was the time you should have said yes? Or maybe it stems back to that good old Jewish guilt. Whatever the reason - SJFs are like deer in headlights when it comes to standing up to the yentes. When it comes to Jewish dating - who's the match- the Mom or the Man?

Just like old times

This past weekend I spent some quality time with two of the girls. And this coming weekend it looks like it might be the four of us in New Brunswick - something that hasn't happened for years! Watch out Rutgers...

It's strange and funny...and nice, I guess, because even if we haven't seen each other or spoken to each other in months (and months) hanging out is just like old times - like time hasn't passed. That's not to say that we haven't all changed so much since then - because we have. Some of us so much so that I have to wonder if our old selves would recognize the modern counterpart. There were graduate students who lived next door (poor them) to us when we first moved into the house on Neilson Street. For about 3 months we made their lives hellish. Thats when only 3 of us were living in the house. It's lucky that another group of 6 girls moved in next door after the graduate students moved out. Anyway. The point is that we were so annoyed by these graduate students because they would bang on the shared wall (we lived in a twin) when we were hanging out really late, or really early, depending on your view. They hated when we played music loudly at 4 am or when we were fighting after drinking all night or that one time when we were trying to win tickets to an Incubus show and one of us (who I will not mention) ran out of the house naked to tell everyone the station's phone number. We didn't win tickets, but we did win some dirty looks and rolling eyes from the graduate students. There was some serious mutual dislike going on this block of Neilson. We are now so much more those graduate students than I think we could have ever imagined.

Which I'm sure is a relief for our families...but hard to think about for us.

Lesson 2: peer pressure comes from within

I realized that I never defined "we" from my first post. We is Karolena, Christine, Chrissie, Aviva and myself, Arielle. We lived in the same dorm at the former women’s college of a major state university. And we met the first night that the freshmen were in the dorms. Each of us drew conclusions about the others from first impressions…and we quickly learned how misleading first impressions can be.

I don’t know exactly when it happened- there were a series of events that pushed us together and others that forged strong bonds of friendships between us. Years later my therapist told me that we had an unhealthy group dynamic in which we thought as one entity, acted as one entity and persuaded the others to do things we would have never normally done on our own.

I was just talking to a friend about this dynamic – the force that seems to have caused us to feel think and do as one being – a mob mentality, perhaps? Whatever it was, it was dangerous and while I miss some of those friendships, I don’t miss the constant intensity with which we lived.

I feel somewhat obligated to write this, even if no one reads it, even if it doesn’t make it to print…even if I lose interest half way and just have random shit written down…it will be worth it. Selfishly, I believe it’ll be cathartic. Selflessly, I want others who experience what we did – on whatever level- to know that it is possible to bounce back.

We used to say that we were wastes of life, that we’d hit rock bottom. Unfortunately, we were wastes of life by our own choice and our own effort. You have no idea how hard it is to have no ambition. It really takes a concerted effort to do nothing with your life. And the guilt… it’s easier to push it towards the back of your mind if you are constantly in an altered state. And we all discovered, alone, that there are levels of self-loathing far below rock bottom.

The idea for "the book" started as a self help type, a warning, a wakeup call to the potential of college realities that high school and your parents never prepare you for. What it is now… I’m not quite sure. But whatever it is, I hope it’s useful to someone.

Lesson 1: Tattoos are forever

I decided at 16 that I would get a tattoo of the Taurus symbol. It would represent my strength and determination. Mostly, I thought it would show that I was much cooler than everyone thought…and a little bit of a badass. I never got that tattoo.

In fact, when we first started college, tattoo shops were illegal in New Brunswick. One day – there it was – just across from our tanning salon. I forget the name of it now. We decided to get tattoos because the guys at the shop were hot. What a lame reason to get ink injected into your skin.

And we drew out the process as long as possible. We must have gone in 4 or 5 times before we actually did it. I remember we had decided to go on a Sunday...but Karolena woke me up Saturday morning and said..."if we won't do it now, we won't do it ever" she was right. One of us backed out at the last minute, she got her belly button pierced instead. We had a whole plan...we went to the tanning place across the street first - because you can't tan when you have a new tattoo. I can see myself flipping through the wall long portfolios of tattoos - like at a poster store. I saw the Chinese symbol for destiny and for whatever reason, with my 18 year old logic and belief in the supernatural forces of the world I thought that this was the best thing to have permanently placed on my body.

It wasn't as bad as the anticipation or the noise of the motor would have you believe. In fact - most people get addicted to tattoos. I wanted a second one but my sister talked me out of it.

The point is, at 18 we think we know what's best for ourselves, what we want for ourselves. But we have no idea. I don't reget my tattoo. Actually - its much more the opposite. It's a constant reminder that I'm alive. I was meant to make it through the ridiculousness that was my life/our life during that time when we lived for the Why not? moments.

Sometimes when I see my tattoo, I think back and can't believe that I lived those memories. It had to have been a lifetime movie.

But it wasn't. And I'm still here, living the life that maybe my 18 year old self subconciously knew was coming...