Broken Resolutions

It’s a quarter to midnight and as if there’s nothing better that I could do, I’m sitting home alone in my mom’s house (without a sweater, despite the cold, in the dark – just like a good Polish woman would do!), and playing on the computer. By playing I mean messing around with Photoshop, doodling, drawing, hoping the computer won’t freeze every few minutes. It does. And I’m starting to resent it. Wish I owned a Mac. In my next life, when I’ll have money, I’ll buy a Mac. In the meantime, I’ll pretend.

I could be making a list of new year’s resolutions and promises. I could be reading my diary entry from last January 1st. It seems pointless. I remember my list of resolutions. I wanted to get into better shape. Lose some more weight. Gain confidence. I wanted to be more friendly. Nicer to my brother. Try harder in my school work. Find a job. Find a partner. Maintain a relationship. Try to be more normal. Smile. Love myself.

The list is pretty much invariant of previous years. Probably similar to your own. Especially the get in shape and lose weight part. I remember when I used to work at a gym December-January and May-June were the months with the most new subscribers. The end/start of the year was when people realized it’s time to get in shape, as they’ve been delaying it all year or plan on getting in shape for the upcoming year. May and June are when the clothing shops start selling summer wear and swimsuits and suddenly people realize that they’ve put on a few winter pounds they have to shed before they’ll feel comfortable in a teeny tiny polka dot bikini. These are usually the exact same people who will use their gym membership for less than a month before finding a long list of excuses why there’s no time to work out. Belonging to a gym and going to the gym are two totally different things. One will get you in shape, the other…

I’ve tried to be nicer to my family and friends. I’ve tried not to get mad at people. I’ve tried to see things from their point of view and be fair. I think I’ve really gotten closer to my brother this year. And I’m constantly growing closer to my mother, so that’s another achievement for 2009. I’ve made many more friends. I’ve tried to retain all of the old ones, but it’s difficult, especially when we all lead such different, separate lives.

There are those resolutions which I couldn’t fulfill. I don’t have a partner (if I did, I probably wouldn’t be here, on my computer, alone, in the cold, dark, without a sweater…). I’m not in a relationship and I haven’t been able to maintain one for durations longer than a single date, two at best. Not have I actually put any additional effort into my school work. On the contrary, as I feel myself nearing the end, I feel myself letting go more and more. I cut myself a lot of slack and have low expectations.

Last, but not least, are those abstract promises. Love myself. I do. Most days. But then again, how do you measure. Or smile. I try. As much as I can without looking like a grinning fool or a brainless idiot.

So this year, instead of starting with a list of promises and resolutions, I’m abandoning the thought. Instead, I’m going to wish myself the discipline to strive to be a better person. Period. And I’m smiling. Which is already a good start to this year.

To all of you, reading this or not, I wish you a wonderful new year, new decade, new beginning. Or maybe it’s just a continuation. Either way, work hard, succeed and prosper. May you strive to be better with each passing day, smile more, love more, and live more.  Happy New Year!

Merry Christmas To All

And to all a good night!

My parents raised my younger brother and me in a  reformed Jewish household. We celebrated holidays and acknowledged a few additional Jewish elements. But, growing up in a mixed neighborhood in suburbia, USA, we were bound to have friends from various backgrounds. Among them, we had many Christmas celebrators and there was never a year we weren’t invited to celebrate with some family and their towering, tinsel topped tree.

I remember red knit sweaters and getting flannel pajamas as gifts. Our neighbors, unlike my own mother, who was too worrisome to light our own fireplace, had a yule log burning in their living room fireplace. We exchanged gifts and sang songs. The adults drank eggnog and we children ate chestnuts. I love chestnuts. I can smell them now… (Yeah, I’m roasting a few in my microwave oven.)

As children we wished for a white Christmas. I look out my window now, open, to let the warm breeze into my dorm room. It’s 17 degrees Celsius outside. I wore a short sleeved shirt today. It’s too hot for snow. And I remember one Christmas day where my father woke me up and told me he had a surprise. I can see him opening my Venetian blinds, revealing a think layer of snow, covering our lawn, the streets, the entire neighborhood blanketed in white.

Nostalgia gently wafts over me, like a old blanket, wrapping itself around me, reminding me of the good old days.

It’s 2:30 am. I didn’t come home from any Christmas parties or celebrations. I haven’t seen anyone decked out in red and white or street corner Santas ringing their bells for charity. I’m sleepless. I know I should go to sleep. I have kayaking practice in the morning. I’m supposed to be up in less than four hours. There’s a part of me that’s sad. Despite it not being my holiday, its got a place in my heart. Memories of friends and family and happier, carefree times make me wish for the days when I was younger and socks were considered a “lousy” gift.

To those of you who are celebrating tonight, I wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year! Goodwill and peace on earth!

Holiday Blues

With eight days and eight nights, you’d think one would get sick of the holidays, but here we are, rapidly approaching the holiday’s close and I feel sad that its over. Now I have to wait another year for Hannukka to come around again. And yeah, that would be logical, but I’ve never been a patient person. Besides, I feel there’s a few nights there in the middle that I just missed out on… Not that I didn’t light the candles every night – I did – but, I feel that it was too short for eight nights. It should have been longer. I should have had another night during which I hosted a big party with lots of friends. Instead, most nights I lit the candles with neighbors and roommates. Not that it wasn’t fun, it just wasn’t what I wanted. I’m used to having big events, with lots of people and too much food.

This has been a long weekend. School let out on Tuesday, so Wednesday and Thursday gave us a nice long four day weekend. I came home on Wednesday evening. With no one else home, I lit the candles on my own. Yesterday my brother and mother came home at a decent hour, so we lit the candles together, over leftover dinner scraps and mindless chit chat. Today was the last night and being Friday, my mom decided to invite her brother over as well as another friend of hers. We were six, so we sat around the large dinning room table. As always, my mother prepared way too much food, especially considering what a picky eater her friend is and the fact that it always seems that my uncle will eat anything my mother serves him, praising her fabulous cooking skills. Although she oversaw the cooking, it was I who peeled potatoes, cut vegetables, ground meat, minced onions, fried, served, washed dishes. But I’m not complaining. It’s not like there’s anyone else around to help. The second my brother hears guests are coming over for dinner, he bolts out the door. Even if he didn’t my mom wouldn’t make him do much. As modern as she is, she’s still pretty chauvinistic when it comes to who needs to work in the kitchen. Most of the time, I think she’s unaware of the fact that she does it, but she never really makes my brother lift a finger around the kitchen, unless it’s to open a really tight jar, and even then it’s usually I who manages to pop the top off. It really gets on my nerves and while I’ve tried drawing her attention to it on a few occasions, I usually get some lame retort along the lines of “But your brother isn’t hear right now.” Oooh, like that’s ever stopped her from calling me up to get me home to help around the house. And this is where the holiday tension all starts. This is a long weekend and I’m home for too much of it. I can’t be here for more than two days. Small doses. I want to go back to my own apartment. As much as I love my mom, we are so much better off when we live apart from each other. I can’t handle this any longer! Too bad there’s no public transportation on Friday nights or I’d already be back in my own little place where no one bosses me around and I do what I want, when I want. I do it for me.

This Little Light Of Mine

Happy Hannukka!

Growing up, Hannukka has always been one of my favorite holidays. Over the years, I’ve learned to love and appreciate many of the other holidays, but Hannukka will always have a special place in my heart.

As a child, one of my favorite Hannukka books was “Hershel and the Hannukka Goblins”. I remember the wonderful illustrations of the goblins as they tried to ruin Hannukka for Hershel and the rest of the towns people and how Hershel tricked the king of the goblins to light the hanukia (the Hannukka menora) on the final night of the holiday, bringing light and joy to all the town.

Over the years, my tradition of rereading the book has been abandoned but I’ve replaced it with other traditions, such as inviting friends to my home to light the candles with me and going to Morris’ Hannukka party. Morris’ Hannukka parties are famous among my high school crowd. Morris, along with his mother and three brothers, moved from Japan to Israel fourteen years ago, during Hannukka. Every year they celebrate by having a big party for family and friends. Morris’ mother makes amazing sushi, chicken with cashews and other delectable delights. I bring my merengue kisses.

This past February, Morris moved back to Japan to persue his master’s degree at the University of Kyoto. His mother and brothers remain in Israel. This year, like every year before it, they will be holding their famous Hannukka party. Not to our surprise, our old high school group was invited, despite Morris’ absence. Over the years we’ve lost touch. We’ve gone our separate ways. Since graduation, it was Morris’ Hannukka parties that brought us back together. This year, even though he’s not here to celebrate with us, he still manages to bring us together. And so, together, we will light the candles and eat sushi like good Japanese Jews.