I'm in the grocery store, wandering through the aisles, looking for a potholder.  It's the last thing on my list, and it's proving elusive.  Dinner is waiting on it.  I eventually decide to go ask a clerk where they might be located.

As I'm walking to the information desk, I think to ask for some heavenly assistance: "Please, G-d, let me find some potholders so I can make dinner soon."  My next thought is what I could do for Him.  I realize that before I went to the store, I had been eating, and had forgotten to say an after-blessing.  The proper, specific, after-blessing, I don't have memorized.  The general one, however, I do.  I start reciting it quietly to myself as I'm walking.  I finish the blessing, and I look up.

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I was inspired to write a series of blogs about the view of women in Judiasm after studying Judaics for five weeks in NY. It really peaked my interest...

A couple of months ago an acquaintance of mine mentioned that he thought the morning blessing which states "Thank you G-d for not making me a woman." was chauvinistic. My reply to his statement was that this translation alone with out interpretation can be misleading. I told him that to most people who have not had the opportunity to learn about the morning blessings will more then likely take it the wrong way, but in reality there are a few ways of explaining this blessing that are not so un-P.C.

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Okay, so apparently they liked my blog and they've asked me to write another one.  This was a little scary for me cause it was my first ever "deadline" for a blog, and I kinda made it one day.  So, yeah, scary.  And this one was less inspired and more just hardcore sitting down and forcing myself to write.  So, I'm really interested in what you guys have to say. 

Thanks!

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Paul McCartney's birthday wasn't May 18.  It's June 18.

 

I think this makes my previous post all the more ironic. 

So it's been 2 weeks since my last post. What have I been doing?

• Starting a 'new' job - tutoring high school students in Math and Science... which is what I do during the year, but this time it's in a more structured environment.
• Figuring out for myself what femininity means. This might be a post of its own at some point. Or even a series of posts.
  
• I spent an awesome Shavuos (it's a Jewish holiday) at the Chabad of Chandler. And I've come to the conclusion that teaching from a text is like telling a story... the base part of it is there, but your audience likes flourishes... and that takes expressing yourself.
• ... it's hard for me to express myself in front of people I don't know.
• Arranging things such that I can go to yeshiva in July! I'm all registered and I just bought the plane tickets for it today! Woo!
  
• Being sick from a cold and thus staying home for Shabbos.
  

Look for more content from me in the coming weeks.

I recently wrote a blog submission for Chabad.org, hoping to become a regular blogger on there. Since I feel so comfortable with you guys, I've decided to post it here, as well. I'd love to hear what your thoughts are on it. Also, if you are not completely well versed on Judaism, you might have some questions about terms and stuff. Feel free to ask. Enjoy!

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So, I'm here in Israel, and it is awesome. I have been journaling every few days, and it is amazing how great I feel when i do it. i was hoping that i would come up with some ideas for any short stories or poems while i was here and i actually came up with a poem that will premiere soon. my trip has been totally awesome, and i can't believe how much i've missed blogging on the website. This blog really has no point; i just really felt the need for blogging. that is really all i have to say for now. an update of the total awesomeness of Israel is soon to come. peace out.

A child, two years old, will start a trek from the living room to outside, upon seeing an open door.

A parent, upon seeing this, will pick up the child and redirect them, causing the child to now sojourn in the safety of the house.

G-d seems to do this to me sometimes when I'm just about to say something.  The person I'm about to speak to will come up with some other topic, and before I know it I'm swept away from the direction I was going.

Yet, sometiems I do find my way outside.  And sometimes it is indeed scary.

It's 11:23pm on Sunday, May 18, 2008.

I had a decent day.  However, I'd felt all day, even last night at 4am, that there was something special about the date.  Something that I couldn't quite put my finger on.  Someone's birthday.  A couple of you might know what I'm talking about already, but it took me until bedtime to realize that today was Paul McCartney's birthday.  He turned 66.

Those of you who are Beatles fanatics, and those of you who know how much of one I was, are probably wondering how I could forget.  Those of you who don't know are probably thinking "Who cares?" or are confused.  Basically, from 7th grade, all through high school, I was obsessed with The Beatles.  I checked out books about them from the library, wrote reports about them in school... the whole bit.  But slowly, it's fading.  It's been fading for several years, really.

I'm not who I was in middle school, and I'm not who I was in high school.

Growing up is weird.

Happy birthday, Paul.

Note: I originally wrote this about a year ago.  Now, with Our Open mic, it has a home.

So it's Friday afternoon, I'd just put some meatloaf in the oven for Shabbos dinner (not a particularly traditional meal for Shabbos, but it was something I knew how to make), and I was cleaning up the kitchen.  I had some leftover breadcrumbs, and I wasn't sure what to do with them.  I asked my dad if he wanted to use them for anything, or if I should throw them away (I didn't really want to waste them, though).  He suggested I put them outside so birds could eat them.
 

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About a week ago, I received a text message on my phone.  Pretty boring, right?  However, I don't have a text messaging plan, so every message I get charges me an extra 15 cents.  If it's someone I know,  it's mildly irritating, but at least there's a point to it.  This time, I was txtmsg'd spam.  Bad enough my email inbox gets spam, but for me to have to pay for it...!

So I got to thinking.  Okay, everything happens for a reason.  If G-d didn't want it to happen, it wouldn't happen.  

So why would G-d send me spam?

This time, it was garbled stock tips.  A month ago, it was picture-messages of porn.  I could make sense of the porn (don't ask--and whatever you're thinking, it's most likely wrong).  But stock tips?

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1. I think the real reason girls wear tight pants is to make it harder for guys to take them off.

2. Am I going to remember and appreciate all the wonderful people I met in the last month, year, years in Arizona when I leave?

3. I have so many personalities, I'm starting to forget who I am. There's Manic Elad, Depressed Elad, Yetzer Hora (Animalistic) Elad, Yetzer Tov (G-dly) Elad, there's Hitting On Girls Elad, there's Online Elad, there's Balanced Elad, there's Crazy Elad. If I found Plain Ol' Elad, would he just be added to that list?

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You know how people are always saying that you judge yourself by a more ridged set of standards than others do? I guess I've always ascribed to this theory, but only really applied it to small things like appearance or performance. An encounter with an old friend made me rethink this assumption.

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After every early dismissal of my middle school career my friends and I would walk half a mile down Thirty-second Street to Wendy’s. During that two-year span I can’t remember ever receiving my meal the way I ordered it. This was no doubt due to the lack of English speaking employees. Most of them could not speak English well enough to produce exactly what customers had ordered. Me and my buddies never cared much about this because 1) the only other restaurants in walking distance were much more expensive, and 2) none of us were old enough to drive anywhere else. But that was not the case for most of the other customers.
We had seen a lot of unhappy people walk out of Wendy’s. A non-English speaking employee would inevitably mess up an order, the customer would complain, and then the two would have a banter session. This was a fairly common occurrence, and, although slightly annoying, was somewhat entertaining. Even though a lot of these unsatisfied customers were angry upon their departure, one couple takes the cake as all time most pissed people to ever grace the Thirty-second Street and Shea Wendy’s with their presence.
This middle age couple had apparently made a very large purchase, which was served to them obscenely differently then they had ordered it. After sending it back three times in hopes of receiving what they had actually wanted, the husband threw a fit. He began barking profanities at the Wendy’s employee. Of course this was to no avail because said employee had no clue what he was saying. The man stomped off dragging his thoroughly confused wife out the exit door.
Watching the man get really ticked off had some extreme entertainment value, but I also soaked up some sociology from the incident. I determined that people just don’t know when to give up.
Letting small stuff slide is something most people have some real trouble with. It seems to me that many of us are so stubborn that, no matter how unimportant the issue may be, we can’t seem to drop it. I think people in general would be a lot happier if we could learn to, in the words of Mr. Kenny Rogers, “know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away, know when to run.”

 

I love America & capitalism. 

I love to point out only half-jokingly the reason "the terrorists" hate America.

It's not ideology, infidels, or whatever.

Basically, it's about QT.  The "terrorists" wish they had the ability to choose from a selection of 40 sodas and mixers.  52ozs of Diet Mtn Dew mixed with Frozen orange cream is freedom in my mind.  The terrorists hate us b/c they only got one thing to drink : (Pause)

 It's called Haterade ,it's the non-alcoholic and they got it all on tap. 

But, yeah it's not just QT .  It's Costco.  C'mon with its  samples, liberal return policies and 1.50 foot long  hot dogs.  G-d bless Costco and G-d Bless America!

So getting away from commercialism for a second, there are so many other seemingly small things in life that are awesome. 

Seriously. (Pause)  Some things I find awesome in no particular order or listing of importance  are:

Little kids in tuxedos,

Water balloon fights,

Grenadine based beverages ( Pause) you know shirley temples, roy rogers etc)

Free refills,

Good looking girls wearing wife beaters,

Popping packing bubbles,

Getting blackjack.

I love all this stuff and I love the internet too!

Yeah. I love the internet! And it's got nothing to do with porn.

 Believe it or not there are non-porn related sites on the internet.   (pause)

Yeah it came as a surprise to me as well.

I spend so many of my waking hours surfing the internet looking  through facebook, theonion, the drudgereport, and wikipedia.   (pause)

I really love wikipedia.  I don't really know how we knew the answers to the most random things in life before wikipedia.  I do know that I am thankful everyday for all I've learned browsing wikipedia.

Did you know for instance

That Ice-t's real name is Tracy Marrow?

That penny farthings are the names for those old humoungous bicycles with the big wheel in the front.

That Angola is in Africa and not S. America?

That I share a birthday w/ Vladimir Putin, John Mellencamp, Yo Yo Ma and Toni Braxton. We were all born October 7.

That cleveland steamers, soggy biskets, passing the cracker, rusty trombones and donkey punches aren't nearly as innocuous as they sound.  Not even close.

That birds fly in flocks, wolves travel in packs, and porcupines move in prickles.  I'm totally serious prickles.  Also sadly porcupine meat is enjoyed in some reginos of Italy and Vietnam.

Thank you wikipedia, and ouropenmic for enriching the internet and my life as well.

And thank you all for listening to me, or at least pretending to.