Part of blogging is letting a large audience of strangers into your world -- your life, your mind, your thoughts. It is sharing a part of yourself with people you have never met or heard of, in the hope that your writing will put a smile on someone's face, teach someone an idea he/she had never heard of but finds interesting, inspire a person, or show them that they are not alone in feeling or thinking a certain way.

But opening yourself up to this vast, unidentified audience also has its drawbacks, such as a loss of privacy to a certain degree. In fact, one of the things people have said to me in trying to expose the 'evils' of blogging was, "Why would you want your life to be out there for everyone to see? Why do all these people and strangers have to know this about you?"

Well, first of all, this is not my whole life. I am quite selective about what I put up on my blog, and I have often started or planned blog posts that never materialized only because I decided that the subject was unnecessary for me to share.

Also, I choose to share some thoughts or happenings because I hope others might benefit from it. It might open new channels of thought, provide them with information or inspiration, or help them come to terms with things in their own lives because they see that they are not alone in some of their doubts, frustrations, thoughts, or emotions. And, of course, it might on occasion provide people with some much-needed entertainment after a long, hard, or boring day. I personally love reading blogs when I feel stressed because it helps take my mind off things and sometimes even makes me smile. And if one of my anecdotes about my life does that for someone else, then it's worth it.

One of the interesting things about blogging though is that you are tricked into feeling that you know the author of the blog when, in reality, you are only skimming the surface. When I blog, I am not putting my life out there. My life is not a book or a movie for others to jump into. I will not give you detailed stories about my day (unless there is something highly interesting I can relate or I am in a foreign country and feel as if I already am a character in a story). I will not tell you what I am thinking about now or what I have been struggling with the entire weekend. Unfortunately though, some people assume that because I have a blog I have no more privacy left; that my personal life is on display and I am making a story out of my feelings. I am a writer, and that is how I express myself, but that does not mean that everyone has to see it. Those who care to observe me (or simply cannot help noticing) will see that I am constantly writing in notebooks. I write pages and pages about my life and what I am experiencing, and not even a tenth of that ends up on my journal. I know quite well how to maintain my privacy.

Sometimes, when I read other blogs, I think, "This is getting kind of personal... How is he/she comfortable with sharing so much?" But obviously, for every one thing that a blogger shares, there is another one or two or even twenty that he/she does not allow you to see. It is all a matter of deciding what you want to make public and what needs to be kept to yourself.

Another thing that is important is not only knowing how to maintain your privacy but knowing how to respect that of others. There are many bloggers who are anonymous and can freely write about their families and friends because nobody knows who they are anyway. It seems as if they have a license to write whatever they want because of their anonymity. I, on the other hand, am somewhat limited in what I can write about. My family reads my blog, as do my friends, and I cannot write much about them because I never know what they might object to, and people will read it and know who I am talking about. So for the most part, I am limited to writing about myself and about unrecognizable acquaintances or strangers (and of course ideas).

But even when I write about myself, it is not quite enough to let other people know me as a person. It will give my readers little snippets here and there as well as some general ideas about who I am and what I care about, but that is about it. In order to get to know me, you would have to actually talk to me and develop a personal connection. You would have to get to know me not as inkstainedhands, but as Hannah.

Conversely, I feel that those of my friends who do not read my blog do not know a certain side of me. One of the reasons I keep a blog is that there are messages and thoughts that I would like to discuss and put out there that I would be unable to bring up in casual conversation. There are so many things I want to let other people know and I want to talk about, but it is impossible to do so face to face. What I write about is important to me and it is a part of who I am, but even my closest friends would be completely unaware of it if they do not see my blog or my writing. I feel more comfortable expressing myself through writing, so a lot of who I am is contained in it.

It is all summed up quite nicely by a remark one of my friends recently made: "There is a lot more to you than meets the eye." That applies to each and every one of us. We are complex and human, and it takes a lot of effort to get to know each person. It is not so easy as reading a blog, nor is it as simple as being my friend.

The bottom line is that in order to know me more closely you would have to both get to know me through my writing and as a friend, because each of those paths will lead you to a different side of me, which combined make Hannah Rozenblat.

I wanted to write about the famous often-quoted (and often misquoted) phrase in Pirkei Avot about excessive conversation with a woman, but my schedule has been very busy, so I had no choice but to wait for a better time. Right now seems like the right time though, especially since Bad4Shidduchim just wrote a post about self-deprecation and the impression it makes on a date. So, how do these two things -- self-deprecation and excessive conversation -- connect? What do they have to do with each other?

There are a few lessons written in Pirkei Avot 1:5 in the name of Yosi ben Yochanan. The one I will be focusing on is the following:

ואל תרבה שיחה עם האשה. באשתו אמרו. קל וחומר באשת חברו. מכאן אמרו חכמים כל זמן שאדם מרבה שיחה עם האשה, גורם רעה לעצמו

Yosi ben Yochanan warned not to engage in excessive conversation with a woman. This is said about a man's own wife, so even more so about another man's wife. From here, the sages say that one who talks excessively with a woman causes himself harm.

This can be interpreted a few different ways, but for our purposes, we are going to go with the Bartenura -- Rav Obadiah ben Avraham's commentary. He gives different examples of how talking excessively with a woman can cause a man harm, and his reasons are very logical. I am going to focus on his second explanation of the bad effects of sicha im ha'isha.

א"נ מתוך שהוא מספר לה שחבריו גינוהו וביישוהו אף היא מבזה אותו בלבה. וזה גורם רעה לעצמו

When he talks to his wife (and the same thing can apply to a woman he is dating) and he tells her how his friends shamed him, she will also come to scorn him in her heart.

Sicha refers to idle chatter. When it is excessive, the chances are greater that someone will make a self-deprecating comment to make the conversation more interesting or to entertain the other person.

It is important for a wife to be able to respect her husband, but if he is constantly putting himself down and, so to speak, saying lashon hara about himself, it will inevitably affect the way she perceives him and relates toward him. While open communication and honesty is obviously important in a marriage, or in any relationship, there are certain limits to everything. In this case, one must draw limits when it comes to self-deprecating remarks. Nobody is perfect, and as human beings, we are all flawed -- that is the beauty of it. We would not be as interesting if we were all perfect. But at the same time, there is no need for us to draw attention to our failings.

You might think that you are only being honest because you care about someone and want them to know "the real you," but at what price? Are you willing to risk losing respect in the eyes of your wife or the woman you are dating? Are you willing to risk the failure of your relationship if, as Bad4Shidduchim wrote, you discuss your flaws on the first or second date and that is the first impression your date has of you?

It is easy to say that we should not judge a person or respect him less because of his flaws, since all of us have our flaws, but when that person parades his faults and stamps them onto his forehead, it is difficult not to view him in that light. I know that I try not to judge people unfavorably, but when they display themselves in a negative light and tell me how lazy, useless, or unintelligent they are, I cannot help but see them that way. I might say to them, "No, don't say that; you are not as bad or as unlikable as you think or make yourself seem," but at the same time, those words become imprinted on my mind in connection with this person. It has happened more than once to me that people spoke scornfully of themselves, and I formed a negative opinion of them based on that. And I really did not mean to do that.... That is just what happened as a result of what they said. It feels so ironic though that I lost respect for some people because they spoke self-deprecatingly about themselves.

People are serious when they tell you that sometimes you are your own worst enemy.

Knowing something and having no clue as to how you know it or what the source is just might be one of the most frustrating things when you are trying to convince someone else of something.

I remember finding a little piece of information in a Chumash with English commentary once in seventh grade -- a full five years ago -- but since it was not my Chumash, I could not go back and check afterwards. I could not even remember which commentary it was, so there was no way for me to find the original source -- not that I was even interested in finding an original source in seventh grade. I just stored the little tidbit that I had learned in my mind and mentioned it to some people when the subject came up. The inevitable question was always, "How do you know?" And what could I possibly answer besides for, "Um, I'm not quite sure where that piece of information can be found, but I remember reading it in some Chumash." Without a source, people will not fully believe what you say, for which I don't blame them, because I would do the same thing.

Well, guess what!

I finally found the source after five years of wondering! So I am not crazy after all, and I did not imagine it.

For this, I owe a huge thank you to the Yalkut Me'am Lo'ez, who not only gathers all the information but also lists all his sources! I love The Torah Anthology. :]

As a little four- and five-year-old kid, I used to run around a lot and fall down often, so my knees were generally bruised, bloody, or covered in scabs or old scars. You can still see in some old pictures of me the two bandaids covering my knees where I had hurt myself. And yet, I never thought of slowing down. I wouldn't learn from the pain, and the next time I had a chance to stretch my legs outside, I would do so without hesitation. So I would fall down over and over again, tearing apart the skin on my knees and the palms of my hands, and I would get back up. Yes, I would sometimes cry from the stinging pain, but it would all be forgotten the very next day (or in more painful situations, the very next week).

As kids, we quickly get used to the fact that there are unpleasant surprises and unexpected bumps in the road. We learn that falling flat on our faces does not have to be the end of the world, and we learn to pick ourselves up and move on with life. In fact, that is how we learn how to walk. We stumble forward a few steps and then we fall, but we never stay down. We jump right back up and continue on with determination.

In my opinion, however, it is with greater difficulty that we learn to pick ourselves up as adults after experiencing emotional pain or going through any other trying experience. All of a sudden, it is harder to get back on our feet, and we very often prefer to stay down there on the ground, feeling sorry for ourselves. We forget that it is in our power to pull ourselves together and move on, learning from the experience rather than allowing it to bring -- and keep -- us down.

But just as we learned to overcome the little bumps and bruises (and blood) when we were children, we must learn now to overcome everything else as well. We must learn to get up, no matter how hard it feels, brush ourselves off, and continue walking.

Don't let anyone or anything bring you down and keep you lying there in the mud, because it is not a pleasant thing.

Hell is when adults paint their own ideas of perfection over a child's natural unique traits and individuality.

Hell is not recognizing yourself in the mirror because the image you see is the same as that of any other person.

Hell is having a lot to say but fearing to voice those thoughts because you will stand out and be condemned.

Hell is having questions that are unwelcome and are greeted with hostility wherever they are asked.

Hell is feeling stifled because you are never good enough.

Hell is never being good enough because you are different.

Heaven is realizing that your individuality will no longer bring you pain and they were wrong.

Now that's a good title for a blog post written by a girl who just turned 18, isn't it? But I'll explain. ;]


A lot of people have been asking me how my writing is going. Well... um... how do I say this? It sometimes goes and it sometimes just does not go. (For some reason, the former was the case more often in the past few months.) I am working on some short stories now as well as school writing assignments, but I don't feel that surge of creativity as often when it comes to words.


But I like to feel as if I've done something creative recently and I want to have what to show for my effort, so for now I am focusing on my artwork. I have a few pieces hanging in my school's hallway that I did for an art class assignment, which I would love to take a picture of and post here once I get them back. For now though, I have a picture of another assignment. We were told to make a colorful ketuba (without the text, just with the first letter), and I decided to have a little fun with mine.





The brown background is just the back of my drawing pad, not part of the ketuba.


Here's a closeup of the gold detail on the yellow arch at the top:





I loved using that gold marker -- it just made everything more interesting and sparkly. The same goes for the silver sharpie, although that was being very moody, often refusing to cooperate. But since nothing ever goes exactly how you think it will, something was bound to happen, since I was having too much of a good time with the gold and silver. What happened? Oh, just a slight mishap which left my skirt, my hands, and a pile of papers on my desk covered in little drops of gold and silver. I actually found it very amusing. Much water, soap, and scrubbing was later involved in trying to get rid of the sparkly stuff on my hands, but traces of it are still there, so I now sparkle! Lesson for the future -- there is a reason why the instructions always say to shake the marker with the cap on! Ah well, it was fun. :]

Waking up at 6:40 am on my birthday (an hour earlier than I usually do for school) in order to continue studying for a psychology test after four and a half hours of sleep must have been the result of temporary insanity on my part. The good news though was that it was absolutely worth it, because I think I knew the test well.

But when you spend half the night, an hour in the morning, your lunch period, and even some class periods immersed in psychology, and then you have are presented with different cases or scenarios on the test and you have to identify it and understand how it works and why it is so, it is a bit difficult to get the material out of your head -- even once you come home and the test is over and done with.

And that is why I spent my birthday explaining certain moments of my day according to a psychological viewpoint. When my mother picked up my psychology textbook and remarked that she thinks it would be very interesting to read, I couldn't help thinking about the overjustification effect. When my father praised my honesty when it comes to money matters, I thought to myself -- Oh! This is positive reinforcement, which is meant to increase the likelihood of me repeating a certain behavior! I then laughed at myself for not being able to get psychology out of my head.

All in all, I had a pleasant birthday, although it has yet to sink in that I am now a legal adult.

It is 11:17 PM. In less than an hour, the digital clock on my computer screen will read 12:00 AM, the start of December 3rd, and I will be 18.

It's funny; I don't feel as if I am turning 18. This milestone was something I looked forward to since I first became aware of the fact that at this age I would become a legal adult. And yet, now that the hour draws near, I shrink away from it.

Obviously, no tangible change occurs on a birthday -- only your perception of yourself -- but when it is something you have thought about since you were a child, you wonder why you feel nothing now.

If anything, I feel somewhat down because tomorrow will be a day like any other. I will spend half the night tonight studying for a test, I will wake up after very little sleep early tomorrow morning, I will go to school as usual and take the test, and life will go on as usual. And underneath it all, I will be thinking, "But it's my birthday today. Isn't this day supposed to be special and more meaningful than all the other days?" It will give me an opportunity to reflect and write my thoughts, but I am afraid that they might be less cheerful than might be expected from a birthday girl. But thoughts are thoughts -- they're precious whether they are upbeat or dejected.

I had a great year as a 17-year-old. Honestly, I have so many amazing memories from the past twelve months that I can barely believe how wonderful the year has been. I have so much to be thankful for -- and I am thankful -- to G-d, my parents, my family, my friends, my teachers, and all the other amazing people in my life. I can look back on this year with a wide smile, but it is when I think of tomorrow that my smile disappears.

But I won't dwell on that, as it does no good to anyone. Instead, I will focus on studying for tomorrow's test while I resume counting down the minutes until my 18th birthday.

The history of the Jews has not been an easy one by any stretch of the imagination. Persecution, forced conversions, slaughter, discrimination, ridicule -- all generations have experienced these things to some degree. But in His kindness, G-d allows the Jews a period of time during which they can rebuild and restore themselves after each tragedy. For example, Columbus set sail and discovered America at around the same time as the Spanish Expulsion. (In fact, he sailed during the very same week that the last of the Jews left Spain.) His discovery of America eventually gave the Jews another opportunity to escape the oppression in Europe.

I recently learned about the history of Spanish Jewry in school, and I decided to read The Disputation of Barcelona. It is the written account by Ramban (Nachmanides) of the debate between himself and an apostate named Pablo Christiani in the summer of 1263 in Barcelona. It was held in front of King James I of Aragonia and other Christian nobles. Debates such as these were common in mediaeval Europe, where Christians, seeking to prove the validity of their religion, forced prominent Jews to participate. The Church would then declare that the Christian had won the debate, although it was usually obvious that that was not at all the case. It was as a result of this that Ramban had to leave Spain. The Church published their own version of the debate at Barcelona, but the only surviving account of the event now is that of the Ramban (translated into English by Rabbi Dr. Charles B. Chavel). Although it is only 42 pages, it is a fascinating read, and I would recomment it to anyone (and especially to those who have doubts about the truth of Judaism). You can purchase it here, or try finding it in your local Jewish library or bookstore.

One of the things that I found very interesting was what he said about mankind's original immortality:

"Behold, the first man lived 930 years. Scripture explains that he died because of his sin and that had he not sinned, he would have lives many more [years] or [perhaps] forever. All of us, gentiles and Jews, admit that the sin and pubinshment of the first man will be voided in the era of the Messiah. If so, death will cease from all of us [ordinary mortals] after the coming of Messiah. As far as the Messiah himself is concerned, death is completely inoperative against him. Thus, it is fitting that Messiah live for thousands of years or [even] forever."

(p. 16)

So according to this, man had the potential to live even longer than a millenium, if not forever. But because the first man, Adam, sinned by eating from the Tree of Knowledge, his life was cut short and he could no longer be immortal.

Ramban went on to explain, in answer to the king's question about the whereabouts of the Messiah:

The answer is clearly written in Scripture. The first man was placed in the Garden of Eden, which is upon the earth. When he sinned, it is stated, And the Eternal G-d sent him forth from the Garden of
Eden. If so, this one, who is free from the punishment of man, abides there in the Garden of Eden.

(p. 16)

What Ramban is saying is that since Adam's sin and punishment had no effect on the Messiah, he could both be immortal and dwell in the Garden of Eden. Adam was only expelled from it as a punishment for eating from the Tree of Knowledge.

The Yalkut Me'am Lo'ez, a commentary on the Torah by Rabbi Yaakov Culi (1689 - 1732), has a fascinating explanation of why exactly Adam was banished from the Garden of Eden for his sin. He was punished thoroughly for that sin -- his stature was reduced, his beauty was diminished, he had to work hard for his food, etc. In all, Adam was given ten curses. What I found interesting though was that this commentary connected the curse of mortality to the curse of being banished from the Garden of Eden.

One of the trees that as in the Garden of Eden was the Tree of Life. G-d never forbade Adam from eating the fruit of that specific tree, and according to the Yalkut Me'am Lo'ez:

"G-d would have not minded if Adam had eaten from it and gained immortality; creation was originally set up in such a manner that no creature would die. It was only after Adam sinned that he was banished from the Garden of Eden so that he could not gain immortality by eating from the Tree of
Life."

(p. 278, The Torah Anthology - Genesis I 1.)

G-d wanted Adam to be able to live forever, and Adam did indeed have that opportunity. Not only was G-d watching over him to make sure no harm came to him, but Adam was also permitted to eat from the Tree of Life, which would extend his life. Therefore, when G-d wanted to curse Adam by making him mortal, He also had to banish him from the Garden of Eden, so that Adam would not be able to prolong his life by eating from the Tree of Life. The Yalkut Me'am Lo'ez shows that Adam's expulsion from the Garden of Eden was because of his curse of mortality, which was the punishment for his sin. It was a direct, logical result.

Going back to what Ramban said about the Messiah's immortality, we can apply the Yalkut Me'am Lo'ez's explanation to it. The Messiah can reside in the Garden of Eden, because he is supposed to be immortal.

And when the Mashiach comes to gather our scattered nation and redeem us, we will also have the gift of immortality that we were originally meant to have and would then logically be permitted to experience being in the Garden of Eden.

One of the things that always used to frustrate me about Jane Austen's books was the fact that their endings were invariably happy and immaculate. She would tie up all the loose ends, write out in the last page or two exactly what happened to each of the characters (and obviously, only good things happened to the heroes, while the less-than-stellar characters would simply live unhappy lives or something of that sort). I felt that some of her books just lacked depth. Don't get me wrong; I thoroughly enjoyed reading them and there are some that I can read over and over, and they leave me with a smile on my face, but when I think about it, I feel something is missing... and that's reality.

Not all endings are happy. In fact, many of them are quite the opposite. Those who are good and strive to make the world a better place are often the ones who are left heartbroken and have the bitter endings. Characters who should logically live happily ever after because they 'deserve' it often find that life doesn't work that way in reality.

That is something I occasionally struggle with when I am writing fiction. Will I write a tale of hope and redemption, with a happily-ever-after ending, or will my hero die alone somewhere in a ditch, abandoned and broken-hearted? Will my hero learn the hard way that life isn't usually what you want it to be? And if he does, will he afterwards learn that life can also be worthwhile and rewarding, or will he then be disappointed yet again and his hopes dashed? I so wish for my hero to have a happy ending and to see that life can be good and there is still some goodness left in mankind to counter all the ugliness, but what are the chances?

All I know is that the main character of the short story I am currently writing will die under the moon-lit night sky, heartbroken and betrayed.

I thought I had decided on the fate of my novel's hero too, but now I am not so sure.... My novels cannot have fairytale/Jane Austen endings.

I was thinking about happy endings versus sad endings before, but today is the first of November and therefore the beginning of NaNoWriMo, so I had to make some decisions.

Anyway.... Back to my avalanche of school-related assignments. I am a bit amused though at how I did not blog for a few weeks and then -- BAM! -- I started writing one post after another. When it rains, it pours.

Here is an interesting excerpt from The Warsaw Ghetto Diaries, by Dr. Hillel Seidman:

"Finally, I arrive at my own office in Grzybowska Street, and again thousands wait outside. Men seek official marriage certificates to protect their wives, since there is also a rumor that those holding marriage certificates will not be deported. Inside the Kehillah, too, depression reigns; everybody believes that workers alone will not be expelled.

Incidentally, in the house of Rabbi Yitzchak Meir Kanal at 6 Twarda Street are also large crowds -- busily getting married! Bachelors who have work cards marry women who have no work, to save them from deportation. These mass marriages are conducted in great haste. Zionist chalutzim marry chalutzot; tzukunftisim (Bundists) marry tukunftisiot. Women still unmarried seek 'husbands.' The ancient prophesy rings true: 'And on that day seven women will clutch at one man saying we will eat our own bread, wear our own clothes -- just allow your name to protect us.'"

(p. 51)

I guess it didn't matter what type of tablecloths their mothers used or where the girls received their education. Remind me again, why are people so thick-headed these days? Is it because we have gotten so used to the good life that we think every little detail has to be the way we want it to be?

When reading books about the Holocaust or stories from survivors, or watching grainy black and white videos and looking at photographs from which haunted dark eyes stare back at you, there are not enough words to describe the emotions raging inside. Horrified, shocked, confused, mournful, overwhelmed. But words cannot express the depth of those emotions. Words cannot express how I feel as I put a bookmark in the book I am reading because I simply cannot go on. I need a few minutes to internalize it and to allow myself to feel and go through the thoughts whirling in my head. I exhale loudly and close my eyes.

Most of us grew up with an awareness of the Holocaust. Many of us are familiar with the number six million. It is something we know, something we acknowledge. But at the same time, it is a statistic. It is a number. We see the six million as a whole, instead of trying to wrap our minds around the fact that these were six million individuals. For some reason, when we think of a number that big, we fail to grasp the enormity of the tragedy.

This thought particularly struck me as I was reading Dr. Hillel Seidman's The Warsaw Ghetto Diaries, which chronicle his experiences during the Holocaust in the Warsaw Ghetto, where he faithfully wrote in a diary all of what was happening around him. He would often scribble down reports of events even as they were happening, anxious to have everything on paper. In his introduction to the book, Dr. Hillel Seidman recounts how the other Warsaw residents, knowing that he was a talented published writer, encouraged him to “transcribe all Warsaw’s travails and tribulations, a written record for future generations, so that the world should eventually learn the truth” (p. 33). When atrocities are committed, such as those of the Germans against the Jews, it is inevitable that there will later be attempts at denying those happenings. Holocaust deniers are rampant now, despite the fact that not even a century has elapsed since the tragedy. In a world where there are still people with numbers branded on their arms and horrifying stories experienced first-hand, many simply choose to ignore the facts and – out of their hatred for the Jews – spitefully insist that the Holocaust was a hoax. The only way to counter that is by spreading knowledge and teaching facts to as many people as possible, and the accounts of those who witnessed these horrors and lived through them is the perfect conduit. Dr. Seidman’s objective was to show future generations what really happened – that the Holocaust was not just one big horror story but a traumatizing, torturous experience that millions of Jews as real as ourselves had to suffer through. Although it was both difficult and extremely dangerous to keep these diaries, Dr. Seidman persisted, knowing that this was something worth working for, because people had to learn of these things somehow. Leaving a record for the world was especially important considering that the Nazis were careful not to leave written records of the crimes they committed. Although Dr. Seidman did not know whether his diaries would ever be read, a Warsaw businessman named Reb Berel Gefen reminded him of a passage in Avot -- Ethics of the Fathers (2:16) that said, “The work is not up to you to complete. Nor are you free to shirk the responsibility…” (p. 36). And indeed, most of what we know today about the Holocaust is because of the diaries of victims and the stories of survivors. Dr. Seidman knew he had to do whatever he could, both to transcribe what was happening and to leave memories of himself and those around him; the rest was in the hands of G-d. His goal was merely to write the truth and not allow it to be lost, destroyed, or mangled.

It was this particular sentence that struck me: "Every day Warsaw loses another 7000 innocent victims." Think about it.... Seven thousand innocent people were being senselessly slaughtered each day. Seven thousand people who could have done so much with their lives were brutally denied the right to live. It is easier to imagine seven thousand people in your mind than a million, so perhaps that was why this sentence had such an effect on me.

And that is something that encourages me to live my life to the fullest and strive to make a difference, because I am fortunate enough to have the opportunity that millions of Jews were denied.

I just came back from a seminary options evening in my school, where girls from different seminaries spoke to us and described the seminaries they went to -- academics, peer group, and so on.

I never really wanted or planned to go to seminary, so I never gave it a second thought. Seminary was just something the other girls would do -- stressing over whether they would get in to the seminary of their choice, leaving for Israel, coming back completely different. I felt relieved that I would not have to think about this.

But, to make a long story short, I am considering going to a seminary part-time in New York (preferably in Brooklyn, although Manhattan is not completely out of the question). Since I never considered this in the past, however, I don't know where to start. I have a list of some seminaries in New York, but most of them don't have websites and I am having some difficulties getting information on them.

So if any of you have gone to seminaries in Brooklyn, please, please, please leave a comment or send me an email at myinkstainedhands (AT) gmail (DOT) com and tell me about your experience there -- the academics, the students, the atmosphere, and the pros and the cons, or whatever else you thought about it. Also, if you know anyone who went to a NY seminary, if you could help me get in touch with them, it would be much appreciated.

I see that over a month has passed since I made my last blog post on September 18th, in honor of Rosh Hashana. So where have I been all this time? I could give all kinds of excuses.... My rats hijacked my keyboard, I was too busy to post, I was preoccupied by this thing called real life, etc. All of these excuses have some truth in them, but none of them are THE answer (although Mr. Knightley did just jump onto my computer desk and start trampling on the keyboard).

Speaking of my rats, I have introduced them to a few of my friends, all of whom were delighted to meet them. I got to say, "Told you they were cute," on a few different occasions, so that was nice. Some of my friends who declared that they would never come to my house again if I got rats actually fell in love with the creatures as soon as they met them.

So, what else have I been up to in the past few weeks? School has obviously been keeping me busy, but I also managed to keep myself well occupied during Sukkot. After weeks of doing what my sense of responsibility told me to do, it was nice to relax and do what I wanted to do. I took full advantage of my one and a half weeks of Sukkot vacation by visiting the Frick Collection, going to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and seeing Hamlet on Broadway, among other things. I cannot help but smile every time I think of that week. And for now, I will have to rely on those memories to bring a smile to my face, because it does not look as if I will have any more time for that sort of thing until the end of November, after midterms.

People have been asking me about my writing and how that is going. Well, to tell the truth, it's not really going. I have been more involved in art and drawing the past couple of months. I did write a few quick dialogues in the form of poems, but that was simply for fun after an overdose of Shakespeare. I also finished a few books, some of which I considered blogging about. Perhaps once I have more time, I will do so. I also hope that my writing will pick up its pace in November with NaNoWriMo. I'm still working on one of my novels from 2007, but I would also like to start a new one on a completely different topic, with a Jewish theme for once.

I just wanted to update everyone, because otherwise it looks as if I disappeared for no reason. Hopefully there won't be such a large gap again between this post and the next.

After paying a charitable visit to a poor sick family and witnessing their wretchedness, Emma -- the heroine of Jane Austen's novel that goes by the same name -- and her friend Harriet discuss the impact the experience has had on them and how they cannot possibly think of anything else after that sight. They claim to be so affected by what they have seen, that they cannot dwell on the insignificant things that used to occupy their thoughts.

Emma: "...And really, I do not think the impression will soon be over.... I do not think it will."
Harriet: "Oh! Dear no."

But as the two girls spot Mr. Elton, the object of Harriet's affections and of Emma's matchmaking hobby, all noble and lofty thoughts fly off on the breeze, and their assurances are nothing. Mr. Elton takes over every single conscious thought of theirs, and all their passionate exclamations of how impossible it would be to think of anything else but their visit have become meaningless. They care no more about the wretched family they had just visited, for their admiration for Mr. Elton rises above everything else.

How soon we too forget about the things that move us! We go through an experience, vowing never to forget it, resolving to change our lives because of it, believing we will never go back to our old selves, but those resolutions and noble thoughts are abandoned in the blink of an eye.

Each year, as we wait to be judged on Rosh Hashana, we resolve to be better this year. Some people take upon themselves to do something more in the upcoming year in order to make a difference and to be better. We assure G-d that we are quite done with our evil ways and will act differently this time around. Year after year, we say this as we ask G-d for a good year.

Many of these new resolutions we will abandon after only a week, shrugging it off by thinking, "Well, it doesn't really matter. G-d will understand."

But how foolish must it seem to G-d to hear us assuring Him of how well we will behave and all of the good things we will do this year and then see us, our memories completely blank, going back to our old ways and defiantly repeating all our past mistakes just because we find it too hard to keep our promises.

When the Jews were wandering around in the desert, they complained about their situation and questioned G-d, even after the miracles they witnessed at Mt. Sinai, which was so great that it should logically have changed their lives forever. We learn that there was a group of people who did not take that experience to heart. They saw, they heard, they felt, but they did not let it penetrate their hearts. They were, perhaps, inspired for the moment, but they did nothing about it. They made no attempts to make it a part of themselves or to make a commitment. So that inspiration that struck them at that moment was lost soon after, and they went back to defying and questioning G-d.

When we are inspired by something, when our minds are focused on this inspiration, we should do something to make it a part of ourselves. On Rosh Hashana, we are inspired by the thought of being judged, and it drives us to repent and to make resolutions for the coming year. But when Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur are over, we more often than not are relieved that it is over so we can go back to our regular lives.

That is what makes us stumble -- we only act on our inspiration when it strikes us, instead of holding onto that inspiration and not letting go of it from year to year.

May our inspiration this Rosh Hashana be real and may it remain with us until the next Rosh Hashana, influencing our thoughts and our actions.

Shana tova.