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.

I have been thinking of a few blog posts I wanted to make before Rosh Hashana, but it seems as if I will start off with something completely unplanned. I was tagged by BTS for the superpower meme, which I see almost everyone has already posted by now.

The rules are as follows:

Rule number 1: Read the rules.
Rule number 2: Write one superpower you would like to have and what you would do with it.
Rule number 3: Write why you chose that super power over everything else.
Rule number 4: Tag and link 7 people, and write why you think they will have an interesting meme.
Rule number 5: fix your broken links.

This is one of those memes that I just feel useless in attempting. I mean, I've gotten the hang of life. I know for the most part what my abilities are, and I try to use them to the best of my ability. I used to spend a lot of time dreaming about a more ideal me and a more ideal world, in which I would be capable of knowing and doing more. Daydreaming is a powerful thing -- it sometimes convinces you that impossible things are a reality, and although you consciously know that it is impossible, there is still this small subconscious part of you that says, "It's true, it's possible, this dream can be a reality." The descent to earth and to true reality then becomes even more difficult when it must be done.

So I try not to dwell on the abilities I only wish I had. I want to make the reality work. Perhaps that is why when BTS tagged me, my first reaction was, "Oh no, not this meme. I don't want superpowers. I just want to be the best that I can actually be."

If I had been asked this as a child, I would immediately list a dozen superpowers I would like to have. But now, it is not at all something I would want.

So while I am still doing this meme, it is going to be less about 'superpowers' and more about actual abilities.

Since Rosh Hashana is coming up, the correct thing to say would be to say something nice and fluffy about how I want to be a perfect Jew and be able to immediately know what is sinful and what is not and to refrain from sinning. But I'm not going to say that, because perfection does not appeal to me.

I suppose that the ability I would most like to have would be to understand people and their motives thoroughly.

BTS wrote that he would like to have organized information on every single person, and BoSD wrote that she wants to be able to "get a glimpse into the minds of other people" so she could understand them better, be more sensitive to them, and not hurt anyone unintentionally. Shlomo's post was along those lines as well, although he went off on a tangent about Jews and Nietzsche, and when he finally wrote what abilities he would like to have, it was to read minds and manipulate them. So we have the spy, the sweet blob, and the manipulative Israeli, all wishing for similar superpowers. And here enters the writer, with a similar wish, for completely different purposes.

I would like to see people's intentions -- why they do the things they do. I would like to understand their thought processes, whether they lead to good actions or to crimes, and I want to be able to see the world from their point of view, so that I could create realistic, human characters based on them. I want my characters to have depth and complexity, so my readers should connect to them whether the characters are generally perceived by society as 'good' or as 'bad'. I suppose I want to do away with those terms entirely; I want my characters to be not good or bad, but human -- to be real, since that is perhaps one of the greatest things a writer can achieve.

That sounds like it can be easily solved by majoring in psychology. The truth though is that although I can study psychology as much as I want, the ability to see every facet of a person's mind and heart is impossible for us mere mortals. So that is why I am writing this down as the 'superpower' I would most like to have.

And now, for the tagging. This is proving to be a bit tricky, especially since Google Reader greeted me this morning by informing me that there were nearly thirty new blog posts, a large amount of which were for this meme, so there are few people left to tag. So here are the people I am tagging:

Subwife, because she sounds pretty stressed in her posts about work, and I would like to see if she wishes she could make people just disappear.

Dina, because I would like to see what she would do to the world with her superpowers.

Oh, and BTS asked when he tagged me, "so what did you write in your private diary today, Hannah?"

All kinds of fascinating things. :]

Well, I finally got the rats I've been waiting for, and as expected, they are the most adorable little creatures! I named them Darcy and Knightley, and the three of us have been getting to know each other over the past twenty four hours. At this stage of our acquaintance, I am a bit lost for words, and all I can say is that they are so incredibly sweet and cute. They are quite active when they are awake, so it is difficult to get a decent photo, but here is one of them falling asleep:

And here are the photos from the breeder. The first one is Darcy, who is a Russian blue agouti berkshire dumbo. Knightley, the second one, is a Russian blue agouti hooded dumbo.

They are both friendly and social, although I would say that Darcy is the outgoing one of the two. He always greets me when I walk over to the cage, and Knightley usually joins in. They enjoy climbing (humans), perching on shoulders, giving soft, ticklish rat kisses, and exploring. I actually managed to get a wonderful photo of Darcy and me while he was sitting on my shoulder, curiously looking into the camera.

Before each school year begins, I dream and make plans in my head, determined that this will be the year. This year I will be a perfect student. This year I will be successful. This year I will achieve straight A's. This year I will be the girl that comes to class every day prepared and ready to take in as much knowledge as I can and contribute something to the class in turn. I will be the student who has all her assignments done perfectly and on time, without complaint. This will be my year. The Golden Age of Hannah Rozenblat.

And most years, I disappoint myself in some way or another. Perhaps I did not do as well as I could have, or I did not accomplish as much as I wished to when I started out the school year.

Well, I thought to myself last night, as I went to sleep early to be ready for school this morning, This is my last year in this school. This is the last time I can start a year that way, with that drive and that enthusiasm I always felt at each beginning.

But instead of feeling motivated and enthusiastic, I felt uneasy. I always thought I could accomplish it all and succeed if I just put in effort, but now I know that while I can be successful, I can never be a perfect student. There is no such thing as a perfect student, really. We can all strive for our own levels of 'perfection', but in the end, we're just good students. We are more knowledgeable, perhaps, after putting our efforts into our studies, we are more aware of the world around us and of everything in this world, and we might have the marks to prove it, but there cannot be a 'perfect' student.

So as I started my senior year, I told myself that I just want to get as much as I can out of it, instead of seeking perfection. I want to give it my best -- or as close to it as I can without driving myself mad.

This is my last year here. I want to make it count.

I remember when I was in one of the younger grades in elementary school (perhaps in second grade) and I was thinking about how many years I had left. I had only just started, and the end seemed so far away to me. Twelfth grade was something so foreign I could not even imagine it, and I wondered if I would ever really get there, or if the years would pass by so slowly that I would feel as if I'd never be there. And at first, the years did pass by very slowly. I counted them down diligently. Another seven years to go until I am free. Another five years to go until I can leave. Just three more years and I am done. Oh, look, hey, I only have two years left! Time sure has flown.... And now, the countdown is down to one year. Except that I am not really counting down now, because I am not sure yet how I feel about it ending. Yes, I've waited for this year for so long, but now that I am here and I know that there is no looking back, I am somehow nervous.

I suppose that is why I want to make the most out of this year. It is my last, and I don't want to look back on it with any regrets or memories of missed opportunities.

So next time you hear me complaining about the heavy load of assignments or the amount of material I have to study for midterms or finals, kindly remind me of this.

For all of you who have also started a new school year this month, I wish you the best of luck and lots of success!

A few months ago, I discovered a fascinating and well-written blog titled The Curious Jew, written by Chana. I started going through her old posts, some of which she wrote when she was still in high school, and was impressed by her maturity, depth of knowledge, and her way of expressing herself. The posts in which she compared literature to Torah and blended the two seamlessly changed the way I read books and her posts on ideas in the Torah made me want to learn more. Each post of hers was like a class all on its own and was well worth the time it took to read it.

So now that the time comes for me to nominate a blogger for the Nefesh B'Nefesh Second International Jewish Bloggers Convention, it is a rather easy choice to make. Or rather, it is an obvious choice.

The blogger will be teamed up with an oleh/olah/family of olim and will have to get to know them and blog about them. Who can be better for the job than Chana, who is known for starting conversations with strangers and writing interesting, humorous, insightful posts about the experiences? She talks to people most of us would never even notice; we would probably walk by them, while Chana takes those opportunities to exchange a few words and put a smile on their faces. Her colorful accounts of those experiences are a pleasure to read (which is obvious by the many comments she receives and the general popularity of her blog).

Let's not limit her to the New York crowd (as fascinating and diverse as it is). Let's send her to Israel! There, she will have the opportunity of getting to know those making aliyah, and judging by her previous posts over the past few years, she will be able to make an interesting story out of everything and everyone.

There is a reason she's called The Curious Jew. She is curious about the things and the people around her, which is what makes her blog so unique and enjoyable. Unlike most people I know, she can actually take a genuine interest in a total stranger and find something she can either relate to or learn from. Going to Israel would be perfect for her. (Imagine a kid in a candy store.)

So, those are my reasons for nominating Chana (Curious Jew) for this Nefesh B'Nefesh flight.

I realized I have not written any works of fiction in the past couple of months. I have not made any progress on the book I've been working on for a while either.

Perhaps later, once I sort my own life out and commit it to writing, I might take better care of my fictional characters. But for now, I have enough of my own experiences to work with that I need not resort to them and their lives.

I suspect that when school starts I will come running back to my fictional characters, escaping into their world as I sit somewhere on a staircase or in a library during breaks, trying to ignore the noise and the chaos around me. I noticed that I often do that in school -- just immerse myself in my writing, in the lives of my characters, and escape for a bit.

But for now, I must face my own life and contemplate it thoroughly.

My last couple of days in Israel were spent in Ashdod, in my cousin's house. She has two daughters, ages fourteen and twenty, and the last time I had seen them was back when I was four, so I was looking forward to spending some time with them and actually getting to know them.

I don't know how I managed this, and this must be a new record for me, but I slept for fourteen hours. When I woke up, extremely disoriented, I looked at my watch and saw that it was eleven. It brought back memories of when I first woke up in Israel and could not figure out what time it was.

My mother apparently also thought it was time for me to wake up, because she came into my room and told me that it was 4 PM. What?!

It took a minute for me to realize that my watch read 11 PM. Meaning, if I were in Israel then, I would be checking my email and blogging about my day at about that time. So I guess this means I completely slept through the day according to my watch.

The first thing I did after waking up was to crash into something sharp in my room and scrape my knee. The second thing I did was whine to my mother about it. I realized that there is a real need to remove the obstacles from that place I call my room.

Another thing I soon realized was that there were some habits pertaining to my eating that needed some serious changing. My Israel menu of bakery pastries for breakfast, Bissli for lunch, and more bakery pastries plus something from a cafe for dinner, would certainly not do here in New York. (When we were in Israel, I joked to my mother that what I ate there would never go over with her here, where she would insist on a healthier diet.)

I toured the kitchen and mourned the absence of the cheese danishes and cookies and various cinnamon rolls that made mornings so sweet in Maalot Dafna.

"We need to go to the bakery," I informed my mother. "I want a cheese danish."

The great thing about the bakeries in Israel is that they are so cheap. I remember once going to a nearby bakery there by myself, taking as much as my arms could hold, and paying around $10. We're talking about a whole box of sugar cookies, some baklava, chocolate rugelach, and a bag of cheese danishes. (I visited that bakery a few times during our stay, in order to replenish my supply. My cousin in Ashdod was laughing at me because I brought a lot of baked goods with me to her house, and she had bought a bunch of pies and cakes.) Needless to say, there was no shortage of calories there in Israel. Plus, the whole 'touring and walking around the entire day in the heat' thing helped me burn those calories right off.

But it is really time to make some changes in my habits.... It does not look as if I have a choice though, because no matter how hard I look, I will not find cheese danishes or sugar cookies in the house now. (If I end up getting out today or tomorrow, you can be sure I will look for some, though.)

I will probably spend the day uploading my photos, gathering my thoughts, and writing a bit.

Well, I'm in New York, at home, at my computer. I have not been here in nearly three weeks. My first thought as I turned on the computer now (after using a small laptop all this time) was, "Wow, this screen is huge! And the letters! And icons! I don't have to squint to see them!"

It is nearly midnight here in NY, but my watch still reads 7... as in, 7 AM. I am not quite sure which time I should go by now, but while I am awake, I might as well spend a few minutes online, upload photos to my computer, pull some things out of our suitcases, and so on.

While we were waiting to board our plane in Ben Gurion (the flight was an hour late, but the screen still said it was "on time"), I got into a conversation with a young Israeli woman sitting next to me, who was going to New York for a year or two but insisted that Jews should live in Israel. She asked me if I'm planning on making aliya. I saw her again once our plane landed in NY and thought to myself, "Hey, that's cool -- I met her in Israel and now we're seeing each other again in New York!"

So yes, that's basically the point of this blog post.... I am not in Israel anymore. My plans for the day no longer include hailing a monit or bargaining with Israelis or taking hundreds of pictures of all the places I see.

I feel as if I can barely write. My fingers keep missing the keys, my eyes are closing, and I am trying to suppress a yawn.

I am exhausted.