imo

The Annual Review

2007-08-12T13:36:00.000-04:00

In many companies, particularly large corporations, there’s the ritual of the annual review.
Most employees approach this time with some trepidation. It’s an opportunity for your boss to review and rate your performance over the past year.
There are different categories - timeliness, playing well with others, meeting deliverables.
You find out which grade level you fall into, what he/she determines are your strengths and weaknesses, where you need to improve. This process may determine if you’re up for a promotion and raise, or if you need to rev up your game...or even possibly if you may be the next to go when there’s a downsizing.
As much as many people may dread this process, in the long run, it’s to their benefit. Feedback from superiors (and sometimes peers) allows one to objectively assess where he is and how to achieve his goals.

Far be it from me to question the Almighty, but I wonder why we don’t get some sort of life review from above.

There are so many factors that play into how a person acts and is judged. There’s upbringing, genes, peers, outside influences. One person has more talents, another a lot of energy, yet another a good support system. It’s hard to know how we’re doing. Words were invented to describe how people avoid making these self judgment calls – such as rationalization, denial, self-deception.

And of course, there’s a lot more at stake than a job. We’re talking afterlife and eternity. We’re talking about living up to potential, making a mark, making the most of our lives.
Don’t you want to know how you measure up?

I Made a Shiduch

2007-01-07T20:16:00.000-05:00

I made a shiduch. To those of you who don’t know what that is, a shiduch is a match. And in this case, happily, a love match. Given that blogworld has its own time space continuum, this could have happened 2 days ago or 2 months ago. No matter.
I’m elated. I’ve tried before, and I continue to try to think of people to put together, but this is the first one where I’ve been involved from beginning to end. It’s been said that if you make 3 matches you go straight to heaven. But that’s not why I try. It’s such a feeling of accomplishment – to know that you’ve made two people happy and forestalled them from the suffering involved in the search. To know that future generations that come from this union will exist partially because of you.
I am under no illusion that this was my doing. I was the messenger…the conduit. But I’m pleased to be the messenger for happy tidings.

The Talmud says that when a man is created, it’s announced in heaven who will be the match for that person. To me this seems like a tease. If it’s already been pre-ordained, then why not just provide us with matching name tags when we’re born.
It would make life so much easier.
My guess is that if we were handed our mates on a silver platter, we wouldn’t appreciate them as much. Therefore we have to put in the effort to find the right one.
As this was a modern day shiduch, it was aided by the use of technology – replete with text messaging and emails. I still have the first email where he said he had a good time and wanted to see her again. I’ve saved the text message where she repeated the sentiment.
They make a beautiful pair k”ah. G-d willing they should always be happy and that I have a hand in many more successful matches.

Decisions Decisions

2006-09-22T09:35:00.000-04:00

This may not be a very original thought, but I got to thinking that really life is actually a never ending series of decisions. At any given moment, whether consciously or subconsciously, we are choosing - how to spend our time, how to spend our money.
Do you make a phone call, take a nap, visit the sick, clean the kitchen?
How do you respond to a comment? Do you raise your voice, or keep calm?
Do you buy expensive clothing, or give more money to charity?

Through all the minutiae of daily living, we’re constantly deciding between possibilities.

Some are dramatic choices – what seem like major life decisions. Some seem unimportant. Very often, you don’t see which road your choices have taken you down until you can look back. Look at the way your children have turned out. The house you’ve decorated. The skills you’ve mastered.

It’s a sobering thought, and not all that pleasant. Sort of like mortality. But it’s there.
Like going through a maze. You take a right turn, walk straight, make a left. When you exit, you know if you’ve been going in the right direction all along.

For the New Year, my wish to all of you is for health, happiness, prosperity and to make the right choices.

In Praise of Praise

2006-08-15T11:17:00.000-04:00

One day, an acquaintance of mine who had read some of my posts, sent me a lovely email praising my writing, character, demeanor and general wonderfulness. She is a very warm, generous, effusive person – so I took her comments with many grains of salt - but I have to say…it warmed my heart and made me feel good and appreciated. I printed out the note to keep with me and pull out once in a while to read if I’m feeling negative or down. And then I thought about it and decided to do the same for someone else. After all, it’s easy enough for me – a few words…a couple of written lines…how much effort would it take?
So I sent a note to someone I admire. She’s a consummate hostess, always inviting people for Shabbos. She has a beautiful home and family, a job, is perfectly turned out.
I told her some of the things that impressed me about her – her values, the ways she tries to help people, her heart. She was overwhelmingly grateful! This person who I thought was so confident and secure was so happy to hear that someone noticed and appreciated her efforts.
Then I tried it again. I spoke to a business contact. Someone who is at a very high level, very accomplished and earns a lot of money. I told him that some people who had worked with him in the past spoke highly of him and said that he was great to work with.
To my astonishment, he practically started crying. He explained that over the years in his career, people had come and gone…and he never knew if there was any real connection and how they felt about him.
In my life and in my work I come in contact with some extraordinarily gifted and bright people – people who are successful by every measurable benchmark. And yet I find, when you dig a little deeper, everyone is grateful for validation or a kind word. Scratch the surface, and there’s a morass of insecurities beneath the most confident looking person. People want to know that they’re well liked. That they’re making a contribution.
It requires so little effort - a little praise of the right sort. But like a gift, it has to be well chosen. You have to determine what’s important for that person to hear.
“Words that come from the heart, enter the heart.” Try it out. Make someone’s day.

Compassion - Nature or Nurture

2006-07-16T18:32:00.000-04:00

Compassion – defined as a deep awareness and sympathy for another’s suffering.
Why are some people more compassionate than others?

I postulate that there are 3 ways to acquire compassion.

It’s innate – you’re born with it. You can see it in the schoolyard. A child falls or is picked on by a bully, and another runs over to help or defend him. The other kids continue playing, blithely unaware, while this one sympathetic soul is moved to act.

It’s taught. Some parents teach compassion while raising their children. They have many guests for Shabbos – people who would otherwise be alone. Perhaps they’ll volunteer for a charitable cause, or visit the sick and elderly.

And then there’s a third way –
The person undergoes some sort of suffering, and it makes him/her more sympathetic to another’s suffering. Often, these are the most sensitive and compassionate people.
I find this very interesting. You would think that it would be the person who has it good in life. That this person would recognize his good fortune and have the clarity of thought, peace of mind, and energy to be able to feel for and help others.
And yet…
Often it’s the person of meager means who is the first to stretch out his hand when he sees a beggar.
It’s (heaven forbid) the parents whose child has an illness, who then try to alleviate suffering for other children and become active in organizations which help them.
They recognize the pain because they’ve been introduced to it. It might otherwise never have crossed their minds.
The person who’s never had to struggle in school, who aced all his exams…isn’t aware (or doesn’t think about) the ones who study for hours on end without making a dent in the material.
The girl who gets married at nineteen with ease, won’t understand why someone else might have trouble meeting the right person and will date for years on end.

Sometimes we’re given troubles so that we can realize our potential.
It’s like exercising a muscle. The more you use it, the more empathic you become.

But the best is not to have to suffer to learn compassion, but to be compassionate because it’s the right thing. Because it’s the human thing.

Gym Rat

2006-07-03T15:45:00.000-04:00

It’s interesting how so many things you do as a child carry through to adulthood.
Since I’ve been a kid, I’ve always had my nose in a book. Most of my notes from school were covered with doodles (mostly geometric shapes that had people suggesting I send them in for analysis), and I do that to this day on my notes at work.
And I’ve always made lists. There’s the never ending to do list – just when you think you’ve knocked off the most pressing ones, others come to take their place.
And then there’s the other list – of goals, things I’d like to accomplish.
Right now one of my goals is to work out regularly. I don’t just want to exercise. I want to be buff, toned, at my peak of physical fitness. Yeah right. I just want to look good.
So I joined a gym.
The problem with a gym is that it’s inconvenient. You have to travel there, change, exercise, shower and then go home. This is usually after a long day’s work, or early in the morning, when you’d really rather be doing something else. But I’ve tried going it alone, and that hasn’t worked out really well.
I hired a trainer for one session to set up an individualized workout plan for me. And she did. The only problem is, I don’t like working out by myself. I find it boring and lonely. Whether it’s the treadmill or an exercise video, I just don’t feel motivated. I don’t push myself as hard. If I’m feeling a little out of breath or tired, I’ll stop.
I decided that I needed the classes – I needed to be around people.
I also have a friend who’s my workout partner, which makes the experience more pleasant. I know that she’s counting on me to be there, so I’ll make sure to go, even if I’m not in the mood.
If I’m in a class with 20 women, I may stare at the clock, wanting the 45 minute grueling session to be over. But I won’t walk out of the room, even if I feel like I can’t take another minute of it. I won’t wimp out.
The same thing happens each time. I’m tired – it’s after work or it’s early on a Sunday. I have to force myself to go. I start the class and it’s difficult to get moving. But then I pick up the energy from the others. The pounding music, the synchronized steps, the instructor cheering us on.
I furtively look around the room…checking out how I compare against the others. I quickly pass over the ones who are obviously out of shape and zone in on the perfect bodies. Those are the ones I want to emulate.
We do a kickboxing class and it’s tough. I gaze at the clock – 15 minutes, now 30…only 15 left. Finally I get to the end of the class and the cool down stretching period. Yes! And then my workout buddy suggests a toning class. Another class?!
This class is especially punishing. Endless repetitions with weights and a body bar. First you do some squats, then go lower, then hold for a count of 10, then still lower.
I know all the words – biceps, triceps, quads, obliques.
I work out a couple of days in a row.
Two days later I’m really sore. It feels good in a way, but it really hurts. I flex my arms and although it’s just been a couple of weeks, I can already feel some extra definition.

Actually, I’m thinking about going right now. I feel the push-pull. I’m trying to ignore the little voice that tells me to relax and save it for another time. Then I think about my bathing suit, and quickly get moving.

(Frum) Working Girl

2006-06-21T08:30:00.000-04:00

I am the only Orthodox Jewish person in my office, and for many of my colleagues (many of whom are Jewish), the only Orthodox person they’ve ever come in close contact with in their lives.
It keeps me on my toes. I never preach religion, but I’m conscious of the impression I give – whether it’s how I conduct myself in business, or my interactions with my fellow workers.

Whenever someone approaches me with a certain look in their eyes, a certain expression, I know it’s going to be about something Jewish.
Sometimes it’s informative. They’ll tell me about a Broadway show, a movie or a book with a Jewish theme. Perhaps they’ve seen an article in the newspaper. Or it might be about something interesting they’ve encountered – like when my boss told me about a woman at the gym who worked out wearing a skirt and shirt with long sleeves.
Other times it’s to ask me questions. They’re very curious about the rules - the way I dress, what’s allowed and what’s not, keeping kosher and what it means.

Everyone’s respectful. The men might tease me or compliment my hair or outfits, but it’s always within limits and they know not to touch me. It turns out that before I started, one of my colleagues (who has since become a friend) was worried that she wouldn’t be able to kid around, that I would be very serious - so I think it came as a relief to her that I have a sense of humor and I’m “normal”.
Another friend in the office always makes sure to check for the kosher sign when she buys snacks, so I can have some. When they ordered a cake for her birthday, she said she didn’t want one unless it was something I could eat. She (and others) go out to lunch with me at kosher restaurants.

The Jewish people sometimes ask me questions on philosophy or Halacha (Jewish law).
I’ve become the de facto “Rabbi” and of course I get to explain what each holiday is about.
Sometimes it provides an opportunity to do good. When one woman’s mother passed away, I asked her if anyone was going to say Kaddish. Initially she said no. A few minutes later she came back to me and tearfully asked if I could possibly get someone to take care of it. I made a few phone calls, and a very devoted Rabbi (whom I was able to reach on vacation on his cell phone) made the requisite arrangements.
Another time someone asked for words of comfort. Her father was very ill and it was hard for her to watch him suffer. I discussed the concept of our short time span on this world and the rewards in the world to come. She looked at me in astonishment and asked – we believe in an afterlife? I thought that was a Catholic belief.

Most of the time, my religiousness doesn’t come into play. I can talk about business, pop culture, family. There’s not much about the way I look that sets me apart. I don’t think that people are consciously aware of it.
But in the back of my mind, I suppose that I’m always aware to some extent. I feel like I’m a representative and I’d better not fall down on the job.

Throwing Good Money After Bad

2006-06-13T20:51:00.000-04:00

Why is it that we have such a hard time letting go of things that are clearly not working?
Whether it’s an investment, a job or a relationship, cutting your losses and moving on can be so difficult.
An extreme case is the gambler, who keeps betting and losing while his resources dwindle…hoping against hope that the next throw of the dice will turn things around. But even for the healthier individual, we can often stay in situations that have turned sour, long past the time we should have left.
Why are we so invested in keeping the status quo? Perhaps it’s ego. You’ve made what you thought was a sound decision, so saying it’s not viable means that you were wrong, and that can be hurtful and hard to accept. It’s also painful to acknowledge the time and energy wasted.

If it’s a relationship, you may choose to dwell in the past - and whatever fond memories you have can be more real than what’s actually taking place currently. You may recall snippets of conversation, moments of bliss and connection, rather than focusing on negative behavior and irresolvable conflicts.

Is it wishful thinking? Is it the unwillingness to let go of hope?
Admitting that you’ve made a mistake means that you have to start all over again. You have to muster the optimism and the fortitude to begin anew, to make yourself vulnerable once again, to take a chance.
It ain’t easy...but it’s better than throwing good money after bad.

Instant Message?

2006-05-23T22:47:00.000-04:00

I recently discovered that Gmail (Google’s email service) retains a history of chat sessions. What this means is that every time you IM someone within Gmail, that whole conversation is stored on file – and it’s available to both the parties involved in the chat. I was very taken aback when I realized this. I suppose that I view instant messaging as a sort of phone call that you type. We don’t expect our phone calls to be recorded, and likewise I don’t expect my instant messages to be retrievable. The whole thing seems very Orwellian to me, and a bit frightening. IM is transient by its nature – spontaneous, fun, not very thought out. If I knew that every nonsensical, whimsical thing I sent was going to be saved, that would probably make the conversations much more inhibited.
One might argue that if you’re going to be embarrassed by something you wrote, you shouldn’t be writing it in the first place….but I think that context is important. Conversations that look odd or inappropriate three months down the road, might have made perfect sense at the time they took place – given the atmosphere, the feel of the moment, the rapport between the two individuals. In a perfect world, all our words would be measured, all our sayings apt, every punctuation mark in the correct place. But it’s not a perfect world and we are imperfect beings. Must we record it all?

I Love the Banter

2006-05-17T15:58:00.000-04:00

I love the banter
The back and forth, witty repartee
Exhilarating, exciting
Male female
That rarity in a world full of people
Someone who gets you and responds
Intelligence, humor, quickness
More of a buzz than a drink
It’s not character
It’s not values
It’s not the basis of a solid relationship
But it’s heady stuff
Wish I could bottle it

I Got Tagged

2006-04-28T15:34:00.000-04:00

Didn't think it would happen to me...but I got tagged by David, so here goes:

Accent: Southern – Hi Y’all. J/K.

Booze: Am trying to develop more sophisticated taste in wine...but I have to admit, I still like ‘em semi sweet.

Chore I Hate: Paper work. That’s why I have most of my bills automatically deducted.

Dogs: Love dogs. Don’t know how that is given my upbringing. All my friends used to (and probably still) cross the street when they’d see a dog.

Essential Electronics: Computer. Cell phone.

Favorite Perfume/Cologne: Allure – Chanel, Jessica McClintock. I really like Creed but I don’t own it (hint, hint)

Gold/Silver: Types of metals..? Gold, diamonds, jewelry…I like them

Hometown: No comment

Insomnia: Yup. And then I check out blogs and email.

Job Title: The title’s not important – it’s the money that counts, lol

Kids: I don't have any, but I love kids.

Living Arrangements: Pretty

Most Admired Trait: Warmth, friendliness

Number of sexual partners: Hey

Overnight Hospital Stays: Some – mostly staying with sick patients

Phobia: Heights. A bit

Quote: You never know what you’ll get unless you ask for it (I think I made that up, but it's true - no guts, no glory)

Religion: Jewish (FFB)

Siblings: More than 1

Time I usually wake up: 7:00

Unusual Talent: I can say the ABC backwards, really quickly – I came up with this in the 8th grade for some bizarre reason, and I’m the only one I know who can do it

Vegetable I refuse to eat: none

Worst Habit: ummm procrastinating? Daydreaming? Correcting pronunciation (I try to hold myself back but sometimes it’s hard)

X-Rays: Amazing invention when you think about it

Yummy Foods I make: Everything I make is yummy

Zodiac Sign: I won’t list it here, but if you email me I’ll tell you

I tag - therabbiskid, yakki, josh, cloojew

Say a Little Prayer

2006-04-23T23:07:00.000-04:00

There are times when I pray for something very specific, and that prayer gets answered. It’s obvious to me that I’m getting what I asked for, because of the details…the exact match. I’m not saying I have special powers. I also don’t do it too often. I’m wary of trying to guide things too minutely. We’re warned against doing that for fear we’ll ask for the wrong things. Be careful what you wish for we’re told – whether it’s a particular guy, a job, or even sometimes making it on time for the plane trip. G-d has a plan and he knows what’s best for us. So of course we pray for things, but we usually make the prayers general – please help me find my mate (the right one, the right time, but never give a name), please help me with earning a living (not how much, not in which way).
But sometimes, I need something – whatever it is…and it speaks out from me – almost involuntarily. And it gets granted. And when I receive, I feel this connection…a happy state…a feeling of hopefulness. A feeling of belief and trust. I try to carry this feeling with me, for the next time I have some doubts or feel down. I know G-d’s out there, watching my back – even if I’m not privy to the details.

Layers

2006-03-30T17:50:00.000-05:00

When I first meet people in real life (as opposed to blog life) I generally try to keep things light. I make jokes, I’m outgoing, entertaining. I’m very sensitive to body language and facial expressions, and I want to make sure the other person isn’t bored. I’m an observer – always watching how people speak, what they say, how they act.

I’ve noticed something interesting after writing here for a while.
The very things that I’m wary of exposing in real life, are the same things that my fellow bloggers seem to value – i.e. depth, analysis, intelligence…the heavy stuff.

When you’re writing, you’re not worried about what people will think or what their impression is of you. You don’t have to look anyone in the face, don’t have to pick up on their nuances or potential rejection or boredom. You don’t wonder (if you’re female – and sorry for being sexist) if you’re coming across as too clever or intimidating. You please yourself….and in the process probably attract people more – because you’re being natural and true without artifice. In general, I think, when people get to know you through your writing, they are getting to know you in a more profound way.

Although perhaps the same people who are drawn to writing blogs are by definition the more analytical, thoughtful, deep type. Or perhaps I’m misjudging the ones I meet in person. Who knows what layers are hidden beneath the surface?

The Best Laid Plans...

2006-03-09T19:26:00.000-05:00

Most of the time if I have to choose between a book or the movie version, I’ll choose the book. One exception for me was Sense and Sensibility. I like Jane Austen a lot (read Pride and Prejudice 4 times) but this book was so plodding and hard to get through, that I put it down after a few pages and never finished. The movie version, however, was done very well (screenplay adaptation by the actress Emma Thompson, if anyone cares to know) and there’s one scene in particular that’s stayed in my mind.
This man Henry Dashwood has a son from a first marriage, a second wife and three daughters. The story is set in England in the late eighteenth century, where primogeniture (whereby the eldest son inherits the entire estate) was the law of the land. As the movie opens, Mr. Dashwood is on his deathbed and has sent for his son, in order to express his final wishes. He asks him to take care of his (second) wife and daughters, and the son who has been amply provided for, readily agrees. After all, not only will he inherit his father’s estate, but he’s already inherited a substantial amount from his mother and further increased his considerable wealth through his marriage. In his mind, he determines that he will give his half sisters three thousand pounds – a thousand pounds a piece.

After the funeral, he discusses his plans with his wife, the evil Fanny. I remember the scene – the two of them in a carriage driving through the beautiful English countryside - the contrast between the lovely scenery and the sinister conversation making its impact.
She protests against his “overly generous” impulse. Why such a large sum? They can manage quite well on half. Why take the money away from their son? They are not his real blood after all. She proceeds to give reason after reason why he should reduce the amount, until she’s whittled it down to nothing and his sisters are left poverty stricken.

Such is life. How great the plans, how inspired the ideas, how generous the spirit….we are all charitable in our minds. We all mean well. But then when it comes to the execution – how often do our efforts fall short.

My 15 Minutes of Fame

2006-02-14T10:53:00.000-05:00

A while back I went to visit cousins out of town for a weekend. They have 3 little girls and at the time they were 8, 6 and 4 years old. I’m still not sure why, but from the minute I stepped through the doorway, they attached themselves to me and barely left my side for the rest of my stay.
They followed me around and watched my every move.
When I went into the bathroom to get ready for a date Saturday night, they followed me and crowded around the vanity.
“What’s that?” chirped a high pitched voice. Mascara
“What’s that?” Moisturizer. “What’s it for?” To keep your skin smooth.
I explained each item and its use as I put it on.
They watched spellbound.

They were enchanted with everything – my makeup, my clothing, my jewelry.
I suppose that their mother (who is naturally pretty but doesn’t fuss with her looks) doesn’t spend much time on these things so it was all fascinating to them.
I had to (with their mother’s permission) put some makeup on all of them and do their nails.

At the meals we had to make schedules of who was going to sit next to me at which meal, since there were 3 of them and only 2 seats next to me.
On the way to shul (synagogue) they had to hold my hands.
Get this – the two little actually ones pulled up chairs in my room to watch me while I took my nap Shabbos afternoon.
I felt like a rock star. I’m not sure why they reacted this way….perhaps because I paid attention to them.
They were all very cute - beautiful and charming little girls who will no doubt grow up to be heartbreakers, and it was fun to spend time with them - although, had my visit been longer, I’m sure I wouldn’t have had as much patience. I told them stories, I taught them songs, we played games.

Before I left, they drew me pictures to take home…pretty things with hearts and I love you written over them.
I guess I got to experience my 15 minutes of fame. Everyone should have a chance at some unconditional adulation at least once in a while.

Poetry Progression

2006-02-06T23:20:00.000-05:00

I’ve always liked to write poems. I got my start in the 4th grade. Actually, I’m pretty sure it was the third grade, but since I don’t have documented evidence, and given the James Frey scandal, I’ll stay on the safe side and say it was 4th.
My teacher gave us an assignment to write a poem about pollution.
Here was mine:

Land pollution, land pollution
Where does it all go?
It goes into the streets where people walk to and fro
Pollution is bad
It makes people sick
But people don’t care
To pollution they stick
If people would just try to clean up the dirt
Then not so many people would get hurt
There’s dirt on the ground and everywhere
Because people big and small throw it there
--------------------------------
There’s more along these lines, but you get the gist
Not bad for an 8 or 9 year old

As time went on, I wrote little poems and songs to entertain my friends. I was called on to write the color war songs in camp and in school.
One time, a friend and I were passing notes back and forth during class – this was 12th grade. They were all in rhyme…and I thought hers were awful. We sort of ranked each other out (all in fun of course).
When I wrote this one, I won our little competition:

Don’t you know Esther dear
That in the western hemisphere
There is no one (as old as you)
Who writes precisely the way you do

Your poetry has much appeal
To baboons, raccoons, perchance a seal
The world’s not ready for talent so unique
It makes people faint and squeal and shriek

And so I humbly beg and implore
That if the will to write comes to the fore
Don’t knock upon a door that’s ope’
But do as we all pray and hope

Just walk right in and slam it to
I have supplied a lock for you
There you can write your very best
And when your pen is laid to rest

Don’t risk the world’s contempt and ire
Just throw your trash into the fire

More time passed. My friends and I started dating.
One of my friends had a poor dating experience and was a little ticked off at guys. She asked me to write something about men and shopping.
Note: I like men, so please take this in the lighthearted manner in which it was intended.

I much prefer shopping to men
When I buy things on sale it’s so Zen
Men tell you lies
Make you wish their demise
And act not their age but like ten

When I buy a new dress or a coat
Aggravation you see, is remote
Makes me feel like a queen
As I model and preen
When I walk out the store, I float

Yes I know that shopping costs money
But so do most good things honey
Better pay for some shoes
Than let boyfriends abuse
Your trust in some ways not too funny

Guys are hard to figure out
Don’t speak their minds but they pout
All the good ones are married
And the ones that have tarried
Are nothing to write home about

Reinventing the Wheel

2006-01-30T21:10:00.000-05:00

I read an article recently about a seasoned doctor named Michael Barrett, who was dissatisfied with the way the younger doctors were being trained to use stethoscopes. Apparently, as with so many things in the internet/technology age, the new generation of doctors is more apt to order expensive computerized scans to make their diagnoses, instead of listening to sounds through a stethoscope, because they haven’t had enough practice in doing so. He reasoned that if they could hear the different types of heart rhythms repeatedly, they could develop the expertise required. He therefore took it upon himself (with the help of his young nephew) to record and transfer these sounds to mp3 files so they could download them to their ipods. The result was that his students were now able to reliably identify different types of heart murmurs 89% of the time, as opposed to 39%.

Here’s what I learned from this story: 1) There are still plenty of new things left to invent
2) Sometimes, a relatively simple idea can effect a great deal of change

Most of us want to make our mark in this world, but we think we’re too insignificant and we can’t come up with any groundbreaking ideas. However, I propose that we take baby steps. What everyone needs to do, in their own little space (their dalid amos), is to look around and say what small thing can I do to make a difference? Where can I add value?

Remember, until relatively recently, we all lugged around unwieldy and heavy suitcases…until someone came up with the bright idea of adding wheels and a pullout handle.
Why don’t you give it a shot and try to reinvent the wheel in your own way?

Trust in Blogworld

2006-01-20T12:37:00.000-05:00

As I get deeper and deeper into the labyrinth that is the blogosphere, I encounter ever new and intriguing situations. After posting on my blog and writing comments on others’, it appears that I’ve inadvertently fleshed out a personality, as have the other blogggers. I’ve gotten to know quite a few of them pretty well. Each has a distinct “voice” and style. You pick up tidbits about their lives. After a while, it seems, it’s only natural for fellow bloggers to want to reach out and make contact; and therein lies the rub. How much do you want to reveal to someone you’ve never met? If someone has told you their name, their occupation or other personal details, it seems churlish not to reciprocate.
But how much can you trust a stranger? After all, if you’re blogging under a pseudonym, you want to retain that anonymity for yourself, and once you’ve revealed details, there’s always a chance you’ll be unmasked. You don’t really know these people, only virtually. It’s all about instinct. Do you go with your gut or proceed with caution?

Can Anyone Recommend a Good Book?

2006-01-14T23:58:00.000-05:00

Dating Stories

2006-01-08T20:22:00.000-05:00

As a couple of people have noted here, I took a slight hiatus from blogging for the past couple of months. I guess I was preoccupied; with work, with home and…dating. In particular, I dated one guy who looked promising, the subject of this story. Let’s call him the Renaissance Man.
He seemed to have a lot going for him. He was learned in Jewish studies (had learned in the best yeshivas out of town and in Israel, was considered Rosh Yeshiva material at one time), he was very educated secularly as well and successful in his chosen field, he had a personality, was very generous on dates and in particular, seemed very “into” me. Not that I care at all for stuff like this, but the amount he spent on our first 2 dates alone could probably feed a small family for a couple of weeks.
He was very liberal with compliments - I would blush to repeat them because they would make me sound completely immodest, but suffice it to say that I was compared to Uma Thurman (don’t look at all like her), Charlize Theron (I WISH), Meg Ryan (maybe that’s the closest but please don’t run up to Meg look-alikes in the street and ask them if they’re Mata Hari)….but you get the gist; he thought I was pretty, smart, nice, blah blah blah
We emailed from work – witty little notes that put a smile on my face, and presumably on his as well because he told me that he loved my emails. And the icing on the cake - he actually knew the names of the Three Musketeers – a nice surprise for a big reader like me.
Now, I was by no means ready to marry this guy (or even close). There were a couple of things I found a little disquieting and I felt that I needed to get to know him better to find out if they were real issues. I also felt that I wasn’t getting to see the real person, that he was putting on a bit of a show, but I hoped that spending more time together would let us both let down our guards and act more natural.
On our last date (a long one as usual – he had a tendency to keep extending them) we had a very pleasant time. We were at a restaurant with a tablecloth you could draw on and I asked him to draw me a picture. In about 5 minutes he drew 2 well executed, interesting pictures, with captions (hence the reason for dubbing him Renaissance Man – was there anything the man couldn’t do well?). After we left the restaurant and had been talking for a while, I brought up a topic which I had been dreading to mention – that I knew his ex. Even though she and I hadn’t discussed him and though we weren’t best friends, I thought that it would be deceptive if I never even mentioned that I knew her. Well…this didn’t go over very well. Apparently it brought up some bad memories and it took him a while to calm down and for our conversation to get back to normal. But we did leave off on a positive note and I expected that we would get together the following Saturday night (this was Thursday) as we had discussed.
Well…it’s Saturday night and no word from him. I called and left a message asking if we were still on, but never heard back. And still haven’t heard from him, a few weeks later. For a few minutes I actually thought that something might have happened to him, but I had someone check in with him and it turned out that he was alive, not in a hospital, and did not have amnesia.
I started doing some in-depth research, finding out who his friends were and calling them. Apparently, this behavior wasn’t out of character for him. For one thing, he seemed to get cold feet whenever things looked like they might be getting serious. For another, he didn’t seem to have a sense of responsibility or accountability – hence no phone call, not even an email to say sorry and have a nice life.
So though there’s part of me that’s thankful that things hadn’t progressed further, there’s also a part of me that wants revenge. Well, not exactly revenge per se, but more like I’d like a little of my own back. I want to teach this guy that he can’t mess with me (or other women) without consequences. I want him to know that there is accountability. But I have no idea how to go about it. Any suggestions?

War Stories

2006-01-04T10:37:00.000-05:00

I’ve read countless books on the Holocaust, at once repelled and at the same time morbidly fascinated and unable to stop. The following story was told to me by a relative and I’ve thought about it often. It underscores in a very dramatic way the futility of making plans and how little we understand which events in life are actually good or bad.
It was 1940 and Hitler and Stalin had formed a non-aggression pact, in order to gain time to garner forces since they weren’t yet prepared to go to war with each other. They had split up Poland between themselves, so that the western part of Poland up until Lvov belonged to Germany, and the Eastern part up to the Ukraine to Russia.
The family I’m writing about had been displaced when the Germans conquered their city in western Poland. They had fled to the east, and for a year had been living with the husband’s family in a small town near the Ukrainian border.
And now, this family was being sent to Siberia.
It was summer in Poland. They didn’t have much in the way of warm clothing….certainly no down coats, furs, boots or cashmere – what you would most likely take along if you were going to Siberia. They quickly packed what they could, and tried to layer on as many clothes as possibly, in order to prepare for the cold.
As they were led away, their parents and the people of the small town walked with them, weeping. No one had ever come back from Siberia. All were sure they would never see them again.
Siberia was no picnic. The time passed into months and years. The clothes they had brought, meager as they were, wore to rags. The conditions were primitive. Many families lived in one barrack with no walls between them; no privacy. The little girl who slept next to the wall every night, woke up to find her arm frozen to the wall. Her father had to hack off the ice each day so she could move.
Any sort of utensil or facsimile of a pot or bowl was precious. They were required to do difficult and dangerous physical labor. They were forced to put out forest fires that sprang up by beating back the fire with tree branches. A Russian commandant would be stationed on a horse nearby, and force them closer and closer to the fire, so that their hair would get singed from the flames. There are countless stories I could tell – how the father cut a hole in the roof in order to celebrate Succos…..how he started a cheder for the boys, although he knew the penalty was death.
Their other companions were political prisoners, who it seemed were there for life. One was a former Dutchess who served in the kitchen. She always admonished them to settle down and stop dreaming of liberation...that no one ever left Siberia.
She was wrong. The day came when the family was liberated.
After they were liberated, the daughter wrote to one of her friends from the small town they had left so long ago, to find out what had happened to her relatives and all the others. The answer came back, short, callous, brutal – they were all gassed.

The ultimate irony, all those who had wept for them had perished, and the family that went to Siberia survived.

Finding Your Calling

2005-11-07T13:40:00.000-05:00

I read a fascinating book by Po Bronson called “What Should I do with my Life?”. The premise was that he interviewed 900 people in a variety of occupations ranging from ballerina to investment banker, to find out how they chose their careers. These were all people who had been, or were still, looking for their “true calling”. This is a subject which has always intrigued me, as I’ve been on the lookout for my true calling for most of my life. Meaning…what job will utilize my unique attributes and give me satisfaction and allow me to make the greatest impact and contribution. People who have found this type of work often achieve a state called “flow”..where they become so absorbed and focused on what they’re doing that the hours seem to whiz by. The question for me is twofold. 1- how does someone find the work that they are uniquely suited for, given their talents and temperament? and 2- in some ways related, what makes some people move forward with their ideas or “brainstorms” while others settle back on their (metaphorical) couches and continue surfing channels with the remote?
What made Einstein or Edison achieve what they did? There are plenty of brainy, talented people who never make a mark and who settle for the job that will put bread on the table and give them a place to go in the morning.
Why did Raoul Wallenberg, a successful Swedish businessman - decide to endanger his life and travel to Budapest in ’44 to save jewish lives? Many others felt terrible about the devastating situation at the time. I’m certain that there were those who were in a position to at least try to do something to help. Why him?

What gives one person the ability to “just do it” as Nike says. What personality trait does it take?
Is it energy? confidence?
Conversely, for the ones (most of us I’m afraid) who don’t…. is it laziness? inertia? fear of failure?
And if so, how do we overcome it?

It’s trite I know, but we get one shot at this life. How to make the most of it and fulfill our destinies – there’s the challenge.

Buy Yourself a Friend

2005-10-24T10:11:00.000-04:00

Whatever I may have done, or not done in my life, one of the things I can point to with pride is the quality and caliber of my friends.

Someone once told me that Hashem makes shiduchim not only of the male/female variety but also for business partnerships and for friendships. And in the latter case I feel unequivocally blessed. Each one of my friends is someone to admire - accomplished, bright, capable, attractive, funny, good character, good heart.

I won’t take credit for it, although I do admit to having good taste.
They range – decorators, psychologists, lawyers, computer techies, full time home makers, married, single. I keep picking up new ones along the way, so I now have a mélange. For one thing, it keeps life interesting; for another, there’s a pal for each activity I like.

There’s the singing friend. Okay, it may sound hokey, but when we drove to Cape Cod we spent a huge chunk of the trip harmonizing to both Jewish and English songs.
I was in heaven. What can I say…that’s my idea of fun.

Another close friend – really my female soul mate, is also an avid reader. Back in high school we had the day off and took the train into the city. Along the way we read a book, together. It was the wonderful O by James Thurber. To give you a glimpse – in this kingdom, the letter O was abolished so that a man named Otto Ott when asked his name could but stutter. This totally cracked us up and for years after we would quote it.

I have a friend for biking, one for walking, one to discuss dates with ad nauseum.
She never gets bored of hearing my stories and most importantly, thinks every guy wants me and whoever doesn’t has something wrong with him.

I have a decorator friend with an amazing eye who is helping me pick out things for my new apartment. We did have a slight disconnect about how much to spend, but she soon got me to see things her way.

When my married friends invite me for Shabbos, they make me feel like I’m the one doing them the biggest favor. They’ll call and say - I know you get booked up quickly, so can I reserve you for next Shabbos?

I have friends who have gotten married and moved out of the neighborhood. They repeatedly ask me to stay over for a weekend. When they invite me for Shabbos, they treat me like a princess. They put out chocolates, bottled water, fruit. My friend’s husband asked her to bake an apple pie because he could picture me enjoying it with tea Friday night (I kid you not).

My friends inspire me, they comfort me, they support me. I love them and I’m grateful to have them in my life.

To Blog or not to Blog

2005-10-14T01:49:00.000-04:00

I was introduced to the world of blogging quite by accident. Someone I dated had (through some detective work) unearthed a blog which was anonymously authored by a friend of his. I checked it out, found it interesting, and was moved to comment on some of the posts. Well as anyone who's been doing this for even a little while knows - you start reading other peoples' comments, and in turn checking their blogs...a recursive (computer term, you can google it) process which can leave you obsessively flicking from one blog to another...checking out new posts, comments and often explosive dialogue. I was more than a little fascinated, and as this came along at a somewhat uneventful (ok, boring) point in my life...and having always been a frustrated writer, I decided to try my hand at it. What a kick! I got to express myself, people read what I wrote, and I got instant feedback. I was hooked.

But then I started telling some of my friends about this other dimension I'd discovered, and they expressed concern. One friend (my best friend for years mind you, who has always vouched for my sterling character - you know who you are G.) murmured that she thought the unabomber had started off as a blogger.
Another was aghast at the subject matter covered in some of the blogs. She felt that I (pure soul that I am) shouldn't be "wading in muddy water" and that they were voyeuristic, exhibisionist, and a bunch of other negative adjectives which I can't recall just now.
Yet a third was critical of the time wasted. A valid point I'll admit - but everyone's gotta have a hobby, right?

So now I'm left to ponder...to blog or not to blog? Any thoughts on the subject are of course very welcome. You know I'll be checking back here frequently to see what you all have to say.

Countdown to Rosh Hashanah

2005-09-22T12:00:00.000-04:00

Yikes! Slichos is coming up Motzei Shabbos. That means it’s really, really close to Rosh Hashanah. I don’t feel prepared. On the one hand, I know there are a lot of things I can improve on. I don’t wait till Rosh Hashanah to do a cheshbon hanefesh (self evaluation). I pretty much think about it every day. And in my assessment, I usually come up short. I feel I’m too lazy, not accomplishing enough, not using my potential. Of course…I do set a pretty high bar….but that’s where I come from – both through upbringing and through my friends who all tend to be over-achievers. But on the other hand, (and I know this is wrong) I sort of feel resentful. I mean…I’m better than a lot of people. I’m kind, I’m friendly, usually cheer people up. I work hard, I do chesed, I dress properly. And I pray a lot – for important things for myself and my family – and those prayers aren’t being answered. I know I know – no prayer goes to waste; g-d listens but he may not give you the answer you want; don’t give up, keep trying.
But the point is – how do I motivate myself to pray with all my energy, to be devout, to try to be a better person? They say to start with small changes. I never say brochos before eating in the morning. Darn it – I need that coffee first thing. So I will (bli neder) try to change this one thing. And then I’ll figure out what’s next.

I Enjoy Being a Girl

2005-09-21T17:25:00.000-04:00

It’s been mentioned (often gloatingly) that the male of our species has a much easier time getting ready to go out than the female. Women’s grooming habits are known to be time consuming, expensive and sometimes painful. Makeup, hair, shopping, and all the minutiae involved can make your head spin. Guys beat their chests, heave a sigh of relief….and thank the L-rd once again that they are not women. However…here’s a thought. If a guy isn’t naturally good looking with a full head of hair and great physique - there’s not that much he can do about it. He can try to lose a few pounds, dress a little snazzier, but that’s about all. He either has the raw material or not. Whereas a woman with some flaws has a lot to work with. Skimpy eyelashes, pale complexion, undereye circles? There’s mascara, blush, concealer. Frizzy, mousy hair – get $100 haircut, some highlights, professional blowout – and voila – shiny, chic and glamorous. Imperfect figure? No problem….you can dress to accentuate your waist and hide your legs or vice versa. Heels help with lack of height. What can short guys do? That’s right – nothing. Now of course I, Matahari, have no need for such subterfuge. But it’s nice to know it’s there to access if I want it. So you guys – yeah, it takes you only 10 minutes to get ready…but it’s the ladies who get to make the show stopping entrance. And that’s worth some extra time.