The Sack

חבר'ה, I've been booted out. Given the sack. Today is my last day in the miyun. As of sunday plastic surgery will benefit from my hard work. I'm not at all upset. I know I did nothing wrong and that the problem is not me and no one can convince me otherwise.
When Yahoo! called me to say he was proud I was his sister for all this, I thought, wow! I just got noticed. I just got fifteen minutes of fame. My brother, my big brother, is proud of me. It blew me away. It was just...wow, cool. My brother admires me for this. It's...amazing.
And then when I went home, Tsiona wanted to hear about my date, and just chat with me. I think she's beginning to like the idea of having a sister, albeit a younger one, close by.

MY Neverland

I just went to see "Finding Neverland" with Tess and Debs and decided to tell you all what my Neverland looks like.
All my siblings love me. And show it. Not just empty words. I get hugged. I'm not ignored. Everyone loves me. Everyone admires what I do, my unique passion for horses. I'm not talentless. People, family members especially, recognise my greatness with horses. I'm noticed. I don't have this strong repelling feeling towards any guy who wants me like is usually the case with someone out of my reach that comes within reach. Everyone is proud of me. No one makes fun that I love animals so much. No one raises an eyebrow or twirls a finger round their temple when I give love to My Baby or a rabbit, or a horse. I'm accepted for who I am. I feel loved. I don't feel ignored or abandoned. I feel like my older siblings now see me as an adult, and are able to (with no connection to that) pour out their love to me, even confide in me or share things with me, despite my being the younger sibling. I may be younger but my experience is no less than yours. I wish the same of all this for Aliza as well.
The pain I'm going through now is eased by the love and understanding of my siblings and those around me. ..

Blood, blood everywhere and not a drop to...spare?

I came out of a room from doing an EKG and there was a trail of blood, a puddle, and then a longer trail. Some guy fell on stairs and got a huge gash in his head. I got to clean his face and the rest of him from blood while they stitched him up. It was awesome! I never saw a gash so deep in my life, and after that, nothing will make me faint. It was really cool. Tons of blood, and-yeah, I think I'll stop right about here.
Oh, I got screwed over again. 4 nights in a row of evening shifts the second week running.

Just Venting

I don't get it. 8 hrs. are 8 hrs. what is so hard to understand there? Just because you get screwed over does not mean you need to screw over innocent bystanders. It's so annoying! One girl has something she just can't cancel, so she screws someone else. That someone else doesn't want to be screwed so they arrange something that can't be changed and screw the next girl over. And so on and so forth until it falls to me, and there's no one left to screw over. So I get screwed over by everyone. "What? I screw you over? Me? Now?" or, "Fine, you're going to be mad because I want to screw you over, fine. I'll be mad at you too."
Except when I want to "screw people over" because I have a therapy session to deal with them for, "Why can't you switch shifts with me? You're so mean!" " She's crying, she needs that shift, why can't you switch with her?"
Or, when it's about working on a Friday, the worst possible day no matter what time Shabbos comes in, "Come on, please switch with me, I need to go home." Funny how no one thinks, maybe this isn't good for Ayelet. Maybe this is a bad time, or, maybe I'll give her a break and not make her switch with me, again. Nope. Let's "unintentionally" dump it on Ayelet because she's the easiest to screw over. Except when I object, "Why can't you?" I become the bad guy for not being everyone's flunky or punching bag, yet that's exactly what I feel I'm forced into. Guys, if you comment, please, no cheap advice.

Words on a Shirt

A patient once came to the miyun, a teenager i think, and he had a great line on the back of his shirt that summed up what i feel towards the jewish orthodox way of thinking about boys and girls. it also summed up my opinion on what jews think a frum girl should do with her life. in a way it summed up what i think of people who judge me.
Okay, i won't leave you all in suspense anymore.
the shirt said "F--k the System".

Please Hear What I'm Not Saying

Please Hear What I'm Not Saying, by Charles C. Finn

Don't be fooled by me.
Don't be fooled by the face I wear.
For I wear a mask, a thousand masks,
masks that I'm afraid to take off,
and none of them is me.
Pretending is an art that's second nature with me,
but don't be fooled.
For God's sake don't be fooled.
I give you the impression that I'm secure,
that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well
as without,
that confidence is my name and coolness my game,
that the water's calm and I'm in command,
and that I need no one.
But don't believe me.
My surface may seem smooth but my surface is my mask,
ever-varying and ever-concealing.
Beneath lies no complacence.
Beneath lies confusion and fear and aloneness.
But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know it.

I panic at the thought my weakness and fear
being exposed.
That's why I frantically creat a mask to hide behind,
a momchalant sophisticated facade,
to help me pretend,
to shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation.
My only hope and I know it.
That is, if it's followed by acceptance,
if it's followed by love.
It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself,
from my own self-built prison walls,
from the barriers I so painstakingly erect.
It's the only thing that will assure me of what I can't
assure myself,
that I'm really worth something.
But I don't tell you this. I don't dare. I'm afraid to.
I'm afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance,
will not be followed by love.
I'm afraid you'll think less of me, that you'll laugh,
and your laugh would kill me.
I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing, that I'm just
no good,
and that you will see this and reject me.

So I play my game, my desperate pretending game,
with a facade of assurance without
and a trembling child within.
So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks,
and my life becomes a front.
I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk.
I tell you everything that's really nothing,
and nothing of what's everything,
of what's crying within me.
So whem I'm going through my routine,
do not be fooled by what I'm saying.
Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying,
what I'd like to be able to say,
what for survival I need to say,
but what I can't say.

I don't like to hide.
I don't like to play superficial phony games.
I want to stop playing them.
I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me,
but you've got to help me.
You've got to hold out your hand
even when that's the last thing I seem to want.
Only you can wipe away form my eyes the blank stare of the
breathing dead.
Only you can call me into aliveness.
Each time you're kind and gentle and encouraging,
each time you try to undersand because you really care,
my heart begins to grow wings,
very small wings,
very feeble wings,
but wings!
With your power to touch me into feeling
you can breathe life into me.
I want you to know that.

I want you to know how important you are to me,
how you can be a creator - a honest-to-God creator -
of the person that is me
if you choose to.
You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble,
you alone can remove my mask,
you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic
and uncertainty, form my lonely prison,
if you choose to.
Please choose to. Do not pass me by.
It will not be easy for you.

A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.
The nearer you approach to me
the blinder I may strike back.
It's irrational, but despite what the books say about man,
often I am irrational.
I fight against the very thing that I cry out for.
But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls,
and in this lies my hope.
Please try to beat down those walls
with firms hands
but with gentle hands
for a child is very sensitive.

Who am I, you may wonder?
I am someone you know very well.
For I am every man you meet
and I am every woman you meet.

Excerpt (from my journal)

8/1/05

...Why am I so lonely?
Why do I have to be so hungry for attention from guys?
I hate the neediness in me!
And I'm aware of the actions I do and the consequences to them but I do them anyway.
because my heart is bleeding and my soul is crying.
It's like fingers, clawing at my heart and insides.
And before the blood has time to stream,
the fingers claw again.
And again...
...What will be left of my heart when all this is over?
A hard, cold slab of iron?
Or...a heart that with each beat resonates depth, experience, strength...
everything I want to be.

Two-Ring Circus?

Well, Senioro Immaturo is out of the running - BY HIS OWN CHOICE!
I so saw this coming, just by the way.
After a week of no contact he called and said he didn't want it to continue the way it was before, as in, he's cool with the friendship but he openly admitted to no relationship. I covered up really well, I'm so proud of myself! He doesn't have a clue how much pain he caused me. Now that the truth I knew of from day 1 has been spoken, it's sad, but doesn't hurt. Oh well, there goes another one.