30 Pound Challenge

On May 4, my mother offered me a challenge, lose thirty lbs. by September, and she would take me to NY for a whole new wardrobe. I accepted. This past week, I met and surpassed the thirty pound weight-loss goal. I'm still losing, but don't worry, I'm not anorexic or anything like that, I figure when I plateau, I'll know I've reached my ideal weight. I'm sure you're wondering, "How'd she do it? Weight loss pills? A special diet? No, I made my own "diet" I just cut down on how much I was consuming, and I do an insane amount of exercie. Two and a half hours at the gym, 1500 crunches a day... it's hard work, but incredibly worth the effort. My mother, as well as other people say I should write a journal on how I did it, but a lot of it was not so much working on the weight as it was working on myself, resolving issues I hadn't even realized I had. I found out stuff about myself that surprised me, but that I worked on and then put behind me. After that, the weight loss was easy. I had been hiding behind my weight, eating for comfort, but now that I had confronted myself, I knew I could do it. It's been a long hard road, but totally worth it. This is for my mother, who pushed me and never gave up, and for my therapist and friend who helped me look inside myself. Thank you, without you, I would not be the person I am today.

Testsand Birthdays

Looking back at the last post, geez, did I really write that? My brain must have been completely fried, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Yesterday I took my second to last math test, and I think (hope) I did well on it. I have two classes left and then I am done! Yesterday was also my kitten's first birthday, it's hard to believe she's a year old already. It seems like it was only weeks ago that she was a small ball of fluff, trying to climb over her gate, now she's a bit bigger and bouncing all over the house, but she'll always be a kitten to me.

Once Upon A Time AKA Happily Ever After

All stories begin with "Once Upon A Time" but not all end "Happily Ever After." Take Hans Christian Anderson's 'The Little Mermaid', quite a depressing ending, unlike the Disney film. However, 'happily ever after' is a tale that has been fed to us since we were children, and even if as we grow up, we realize, "there is no happily ever after.' we still hope for it subconsciously. We search for ours, not ever even realizing it, searching for "the one" or that perfect moment where it feels like we've found it. And then it's lost, and we lose a little bit of our faith, and our innocence. And yet even though we go through this time and again, we still tell our children, "Once upon a time...and happily ever after." But perhaps we need this, we need our hope, our dream that a chance will come and we will get it, we will have our own little happy ending.

Note: I'm not sure what the point of this post is, I just felt like writing it. I spent the entire day studying math, I'm entitled to a bit of randomness.

Seminary Dreams

I've recently had a few dreams about going back to seminary. In the first one, I had to go back to seminary and retake all of my finals. I remember thinking in the dream, "what's the point? I've been out of seminary for two years!" In my other dream, I went back to seminary, but I forgot to pack anything! I had no clothes to change into, and I recall worrying that I had forgotten my cell-phone and my car keys at home. But I had them, and my car was there, so I went out driving with a few of my friends. Suddenly, I keep on getting cut off, I almost got into several accidents, and then I'm no longer driving my car, I'm playing a lego racing game, and I'm doing very badly, driving through walls, water, other cars... Another dream I had a while ago with seminary in it, I was in Isreal and I went to a pet store, and there were all these cute animals there, and I wanted to play with them. I have no idea why seminary is invading my dreams, but I'd like this to stop!

Vacation!

In a few weeks I'm going up to South Carolina with my mom and brother. We're not going to Hilton Head though, beacause all the hotels there were booked. So we'll be in Myrtle Beach instead, I haven't been there since I was a baby, and my brother never was there. I'm looking forward to it, it'll be a change of scenery, and my Algebra class will be over! However before that I have to last tests to take before my misery will end. Wish me luck, I'm gonna need it!

Achmed the Dead Terrorist

Home Sweet Home

It's good to be home again, and life resumes. Right after I got home, my mother asked me to go get her sheitals from local sheitel macher, and drop off her other sheitals to be cleaned. This morning, I was supposed to go to class, but my car battery died on me. So I had to get it replaced, and by the time that was finished, class was already over. So I went and ran some errands instead. Life just keeps going.and going, and going and going...(cue energizer bunny)
A couple of funny things happened to me over vacation. On...Thursday, I think it was, my mother calls me up and squeals, "Angelina had the babies!!" I'm thinking, "Angelina who? I don't know any Angelina...." Then it dawned on me. Of course, my mother was excited over Angelina Jolie giving birth. Why? I have no idea, that's just the way my mother is. So I tell her I have some exciting news of my own. I got into the University I had applied to two weeks prior. I asked her how that compared to Angelina's giving birth. "Close." she said. I laughed. Yet more proof that my family is a nut house.

Going Home

Tomorrow I'm heading home, back to Florida. While I'm kinda sad, since this means I have to go back to classes, and I'm gonna miss my friends. But on the other hand, I'm going to see my famioly and all of my animals again. I've missed them! We bought 7 Toes a new collar and tag, and he liked it so much, he apparently decided that he was now an indoor kitty. So he went into the house with my mother (she didn't notice) but on her way to her bedroom, she saw that all the animals were crowded around something in the living room. It was 7 Toes, and they were all sniffing him. Mittens was apparently grwoling at him, she was not happy about this invader. 7 Toes decided that indoors was not for him and he ran out. He came back later that evening though, but he had lost the collar. Which is a bit frustrating. So we need to get him a heavier collar that doesn't come off so easily. I did a little shopping while I was in Baltimore. Got earrings and a pretty dress...and books. Of course. I had nothing to read on the flight home otherwise, I finished all the books I brought.

Not Going to the Wedding After All

Well, it's what the title says, I'm in Baltimore, but I have no way to get to the wedding, so unfortubately, I'm not going. However, I will be hanging out with SCC in Baltimore. Will post more later.

Blogging Hiatus (I think)

I mentioned a while ago that I'm going up to Baltimore for a friend's wedding in NY. (I know, that's a bit far, but whatever.) So while I'm there, I'm not sure that I'll be updating. I'll be back in a week, so it's not for long, and I may be able to blog at least once. Just giving everybody who reads this thing a head's up.

Bleh.

That about sums up how I feel today. I took my math test, and even though I feel like this time I actually passed, I also felt like I "went down, go boom." I'm sure everyone has those days, and this one's mine. Hopefully I'll come up with something better to post later, in the meantime, enjoy the cuteness of the kitteh!

Huh?

Will someone tell me why there are channukah candles, even though the shirt says shabbos? Shouldn't there be shabbos candles, or challah or something a bit more related? Please explain.

An Invitation

For all those who have an interest in improving thier story writing skills, or just writing skills, I invite you to do Prompts with CJ and I. We do Prompts 5 days a week, a different one each day. All you need to do is a paragraph, but if you feel inspired to write more, you can. I've actually noticed a difference in my style of writing from the beginning. If anyone is interested, feel free to e-mail me, or leave a comment. Thanks!
Note: I notice that I now have over a 1000 views! Thanks people! Now if we could just up the comments...(hint, hint)

Prompt 6

Prompt 6: A priest is attacked for being a pedophile. He is innocent of the crime but guilty of something much worse.
(Note: Jonas started creeping me out, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to finish this. Though I might, just to see what happens.)
Jonas London had been a priest for twenty years, but nothing like this had ever happened to him before.
“Scum!”
“Pervert!”
“Liar!”
Oh, that one stung the worst. He was not, nor had he ever been a pedophile, and yet somehow… someone in his flock had decided he was, and that he should be punished for his sin. How could they? How could his flock, these people he has loved like sons and daughters, turn against him so thoroughly?
He turned away from his window, from the sight of the growing crowd, which was quickly turning into a mob. But they had no idea who they were truly dealing with. No, he was not a pedophile; he was not that sick and depraved, not yet anyway. But he was quickly heading down that path at a breakneck speed.
Three years ago, Jonas had started questioning his faith. What had caused it? It was little things, nothing earthshaking. But Jonas had started to search elsewhere for answers, no longer looking to the Bible for solutions to his problems. He looked through other religions; however he found that truly answered his questions. Until one night while searching for answers in a dark cemetery, he stumbled upon a Satanist cult. Ah, now here, he found answers. Here, he was welcomed with open arms, embraced like a long-lost brother. Jonas knew that here was everything that went against his faith and religion. Yet despite that, or perhaps because of it, he embraced the cult and everything it stood for whole-heartedly. Slowly, he was incorporated into their rituals, and he loved every moment of it. He loved the rush, the feeling of absolute power, when his victims looked at him and knew they were going to die. The fear in their eyes gave him such a thrill, that he held the power of life and death in his hands, and every time, he chose death. And when they used their victim’s blood for the sacred rituals, he exulted in the knowledge that here was where he belonged.
Jonas smiled evilly, savoring those memories, cherishing them like friends. There was a good possibility, judging by the mood of the mob outside, that he would not make it to the meeting tonight. And if he was brought to trial, his delineations would certainly be brought into the light, to be seen by all and sundry. Yet he felt no need to worry, for here was the chance he had been waiting for. His opportunity had arrived, and he was not going to waste it.
He turned to his cabinet that held all of his religious paraphernalia from his ‘former life’ as he liked to call it, though he was still a priest to the public. But he was not interested in what lied on those shelves. No, what he wanted was behind them. A few months ago he had bought a cabinet with a false back. Behind the shelves lay the tools for his true calling.
Jonas chuckled, recalling the day he had first purchased them, though he had made sure to spread his purchases far and wide, so no one would be any the wiser, and he always paid in cash. No paper trail behind him!
Panting in anticipation, he pulled the first of his purchases from the cabinet. It was a semi-automatic rifle, sure to cause pain and terror wherever he pointed it.

Good for a Laugh....Good Enough for a Post

GCF: From British Newspapers

(I'm not sure how true these are but the humor remains..... )

Commenting on a complaint from a Mr. Arthur Purdey about a large gas bill, a spokesman for North West Gas said, "We agree it was rather high for the time of year. It's possible Mr. Purdey has been charged for the gas used up during the explosion that destroyed his house." (The Daily Telegraph)

Irish police are being handicapped in a search for a stolen van because they cannot issue a description. It's a Special Branch vehicle and they don't want the public to know what it looks like.(The Guardian)

At the height of the gale, the harbor master radioed a coast guard (member) and asked him to estimate the wind speed. He replied he was sorry, but he didn't have a gauge. However, if it was any help, the wind had just blown his Land Rover over the cliff. (Aberdeen Evening Express)

A list of actual announcements that London Tube train drivers have made to their passengers:

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I do apologize for the delay to your service. I know you're all dying to get home, unless, of course, you happen to be married to my ex-wife, in which case you'll want to cross over to the Westbound and go in the opposite direction."

"Your delay this evening is caused by the line controller suffering from E & B syndrome: not knowing his elbow from his backside. I'll let you know any further information as soon as I'm given any."

"Do you want the good news first or the bad news? The good news is that last Friday was my birthday and I hit the town and had a great time. The bad news is that there is a points failure somewhere between Stratford and East Ham, which means we probably won't reach our destination. "

"We are now traveling through Baker Street ... As you can see, Baker Street is closed. It would have been nice if they had actually told me, so I could tell you earlier, but no, they don't think about things like that"

"Beggars are operating on this train. Please do NOT encourage these professional beggars. If you have any spare change, please give it to a registered charity. Failing that, give it to me."

During an extremely hot rush hour on the Central Line, the driver announced in a West Indian drawl: "Step right this way for the sauna, ladies nd gentleman... Unfortunately, towels are not provided."

"Let the passengers off the train FIRST!" (...pause). Oh go on then, stuff yourselves in like sardines, and see if I care - I'm going home...."

"Please allow the doors to close. Try not to confuse this with 'Please hold the doors open.' The two are distinct and separate instructions. "

The Stupidity of Evil Villains

On shabbos CJ came over for lunch, and after lunch we were talking about random things, when for some reason, the talk turned to Harry Potter and evil villains. We came to several conclusions. First of all, I can only recall one time that American witches or wizards are mentioned in any of the books. Voldemort is supposed to be a threat to the wizarding world, correct? So why is it that all the wizards in britain are not worried say, about death eaters in the rest of the world after voldemort has died? Then there is the whole "takeing over the world" concept. In my opinion, anyone who wants to take over the world is *dumb* I mean really, really dumb. First of all, taking over the world requires that you are super smart, super rich...and you have a continents worth of lackeys who are willing to carry out your every wish. Even if you have the first two, the third is not going to happen. Ok, let's say you overcome this with a mind-control something-or-other, right? Ok, you've managed to conquer the world, zip-de-dee-doo-dah...now what? Mind controlled people are not very fun to torture and if you let them out from mind control, it can take just one well thought out plan by one person, and BOOM - you're history. Ok....maybe I'm thinking a little too deep into this, but still, I think any super villain is dumb, I mean how many of them think past their ultimate goal?
....I'm gonna stop babbling now, and I think I used the word 'OK' way too many times in this post.

Happy Independence Day!

Hope everyone has a terrific July 4th!

Prompt 4 Part 1

Prompt: "He's just the cutest little boy. Makes it that much sadder, doesn't it?"
Enjoy!
"He's the cutest little boy. Makes it that much sadder, doesn't it?" Looking down at the picture in the local paper, the Sunset Times, Joanne sighed. Looking up from the picture was a beautiful, blonde haired, blue eyed smiling three year old boy, caught in the midst of waving at the camera. Barry Serlem was a smiley, cheerful, lovable child, who had been kidnapped and held for ransom. The hostage situation had lasted for three hours before the kidnapper, who had been an old family friend that had fallen on hard times, capitulated. However, when the police brought Barry back to his relieved parents, Barry could utter a sound. The trauma had been so terrifying that Barry had lost all power of speech.
It was now six years later, Barry was nine years old, and still could not speak. His parent had tried everything. They were wealthy people (as evidenced by the fact that the incident occurred in the first place.) They took Barry to every kind of doctor and specialist imaginable, but nothing helped. They took him to therapists, but Barry just shrunk away. Now they had come to Joanne as a last resort.
Joanne was not your average therapist. She was not your average anything. She stood at six foot four, with dark skin, her eyes were dark hazel, but seemed to turn different colors in the light. Her face put one in mind of a Hindu Goddess, and she was just as unreadable as any statue. However, she had a reputation for doing the impossible, so she was the Serlem’s last hope for Barry.
Looking back up at the parents, she tried to give them a hopeful smile. She had just sat through an hour’s retelling of all they had done to try to help Barry. “Well, first I think I will need to see him for myself, and then I will make a decision on how to best go about this. Call me tomorrow and we’ll schedule an appointment, all right?” She got up from her chair, signaling that the meeting was now over. Mr. and Mrs. Serlem hastily rose from their chairs as well. Leaning across the table, Mr. Serlem shook Joanne’s hand, and quietly murmured, “Thank you so much. It’s just…these past few years have been so hard for us.” He had tears in eyes, as he tried to bravely smile at her. Joanne took his hands in hers and gently said, “I know, and I will do my best to help you and your son.”
The Serlems left the office, feeling somehow like a burden had been lifted from their shoulders. If anyone could help, it would be Joanne. Meanwhile, Joanne sat back in her chair in her office and said out loud, “Well, what did you think of the Serlem’s predicament Joel?” She spun her chair around to face what had looked minutes before like a solid wall. Now the ‘wall’ was gone, and in it’s place was a small room. More like a closet. Inside the room sat a small bald man on a cushioned seat on the floor. He put one in mind of one of those wise old men that were often portrayed on tops of mountains.
Joel, for that was the man’s name, as misleading as it might be, sighed and ran his hand across his bald dome. “It is a problem, no mistake about that Jo. A very knotty problem indeed.” Joanne snorted, got out of her chair and began to pace the room. “I can see it’s a problem, the question is what are we going to do about it? The boy can’t, or won’t talk, and this has been going on for years! It’s obvious that something happened other than what we were told.” Joanne’s eyes narrowed.
“Now Jo,” Joel admonished, “it’s entirely possible that not the parents or even the police know what truly happened in those three hours! Let’s not go rushing in and jumping to conclusions!” Joanne groaned, but gave a little nod. Joel was right, as usual. “You know, we should just sleep on this, and wait until we actually see the boy before coming to any conclusions.” Joel said, yawning to give emphasis to the ‘sleep’ part. “You’re a hundred thousand percent right, as per usual Joel.” Joanne gave a big yawn herself and went to shut out the light. “I’ll see if I can come up with anything in my dreams. Have a good night Joel.” “G’night.” A sleepy murmur came from behind the wall, which had sprung back up. Joanne locked up, and headed home.

Frustrating

Today was a rather frustrating day. In fact the only part of the day that was not frustrating was my algebra class! Now that is saying something. Driving around trying to find the right building (never even found it, gave up after half an hour) home, but didn't have a chance to grab lunch. Wanted to do exercise, but didn't have time for that...got my nails done, and managed to ruin them...just all in all...frustrating. Gah!
Oh, and I may put up the prompt later, depending on whether I like it when it's done. Or if my inspiration runs out before that, perhaps not. We'll see.

Prompt 3

I had fun doing this one, though I feel it could use a little fixing up. It's a little it long, but I hope you'll enjoy!
Note: The prompt was: a woman gets a gun and when she goes to look for it two days later, she can't find it.
Annette Smith, now there’s a well-known name in this community. A few years ago, anyone that mentioned this name would have been laughed off. Annette Smith? That’s hardly the name one would pair with fame, it sounds like the name of an old woman who lives alone, with just her nine cats for company. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Annette, or as she preferred to be called, ‘Nette, was a lively, vivacious young woman. Was? I should say is, though she’s not that young anymore.
‘Nette grew up in the deep south, where owning a gun was practically tradition. She got her first gun on her tenth birthday, a marvelous nine millimeter. She was so proud of it, and learned how to shoot it extremely well. As she grew up, she began collecting guns. She especially collected rare guns that could only be found through ‘special’ dealers.
One day, while ‘Nette was rummaging through her uncle’s belongings, trying to help him decide what to put in his yard sale, she found a very rare, Parabellum-Pistole, also known as a Luger, in one of her uncle’s hundreds (or so it seemed) of boxes. Though the gun was popular in Germany in WWII, she knew her uncle had never even left his own city, never mind the country. Did he know how rare this was?
Casually, ‘Nette walked over to her uncle, who was routing through another box, chucking things out, one after another and muttering to himself. “Unca Chuck? Can I have this?” She asked, showing off her teeth in a bright grin, as if it didn’t really matter what he answered. “Whar is it?” he muttered distractedly. “Y’know, ye can ‘ave anything in those boxes, tha’ yer lil’ heart desires. Now keep workin’!” Chuck had a lot of junk, boxes and boxes of it. He was a collector of collections, but his house was growing too cluttered for his wife, so she gave him the ultimatum. It was her, or the junk, but one has got to go! So Chuck decided to get rid of the junk and enlist his entire family in helping him.
So she happily tucked the gun away, at went back to workin’ with a will. When she got home later that evening, after hours of going through box after box after box, she threw herself on the couch and groaned. “If I ever see another box again, it’ll be too soon!” She declared to the world in general. As she lay there, she felt something digging into her thigh. Then she remembered her treasure, she jumped up and took it out of her pocket. “Hmmm,” ‘Nette murmured, looking around her living room. “Where’re we gonna put you? Ye sure are special, so we need a special place. No, no regular ol’ drawer fer you!”
She finally decided to place it in her best hiding spot, at least till she could find a display case for it. “Nette carefully pulled out one of the bricks in her fire place, placed the gun in the little hidey-hole, and put the brick back. No one would find it, since only she knew of the hidey hole’s existence. So, ‘Nette went about her business, secure in the knowledge that her prized possession was safe and secure.
A couple of days later, ‘Nette was at a thrift store when she spotted the perfect display case. A large double racked mahogany display case which would look beautiful inside her home. She brought it over to the cashier, not even bothering to look at the price tag. No matter what it cost, she would have it. Having paid for it (only twenty-five dollars!) she took it home, and started setting it up. After putting some of her other “specials” in the case, she pulled out the brick in the fireplace, only to find…her gun wasn’t there! ‘Nette panicked. She was sure she had put it there, and that no one else knew of her perfect hiding spot. She reached her hand inside, nope, completely empty. Panting heavily, she started to break into a sweat. How could it have gone? She repeated to herself over and over. She called up her father, and told him the whole tale. Her father said that he would come over and help her look. Maybe she hadn’t placed it there; maybe it was actually somewhere else.
A couple of hours later, her entire house was turned upside-down, but there was still no sign of the gun. Her entire family was there at that point, trying to console her. Her sister, Marie, suggested that they check the fireplace once more. (Now of course, everyone knew about the “secret” hidey-hole.) So they took out the brick, shined a flashlight down to the back and – oh ho! What was this? There was a click as ‘Nette’s hand brushed the back of the wall. Slowly, the wall creaked open, on unused metal gears. A hidden room appeared. The family stood in awe, completely stunned at this turn of events. Suddenly, ‘Nettes youngest cousin shouted, “There!” and pointed. There, in the doorway of the hidden room, lay ‘Nettes gun. The room itself was covered in dust and old spiders, but under all that, was a desk, several chairs, and sheafs of papers.
‘Nette’s family called in the newspapers and anyone else they could think of to see this once hidden room. It turned out that this room had been used by spies for the union, who were pretending to work for the confederates. The papers held information that had not been known until now. So ‘Nette became a local hero, and her house was sold to the historical society. She still has her gun collection, though none led to any more quite as exciting discoveries.

Funny

I saw this on Bangitout.com, just had to share.

Irritating

One of the most annoying things in the world, and i think most people would agree with me on this, is the alarm clock. It doesn't matter if it rings, beeps, or just starts talking, it is just plain irritating. Press the snooze button, it goes off again anywhere from three minutes to ten minutes later, though no matter how long the interval, it always feels like you just fell back asleep. Some mornings, when you only what to sleep at 5 and your alarm clock is ringing at seven, you feel like taking a hammer and smashing it, like in cartoons. Nothing is quite as garaunteed to ruin your day as the sound of the alarm clock.