His Other Side

Boys. They keep things to themselves, you hardly know what they think. And if they like you and you find out, or they tell you, they try to make every it seem as if they don't. They hide from you, but they want to be with you. His friends make fun of him for liking you, but your friends can't stop talking about him and how lucky you are that he likes you. When you two are alone, everything is perfect, he's honest truthful and not afraid to tell you what he thinks of you. He tells you that you look beautiful, that your eye's are hypnotizing and that he could look into them forever, he tells you that your body is perfect, that your personality is incredible, and that who you are is everything he could ever ask for in anybody. He makes you feel like you are amazing, that without you, he wouldn't have a reason to live. But his friends think the opposite thing. They think that you are taking up his time, that all of the sweet things he's saying aren't true. At least that's what they tell you. You know that they want you out of his life, and you try to ignore them. His kisses are sweet,light, and delicious, he doesn't push you, and you don't push him. Both of you have a hard time deciding on things, but in the end you end up agreeing on the same thing. You both laugh and enjoy each other's company, when you're cold, he wraps his arms around you and hugs you. When you're sitting on the couch by yourself he snuggles up next to you just happy to be near you. He's polite to your parents, and you'r polite to his. He plays with your younger siblings, and doesn't care if they're constantly around you. He's everything you've ever wanted, and you can't imagine life without him. The weekends are your time together, his friends, will have to wait until the week to be with him. You want to be with him every second you can, constantly calling, IM'ing, and e-mailing him. You try to not do it to much, afraid he might get annoyed with you, but he never does, you have fantasies about him and you. You want him to be like this all the time, but the truth is, you the only one who will ever see his other side.

Memories of Camp

Since camp, I've found myself struggling to find where I have gone and what I've become. Shabbat is when my true color's show, the spirit of shabbat consumes me, my body can no longer control itself. I can no longer control myself, I shake with the anticipation of shabbat about to be here. When i sing the sound is magical and unreal, the spirit of shabbat works it's magic to make things become all they can be. i sing myself horse, or even scream myself horse. I become quiet at times, and I'm remembering something from camp. The memory is of me and my friends on shabbat during song session, singing as loud as we can, dancing like no one is looking. We are singing not to make a pretty sound but because t he spirit of shabbat is all around and we have to let it out. I see all of us, tears rolling down our faces, we're so happy to be with each other, i see us all in a circle arms around each others shoulders singing quietly and calmly, tears rolling silently down our cheeks. When the memory is over i become quiet, I want that memory to come to life as it had when I was having it. I run downstairs turn on music and jump around like an idiot until someone walks downstairs. " I needed to let my energy out, I had to much of it." i say to them, the truth was, i had no energy, but i knew at that moment, 11 other girls, where doing the exact same thing. Using the exact same excuse, and thinking the exact same thought as me....." I wish you could be here."

Trust and Boys

Why is it that as soon as any girl asks her parents if she can go over a boys house, they say no. I feel so un trusted as soon as I as my parents if i can go over a boys house. If he has a friend over that's a guy too, they lean towards no, even if there is a parent home. Do they not trust me? Why can't they let me try something out. Even if they may not like the situation, not every situation I'll be faced with in like is going to be one that they like or one that will be easily solved with the word "no". I want a chance to prove that i can take care of myself, and that have enough respect for myself that i know when i'm uncomfortable or something isn't right! I need the opportunity to prove that I can be trusted in a situation where i'm with a lot of guy's and i'm the only girl. You want me to grow up, well i need the chances to learn how to be grown up. You want me to take care of myself, I need the chances to take care of myself. You want me to learn how to be responsible, well then give me the chance to be responsible. I want to prove i can be trusted, so give me the chances, and I'll fulfill your biggest desires.

Beauty

"It's beautiful!" someone exclaims over a something that I've painted. The feelings of excitement content and wonder fill me with confusion. "What do they mean?" I think to myself, why is this simple comment so hard for me to understand? When people say something is beautiful, do they mean it's pleasing to the eye, the effort put into it makes it beautiful, what do they mean? When people look at me and say to me " look at you, you're so beautiful!" Do they mean that i have a beautiful mind, personality, or looks? To me what i want people to see in me that is beautiful is a mind that can learn, explain and tell many things as i feel them. Hands that are eager to create paintings that will please your eyes, a heart yurning to know what love is really like. A voice eager and excited to help you connect in prayer even closer through the sounds that it can create. A mouth eager to speak those sacred and ancient words that connect us to G-d and make us feel in ways that words can not describe. Ears ready to listen to what ever you have to say, and a mind ready to think of a solution to whatever your problem may be. But most importantly a person, ready to do what is right. I hope you can see this in me, and if you can, than i have become the person that I've always wanted to be.

Parenting

Parent's seem so confused on how to treat their kids after they reach the age of 13. They're not kids, and they're not adults, and worst of all very few of them can even manage to act as mature as most adults can. They seem stumped when it comes to trying to find the right way to treat them, or what responsibility's they can be given. I don't see what's so difficult about it, when the answer is looking you right in the face, literally. Treat us like teenagers, we're not adults or kids, we are right in the middle. The responsibility's you give to us should be based on what you think we can handle, not what we are suppose to be able to handle. We can write and act and sound mature, but we may not be mature. It's a difficult thing for us to want to become adults when you make it sound or look or feel so horrible. Give us the opportunity to look at the good and the bad. Let us experience the joys of freedom, and pressure of having to take responsibility for our actions. We need to feel this in order to want to grow up. We can't live at home forever can we?

letter from camp #3

Camp is my sanctuary. God is all around me - I can feel the presence resonate throughout by body. With every breath of air, sip of water, bite of food, word I speak and word I pray, my connection becomes tighter, stronger and closer to God. When I sing, I know that it was God's blessing to me. I know from the joy I feel that singing Hebrew songs and speaking those sacred words is what I want to do. I want to study Torah and learn how to read and chant it, and help other people to learn and chant it too.
Here at camp it's cool to help out in services, discuss Torah, run around like crazy when you hear that limud (Torah study) is going to be extended another half hour.
The energy you get here is so strong that it pulses through you. It's contagious. You can't stop it, and I want to bring it back home with me.
No one cares if you like sports. They care if you are crazy enough to stand up and start singing Michamocha to the tune of "In the Jungle". It's cool to be Jewish and to run around singing songs from services. It's cool to be yourself.
This is Neverland, somewhere over the rainbow, a magical place. It's unbelievable. I'm connected to all the other girls in a way that is like none other. I want so badly to come back next year and to join NFTY so I can see all my new friends. They're all in NFTY too.

Letter from camp #1

…but the reason for me writing again is not to tell about the fun of camp, but to describe the spirituality of it.
Imagine yourself in a sanctuary outside. Trees surround you. The brancehs spread over your head like a shield or G-d's hand, protection you from unholy things. Benches are all around you, filled with people, all eager to be a part of something wonderful. No one is an outcast here or a strangers. We are all equal. The sound of children's voices is all you hear - in unison but in harmony too. The sound of our ruach, our spirit drowns out the guitar that had once been leading us. Now we lead the guitar.
It's amazing to be around people who want and feel the same way. And we don't have to hide it because this is who we are. I wish you could be here to share this with me. I miss you a lot.

Letter from camp #2

"...Today we did a group activity, we were asked when we heard the word "Shabbat" what did we think of, what did it remind us of, and what memories did we have?
I didn't say anything because I couldn't, the memories that I have are so strong that at that moment, tears began to form in my eyes and roll down my cheeks. Thankfully, nobody noticed during those moments we had to sit and think.
The smell of challah became so clear it was as if I was right there. I could hear Joram and Kaleb's laughter, the sound of tiny feet running around the house in the excitement of guests' - and Shabbats' - arrival. I could smell vanilla in the air as if Naomi and Allison were sitting right there with me.
I could see everyone sitting around the Shabbat table, telling jokes, deep in conversation, or telling the reason for why they brought the food they were assigned. I saw Dad singing a random song. I heard Noah playing his guitar. I thought about giving Mom a hug and a kiss.
I had the memory of being surrounded by the community of people that love me, and that I love too...."

Endings

The last day of school has come. You feel that you want to cry, next won't be this good, the teacher's this nice, the students this kind. Next year will be the first time in 4 years that you have been in that same school with 4 grades in it again. You know that everyone will be watching out for themselves. Friends won't be the same, teacher's won't be so kind, and the boy's won't be so immature, at least we hope. We will be the youngest in the school, we won't know what to do with ourselves. The homework will be harder. The hours will seem longer, the nights will seem shorter. And as graduation day comes, for us in the 8th grade it seems like high school is so far away. When in reality it's only 3 months away. The ending of this school year will be the ending of our childhood. The teacher's must let go of our hands, next year they won't care if we actually do our homework, our grades are our decisions. We won't have a dress code to follow, they expect that by 14 years old we'll know how to dress approprietly, and for some of us this is true, for other's they still need some practice. The hours of homework won't be so merciful next year, they expect that we can manage time and know when to get to bed in order to be ready for the next day. I know I'm ready, but I don't want to be ready. The end is nearing and my childhood is disappearing, and at the same time my mind is growing. I am ready.

HaZamir

So you walk into this room, you've been here a couple of times so you know your way around. A couple of other kids come into the room, they look about your age, but you're not quite sure. An adult steps into the room, she introduces herself and hands out music. You don't know this music, but she tells you that you're going to be learning it. You feel insecure in this place with all these other people around you, but you follow everyone else. You don't want to name yourself the baby of the group.
A few months later, this is just a memory. We walk into the room together, laughing and smiling, having a good time. The director is there - we warm up and start to sing. All around us everything else is quiet except for the sound of the piano and 14 wonderful voices. The first song ends, we are all silent, listening to the stillness around us. Tears fall down my face. G-d surely must have given us this gift. I can see I'm not the only one crying. We all connect through those silent tears. We start another song, just as beautiful and just as moving. We keep our faith as strong as our voices. We tell the story. The tears keep falling down our faces as we sing. From a distance it looks as if we are very upset, but if you looked closer you'll see the smiles on our faces. We cry tears of happiness and rejoice in the music we make when we come together.
We are not G-d, we are not angels.
We are HaZamir.