long time no blog

Hello all,

Long time, no blog. Wow -- I just re-read my last post, which was a very interesting thing to do. Boy oh boy was I unhappy in that last job -- and, at the risk of sounding boastful -- can I say how proud I am of myself for being able to articulate my feelings like that? You have to understand: I'm the queen of the delayed reaction. I can't tell you how many times I've had a serious conversation with a friend or a boyfriend and thought, "Oh, OK, that was alright." Then, three days later, out of the blue, I'll say to myself, "Hold on, that hurt!" or "Wow, that made me sooooo angry!" The day I wrote that post was an unusual moment of clarity for me. I realize suddenly and instantly how I felt about things ... and a few days later, I started applying for jobs. I saw an ad for a great job for which I was uniquely suited and put my resume in. They called me that same afternoon. There were some beaucratic snafus that slowed the process down. But two hours before Rosh Hoshana began, I was offered that job. And I am so happy.

Things got so much worse at my last job from the time I wrote that last post. Oy. Seriously that is all I can say: Oy.Oy. Oy Oy. But can I tell you how proud I am of how I quit that job? In three minutes, I said succintly and professionally what I had to say. And I felt so fulfilled. Not because I had stuck it to my boss but because I had a novel experience for me. It went like this: I'm unhappy, I've decided to make myself happy, and no one is going to change my mind about this decision.

My new job? Hectic, frenetic, fraught -- and aboslutely wonderful. The hours are crazy, the workload intense, I could be making at least $20K more per year somewhere else, but I love it and I'm exhausted and fulfilled and feeling great. This job was everything I imagined, and I am so gratefult to Hashem for bringing it my way.

Plus: I negotiated extra vacation!!!! now i can have yontif and a yearly vacation, too!

At what point did you realize you were no longer in control of the aircraft?

My job is insane.

I resist posting about my work because it's just not a smart thing to do. Every job has its ups and downs, and everyone has complaints. But the anxiety level in my office -- a veritable tsunami of nervousness that is driven my a single person--has gotten out of control. I'm drowning in work; I feel absolutely unable to direct my activities and priorities from minute-to-minute; and I'm getting resentful about the diva-esque displays of pique that come down from on high. I'm not a good servant. I'm a great worker and a great team player. But when a huge part of my job becomes keeping my boss calm, spending hours each day listening to her have a breakdown and doing everything we can to keep her happy, I just want out. The work load has always been extreme -- and I'm fine with that -- but I used to feel in control of it. Now, I feel like I've totally lost control of the aircraft and I have a screaming two-year old in the seat next to me whose narcissism is keeping me from concetrating on the flight instruments. I've decided that it would be irresponsible for me to leave now, but I have a set a deadline for getting a new job.

The problem is this: I realize how lucky I have it in terms of my observance in my current position. My job totally accomodates Shabbat and Yom Tov. The particular industry I am in requires that I both attend and host a lot of social events, and these never occur on Friday or Saturday nights. When I bow out of something -- like last week's staff party -- the worst reaction I get is mild confusion about how I could possibly choose the 9 Days over grilling and beers. I'm not certain at what point in the next interview process I would bring this up -- or even how I'd bring it up.

I also realized this week how much my tension there is between ambitions for Torah observance and ambitions for my career. I knew intellectually that I would chose my faith over my job, but it wasn't until now that I actually had to make a choice. It's interesting how comfortable I was with it -- not with the choice itself, but with the sudden awareness that as my religious ambitions strengthen and grow, my career aspirations seem to be declining proportionally.

Minhagim

Thank you, Der Erwige Jew, for your comment on my last post. I'm certain that I heard that it was bad luck to name your child after someone who had died tragically (or, you were supposed to change the name just slightly), but I like your explanation better. This issue also brings up the interesting question of minhagim for converts. I was just thinking about this tonight at the Hebrew class I started. I always say, "Good Shabbos," and "yontif" etc., but the majority of people in my congregation say, "Shabbat Shalom" and "chag" etc., I don't know why I use the older sayings. I guess it's because I began my conversion in a Yeshivish community (a community I really liked), and the one I am in now is more liberal/modern. I asked a question about the pronounciation of a certain vowel, which I had learned one way when I was learning Hebrew before, and the teacher went into a spiel about how the Ashkenazim can't tell the Israelis, who LIVE this language, how it should be spoken.

Oy. I didn't mean to be controversial. But it led me to thinking, Should I be learning modern Hebrew? This class really is my only option right now, and the teacher really was good. Then, once I ask this question of myself, I have to immediately think: Why not learn modern Hebrew? After all, I have no minhagim. Of course, there are the minhagim hamakon (sp? -- "the custom of the place"), but my community is somewhat transient and somewhat diffuse owing to our geographic location and there do not seem to be so many local customs, so to speak. I guess that I will adopt the minhagim of my husband (G-d willing that should happen). It just seems so odd that my soul leans towards certain customs -- I like "Good Shabbos" and I want to say it. I wonder what that's all about.

Choosing a Jewish Name

A poster on a board I frequent posted an interesting question: would it be bad luck to take on the name of a Holocaust victim? I'm not completely familiar with Ashkenazic naming practices, but I understand that one usually changes a name if the person it is mean to honor died in horrific circumstances. Can anyone enlighten me?

Starting Fresh

So, obviously I haven't posted for a long, long time. For various reasons, I've decided to start over. I hemmed and hawed about erasing the old posts, but decided to do so. I started this blog in a really painful and anxious moment, and now that I've moved beyond that moment (Baruch Hashem!), it seems odd to have that out in public. At the same time, as I move into what is, G-d willing, the last phase of my conversion, keeping this blog can be really helpful. So, bli neider, I'm going to try again.

So where have I been, you ask? Simple: in the land of confusion. I spent a couple of shabbatot with Chassidich families, and the experience really confused me. I am modern Orthodox. And I want to be Modern Orthodox (although a silly online quiz I took pegged me as Liberal Yeshivish). But there are a couple of Chassidish or Chassidish-leaning blogs that I read daily (I don't personally know the authors in question, so I can't make a determination, but I admire both writers very much and regularly check in for my daily dose of Yiddishkeith). In the middle of March, I followed the link on one of those blogs to a presentation called, "The Path of the Ba'al Shem Tov." So much of the presentation moved me deeply: Hashem's immanence, hashgacha pratis, the need for a spiritual mentor. A lot of it jived with the vision I had of the life I wanted -- the vision that led me to convert. A week later, I spent Shabbos with a Chassidish family and, wow, the experience overwhelmed me. Especially the family life. And all of the Torah. I was so impressed with how the children each gave a dvar Torah, about how the dinner conversation revolved around the parsha -- it was spiritual and joyous and wonderful. My only problem was the excessive emphasis, from toddler to grandfather, on their spiritual leader. I'm just not certain that I could take that on; I also have serious reservations with what can be sexism (not in the majority of cases, but in some communities it definately exists). I'm a modern career woman with too much life experience under my belt to not live in a modern community. I don't think it would be an easy transition, but I realize that ultimately it's not up to me.

So, I love my shul. I love my community and I love my friends. I have no immediate plans to leave it. But I do want more Torah in my life. What's a girl to do? Well, when she's back from her travels, she signs up with the hospitality committee for a Shabbos lunch. And suddenly she's at lunch with people she's seen at Shul, but not talked to before. And then, she's finally engaged in a lively debate about halachic matters. And she finds herself saying that women shouldn't do such and such because the Talmud says this isn't allowed, and a good discussion ensues, but in general the group is in agreement and she doesn't feel so out of place. At previous lunches, when she's brought up matters of Torah there have often been groans. But the Torah talk is interspersed with conversation about politics and popular culture, and she begins to think that maybe she can get a bit more of what she wants right in the community to which Hashem led her last year.

I start my Hebrew lessons tomorrow night. I can sound out words, but a four year old child can read faster than I and I find myself wanting to participate more fully in services. I'm moving again, too, to a beautiful little house just a few blocks from my shul. This will be my fourth move in two years! G-d willing, I can settle down for a time now. So, all signs suggest that it is moving forward. I'll try to keep you posted.