“ Happiness in marriage is not something that just happens. A good marriage must be created. In the Art of Marriage, the little things are the big things. It is never being too old to hold hands. It is remembering to say ‘I love you’ at least once a day. It is never going to sleep angry. It is at no time taking the other for granted; the courtship should not end with the honeymoon; it should continue through all the years. It is having a mutual sense of values and common objectives. It is standing together facing the world. It is forming a circle of love that gathers in the whole family. It is doing things for each other, not in the attitude of duty or sacrifice, but in the spirit of joy. It is speaking words of appreciation and demonstrating gratitude in thoughtful ways. It is not expecting the husband to wear a halo or the wife to have the wings of an angel. It is not looking for perfection in each other. It is cultivating flexibility, patience, understanding and a sense of humor. It is having the capacity to forgive and forget. It is giving each other an atmosphere in which each can grow. It is finding rooms for things of the spirit. It is a common search for the good and the beautiful. It is establishing a relationship in which the independence is equal, dependencen is mutual and obligation is reciprocal. It is not only marrying the right partner, it is being the right partner.”

Now this doesn’t seem too hard does it? Stop getting married if you can’t be this for your partner. No one said it’s easy or it’s magical, just worth it.

“The Hebrew year is 5771 and the Chinese year is 4707. That must mean, the joke goes, that against all odds the Jews went without Chinese food for 1,064 years. In fact, Jewish love for Chinese food is neither hallucinated nor arbitrary. It is very real and very determined, and it originates roughly a century ago, in a place about four miles away from Mile End: the Lower East Side of Manhattan.

The predominant groups in the area were Eastern European Jews, Italians, and Chinese. According to Matthew Goodman, author of Jewish Food: The World at Table, Italian cuisine and especially Italian restaurants, with their Christian iconography, held little appeal for Jews. But the Chinese restaurants had no Virgin Marys. And they prepared their food in the Cantonese culinary style, which utilized a sweet-and-sour flavor profile, overcooked vegetables, and heaps of garlic and onions. Sound familiar?

Additionally, argued Gaye Tuchman and Harry G. Levine in a 1992 academic paper titled “Safe Treyf,” Chinese food featured the sort of unkosher dishes you could take home to your mother, or at least eat in front of her. For one thing, there is no mixing of dairy and meat, for the simple reason that there is no dairy. (Think about it!) Of course, there is trayf aplenty, chiefly pork and shellfish. But it is always either chopped and minced and served in the middle of innocuous vegetables all covered in a common sauce, or it is wrapped up in wontons and egg rolls—where you can’t see it. Goodman notes that the purveyors of Chinese restaurants eventually picked up on this: “They would advertise wonton soup as chicken soup with kreplach,” he told me.

Beyond the trappings and the cuisine, Chinese restaurants offered poor Eastern European Jewish immigrants the opportunity to feel cosmopolitan and sophisticated (food of the Orient!). It also let them feel superior, a truism that has achieved the most definitive canonization available: its own Philip Roth quotation. “Yes, the only people in the world whom it seems to me the Jews are not afraid of are the Chinese,” Alexander Portnoy tells us. “Because one, the way they speak English makes my father sound like Lord Chesterfield; two, the insides of their heads are just so much fried rice anyway; and three, to them we are not Jews but white and maybe even Anglo Saxon. No wonder they can’t intimidate us. To them we’re just some big-nosed variety of WASP.”

The final part of this story is the one you already know: Most Chinese people are not Christian. Therefore, on Christmas, Chinese restaurants are open.”

I don’t.

There are special groups out there for people like you. Find them and talk to each other about changing the world, I have enough to deal with. My brother is going to Afganistan in February, My daughter is going to be a year old in November and I’m just trying to find out ways I can see my parents again. My mind has no room for your beliefs so stop trying to make me “aware” and stop trying to “save” me. Even if what you say is true, I’m trying to spend the last shred of my life in a happy little bubble, Thank you. Call me a lost soul, a sheep —>I don’t care!  This life is really short and I’m making the best of what I have.

I think preaching about the same thing everyday is useless. This world is full of different forms of inspiration. I’m genuinely happy and you are ruining it. You want to know what I believe? I believe there are certain “life jobs” for people and if you are so good at your “life job”, keep it to yourself and don’t give it to anyone else unless they ask questions or seem interested in what you have to say. Stop trying to shove your beliefs down our throats to the point that we re so turned off we want nothing to do with you anymore.

You shouldn’t assume we don’t know what’s going on in this world.

This post is also dedicated to the health nuts, the extremists, the potheads and anyone else who is into too much of ONE thing in this life.

BTW: Before you get your feathers ruffled about my personal opinions, don’t worry I’m not speaking about anyone specific. I’m just venting.

There was a time in my life when people asked me if I was ok in my world. It was a question that was asked frequently in my early twenties when things were a bit bumpy. This question usually annoyed me and I would either take it one of two ways: defensively or the flippant, “Yes, I’m wonderful!”. Mind you the people that were asking me were the members of my family. It never occurred to me that they were worried about the paths I was taking and that they knew me so well they could see through any defiance or fakery.

This awareness that you get when you get older is amazing. The wisdom you gain gives you the power to heal. Not just others but more importantly, yourself. You learn to forgive yourself for the stupid shit you did when you were 18 i.e. get married. You learn that you have to own the things you cannot change. You learn grace and become graceful to others.

This is not a case of the “I wish I knew then what I know now”. I am happy I cannot change my past because my path has led me here with a much clearer view of what’s ahead.

Everyone has their own path but it is the people in your world who make you who you are. My family has never given up on me, although I’ve noticed that the questions have stopped now that I am older. But if they were to ask me today if I was ok, my answer would be “Undeniably blissful, thank you.”

I don’t know why I choose to have friends that are emotionally unavailable to me. It seems like I am always the one calling, trying to set up plans with everyone in my life. I am a giver. I give and give until there is nothing, a living well. I don’t even expect anything back in return except it would be nice to be a pebble in someone’s mind every now and then.

Something happened to me this morning. I was literally shut out of someone’s life. Someone I considered a sister, a good friend. It’s painful to see sadness firsthand but I realized that I cannot let that person destroy my core, my strength. I am who I am. Im filled with concern for the people I let into my life. They don’t understand it yet, but I chose them. Normally, it takes awhile to crack the shell that surrounds me. The proverbial “Crab”. So it’s especially hurtful when I am shooed away, like a pest.

It is a given that everyone has their own life. I love my life. There is nothing more I would rather do than live inside of my bed with my hubby and daughter and never come out. I understand. But when I am left looking like an asshole for caring, something is seriously wrong. It comes down to not being appreciated. Maybe this person wasn’t a real friend to begin with. Such a shame.

Ok, I think I am feeling a lot better now that I got this out. I could go on but it’s pointless. I am 34.

As I write this my 8 1/2 month old is staring at me and crying. I should probably tend to her. Been trying to get a good blog in but obviously I’ve been preoccupied.

Ok, the crying has turned into screaming.

I miss you.