There was something different about us, those whose parents came to halachic Judaism later in life -- and I wondered if it was just me who noticed it.
Maybe you're breaking down because you're breaking open because there's a new you inside that's shrieking to come out.
Rachel's assignment? To cover the topic, “Why don’t we talk about Gd enough?”
Would I really rather be mistaken for a Hipster than a Hasid?
This is very hard to have to write. But I do feel like I have to. Even though it’s making me physically ill to do so. Even though you already know how the story ends.
That was my life now. Blank. I was diving into the scary unknown and for the first time in my life I was not going to have a say on my future. So I deflated my ego down to 6 words.
Potash Feldspar woke up and looked at the time. There, glowing brighter as the day progressed, the information projected on the closed drapes read 8:01AM. 58 degrees Fahrenheit. Hanetz at 8:45AM. His tired old eyes widened slowly and he rolled over to see his wife lying next to him, still sound asleep. Mr. Feldspar got dressed and put on his watch, which synced effortlessly to the drapes and his vitals came on screen. “Modeh Ani L’fanechah” he began to recite to himself.
I'm sick of hearing people I agree with ask why. You know why. You know why Sweden, and England, and France, and "the academy", and the whole universe wants us to die.
