Just got back home.

It's been quite a week. Challenging, sleep-deprived, but in the oddest way, refreshing. I like feeling productive, and I've certainly produced/completed a lot in this last week. At least academically.

I've been speaking with my dad a lot recently. Almost a couple times a day. It's sometimes so very difficult to hear him talk, to maintain objectivity, to say things that I may not necessarily believe, but I know is important for him to believe.

We work our whole lives just trying to live the dream--your dream, your spouse's dream perhaps, a family dream. You work so hard, plan, give everything you've got. What happens when it all crumbles? When it's not your fault.

I have so much to learn from my father. He is such a good person, earnest and genuine in all he does. Paradoxically suspicious about others, so much so that he is actually quite naive and vulnerable. Fierce in his loyalty and forgiving of all too much. My dad gave 100% of everything into our family, into raising my sister and I...

Why do bad things happen to good people?

Yes, it's cliche. I know. But it's a worthy question.

It's times like these people turn away or toward G-d. Why did this happen? Why didn't this happen? Where's the justice? I'd certainly like to believe someone up there is watching...that things will be made right.


It's been a while since I've posted on this site. Now I'm in the midst of finals. Though I am (perhaps unfortunately) most prolific when somewhat troubled by life...somehow the last couple weeks got away from me.

I went home for Thanksgiving. Though I would like to say it was relaxing, rejuvenating and good ol' fun. It was not. At all.

I felt constantly torn in an ungodly family tug-o-war. Plus, I was car-less in a very "car-necessary" city. I did, however, have my bike. It's hard to explain how important bike riding is to me, especially when I'm back home. I end up, somehow, bike riding at least once, sometimes twice or more, a day. Usually at night. Usually with music. And, as I bike through the empty streets I like to sing whatever song I'm listening to out loud, serenading the residents of that particular block. Maybe they think I'm crazy, but it makes me happy.

Being back home used to be "relaxing, rejuvenating and good ol' fun"...and though it wasn't such this time, seeing how happy it made my dad to see me back home, made it all worth it. Entirely.

No comments: