I'm Doing A Little Better, And It'll Be A Day-To-Day-Thing...

A day-to-day and pray-to-pray thing. Having Diplegic Spastia Cerebral Palsy plus OCD/Anxiety/Depression and Irritable Bowel Syndrome (and the BRCA1 gene), plus being a "mamzerah" Jewish American in a culture and in communities that don't accept Jews-- especially Messianic Jews-- is hard. Add having an imperfect-- e.g., covetous, adulterous, faithless, hopeless, hypocritical-- human nature to all that, and you've got a situation where a day-to-day, pray-to-pray thing is needed. Also, I'm still living with Great-Grandma Gaydos' avodah koferah (If you think that we have Vilmosz's et. al.'s blood removed from our hands-- although Vilmosz and others did survive-- you're meshuga: you don't understand what guilt down to the third and fourth generations is). And I'm living with Great-Grandma Czarnecki's blood because of Pop-Pop's avoda kofer and how he is left unprosecuted after almost five years.

So as a disabled, trying-to-figure-out-my-identity-as-a-Jew Jew and Jewish-American Christian with more than just Cerebral Palsy and meshuges un tsuris in di mispoche to deal with; I have a long, painful way and road to go-- though prayers have been answered so far, even if (over the years) not always in ways in which I'd've liked them to be answered.

Piano Lessons (And Calling Myself To the Carpet Is A Process)

In piano lessons today and during other times, I realize that I freak out and am not as focued as I should be on the music. Per my OCD/Anxiety/Depression and possible Aspberger's-- and non-medicated AD(H)D--, I can't stay as fully focused. I think about getting through practice as quickly as possible, or at least trying to, and being like the others who can (so to speak) churn out something like Bach's "Prelude in A Minor" in a minute or two (I can't play as fastly because of my Cerebral Palsy.). I worry about what other people will think, even if and though they're not in the practice room. For example, on the cover of the "American Soldier" sheet music is a picture of Toby Keith-- it's almost or somewhat like Toby is there and watching me-- and what would he think? (As I said, calling myself to the carpet, including sharing my weirder thoughts, is a process.)

And I don't practice as much as I should. Due to OCD, etc. and escapism, etc.; I just don't practice as much as I should-- I practice in small spurts, too-small spurts. And during my spurts, I often have the computer in my room by me. And as I said,  I think about getting through practice as quickly as possible, or at least trying to, and being like the others who can (so to speak) churn out something like Bach's "Prelude in A Minor" in a minute or two-- and get to their computers and go on Facebook or whatever.

I'll, unless by some miracle, never be Mozart, Beethoven, or Sallieri.

How Jews Can Celebrate the Day of the Dead-- Exclusively-Shared Political Cartoon

This isn't what his grave looks like, by the way. It's just a Jewish-Hispanic representation. He was an Anusi Ashkenazi Yehudi who was born in the Diaspora in Tsuman, Ukraine (then Cuman, Wolyn, Ukraina, Rusia). His birth name is unknown, and his shem l'mikveh katoli was Antoni Jan Julianowicz Czerniecki (Czarniecki).  

As I Said, I Do Not Sugarcoat and Am Calling Myself To the Carpet, Even If I Get Shunned...

And you know, people like me when I didn't sugarcoat the first time-- when, for example, I talked about what I knew about my family history (which keeps slowly and shockingly unfolding before me-- now if only either the Rapture, some crisis that'll make Dad or Pop-Pop or someone else confess what he, or she, knows; or the AG and Luzerne County DA hurry up and prosecute Pop-Pop. Once the Jack Czarnecki that either everyone dreads and dislikes or fears and likes moves out of the way, someone will talk-- and he brought his own downfall by committing Social Security fraud and murder-malice action).

Incidentally, this reminds me that Great-Great-Granddad Rusnak was born today in 1877 (P'rushi Cheshvan 25, 5638). Hopefully, he wasn't an SOB like his kapo daughter was a Holocaust enabler and his grandson-in-law was a murderer (and as I said, I still have to say that Great-Grandma Czarnecki still doesn't have justice nearly five years later-- nor does the family who Pop-Pop and others hid a lot from and caused a lot of pain to).

In this lifetime, I won't get over what quite a few in my family did in a lot of ways-- and that's why I call them out. And that's why I call myself out: I don't want to be like them. I want to be honest about the imperfect and hypocritical human being that I am with imperfect and many hypocritical or hypocrisy-tainted thoughts, reservations, intentions, etc.

I told you (and G-d) about quite a bit of what was on my heart and in my mind; and there's a lot more for which I would and will get shunned-- besides for being disabled, of course; but being disabled plus all that will get me shunned more.

And I don't (or at least I try not to) hide that I'm probably in a lot of trouble for being human, and I might get hurt for being human and being honest about being human. But so what? As I said about Mitt Romney versus Hermain Cain, "I'd rather have a self-admitted-imperfect candidate like Mitt Romney than any seemingly-too-good-to-be-true person on the Presidential ticket any day"-- which means that in any given situation, I'd rather have a self-admitted-imperfect person than any seemingly-too-good-to-be-true person any day.

People, I'm Realistic; I'm Not Just a Disabled Depressive Who's a Pessimist

And it ain't just what I described in the video. Oh, I've read the horror stories-- e.g., one non-disabled girl was laughed at and ignored by boys in her church because of her breast size. Also, the actress from "Facts of Life" (I stand corrected for saying "Different Strokes")-- her story didn't end like J.R. Martinez's did, and she was born with a disability: she couldn't have gone and served, let alone bravely gotten injured, in the military if she wanted to.

I appreciate and value who I am in the eyes of even the Church and G-d, or else I wouldn't be honest about it: I'd pretend that everything's going to be okay, and that everything work out like it does for a typical person or even for Cinderella. As I said, I wouldn't be honest about who I am if I didn't value and appreciate it; and valuing and appreciating it means accepting it and accepting the reality of it, and accepting the reality (even the cold, bitter reality) that it brings and has brought.

If I Were Tiki Barber, I'd Go Home And Seek Forgiveness and Reconciliation...

Tiki Barber can hopefully come to his senses and realize that a for-the-time-being ex-wife and children at home is enough. Sure Traci Johnson may get hurt, but who was hurt first? A college sweetheart and pregnant wife with two other kids to raise as well. Tiki Barber can come home to Ginny Cha, beg forgiveness for his affair, beg forgiveness of Traci Johnson and wish her the best, and try to reconcile with Ginny Cha and the Cha-Barber kids.

Or maybe Ginny Cha won't take him back, figuring "He Ain't Worth Missing", but a try while there's still time is worth a try.

I'm Probably In Big Trouble For Some of My Confessions...

I know that I should be thankful for some things (After all, that was a heck of a blog prayer to write.), but now I'm probably (maybe I'm freaking out,  probably) for the worst being followed on Twitter by Geraldo Rivera's producer-- I'm probably being watched like a hawk watches a mouse or a bear watches whoever goes after its young.

This is why I surprisingly, for wanting to bring so much to light, don't confess a lot of my own thoughts, reservations, etc.-- if and when I do, I usually get shunned or in trouble for them as though I'm worse than anyone else. I admit that I'm imperfect, which is part of why I fight to have a moral compass-- having one makes easier that a brother or sister (or other fellow human being) should not be affected or effected to stumble. But I normally don't confess things lest I get shunned for them-- and I normally do.