Seudas Moshiach

I couldn't morally go to sleep with such a nasty post at the forefront of the blog so I wrote this one above it. It was such a sad post with such emotional concepts; I was actually ashamed to post such an article like that, especially about my father. Part of me still thinks it is unfair to hold his past against him, especially since he has tried so hard to become close with me. While emotionally that means little to me, (it won't change my feelings), on an intellectual level, this trait is admirable.

I'm falling asleep as I write this, but I wanted to let you know that some things are going to change. Being depressed is not a way to live, and it doesn't fit my lifestyle. Plus, there are some new surprises that have come into my life and I will tell you about them as soon as it is appropriate. Nevertheless, it is important for me to get my ducks in order, not to waste time, and to kick butt on my finals which are the week after next. Classes end on Thursday, which means that between now and finals I will be doing nothing but studying. Well, that would be nice.

Quick note to self, Sunday night was achar shel pesach where I attended a Seudas Moshiach, which is kind of a farbrengen (sitting around table talking chassidic [mystical/kabbalistic] concepts). We had four cups of wine (14.5% alcohol). After the fifth cup, someone brought Benedictine to the table. I remember thinking beer than liquor, never sicker. The problem was that I was thinking in Hebrew, which messed up the rhyme. So I thought "Go for it!" I was flying until I stood up around half an hour later. "Who made the room move like this?" I thought as I became topsy turvey. I ran to the sink and started throwing up. "So much for all the wine and matzoh I just ate. Now it's all in the sink."

I threw up for what felt like hours. To keep myself hydrated, I drank lots of water, and I didn't care that it was from the neggelvasser (washing cup). Then I started vomiting the water I was drinking. "This is redundant" I thought. People were telling me to keep drinking water so I did, even though I kept vomiting it right back out. Then everyone told me to daven (pray) Maariv and count the Omer. I did, although I was so drunk that I could barely see the words.

The taxi ride back to the Rabbi's house was with my eyes closed because I would have certainly vomited from the movement. I climbed out of the cab onto the grass and pulled myself into the house where I vomited more water and drank more water. I woke up the next morning with the room still twisting. I forgot what a hangover felt like until now.

One thing of note that I noticed -- I was surprised to be a happy drunk. I always thought I would make a sad drunk if I ever drank. I usually stay far away from alcohol because I don't like the dizzy feeling afterwards.