For Rosh hashanah dinner I was invited to a friend of mine. We met at the giur during which we both met our respective goy toys. Only she managed to hold on to her beliefs and kosher diet. I dropped out and sold out. And all for a man who won't make a respectable woman out of me. She on the other hand has been married for 4 years now. Just saying.
But come to think of it- I'm really not that bad a Jew after all. Jewish holidays are an integral part of my everyday life. These days I treat every day like Rosh hashana: assessing, reassessing and vowing to focus on self-improvement. Most of my nights on the other hand are like Purim. A fact neither my wallet or liver can sustain. One is supposed to drink until (s)he no longer can tell the difference between "cursed be Haman" and "blessed be Mordechai"- not until one no longer can tell the difference between the right and the left foot. The mornings after I sit shiva for both and then the vicious cycle of my Jewish micro-calendar starts all over again.
And I eat bacon and these days only very rarely feel guilty about it.
And I never go to synagogue, not even during the High Holidays anymore.
To me foreskin is every bit as alien a concept as "savings account" or "cold fusion".
Looking at the way my hands move when I talk they should live in Brooklyn. Or New Jersey. (But that we're not going to say out loud)
How am I not a Jew?
Wait- what is that screeching sound? Oy vey. I do believe its's the sound of my name being written in the wrong book, isn't it?
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