Life of Yeshiva Guy

I awake to a headache inducing cacophony of alarm clocks and kosher phone alarms blaring simultaneously. Joining together in glorious unity with a single purpose- to wake up the oilam. And wake up we do. My hand blindly gropes for my own electronic phone/alarm blaring out its ugly polyphonic rendition of Fuer Elise. Automatically, my hand creeps out from the under the covers and snoozes it. I swear, I was never completely cognitive of the alarm ringing. Anyway, another five minutes won’t hurt anyone, right?

And so it goes…five minutes are followed by another five minutes, and again, until its a half hour later. Just like that.  I finally transition to some semblance of wakefulness and glance at my clock through eyes cobwebbed by sleep and shuttered by one too many l’chaims last night. ****. I mutter a yeshivishe curse underneath my breath. Only two minutes to z’man krias shema. I’m going to miss it unless I move really quick. Krias Shema adrenaline pumping through my still slumbering body, I stumble to the sink where I wash negel vasser and perfunctorily mutter Modeh Ani under my breath. Sitting down, I try to concentrate on performing a mitzvah d’oraysa. I know that I need to focus…whether I do or not is between me and G-d.

And so it goes throughout the day. It just isn’t clicking. Barely make it on time to seder. My chavrusa is ticked because I’m half-poofing, and I’m ticked cause he’s ticked. Finally, thank G-d, seder is over. Skipping lunch today, like most days. Who decided that we need three meals anyway? Back to dira, and blessed bed. One hour nap time is interrupted twice by friends asking me very, very important questions. No, you wouldn’t believe me if I repeated them. Sum total of actual sleeping time? Ten minutes.

Roll out of bed even more ticked off than I was in the morning. Walk to second seder. Before I walk in to the B”M, however, I calm myself down. Deep breaths. Soda. I know that its important to put on a show now. My chavrusa is going through a little bit of a rough patch, and it isn’t fair to saddle him with my meaningless slight sleep deprivation. Chavrusa with the problems aside, it’s important to do this every day, everywhere. Don’t walk into anything, ever, carrying baggage. It isn’t fair to the people around you and it isn’t fair to yourself. A five minute schmooze about nothing later, I stroll into seder completely chilled.

My boy- second seder chavrusa guy- is not in a good place right now. I can’t go into details here; suffice to say that I’m davening for him. But problems and all, he consistently focuses on the gemara in front of us like a trooper. We power through seder and come out with a relatively klura view of the sugya. Its a great culmination to a long week. “L’fum Tzaara Agrah”…But it ain’t over yet.

Ma’ariv is a quick affair, although make sure to thank Him for second seder. I make sure to ask him for a holy Shabbos and a smooth Friday. Friday’s are always complicated. Too many variables. A regular day has the same basic set of nisyonos in the life of a Yeshiva Guy- but Friday? Dangerous. We talk a little, me and Him. I’m not sure, but I think I’m becoming more comfortable with Him lately. With His language…with davening.

A few short hours later, I’m safely cocooning under the covers. And thanking Him again. Over the course of the day, I’ve experienced so many emotions. Not all of them good. But I made it through, Boruch Hashem.

As I drift off, I’m thinking…thank You for today. I’m thinking, please make tomorrow better.

The next morning, I wake up to a headache inducing cacophony…